Defeat the Darkness (16 page)

She frowned a bit as she touched her fingers to his cheek. “I don't remember complaining about anything.”

“But I never kissed you.”

She pretended to pout. “Well, that does make you a bit of a cad. However, it's never too late to make up for past mistakes.”

He closed the distance between them, hoping his kiss would tell her the things he couldn't say. Like how alive she made him feel and that her touch healed him in some amazing way.

This time the passion built more slowly, but it burned even hotter. And for the first time since he'd died, he knew peace.

• • •

“Stop!”

Tate froze, unsure what was wrong. She'd been getting dressed; she needed to get back to the house before Sandra returned. Shortly before Tate had brought the basket over to Hunter's apartment, her mother had taken off, saying she'd needed to check on a few things in town.

The last thing Tate wanted right now was for Sandra to figure out that she had spent the afternoon in Hunter's bed.
With
Hunter. The wonder of the experience was too new, too amazing to let her mother spoil it. Sandra was already touchy about Hunter living in the apartment. If she found out that he actually preferred Tate to her, there would be hell to pay.

Back to the matter at hand. “What's wrong?”

“I left marks on your skin.” He pointed at a faint set of fingerprints along her hip bone.

“I hadn't noticed.”

Besides, considering how long it had been since she'd last let a man get that close to her, she fully expected to feel a few twinges in odd places. But sex with Hunter had been unlike any she'd ever experienced before.

“I'm sorry if I was too rough.” He circled her, checking her over for more damage.

She stopped him. “You weren't. Besides, I'm pretty sure I left my mark on you, too.”

But when he turned around to check himself in the mirror there wasn't a single scratch or bruise to be seen. How odd. She'd distinctly remembered urging him on with her nails and leaving a love bite on the side of his neck.

When he saw her puzzled look, he kissed her on the
forehead. “Don't think so hard. Maybe I'm just a fast healer.”

“Right.” Although something in his tone made her think he wasn't really teasing. He pulled a clean shirt out of the drawer and put it on.

She really hated to see all those sleek muscles disappear. As she finished getting dressed, she said, “I'd invite you over for dinner tonight, but Sandra's still a bit unsettled. We probably won't be the best company.”

“That's okay. I've got to be someplace anyway. I'll be out late.”

Right up until that remark, he'd been approachable, but it felt as if he'd just slammed a door shut between them. Maybe she was being too sensitive and a little unsure about this sudden change in their relationship. Yes, that had to be it. Well, maybe. Regardless, it was definitely time to put some distance between them.

“I'll be going then.” She hurried toward the door. “Enjoy your treats.”

“I do believe I already have.” Then he gave her a wicked grin. “Oh, you meant the muffins.”

She hadn't gotten far when he caught her arm, swinging her back around to face him.

“What?”

“Is something wrong?” He cupped the side of her face with his callused hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb across her cheek.

She studied his face, trying to read the thoughts behind his stormy eyes. “No, not really. I didn't know something like this would happen, and I'm not sure how to act or what to expect.”

He didn't smile, but his expression gentled. “I have no expectations, Tate. We'll take things as they come.”

His lips were soft against hers, his kiss reassuring. Then he rested his forehead against hers for a few seconds. “I wish…” He started to say more but stopped.

Somehow she knew what he meant. He wished that this could've been more than an afternoon of shared passion. It was his way of putting some distance between them, putting things in perspective. He was offering her no promises, not even the possibility of a repeat performance.

“I know, Hunter. Me, too.”

This time he let her go, but she felt his gaze follow her all the way to her kitchen door. Maybe she shouldn't be upset, but all she felt was sad.

Her mother was waiting for her. Of course. It was too much to ask for a few minutes to herself before having to deal with Sandra's demands.

Her mother launched her attack before Tate could even think to close the door. “So that's why you wouldn't throw him out of my apartment.”

Tate jerked as if she'd been slapped, but then held her ground. “Not now, Mother. I need to start dinner.”

Sandra stepped between Tate and the counter, blocking her way. “I notice you're not denying that you spent the afternoon letting that man work off his rent. How much of a discount did you give him?”

Tate stared at her mother in disbelief. They'd had their problems in the past, but Sandra had never before launched such a vicious attack.

“I cannot believe you said something that crass! My relationship with Hunter is none of your business.”

Sandra shrugged. “I'm your mother, as you so often point out. Somehow you've managed to hold on to your ridiculous naiveté for far too long, but it's time you faced the truth, Tate. A man like that would only settle for you because there's no one else in this hellhole of a town under fifty.”

Okay, Tate had claws of her own and knew how to use them. “Well, that's not quite true.
You're
here, aren't you? But Hunter didn't choose you, did he, Mother? Is that what this is all about? That, heaven forbid, a man actually prefers me to you!”

Tate's only warning that they were no longer alone was when her mother's eyes glanced at something, or someone, behind Tate. The older woman immediately backed away. Could this get any worse? Tate glared at Sandra briefly before turning to face her furious tenant.

“Hunter, I'm sorry you had to hear that.”

He stared over her head toward Sandra, his face stone hard. “Don't be, Tate. I knew what your mother was the moment I saw her. It's not your fault she's a pit viper.”

Tate could feel Sandra's outrage pouring from her in waves.

“Well, Tate, are you going to let him stand there and insult me?”

“Considering what you just accused us of, I figure he can insult you all he wants.”

This was getting them nowhere. Tate forced herself to concentrate on Hunter, unable to face Sandra at the moment. “Was there something you needed?”

Hunter held out her basket, his knuckles white with tension. “I thought you might need this. Would you like me to throw her out for you? It wouldn't take long, and it would give me great satisfaction.”

Sandra gasped. “You wouldn't dare!”

His smile turned sinister. “There's a lot I'd dare if you push me far enough. Rip into Tate like that again, and you'll find out firsthand.”

“Stop it, both of you! I do not need this from either of you.”

“Tate, he's the one—”

“Mother! Leave this room right now. I will deal with you in a few minutes.” She wasn't sure if Sandra would go. But when it was clear that Hunter wasn't going to leave unless she did first, Sandra flounced out, playing the martyr with consummate skill.

Tate ached with a familiar pain, but one thing at a time. She tugged the basket out of Hunter's hand. “Thank you for returning this. I know you have plans for the evening, and I don't want you to be late on my account.” She paused. “I'll be fine.” Eventually. Maybe in a hundred years or so.

He knew it, too. “I'd take you with me, but I can't.”

“I didn't expect you to.” She gave him a gentle shove toward the door.

But instead of leaving, Hunter grabbed the notepad she kept by the phone. After scribbling something on the top page, he ripped it off and shoved it into her hand. “Here's my cell number. Call if you need me.”

“That's nice of you, Hunter, but I've been dealing with my mother for a long time. I don't know what made
her act that way. She's never been this bad before.” Well, not often.

“No one's ever accused me of being particularly nice, Tate. I won't be at all happy if I find out you should've called me and didn't.” He crowded close, glaring down at her. “Got that?”

His anger was intense, but it only made her feel comforted. Not even Uncle Jacob had been strong enough to face down Sandra. The only time he'd been able to thwart her was when he'd left his entire estate to Tate.

“Yeah, I've got it.” She raised up high enough to kiss that angry slash of a mouth. “Thank you.”

His arms yanked her in close as he deepened the kiss. For the moment, she lost herself, letting the gift of his taste and touch hold her problems at bay, even for only a few seconds.

Both of them were breathing hard when Hunter finally broke off the kiss. “I've really got to go, or I won't be able to.”

She loved the note of regret in his rough voice. “I know.”

“You'll call.” It wasn't a question.

“Yes, I'll call, but only if I really need to. Now go, before you're late.”

“I'll be gone most of the night, so don't wait up for me.” He softened his words with a smile.

She blushed. She'd so hoped he hadn't noticed that she'd been waiting up to make sure he made it back from his nightly ramblings.

“All right.”

But they both knew that wouldn't keep her from
checking for signs he'd returned if she happened to be up during the night.

One last quick kiss and he was gone.

“Mr. Black, something has come up unexpectedly. I'll be needing your services this evening.”

“Yes, sir.” Joe kept his voice calm, counting the seconds until he could hang up and start cursing. He hated having to cancel his plans. A buddy had won a pair of tickets to a ball game and had offered the extra to Joe. Good seats, too.

“You will pick me and our guest up at six o'clock. Make sure you bring the gift I bought for you. Here's the address where we'll be.”

Joe dutifully wrote down the directions and signed.

The gift. That was one thing to call it. What was up with that guy that he was too paranoid to call a spade a spade or a gun a gun? He'd even paid Joe extra to spend time at the local firing range to improve his accuracy. He didn't know exactly how many innocent targets he'd blown all to hell since signing on for this job, but it was a lot.

He hung up the phone and checked his watch. He'd have to leave soon to gas up the car if he was going to make the appointed time. If he kept busy, maybe he wouldn't have to think about the “guest” Mr. White had referred to. There was definitely something off kilter about that guy, in addition to the fact that he rarely spoke. Joe couldn't place his accent, but it was strong
enough to be difficult to understand. Most of the time, Mr. White simply stared out the window and rode in silence.

Where did he go when Joe dropped him off in the woods above the beach? Joe wasn't picky about how he earned his living, but he still had pride in his country. He'd hate to find out that Mr. White's mysterious companion had links to some terrorist group. He sure looked creepy enough with his pale skin and oddly streaked gray hair. If there were such things as vampires, he would fit the profile, that's for sure.

Even though Joe was joking, the idea gave him a lasting chill. He was thinking too much; it didn't matter if he liked the guy or even Mr. White. Joe was in this for the easy money, not to make friends with the bastards.

“Mother, dinner is ready.”

It was the second time Tate had yelled up the steps, and so far Sandra had refused to make an appearance. Fine. If she wanted to sulk, so be it. Besides, eating by herself would make for a much more peaceful meal. Once Tate had eaten, she'd check on Sandra and get a few things settled.

Tate had no choice but to have it out with her mother over her earlier behavior. Tate was willing to put up with it, but only up to a certain point. Tonight Sandra had definitely crossed the line. Either she straightened up, or Tate would order her to leave. She wouldn't let Sandra ruin the nice life Tate had made here in Justice Point.

That didn't mean Tate was in a big hurry to have another confrontation. She ladled up a big bowl of soup and sliced a baguette. Sandra could heat up something later if she got hungry.

Rather than sit at the table and stew, Tate booted up her laptop. Maybe she could squeeze in a few pages before it was time to face the endless paperwork that went with owning a small business.

Where had she left off ? Oh, yeah, the sheriff had just kissed Melinda. It was obvious to both of them that this relationship was headed nowhere, not as long as Chance was still in the picture. On the long ride back to her house, Melinda mulled it all over.

A smart woman would know which of her two suitors would be a solid, upstanding partner for life, providing a stable home life and would be a good father for any children she might have. Despite her education, it appeared that Melinda wasn't all that bright. She didn't want stable, and she didn't want upstanding. She wanted Chance. What's more, she wanted her children to have his green eyes.

He was waiting and watching as the buggy pulled up in front of her house. Even though she couldn't see him, she felt his presence. She waited for her escort to come around to hand her down out of the buggy, although she'd rather have climbed down on her own. She very much feared he might try to kiss her again, and she couldn't bear to have Chance watch. There was no telling what he'd do.

But no, as always, the lawman acted the perfect gentleman, even thanking her for an enjoyable afternoon when it had been anything but that. She didn't call him on the lie, hoping their friendship hadn't been irreparably
damaged. When he disappeared down the road, she braced herself and went inside to face her outlaw.