Falling for Owen (2 page)

“Well, I’m Sheriff McBride, and I can tell you it wasn’t me, so which infamous McBride? Brody or Owen?” another officer asked, walking out of her house and making his way down the path from the porch.

Infamous? There had to be a story there.

“You’ve got me. I don’t know either of them, though we share the mail slots out on the road. Our mail gets mixed up because the addresses are so close. He said something about McBride helping his wife leave him.”

“Got to be Owen. He’s a lawyer now. I’ll call him, see if he can give us a name.”

Now? As in he’d been on the other side of the law at one time? Interesting.

Chapter Three

T
HE POUNDING ON
the door frightened Shannon, bringing her off the couch, her hands pressed to her thrashing heart. She stared wide eyed and held her breath, resigning herself to the inevitable, knowing who was on the other side.

“Open up, Shannon. Damnit, woman, let me in.”

Her ex-husband’s familiar, ominous voice didn’t make her feel any better. She moved to the door, making sure she’d remembered to not only throw the locks, but put the chain on the door, too.

“Shannon,” Dale snapped, making her jump.

“Go away. You can’t be here. I have a restraining order.”

“If you think a piece of paper will keep me away, you’re stupider than even I thought.”

The comment stung, but he’d said a lot worse to her over the years. His words slurred, telling her he’d been out drinking, which made him all the more volatile. Drinking tended to make Dale forget his actions had consequences. Oh, he’d spout off apologies after he sobered up, but they were empty words she’d heard too many times.

“I’ll call the cops.”

“You do, and you’ll regret it. Just like that lawyer you’re fucking is going to regret stealing my wife.”

The threat made her frown. Owen had been nothing but good and kind to her. He’d made her see that she deserved better than Dale. She deserved a man like Owen, who could provide for her in a way Dale never had.

“Owen didn’t have anything to do with me leaving you.”

“He filled your head with nonsense and lies. He’ll think twice now that I got him good.”

She recognized that tone and the threat behind it. “What did you do, Dale?”

“You think he’s something special, but he’s stringing you along while he’s got another woman on the side.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She gripped her hands together, trying not to think of him with someone else. Her feelings for him had grown over the last months. They’d grown closer as friends, and she hoped something more.

“He’s got a woman living in his house, keeping his bed warm, while you’re nothing but a cheap afternoon fuck.”

“That’s not true.” Owen took care of her like Dale never did.

“Sure is. Now open this fucking door.”

His fists pounded so hard, he rattled the door in its frame and the chain clinked against the wood. She pressed both hands to it, holding it closed. When he got like this, there was no telling him to stop, or detouring him from whatever he got into his head.

“I’m calling the police,” she screamed. “Go away.”

He pounded the door with one more thwack of his fist against the outside and all went quiet. She waited. Nothing.

She turned, her knees buckled, and she slid to the floor, her back against the door. All of a sudden, he pounded five more times, rattling her spine along with the door.

“This isn’t over.”

With those ominous words, everything went quiet again. Deep in her soul, she knew he meant those words. This would never end. He’d never stop. Unless someone stopped him.

At one time, she’d appreciated his single-minded need for her. She’d cultivated it. Not anymore. She needed something more.

She needed Owen.

Chapter Four

O
WEN WOKE OUT
of a restless sleep the second the phone rang. The clock read twelve forty-seven. Good news never came this late at night. He hoped this didn’t have anything to do with Shannon, his trouble-prone client. He wished he knew why women stayed in bad situations instead of walking away and never looking back. Shannon had a tendency to waffle under pressure. She’d given her husband far too many chances to prove he wasn’t worth a single one of them.

He hoped she hadn’t listened to whatever sob story Dale conjured to elicit her sympathy, only to draw her in close again. Close enough to hurt her.

Owen grabbed the phone on the second ring. “McBride.”

“Owen, are you okay? He said he hurt you. You have to be all right. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

The last part set off an alarm in his head. Wasn’t the first time she’d set it off either.

“Shannon, slow down. What are you talking about? I’m fine.”

“Dale. He came by, drunk and belligerent as always. Yelling about seeing us together and you taking me away from him.”

Owen raked his fingers through his hair and sat up on the side of the bed, naked and frustrated. Mostly because his bed was empty, but also because his client’s never-ending saga with her ex-husband continued to drag him into her life. He cared about all his clients in some respect, but she’d taken the job he did and the protection it provided her and made it into something more. She’d never quite crossed the line and pushed him for anything, but her reliance on him grew more and more each time they met. He needed some space.

“Where is he now?”

“He left when I refused to open the door and threatened to call the cops.”

Well, at least she’d gotten that part right this time. In the past, she had opened the door and gotten yelled at and worse. She’d seen the inside of an emergency room more times than he’d like to count because of her ex.

“Good job. Never open the door to him. He disobeyed the restraining order. I’ll contact the police and let them know.”

“So, he didn’t hurt your girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Her audible exhale of relief sent up another red flag. Still, he didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. He hadn’t dated anyone in nearly a year. God, had it been that long? His many restless nights confirmed the unhappy truth.

Another call came in on his line. “Hold on, Shannon. I’ve got another call.”

“Um, okay.”

He clicked the talk button to switch lines. “McBride.”

“Owen, it’s Dylan.”

His cousin had moved back to town recently with his adopted son and took over as sheriff. The late-night call probably meant more trouble.

“Hey man. What’s up?”

“I’m looking for a guy about five-eleven says you slept with his wife. Know who I’m talking about?”

Owen swore. “Dale Monoghan. Released from prison about a month ago. Spent those weeks of freedom stalking and harassing my
client
. Skipped out on the halfway house two days after moving in and has been MIA ever since. My client is on the other line. Dale just left her place spouting off about hurting me and my girlfriend, though I’m not seeing anyone. I’d appreciate it if you sent someone to her place to make sure he’s left and she’s in one piece.”

“I’ll send an officer right away. We’ve got a problem with your name on it at the Walsh place down the road from you. Miss Walsh confronted a trespasser. Your guy is up for a hit and run charge and some other misdemeanors. Can you come down and answer some questions?”

“Is Claire all right?”

“Banged up, but nothing major.”

Owen swore and raked his hand through his hair again. The thought of someone hurting the quiet, beautiful woman whose property adjoined his pissed him off. His stomach tied in knots. His mind conjured one terrible image after another. He hated to think of her hurt and frightened.

He’d never formally met his long-distance neighbor, but he’d seen her several times in her yard when he stopped near her place to get his mail. He took his nieces into her store in town once in a while. They loved it. He liked looking at her. He might have asked her out, but she’d always had this off-limits vibe about her, even if she did stare at him sometimes with this odd look about her.

Looks like he’d at least get an introduction tonight, though he didn’t think she’d be happy to meet him if his client’s ex caused her trouble and hurt her. Damn the drunk asshole.

“On my way.” Owen put action to words and grabbed his jeans. “Send a deputy over to 214 Walnut Road. I’ll let my client know they’ll be there soon.”

He switched lines and slid his legs into the jeans. He grabbed a long-sleeve shirt out of the dresser.

“Shannon, I’ve asked the police to come and check on you. Dale harassed a woman and hit her with his car. If he comes back before they get there, do not open the door.”

“Oh my God. Is the woman okay?”

“I don’t know. I have to go see. Do not open the door to anyone but the cops. I’ll speak to you later.”

He hung up and tossed the phone on his rumpled bed. Socks on, he grabbed his boots and stuffed his feet inside and ran down the stairs, grabbing his keys as he headed out the door to his truck. He jumped inside, started it up, and punched the gas, nervous and anxious to get to his neighbor’s place.

Owen’s truck slid to a stop in the driveway behind two sheriff cars and the ambulance. The paramedics’ presence sent an ominous chill up his back. He had no idea how badly the woman had been hurt, but the thought of even one mark on her sent a shaft of guilt through his system. He should have done more to keep Dale behind bars longer.

The headlights and porch lights lit his way around the ambulance to the walkway where the paramedics kneeled next to a blonde, her head bent to her chest as they worked on her feet. Propped on a gurney, her feet bled from multiple cuts. Owen ignored the looks from the deputy and his cousin, Dylan, and went directly to the woman. Kneeling beside her, he cupped her cheek in his palm and asked, “Are you okay?”

Like slow motion, her face rose up and her eyes met his and he fell into the green depths and felt something shift inside his chest. The taut band that took hold of him with the call pulled tighter and stopped his breath. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. She shook and trembled under his hand, but she didn’t speak.

“Hey now, you’re okay. It’s going to be fine. Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

“We need to talk,” Dylan said.

Owen smiled at Claire, despite the circumstances.

“Wish you could slap the cuffs on
me
this time?” he asked his cousin.

“It’d be fun. For me. Why, feeling nostalgic?”

“No. What happened?” Reluctantly, he stood and faced Dylan and this mess head on. He stayed right beside the woman. Drawn to her, the urge to protect her kept him rooted to his spot beside her. He wanted to touch her again, offer up some kind of comfort, but refrained, willing himself to be calm and act rationally and not touch a stranger like she was his best friend. And more.

“Claire—”

Pretty name.

“—heard a noise outside and came down to investigate. A man, five-eleven with dark hair, appeared at the back door, where he’d broken several flower pots and fell over drunk. She went out to investigate. They exchanged words, and he threw a chair through the glass doors.” Dylan indicated he look through the open front door, straight back to the chair lying on its side on the dining table.

“The description fits Dale, but how did you know this has to do with me?”

“The guy, Dale, threatened to hurt her to make you pay for sleeping with his wife.”

“I am not, nor have I ever slept with his wife. She’s a client. Let’s get that straight right now. I represented her in the divorce and helped put him behind bars for hurting her.”

He didn’t know why he felt the need to defend himself so vehemently. He didn’t want Dylan thinking he slept with his clients. On second thought, he didn’t give a shit what Dylan thought. He didn’t want Claire thinking he would do something like that, or that he was dating anyone.

Why did it matter so much? He knew her name, but didn’t know her. Still, something compelled him to make the clarification.

Which is probably why he looked her right in the eye when he made the statement. He shot Dylan a cold glare. His cousin hid a smirk that set off Owen’s temper even more.

“How long have you known Claire?” Dylan asked, a note of suspicion in the simple question.

“I don’t. Not really. I’ve seen her in passing from the road when I grab my mail and at her shop in town.”

“He brings the girls in sometimes,” Claire said from beside him. Hearing her voice, so soft and timid, made his gut tighten.

“How is Rain?” Dylan asked.

“She’s great.”

“And happy Brody is back in town. I haven’t seen them since that shit went down with Roxy. I’ll have to stop by and catch up. He’s another reformed troublemaker.”