Justice Burning (Hellfire #2) (7 page)

“You lost some friends, didn’t you?”

He slammed a palm against the steering wheel, feeling as though she’d ripped open a wound in his heart. “Yes, damn it!” He’d lost too many.

Her soft, “I’m sorry,” spread over him like warm butter, melting into his pores, slowly calming him. His grip on the steering wheel loosened and he eased up on the accelerator.

Phoebe glanced his way again. “You get around pretty well.”

His knee twinged, the familiar burning sensation flaring whenever he thought about it. Since they’d replaced the kneecap, the joint worked pretty well. But it would never be the same as before he’d been hit. The muscles and tendons were still getting used to the replacement. He’d been lucky enough to live to get that new knee. So many of his men hadn’t had the choice. “Yeah, well not good enough for the army.” If he could have gone back to fight, he would have. If for nothing else than to exact revenge on those who’d ambushed him and his troops.

“Really, I’m sorry for your loss.” Phoebe faced forward again.

For a long moment, silence reigned.

Memories spun in Nash’s head, happy times joking with his men, heartbreaking times when he’d knelt beside a soldier whose life ebbed away with injuries so horrific he had no hope of recovery. “Tell my wife I love her,” were his last words. Nash’s heart clenched and his vision blurred. What must it have felt like to know you were dying, leaving the woman you loved to face the world without you?

“Was it hard starting over once you got back to Texas?” Phoebe asked, her voice little more than a whisper, her gaze on him.

“I’ve been home for almost two years, and I’m still not sure how I fit in, or if I ever will.” He turned into Lola’s driveway, thankful they’d arrived and that Phoebe’s line of questioning, and all the thoughts and feelings it resurrected, would end. “I can give you a lift to the Ugly Stick Saloon tomorrow evening, if you like.” God, why had he opened his big mouth? But now that he’d said it, he couldn’t take back the offer.

She smiled. “Thank you. But I hope to have the rental car back by then. I can use it while looking for alternate transportation.”

“The offer is open. All you have to do is call.” He reached for the door handle. Her hand on his arm stopped him.

“I can get out by myself.” Phoebe leaned over and pressed her lips to his cheek. “I, for one, am glad you’re back from the war. If you hadn’t come along when you did, I don’t know what I would have done. Thanks again.”

The softness of her lips on his face muddled his brain. Before Nash could think to move, Phoebe was out of the truck and halfway to the garage apartment.

She turned and gave him a little wave and then ran up the stairs, unlocked the door and disappeared inside.

Nash sat for a long moment, staring at the empty stairs as lights blinked on inside Phoebe’s apartment. He touched his cheek where her lips had been, the residual warmth spreading from that point throughout his body and downward, his groin tightening.

Hell. He’d opened up more with her than with his own brothers. With them, he put on the tough-guy face and kept his thoughts about his time in the military to himself. His brothers had their own lives. Chance was a fireman, racing into burning buildings on a daily basis. Beckett ran the ranch, facing raging bulls and angry, grass fires, bucking horses and rattlesnakes as part of his everyday life. Rider, well…Rider had his own business towing and fixing vehicles. They had dangerous jobs and big responsibilities. But how could any of them relate to what Nash had done in the military? He’d witnessed men being blown apart, and held his buddy in his arms as he took his last breath. Horrors like that weren’t things a man forgot. Ever.

Throwing the shift lever into Reverse, Nash backed out of Lola’s driveway and onto the street. What was it about Phoebe that made him stay at the bar until her shift ended? His brothers left around midnight. Nash had stayed until 2:00 a.m.

Whatever it was, he didn’t need it. Phoebe and her sad green eyes and auburn hair didn’t need another man in her life messing it up. Her situation was hard enough starting over with nothing but the clothes she’d gotten from a thrift shop. God, but she was determined, refusing to go crawling back home.

As he drove out of Hellfire, he spotted the dark sedan parked in front of the only motel in town, an old motor lodge built in the 1950s.

They’d probably been driving slowly through town earlier, hoping to find a better alternative. Unfortunately, the motor lodge was the only game in town. They would have had to go to Temptation for something better. Temptation had a bed and breakfast. Both towns were too small to justify a large chain hotel.

His thoughts shifted back to Phoebe and he raised his hand to his cheek. Nash drove home. His head spun and his cheek burned with Phoebe’s kiss and worst of all, he faced a day off. He hoped like hell Beckett had a list of chores for him to do. Since returning to the civilian world, having nothing to do meant having too much time to think about the past.

Maybe he’d head back to Hellfire early the next day and see what Phoebe was up to. The woman and her secrets revved Nash’s interest more than he wanted to admit. Perhaps, after he discovered what she was hiding, the mystery would disappear and his interest would wane. They could all get back to a normal world and move on with their lives.

P
hoebe waited
several minutes inside her apartment, praying Nash would leave soon. What he’d shared had touched her so deeply, she could barely swallow past the lump in her throat. The things he’d endured as a soldier in the war were far worse than anything she’d had to go through. How did you compare a broken fingernail to losing men you care about because of bombs and gunfire?

More exhausted than she’d ever been in her life, Phoebe stared at the little bed with the clean sheets. She almost gave in and fell onto the mattress, fully clothed. She could have been asleep in seconds, but for the little matter of her dead fiancé in the trunk of the rental car.

With a sigh, she peered through the mini-blinds.

Nash’s truck was gone. The only vehicle left was Lola’s bright red 1967 Ford Mustang. The lights were off in the main house, as were the lights in the neighboring houses.

Phoebe grabbed an old steak knife from the kitchenette and flipped the switch next to the door, plunging herself into darkness. Giving herself a minute for her eyesight to adjust, she waited, hand on the doorknob. Then she turned it and hurried out of the apartment and down the stairs. Moving through the alley behind the house, she clung to the shadows and half-jogged, paralleling Main Street until she came to the road where Rider Grayson’s auto repair shop stood.

She crossed Main Street and slipped to the back of the shop. With the knife in her hand, she slid it into the doorknob key hole and turned. Nothing. The movies made it look so easy. How did they do it? She tried slipping the knife into the doorjamb to jiggle the locking mechanism. The door was a heavy metal one, as was the jamb. She bent the knife trying.

Finally, Phoebe straightened and glanced around, gooseflesh rising on her arms. If she couldn’t get in through the door, what about a window? The windows were those old warehouse style with multiple little panes on one major assembly. Phoebe grabbed several wooden pallets and stacked them beneath one of the windows then climbed onto the unsteady pile.

There in the middle of the shop was the rental car. Fortunately, the trunk was still closed. Unfortunately, the vehicle was up on a lift. To get into the building would be hard enough. Accessing the trunk while it was several feet off the ground would be nearly impossible.

Disappointed and too tired to care, Phoebe eased to the edge of the pile of pallets and started to slip off. The stack shifted, several of the pallets sliding off the top, taking her with it, making a loud cracking sound as wooden slats snapped.

A dog in a yard behind the shop barked, another joined, and soon lights lit up back porches and dog owners yelled at the barking dogs.

Heart pounding double-time, Phoebe rolled off the pallets, jumped to her feet and beat a hasty retreat back to the garage apartment. First thing in the morning, she’d run by the shop and wait for Rider to change the tire.

If
the sheriff didn’t show up first, slap cuffs on her wrists and haul her off to jail.

Yeah, she’d be sleeping like a baby tonight.

Not.

Stripping out of the clothes she’d worn to work, she showered and fell into the twin bed and stared up at the ceiling, going through all that had happened that day. Nowhere in her memories could she come up with a reason why someone would want to kill Ryan, or an image of anyone who might have done the dirty deed.

His best man had been beside himself with worry over Ryan’s disappearance. Who else could have done it?

She’d been so busy getting ready and wondering if she’d made a huge mistake, she hadn’t really seen anyone or had a thought to spare of her fiancé, other than knowing he wasn’t the man for her.

As she rolled the memory movie through her mind, she came to the part where Deputy Grayson swooped in like a knight in shining armor and rescued her from the fencepost. From that point on, he’d been there to help her. Even taking her to a thrift shop to find clothes. Why?

Part of her wanted him to stay away until she resolved what to do with her fiancé’s body. Hell, if she was smart, she would confess her crime of stealing the convertible to the authorities and face the consequences. Hiding her part in the whole fiasco only made her look even guiltier of killing Ryan.

If she relinquished the body, she would have to reveal her true identity. Her father would bail her out as usual, and she’d be forced to go back to her life as the daughter of a wealthy man. He might even choose her next husband.

Her father would consider her work at the Ugly Stick Saloon to be beneath the daughter of Jonathon Sinclair, but it had felt good. Well, her back and feet did ache, but in a good way. Like she’d earned the sore muscles rather than paid for a physical trainer to deliver the pain.

After spending time with Nash and getting a feeling of his anguish from his time in the military, Phoebe realized her life had been meaningless. While men fought and died for their country, she’d been more concerned about what shoes to wear with the latest outfit she’d purchased. Some of those outfits had cost more than what a soldier brought home in his paycheck in a month. Maybe two or three.

Shame washed over her. Maybe she wouldn’t join the military, but she could change for the better and become a contributing member of society, rather than being a society debutante. Going back to her old life with her family was not an option.

Phoebe yawned and stretched. The hard work weighed on her body and mind. Before she knew it, she’d slipped into a deep sleep, strangely empty of the nightmares she’d expected.

She didn’t wake until someone pounded on the door.

Light streamed into the little apartment around the edges of the closed blinds.

Phoebe blinked and rubbed her eyes, wondering what had pulled her out of the depths of her sleep. She rolled over and nearly fell out of the tiny bed. More pounding on the door made her sit up with a start.

“Phoebe!” Lola’s voice sounded from outside.

“Coming.” She leaped to her feet, tugged down the oversized T-shirt she’d worn to bed the night before and hurried the few short steps to open the door.

“Oh, good. You’re up.” Lola pushed her hair back from her made-up face. “I thought I’d have to let myself in to wake you.”

“What’s wrong?” Phoebe asked, crossing her arms over her middle.

“Just got a call from the sheriff’s office.” She drew in a deep breath and paused.

Her heart slipping into the bottom of her belly, Phoebe waited for what was coming next. They had to have found the body in the trunk. The sheriff would be there momentarily to arrest her. With an apology poised on her lips, Phoebe opened her mouth to beg forgiveness for getting Lola involved with a murder suspect.

Lola’s eyes gleamed. “Rider Grayson’s auto shop was broken into last night. The rental car he was working on for you was stolen.”

“
W
hat do you mean
, your shop was broken into?” Nash balanced the telephone between his cheek and shoulder as he dragged on his jeans and zipped. He sat on the side of his bed and pulled on his cowboy boots.

“Someone broke a window and entered my shop. They lowered the rental car on the lift, opened the overhead door and drove away without anyone noticing. The sheriff thinks it must have happened between 3:00 and 4:00 a.m. this morning.” Rider paused. “Funny thing is they didn’t take anything but the car. The cash box was intact where I’d left it in the office.”

“Has anyone checked on Miss Smith?”

“The sheriff was going to notify her.”

“I’ll be in town in a few minutes.”

“It’s your day off,” Rider said. “Let others handle it.”

“I want to make sure Phoebe is all right.” Whoever broke into the shop for the rental car might also have gone after the woman. Unless the woman was responsible for the break-in. In which case, she might have left town. To make matters worse, he’d had some pretty lusty thoughts about a potential criminal.

“I’m sure the sheriff would let you know if she wasn’t.”

Not in the mood to argue, Nash said, “I’ll see you in a few.” He ended the call and finished dressing. He hadn’t wanted to face an empty day. Well now, he wouldn’t have to. Finding a missing vehicle would keep him busy.

And checking in on Phoebe Smith would be purely part of the job. Purely.

Deep inside, he couldn’t ignore the hope Phoebe wasn’t the one who’d entered the shop and taken the vehicle. Now that he’d met her, Nash didn’t want her to leave town so soon. He still had so many unanswered questions. But that wasn’t all. He found himself drawn to the woman who had insisted on starting over in a strange town. What had she run away from? What did she hope to gain by moving to the small community of Hellfire?

The first question he intended to answer was, had Phoebe left Hellfire in the rental car?

Tugging a T-shirt over his head, he grabbed his belt and ran for the door.

Beckett stepped out of the kitchen, a coffee cup in hand. “Where are you going?”

“Town.”

“I thought you might help me repair the fence in the northeast pasture today.”

“Rain check. I have something I need to check on in town.” Not something, but someone.

“I guess Kinsey can help. She’s better looking, anyway.”

Kinsey stepped up beside him. “And I can swing a hammer.” She slipped an arm around Beckett’s waist and leaned against him.

Nash retrieved his cowboy hat from a hook on the wall and left the house. He was halfway to town when his cell phone rang in the cup holder. He checked the number and recognized it as Lola’s. His pulse hammering, he clicked the talk button. “Lola. Tell me Phoebe’s all right.”

“This is Phoebe.”

Her warm voice filled his ear and spread heat throughout his body. He sighed.

“I guess you’ve heard,” she said.

“I have,” he responded. “I’m glad you’re still in town.”

“Why would I leave?” She paused. “Oh, wait. You thought I might have been the one to break into your brother’s shop. Fair enough. I haven’t given you much to go on. But we need to talk.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Good.” She sighed. “Just keep in mind, I’ve never been in trouble with the law before. And I didn’t ask for it.”

The connection ended before he could question her more. What did she mean by she’d never been in trouble with the law before? Was she now?

A thousand questions bubbled up in his mind. He pressed harder on the accelerator, impatient with the amount of time it took to get from the ranch to town. By the time he pulled into Lola’s driveway, he’d broken a few of the speed limits he was sworn to uphold as a man of the law.

Lola stood near her Mustang with a crooked smile on her face. “Where’s the fire, cowboy?” She tipped her head toward the garage apartment. “Wish it was me you were in a hurry to see. Phoebe’s in her apartment. Nothing like a little excitement to stir up things in Hellfire, huh?”

“Thanks for letting her use your phone,” Nash said as he passed Lola and loped the rest of the way across the drive. He took the stairs two at a time and entered through the open doorway.

Phoebe stood with her back leaning against the tiny kitchenette counter, a cup of tea in her hands. The liquid sloshed over the sides because her hands shook so badly.

For a long moment, Nash stared. Her cheeks were pale, her green eyes dark, surrounded by shadows. As he crossed the room, her gaze sought his and her bottom lip trembled like her hands. She caught it between her teeth and her eyes filled.

Nash did the only thing he could. He took the cup from her, set it on the counter and then pulled her into his arms.

She rested her cheek against his chest, her fingers curling into his T-shirt. “I don’t know how this all happened or why.” A shiver shook her body, despite the heat already building outside.

“Tell me about it,” he encouraged.

“I was supposed to get married yesterday.”

“Already got that part.”

She turned her face into his shirt and pressed her forehead to his chest, not looking up as the story spilled out. “The ceremony was about to begin when I realized I didn’t love him. I almost married a man my father picked for me. Not one I loved.” She waved a hand and then clutched his shirt again. “I don’t know how I let the wedding plans go that far. Stupid, I guess. Gullible
and
stupid. I was about to go to him and tell him I couldn’t marry him when the best man showed up and said they couldn’t find the groom.” She laughed.

The mirthless sound made Nash’s heart contract. He stroked her curly auburn hair, wondering how any man could walk away from this woman. “He must have been a fool.”

“I thought he’d jilted me. The irony wasn’t lost on me, but I was angry. With myself. With my father. With Ryan. I looked for him. When I realized he wasn’t in the church, I went outside, thinking he might be in the garden. He wasn’t. And there it was. The convertible he should have been driving away from the church with me inside.”

She leaned back and stared up at him, a film of tears making her eyes shine brightly. “For the first time in my life, I did what I wanted to do. Not what my father or mother wanted me to do. I got into that car and drove away from the church, from my life and from everything I knew. I was tired of being something I wasn’t. Someone I didn’t know or care to be.” She smiled as the first tear trailed down her cheek.

Nash reached up to brush it away with his thumb, then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

“I didn’t want to go back to live under my father’s thumb, or marry a man of his choosing. I wanted to be independent. Live life as I saw fit.” She threw her hands in the air, turned away and paced the three steps needed to cross the length of the available floor space. “Then the flat tire, the wreck and the body in the trunk. I got scared. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I would be accused of murder.” As her words poured out in a jumble, she raked a hand through her hair and spun toward him, her eyes wide. “I don’t want to go to jail. I didn’t do anything wrong. But I actually did because I didn’t tell anyone.” She extended her arms, her wrists held together. “You might as well arrest me. I’m sure I broke some law. But I didn’t kill my fiancé.”