Protecting Tricia (2 page)

Tricia started to get out of the truck, but Clint pushed her
back inside.

“Stay,” he ordered before slamming the door shut.

Stay?
She immediately got a mental picture of a
master ordering a dog to stay, and her blood heated in anger once again.

* * * *

Clint tossed Tricia’s keys to Neil and jerked his chin in
the direction of a red Chevy with Florida plates. “Get her car out of sight.”

“Aren’t you going to—” Neil started.

“I’ll call you when we get out of town,” Clint yelled over his
shoulder as he rounded the hood of the truck.

Right now he had to put as many miles between Tricia and
Matt as possible. He’d deal with the other details later. They’d already wasted
too much time.

He yanked the driver’s door open and climbed behind the
wheel. Suddenly realizing he still held Tricia’s purse, he tossed it on the
seat between them and dug in the pocket of his jeans for his keys. Seconds
later, he tore down the driveway, raising a cloud of dust behind them.

“My car,” Tricia protested.

“Neil will bring it out later.”

“But there’s no need. I can take it now.” She looked at him,
her brow wrinkled in confusion. Then the wrinkle disappeared and understanding
dawned in her eyes. “You don’t trust me to follow you.”

“Exactly.” Reaching the end of the drive, he took a right
and headed out of town.

“I told you I was about to agree to leave with you anyway.”

Clint glanced at her and lifted a brow. “
I don’t want to
go anywhere with you. I don’t even want to be in the same state as you
,” he
said, repeating her words. “Yeah, that sure sounds like you were about to agree
to come with me.”

Tricia released a frustrated breath, crossed her arms over
her chest, and stared out the windshield. Judging by the expression on her
face, she was fuming inside. But she’d get over it. And if she didn’t, that
couldn’t be helped. So what if she hated him? She’d hated him for years. At
least she’d be alive to hate him.

He had hoped Tricia would agree to accept his help, but,
given their past, he’d known there was a possibility she’d resist. Could he
have actually gone through with tying her up, especially after he’d seen the
fear in her eyes? He didn’t know, but he was damn grateful he didn’t have to
find out the answer to that question. Her anger he could handle, but fear he
wasn’t so sure about.

Still, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—just stand back and do nothing
while her stubborn pride got her killed.

There were bruises on her face, for God’s sake. She’d done a
fairly decent job covering them with makeup, and, at a quick glance, they
weren’t obvious, but upon close examination…

The sight of them had been all it’d taken to make him feel
completely justified in doing whatever was necessary to keep her safe. Clint
knew exactly what an abusive man was capable of, just as he knew that many
abused women—for reasons he couldn’t understand—refused help.

If he had forced Kelly to accept his help, she might still
be alive. Pain stabbed at his heart as a picture of his younger sister flashed
in his mind.

He’d be damned if he’d make the same mistake again. He would
keep Tricia safe, even if she fought him every step of the way.

Clint fumbled in his shirt pocket for a cigarette. He’d been
trying to quit smoking for months and had finally gotten down to just three
cigarettes a day, which he normally saved for after meals. But if there was
ever a time he needed a smoke, it was now. In his race to reach Tricia, he’d
broken every traffic law in the book, tormented by images of what might happen
if he arrived too late.

After cracking the window, he lit up, inhaled deeply, and
waited for the nicotine to calm his frayed nerves. As he smoked, he glanced at
Tricia out of the corner of his eye.

Her lips were clamped together in a thin, angry line. He’d
gotten only the briefest glimpse of her face before she shifted her position,
the motion causing her hair to fall over her shoulder, obstructing his view.

Clint returned his gaze to the road, and an image filled his
mind of what those lips had looked like when they were swollen and wet from his
kisses. Even after all these years, he still remembered how they tasted. Sweet,
almost to the point of being addictive. He knew what they felt like. Soft and
warm. Just as he knew that all that long, brown hair of hers felt like silk in
his hands.

Get a hold of yourself! You’re lusting after a woman who
hates you. One you should have gotten over years ago.

When Tricia ran a hand through her hair, pushing it away
from her face, Clint’s gaze landed on her cheek, on the exact spot where the
bruises lurked beneath her makeup.

He jerked his gaze away and gripped the steering wheel
harder, thinking how much he’d love to break that son-of-a-bitch in half.

It took numerous deep breaths and a great deal of intense
focused effort before he finally had himself back under control. Grinding out
the cigarette in the ashtray, he glanced over at Tricia to find her looking
down at her wrists, rubbing them as if trying to massage away an ache.

His body stiffened at the realization that, like Matt, he
had inflicted pain on her. A tiny voice inside his head tried to rationalize it—he
hadn’t been trying to hurt her. But regardless, the end result had been the
same.

“Did I hurt you?”

Obviously, you did, you jerk.

She lifted her head and glared at him. Those green eyes
which had once gazed at him with happiness and love were now filled with raw
hostility.

“I’ll live,” she bit out. She stared at him a moment and
then said, “I’m curious, Clint. What do you think your wife’s going to say
about you bringing me home with you?”

For a brief second, he wondered how she knew he had gotten
married. Then he realized she knew it the same way he’d known about the events
of her life...Jenny. But apparently Jenny hadn’t informed her about the
divorce.

“I don’t have a wife.”

“Oh? Did you screw around on her too?”

He clenched his teeth.
Don’t take the bait. She’s just
trying to piss you off.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked, her tone
implying that his mere presence was a violation of some federal law. “The last
I heard, you were in Texas.”

“I moved back about a year ago.”

He glanced down at the speedometer and forced himself to
ease up on the gas. The last thing he needed right now was to get pulled over.
They were on the back roads, and the chances of a cop being anywhere near were
slim, but it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take. Especially since Matt had
relatives on the police force, which meant word would surely make its way back
to him that Tricia had been spotted in town with Clint.

“Does the Chevy belong to you?” he asked.

“Who else would it belong to?”

“If it’s Matt’s, he can file charges against you for auto
theft.”

“It’s mine.”

“The title’s in your name?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” she snapped.

Clint reached for the glove compartment, his hand brushing
against Tricia’s leg in the process. She jerked her leg to the side. Ignoring
her, he grabbed his cellphone and punched in Neil’s number.

“Hey,” he said when Neil picked up before the first ring was
even completed. “We just got out of town. Has Matt shown up?”

“No, but I’m sure he will. I’m sending Jenny and AJ to stay
with her parents, because I don’t even want to think about what might happen if
Matt shows up while I’m not here.”

“Good idea, but you can’t tell her parents the truth about
why they’re there.”

Jenny’s mom loved to talk, and she often let things slip out
before she even realized she’d done it.

“I know,” Neil said. “We’re not sure what excuse we’re going
to give them, but we’ll come up with something.”

“You’re sure no one knows Tricia was at your house?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Good. Are you going to have time to bring her car and
clothes out to my house tonight?”

“It’s about a five hour drive to your place and back, and
I’ve got to work tomorrow. I’m already getting docked for the time I missed
today, and it’s going to be pretty rough on us if I miss any more hours this
week. I’ll bring it out tonight if I have to, but can it wait until the
weekend?”

“I understand. It can wait,” Clint said. “Did you get her
car out of sight?”

“Yeah. I moved it into the workshop, locked the door, and
covered the window so no one can see inside.”

“Okay. Keep me updated. We’ll see you this weekend. And make
damn sure you’re not followed.” Clint disconnected the call, tossed the phone
back into the glove compartment, and relayed the conversation to Tricia.

“I’m so glad the two of you have taken it upon yourselves to
decide how things should be handled,” she muttered.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe.”

Tricia pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I can take
care of myself.”

Yeah, those marks on her face were a glowing testament of
how capable she was of taking care of herself.

“How in the hell did you ever end up with that bastard?” The
question erupted from Clint’s mouth before he could stop it. But since he
couldn’t take it back, he might as well forge ahead. “You knew what he was
like. The entire town knew what he was like. The Tricia I knew wouldn’t have
had anything to do with him.”

His words sounded harsh and accusing, even to his own ears,
and he felt a twinge of guilt. This was not the way to handle things, and he
knew it, but the whole situation made him so angry he felt like he might
explode.

She gave him a considering stare. “I figured Neil told you
the whole sordid story.”

“He told me a story, I just don’t believe it. He told me you
were lonely, vulnerable, that you needed someone, and Matt was there. That’s
bullshit.” Realizing he had practically spit out the last two words, he
stopped, took a deep breath, and struggled to soften his tone. “You’re too
smart to let someone con you like that.”

“Apparently, I’m not. After all, it’s not the first time
someone’s fooled me.”

Clint silently urged himself not to respond. Now was not the
time to deal with that. They had more pressing issues to consider.

Maybe Neil had been right. Maybe it had been temporary
insanity on her part. It was possible that in a moment of weakness she’d let
Matt weasel his way into her life. But why had it taken her so long to come to
her senses?

“You were with him for what? Three years? How long was he
abusing you?”

The fact that she cringed, just the tiniest bit, at his
question didn’t go unnoticed. She straightened her back and lifted her chin,
the very picture of a woman trying desperately to hang on to her pride.

“He only hit me once.”

Clint snorted. “I know what Matt’s like. I find it hard to
believe he waited three years before he started hitting you.”

“Believe whatever you like. This discussion is over.”

Deciding that retreat was the best strategy—for the
moment—Clint returned his attention to the road.

* * * *

Tricia stared out the window at the passing trees and
wondered again how much further it was to Clint’s house. They’d left Lexington
hours ago. She was tired, her head ached, and her throat was parched.

Shifting in her seat, she looked over at Clint. “Where
exactly do you live?” she demanded. “We’ve been driving forever.”

“We’re almost there.”

Although she had no desire to have a conversation with
Clint, she had to know the answer to the question that had been nagging at her
for the last fifty miles.

“Were you at home when Neil called you?” Because if he had
been, then Neil must have known for hours that Matt was in town, yet he hadn’t
warned her and Jenny.

“No. I was at my mom’s house.”

Assuming Mrs. Owens still lived in the same place, Clint had
been approximately forty-five minutes away.

He glanced over at Tricia. As if reading her mind, he said,
“Neil was parked at the end of the road. Matt wasn’t getting to the house
without Neil seeing him.”

Tricia turned and stared out the passenger window once
again. From all indications, Matt had been in town for at least an hour,
probably longer. He’d had plenty of time to arrive at Jenny and Neil’s. So why
hadn’t he?

He’d been playing with her. Over the course of their
relationship, she’d learned all his games. Make-Her-Wait-and-Worry-and-Sweat
was one of his favorites. He’d probably made it known that he was in town,
anticipating the information would reach her, then basked in the knowledge that
she’d be in a state of utter panic.

Tricia supposed she owed Neil a debt of gratitude for not
calling the police. Not long after she’d arrived at their house, he had urged
her to file battery charges against Matt and apply for a restraining order. Her
reaction to his suggestion had apparently been sufficient enough for him to
understand exactly how much she opposed police involvement. And she had good
reason to oppose it.

But to call Clint… Neil should have discussed the situation
with her. Instead, he’d phoned Clint, and they’d concocted a plan, and then
proceeded to carry it out, all without even consulting her.

Still, as wrong as it had been, Neil had acted out of love
and concern. Tricia knew that. Clint was another matter entirely. That He-Man stunt
he’d pulled was barbaric and intolerable.

Yes, at that point, she had already resigned herself to
accepting his help, but she had wanted to gather her things and leave with a
little bit of dignity left intact. Clint dashed that hope when he’d tossed her
over his shoulder and forced her to comply.

She was jarred from her thoughts when Clint pulled the truck
to a stop at a ranch several miles off the main road. As he got out of the
truck, Tricia scanned the area. Her gaze swept past the single-story white
house to the barn and corrals behind it. Endless miles of fenced-in pastures
and woods stretched out in all directions.