She’d grown too serious. Her intensity made him even more suspicious, but before he could respond, Levi returned with her phone. Hearing his tread on the scarred wooden floor of the old kitchen, she whirled around to face him. “Any luck?”

When his eyes shifted from her to Kyle, Callie felt herself blush. She feared he already understood more about what was going on between them than the group they socialized with so often.

“The police have it,” he said. “They picked it up probably an hour before you got there.”

“Too bad I missed it. But at least it wasn’t stolen.” She didn’t ask how much the impound fees would be. She doubted he had the money to pay them and didn’t want to put him on the spot in front of Kyle. Besides, she felt partially responsible for his loss, since she was the one who’d told the officers about it.

“I’ve got to get back to work.” Kyle looked at Levi. “Want me to drive you to the impound lot?”

Levi shook his head. “No need. I’m not ready to go there yet. But if you’re heading toward town, I’ll hitch a ride as far as you’re going.”

He wasn’t asking for any special consideration. That seemed to soften Kyle up. “I can take you wherever you’d like to go.”

With barely a wince to give away what the movement cost him, Levi hauled his bag over his shoulder as if he might not be coming back. “I saw a gas station a few miles back.”

“The Gas-N-Go?” Kyle said.

He nodded. “Anywhere close to that will be fine.”

Finished with the dishes, Callie dried her hands. “What are you planning to do there?”

“Find work,” he said, and turned away.

She stopped him. “You can’t work! Not yet. You’re covered in stitches.”

He didn’t seem to think that mattered. “I’ll live.”

“Wait.” She sent Kyle a glance that warned him not to interfere. “I could use some help around here.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “Doing what?”

“My parents want to sell the place. I told them I’d get it in shape.”

“Which would include...”

She could tell she’d caught his interest. “I’ve been meaning to repair and paint the barn, for one thing.” Her parents had bought the paint; she just hadn’t felt strong enough to get up on a ladder. She’d been considering hiring someone, anyway. The place had sat empty for so long there were plenty of other projects for her to do. Just keeping up with her gardening and photography seemed to be a full-time job. “If you’ll provide the labor, I’ll provide room and board until you finish. I’ll also front the money to retrieve your motorcycle and get it fixed.”

He adjusted the bandages covering the stitches on his right arm. “How do you know I won’t take advantage? That I won’t fix my motorcycle and leave before I ever paint the barn?”

“Will you?” she asked, but she figured there could be worse things. Liver failure had a way of putting smaller disappointments in perspective.

There was a moment of silence. Then he said, “No. Where’s the paint?”

She chuckled. “You’re not in any shape to start quite yet. And the fees on that motorcycle are only going to go up the longer we leave it. Let’s get that taken care of first.”

* * *

Levi kept quiet while Callie drove to the impound lot in Kyle’s truck with his trailer lagging behind. The silence stretched on so long it began to feel oppressive, so she made an attempt at small talk. “Last night you said you’d been in the military. Where’d you serve?”

When he glanced over, she could see him weighing whether or not he wanted to engage in this conversation.

“Is where you served classified information?” She grinned, trying to tempt him into lowering his guard, but he didn’t even crack a smile.

“It’s pointless to go through the usual rituals. We won’t know each other long enough for any of it to matter.”

“It’ll take a week to finish the barn, and that’s only if you’re a fast worker. So humor me.”

“Fine.” He shrugged. “Afghanistan.”

“That must’ve been tough.”

No response, but she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to talk about such a difficult post.

“Where are you from?”

“Seattle.”

“Do you have family there?”

He wasn’t looking at her. He’d gone back to staring out the window. “Some.”

“A wife? Kids?” She’d seen no ring on his finger, but she knew that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t committed.

A muscle jumped in his cheek, giving her the impression that she’d just struck a nerve.

“Neither,” he said, the word falling like an ax.

Curious as to why he’d be sensitive on this subject, she asked, “So you’ve been married?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, but eventually he managed another word. “No.”

“Neither have I.” She leaned forward to catch his eye. “In case you were wondering.”

He made no comment, which led her to believe he hadn’t been wondering—or wasn’t willing to admit it if he was. He’d have to open up if he was going to ask any questions about her, and that would risk her asking even more questions about him.

“Wow, you’re really easy to talk to,” she said.

His eyes flicked her way.

“I’m afraid they won’t release my bike.”

“The impound lot? Why wouldn’t they?”

“I don’t have my license or registration.”

Considering his situation, this didn’t really surprise her. But it did create a problem. ID was usually required. “So what’s your plan?”

“I don’t know. It’s my bike. If we pay the fine, they’d better give it to me.”

Callie didn’t want any problems. “You didn’t...steal it, did you?”

He gave her a look that nearly shriveled her on the spot. “No. Just because I don’t have the registration with me doesn’t mean I stole it.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she believed him. He seemed too forthright to be a theif. “I have a friend who tows for this yard. Actually, it’s the brother of a friend. I bet Joe can arrange it.”

This seemed to ease some of his tension. “You think so?”

“It’s a small town. We can work it out.” She loosened her seat belt to give her a bit more breathing room. “So what brings you to California?”

“Figured this was as good a place as any.”

She had so many loved ones she couldn’t imagine taking to the road, trading her relationships with them for a series of roadside diners and two-bit hotels—even if she was well.

“Does your family know you’re here?” Who’d been part of his life? And where had they gone? Did they miss him? Care about him?

Again, there was a slight delay in his answer. “I haven’t talked to them in some time.”

Why? She wanted to ask, but no amount of effort on her part seemed capable of breaching the walls he’d thrown up. Because he wouldn’t engage in this conversation, it seemed more like an interrogation.

Convinced that she was wasting her time, Callie let it go. She wasn’t necessarily looking for a friend. She had plenty of those. She was just trying to be one. But being a friend didn’t have to include badgering him into revealing his situation. She could live and let live. After all, she had her own secrets.

Adjusting the volume on the radio, she fell silent and expected that silence to last—until he spoke.

“That guy, Kyle.”

She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “What about him?”

“You’re sleeping with him, right?”

Fortunately, the impound lot was coming up. “Kyle’s a long story,” she said, and turned into the drive.

* * *

At the farm, the sun bore down on Levi, reminding him of Kandahar in July. In reality, this day, which was somewhere around ninety degrees, was mild by comparison. He’d never felt what the word swelter meant until he’d experienced one-hundred-and-fifteen-degree temperatures in the desert half a world away—while wearing an army uniform and fifty pounds of gear. Still...the blinding brightness of the afternoon sun brought back memories. Once again, he could taste the gritty dust that clogged his nose and throat, the salt of his own sweat, the fatigue of intense exertion. He could also hear the Pashto spoken in the market they policed. Afghanistan had been unlike any place he’d ever visited or previously imagined, but he hadn’t disliked being there. Not in the beginning. Joining the army provided an escape from his father, which had considerably improved his life.

Besides, at nineteen and freshly graduated from high school, he’d been so idealistic and full of patriotism he’d been eager to face any challenge. He’d just had no idea what those challenges would entail—or how smiling at a pretty girl could turn out to be the biggest mistake he’d ever made.

“Are you thirsty?”

Grateful for the interruption, he raised a hand to block the sun. Callie was standing there, holding a glass of iced tea, but for a moment he thought he saw Behrukh in her shami dress and hijab—the way he’d first seen her in her father’s store—and his chest constricted.

“Levi? Are you okay?”

The vision cleared. This wasn’t Afghanistan. And Callie looked nothing like Behrukh, who’d been tall and thin with the characteristic dark hair and eyes of her people.

“Fine.” In some ways, he was better than fine. The impound lot hadn’t given him any trouble about releasing his bike. The guy there had chatted with Callie, flirted a bit and taken a call from her friend Joe, who vouched for him, and that was it. Hooking an arm around one knee, he sat up and accepted the glass she handed him.

“It’s too soon for you to be working. I wish you’d get some rest.”

“I’m okay.” He took a long drink, letting the cool, sweet liquid soothe his parched throat.

“Have you figured out what’s wrong with your bike?”

He motioned toward it with his glass. “Carburetor’s jammed. I should also change the spark plugs.”

“Will that be expensive?”

“Not too bad, since I can do the work myself.”

“Do you need parts?”

He squinted against the sun. He was feeling a bit light-headed. Maybe it was time to knock off. While he’d been tearing apart the engine of his motorcycle, Callie had been bringing fresh bedding from the house to the barn, where she said there was a room with a tiny bathroom in one corner. She’d apologized for the fact that he wouldn’t have any heat or air-conditioning, but it was mild here this time of year, especially at night. He didn’t mind making do. That had become his pattern for life. Right now, just getting out of the sun and into the shade would help.

“I need the plugs, maybe a few other things. I’ll know more when I finish here. But...maybe we can go tomorrow?”

She nodded. “I’m glad to hear you say it can wait. I made some beef Stroganoff. My grandmother’s recipe. Why don’t you get showered and come in for dinner?”

There didn’t seem to be any need to keep pushing himself. He wasn’t in a hurry. He liked the farm. It was isolated enough that, besides Callie, he didn’t have to run into other people.

“Okay.”

“My uncle installed an instant water heater for the bathroom in the barn,” she explained, “so you should have plenty of hot water, but the shower’s tiny and not much to look at. I put some towels out there.”

“Thank you.” Fortunately, Callie, the one person he did see here, wasn’t difficult to be around. After that conversation in the car, she’d stopped prying into his past. He got the feeling she understood that he didn’t want to talk about himself and wouldn’t push him again. Since they’d returned home, she’d left him to his own devices, and that felt almost comfortable.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, and started back to the house.

“Callie?”

She pivoted to face him.

“Why are you helping me?”

Her eyebrows slid up. “I want the barn painted, remember?”

“You could hire a handyman. It doesn’t have to be some stranger who’s been attacked by dogs. Your boyfriend could even do it on the weekends.”

She didn’t bother protesting the status he’d assigned to Kyle. She didn’t seem to want to touch that subject, no matter when he brought it up. The way she’d answered his only question in the car led him to believe that she valued her privacy as much as he did. “You’ve got something I need, and I’ve got something you need. That makes it a fair trade for both of us.” She tilted her head to one side. “Why? You don’t trust me?”

“I don’t want to owe anyone.” He didn’t want to feel any obligation or gratitude, either. He didn’t want to feel anything—except the sun on his face and the wind in his hair.

“It’s a fair trade, like I said. That means we’ll be even.”

When he nodded, she walked into the house and he got up to take a shower. She’d said all the right things—but he had a feeling that if he wasn’t careful, he could wind up owing her a lot.

Dinner was delicious. Levi ate more than he had in a single meal for months. He probably should’ve stopped Callie when she kept ladling Stroganoff onto his plate, but he was enjoying it too much to protest. Unlike some of the other soldiers, he wasn’t one to complain about the food served in the canteen. It’d tasted better than any he’d known previously. His father had been so determined to make an MMA champion out of him, and to use that success to build the reputation of his dojo, that comfort foods and junk food weren’t allowed. No pizza, fries or greasy burgers. No gravies, no soda, no cookies or candy or cupcakes. He’d been in training almost since he was a toddler, had been raised on vegetables and lean protein. And steroids.

But Levi had flushed them down the toilet more often than not. Given the cost of those drugs, his father would’ve beaten him to within an inch of his life if he’d ever found out—there were certainly beatings for lesser crimes—but Levi definitely didn’t want to turn out like his old man. He often wondered if Leo would’ve been a little less vicious without all the performance-enhancing drugs he’d taken to build up his own body.

Levi expected Callie to try and strike up another conversation. Normal people talked over dinner. But, apparently, she’d figured out that he preferred to be left to his own thoughts because she didn’t say anything. Only the click of their utensils and an occasional “Would you like some more iced tea?” broke the silence.

“That was the best,” he said when he’d finished.

She’d already gotten up and gone to the sink. Apparently, she hadn’t expected him to say even that much. “Thank you.”

When he didn’t leave, she cast a glance over her shoulder. “Feel free to go out and get some sleep.”

He was on his own? That easily?

At first, Levi felt relieved that she demanded so little. He was tired and sore, and he had a terrible headache. But he couldn’t walk out without doing something to show his gratitude. Where would he be without her? His wounds had been stitched up, he had his bike, he had a full belly and a bed for the night. That was a lot to accept without giving in return. He hadn’t even been good company.

He hadn’t been good company to anyone for a long time....

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked.

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

The setting sun cast shadows across the kitchen; she hadn’t yet turned on the lights. “I’d like to repay you in some way, if I could.”

“Painting the barn’s enough.”

He gathered up their glasses and silverware. He could at least do the dishes. She was looking pretty tired. When she thought he wasn’t paying attention, she’d lean on the counter or hang her head as if she needed to regain her breath.

“I’ll do it,” she said, taking what he held. “It’s not a big job. And you haven’t had much sleep, considering what happened last night.”

He couldn’t quite figure out why she was going so easy on him, why she was allowing him to stay. “You’re sure?”

She smiled. “Positive.”

For a second, he wondered if something more than fatigue could be wrong with her, but then he decided it was the odd lighting that made her look so pale.

“Okay.” He left the dishes to her but didn’t go directly to the barn. He went into her bathroom so he could wipe up the mess he’d made there last night when he was bleeding. He’d been meaning to do it all day, but he’d been too drugged with whatever sleeping pills the vet had given him while stitching him up. Then he’d met Kyle, slept while they went looking for his bike because he could hardly stand, gone with Callie himself and, when they returned, started tinkering with his engine. Now he saw that it was too late. She’d already cleaned up.

The shower curtain he’d pulled down had been washed and was neatly folded on the back of the toilet. He must’ve bent the rod, since it was gone.

Making a mental note to see about fixing what he’d broken—so he wouldn’t leave her any worse off than he’d found her—he headed out. But the place suddenly seemed too quiet. He glanced toward the kitchen to see why he couldn’t hear Callie doing dishes anymore and spotted her through the doorway.

It looked as if she was clutching the edge of the table so she wouldn’t topple over.

The creak of the floor must’ve given away his approach. She straightened and turned. “You’re still here?”

He ignored the question. “Are you okay?”

“Of course!” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I just...ate too much and...it gave me a cramp.”

Not entirely convinced, he waited to see if she’d venture another explanation. What she’d said so far didn’t quite match what he saw in her face. But when she left it at that, he could only accept her response. He couldn’t see why she’d have any reason to lie, but he also couldn’t see how whatever pain she felt could be related to too much food. From what he could remember, she hadn’t eaten anything.

* * *

Rifle woke Callie for the second night in a row. Nerves jangled, she thought her dog was still reacting to Levi’s presence. She’d been in bed for over an hour, although it was only ten o’clock. She’d barely drifted off. Maybe Levi couldn’t sleep and had gotten up to work on his bike. There was a light in the barn if he chose to use it.

But she couldn’t imagine he felt good enough to do that. And she couldn’t understand why Levi’s moving around would bother Rifle. So far, she’d limited contact between man and dog. The way Levi watched Rifle, as though he might have to defend himself at a moment’s notice, confirmed that he was now, if he hadn’t been before, leery of such a powerful animal. She had, however, introduced them, so that if they did come into contact there wouldn’t be any problems. Once Rifle realized that she welcomed Levi’s presence, he did, too. He’d even wagged his tail and tried to lick Levi’s hand when Levi came in for dinner.

So what was going on?

Throwing off the covers, she got out of bed and dragged her pellet gun into the living room. She couldn’t completely ignore Kyle’s warnings. Levi, or anyone else, could be capable of far worse than she’d ever want to believe. He certainly wouldn’t be the first person to turn on someone who’d merely been trying to help.

But it wasn’t Levi who’d set the dog off.

Headlights bore down on the front of the house, and the engine of a truck continued to rumble as a door opened and shut. Although it was late for Godfrey to be out, Callie guessed he’d stopped by to tell her what he’d discovered on the pit bulls. She’d left him a message earlier, detailing what she’d found at the rental, so she’d been expecting him to get back to her with an update.

She almost opened the door, but then whoever approached called out to someone else. “Get your lazy ass out of the truck and come up here.”

That voice definitely didn’t belong to Godfrey....

The passenger door opened and slammed as Callie stood at the front window. Because of the glare, she couldn’t make out who’d come to visit. It wasn’t as if she had the benefit of streetlights. Out here, there was no lighting at all, except the moon and stars, and tonight the moon wasn’t more than a thin silver smile.

The first man knocked as his companion joined him on the front stoop.

Gripping the pellet gun, Callie moved to the peephole and peered out. As she’d already surmised, she had two male visitors, neither of whom she recognized. “Who is it?”

“Denny Seamans and Powell Barney,” came the answer.

“Who?” she muttered to Rifle. She’d never heard of a Denny or a Powell. “It’s a little late to be out visiting,” she called above Rifle’s resounding bark.

“We’re not out visiting.”

“Then what can I do for you?”

“You can explain why the hell that old guy Godfrey Blume showed up at the vet’s today and had my dogs taken away by animal control.”

Denny and Powell were the Gruper renters.

Lowering the pellet rifle, Callie unlocked and opened the door.

The men were very obviously bodybuilders. About five feet nine inches, they had shaved heads to go with an overabundance of muscle and looked like twins, despite the differences in their facial features and last names.

“In case Godfrey didn’t already explain,” Callie began, “your dogs attacked a man who was pushing his motorcycle past—”

The first guy exploded before she could finish. “That’s bullshit!”

Callie didn’t know if it was Denny or Powell until he gestured at his companion.

“Tell her, Powell. Tell her Sauron and Spike would never do that.”

“They wouldn’t.” Powell shook his head as if it was a foregone conclusion. “I’ve been around those dogs a whole year. They’ve never caused any problems.”

Sauron’s name suggested he’d be capable of anything. The only other place Callie had heard that name before was in The Lord of the Rings. Sauron was the villain, which she suspected Denny knew. But she didn’t comment on that. He had the right to call his dog anything he wanted. Besides, the size of these men made her nervous. So did their attitudes.

She gripped her gun tighter, in case she had to raise it. She doubted a pellet would do much against the armor of all that beefcake—especially because she’d be lucky to squeeze the trigger once before the man who didn’t get shot took the gun away—but she figured it was better than nothing. “Then you need to tell that to the authorities. You have no reason to be standing on my doorstep.”

“According to Godfrey Blume, we do. You’re the one who’s saying otherwise. Seems your word is gold in this town.”

She couldn’t help reacting to his sarcasm. “Because they know I wouldn’t lie.”

“That’s why we’re here. It’s you we have to convince. You need to stop what you started, or I’m going to lose my dogs.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t change what they did. No one wins in these situations, least of all the animals. But I saw the results of what happened. You can’t tell me they didn’t attack.”

“It isn’t what you think!” Denny argued. “It’s not like they went after that drifter without reason. He tried to sleep in our garage. That’s trespassing. And my dogs just did what any guard dog would.”

Levi had to find somewhere to sleep at night. Given his situation and the late hour, their story might’ve been plausible. Except the police found his bike on the side of the road, halfway in the ditch, right where Levi said he’d dropped it. And when she’d been at the Gruper rental earlier, she’d seen no blood in the garage—only on the driveway leading to the back porch, suggesting the incident had occurred off-site, and then the dogs had trotted home.

“That’s not true,” she said.

The way she’d challenged his explanation didn’t sit well with Denny, who came off as the more aggressive of the two. “How the hell would you know?” His face, with its wide nose, jutted forward. “You weren’t there.”

These men didn’t act at all concerned that their dogs had mangled someone. All they cared about was the possibility of their own loss.

<1 2 3 4 5 6 >

На страницу:

Перейти

4 из 6