“The kid? The cop? He let you walk in?” Sean Weston was in big trouble.
“I may have frightened him. You might want to tell him you’re still alive before all of Virtue Falls law enforcement arrives.”
“Right.” Gently she shoved Lacey out of her lap. Leaning down, she groped for her walking stick. She braced it on the floor, braced her other hand against the arm of the sofa and tried to rise.
She couldn’t quite make it. Pain stabbed at her side, her wobbly knees gave out, and with a wince, she fell back—and that made her flinch, moan and hold her ribs.
Immediately Stag was on his feet and at her side. “For God’s sake. Ask for help.” He wrapped his arm around her butt and lifted her to her feet.
“Thank you.” She hobbled toward the front door, Stag on one side, Lacey on the other.
“You don’t know how to ask for help.” He sounded surprised.
“It doesn’t come easy.”
He opened the door for her.
It was dark. Three cop cars had already arrived, lights flashing, sirens silenced. Neighbors were gathering on the sidewalks. Damn. She’d made a scene. She took a careful step out onto the porch and grasped the railing for support. “Sorry, guys. I’m fine. Really.”
“How do we know he hasn’t got a gun on you?” Sean sounded more than a little belligerent.
She shut the door in Stag’s face, opened it to reveal him glaring balefully, shut it, opened it and said, “He’s my boyfriend. He was overly concerned and I’m sure too pushy. I hope he didn’t injure you?”
“Only his pride,” Stag muttered.
“No, he … no.” Sean shook his head.
Another cop car pulled up. Bergen got out of the driver’s side, leaned an arm on the top of the car and called, “No prints, Kateri, and we’ve got a mess to clean up before you can go home.”
“Okay. I’ll stay here for the night. Stag and Lacey are here. I’ll be safe. You all can go”—she waved a limp hand—“find John Terrance. And isn’t it Saturday night?”
Bergen answered her unspoken question. “Yes, we’ve already got a few DUIs brought in.”
She nodded. “Give me twelve good hours of sleep and I’ll be riding with you again. Go on.” She watched them reluctantly get in the cars to leave. Turning back to Stag, she said, “Please. I need some food, some meds and … can you help me take a shower?”
He got a crease in his cheek, the kind that meant he was holding back a smile. “See? Now that didn’t hurt at all.”
She pinched his butt. Hard. Which was no easy thing because his cheek was rock-hard firm muscle … really nice and tight … damn him.
He laughed, pulled her close, and together they headed into the bathroom.
Lacey stayed right on their heels. She sat looking into the bathtub while Stag gently soaped and rinsed Kateri. She watched him dry Kateri and put her into the nightgown Sandra had packed.
He kept his arm around Kateri as they made their way to the master bedroom. When he flipped on the light, he stopped, viewed the decadent queen-sized bed and asked, “Why are there scratch marks on the headboard posts?”
Kateri grinned. “Handcuffs?”
Her big, tough bouncer/lover turned her toward the guest room.
“I wish Rainbow was here, now, and well,” she said. “She’d make John Terrance sorry he was ever born.”
“You’ll have to do that for her.” As he helped Kateri into the narrow double bed, Lacey leaped onto the middle of the mattress.
Stag eyed her.
She eyed him.
He went into the kitchen and came back with canned soup in a mug and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was the best canned soup and the best PB & J Kateri had ever eaten. He gave Kateri her meds, took away the dishes, then came back and stripped down to his shorts—Kateri noted his chest was in the same condition as his butt—and climbed in on the other side of the bed.
Lacey stood up, leaped over, snuggled against his shoulder, then looked back at Kateri smugly as if to say, Look who has him now.
“You little traitor,” Kateri told her.
Lacey playfully flipped her ears and put her head against his throat.
Stag chuckled deep in his chest. “She knows who the alpha male is and she knows his place at the top of the pack.”
Kateri’s eyes were already closing. “At the top of the pack … right under the alpha female.”
“Exactly where I want to be.”
She went to sleep smiling.
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning, Kateri woke to find herself alone except for one small blond cocker spaniel who now draped herself over Kateri’s outflung arm. “Traitor,” Kateri again told her sleepy-eyed girl dog, and scratched her between the ears. While Lacey lolled on the comforter, Kateri discovered her walking stick carefully propped up against the wall by the bed, and with that and the support of the end table, got to her feet.
She felt better. Still bruised, still achy, but with the sleep she needed she was ready to catch her some bad guys. In the kitchen she found coffee ready to brew, bread in the toaster, dog food and water in bowls on the floor and a note: Bed is short. I am long (but you knew that). Went in early to work. Take it easy today, sweetheart, or suffer my wrath.
“I am afraid,” she said out loud.
While Lacey feasted, Kateri buttered her toast and considered how to tackle the day. Head on, as always.
She walked outside, over to the patrol car parked at the curb, leaned down and asked, “Anything happen I should know about?”
Officer Norm Knowles sighed deeply. “Tourists using a hibachi on a picnic table and setting it on fire. Fender bender on Main leading to a fistfight and a night in jail. Speeders. Public intoxication.”
“So … the usual.”
“Yep. No sign of John Terrance. That sick bastard.” Norm had one adult son, the apple of his eye, and the idea of using his body as a defense made Norm’s lip curl.
“Thanks. I’m going to drop Lacey off at Mrs. Golobovitch’s, then head downtown for breakfast. Why don’t you go home and put your feet up?”
“I’ll do that.” He tilted his hat back. “You look better, Sheriff. Keep it that way.”
She slapped the top of the car. “I will.” She walked the two blocks to the Oceanview Café, braced herself, pushed open the door and walked into an atmosphere smelling of bacon, coffee and avid speculation.
Conversation stopped. In unison, all eyes turned to her.
She waited for the accusations of incompetence in the matter of the capture of John Terrance.
From the corner geezer table, Mr. Caldwell asked, “How you doing, Sheriff?”
Which on the surface sounded like a perfectly friendly inquiry. Except that Mr. Caldwell was an old sonofabitch who hated uppity women in principle and her in particular.
Kateri replied cautiously, “Pretty good.”
“You look like shit.”
There was the Mr. Caldwell she knew and despised.
He continued, “This your first time in here since the shooting?”
Her throat unexpectedly closed. She nodded.