Lock, Stock and McCullen (The Heroes of Horseshoe Creek Book 1) Page 10

  She dropped her face into her hands, breaking his heart, and he gently took her by the arms and turned her to face him. With his thumb, he lifted her chin and looked into her eyes, disturbed by the pain and sorrow reflected in the depths. “I promise, Rose. I know you’re hurting now, and confused about why they kept things from you, but if they aren’t your birth parents, they must have cared for you or they wouldn’t have raised you.”

  She gave a tiny nod, although a mixture of anger and denial darkened her face.

  “They also moved around to protect you.”

  “Did they?” Rose asked. “Or were they moving around to keep my real family from finding me?”

  * * *

  ROSE CHOKED ON the words. The myriad of emotions swirling in her head made her dizzy.

  “I don’t know, Rose, but try not to dwell on it tonight.” Maddox stroked her hair back from her cheek and brushed at a tear. “Just get some rest.”

  She dropped her head against his chest on a sigh. “I don’t even know how to feel, Maddox. I’m so confused.”

  “I know,” he murmured as he folded his arms around her.

  Rose leaned into him, her breathing steadying as she relaxed against him. They stood there for a long time, him silently comforting her, her taking solace in his solid body and quiet strength.

  Thad had been showy and charming and said all the right things.

  But he’d been a liar and a con man.

  Maddox was the opposite. He didn’t try to impress with fancy words. But a rock-steady confidence radiated from him that made her crave more of his presence.

  And his touch.

  He stroked her hair gently, soothing her with whispered murmurings, and heat replaced the coldness that had swallowed her when she’d stepped into her parents’ home and found them dead.

  The past two days had been filled with horrors she’d never imagined. Just for a moment, she wanted to forget the reality that faced her. The funeral plans, the questions, the loss...the danger.

  Her heart thumped wildly as she lifted her head and searched Maddox’s face. He was being kind to her, doing his job, but did he feel the jolt of awareness that zinged through her when his gaze met hers?

  Rose had never felt so alone.

  Yet Maddox had a way of erasing that loneliness with his tenderness.

  Aching for more, she lifted one hand and pressed it to his cheek. His jaw clenched, his breath hissing out between his teeth. The wide mouth that had been set in a grim line most of the day settled into a sensual smile that turned her inside out.

  “Rose—”

  “Shh.” She pressed one finger to his mouth, then stood on tiptoe and closed her lips to his. One touch, and her heart fluttered with longing for another.

  She threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer, moving her mouth against his until he gave in with a low groan and kissed her back.

  His hand moved along her hip to hold her more intimately against him as his tongue teased her lips apart. Rose succumbed to the hunger driving her and savored the taste of him as he deepened the kiss.

  His hand stroked her hip and his sex hardened against her stomach. The heat emanating from his body to hers ignited a flame inside her stronger than anything she’d ever felt with Thad.

  Thad...dear God, what was she doing? Throwing herself at Maddox when he knew she’d already been a fool for another man?

  Self-disgust shot through her, and she wrenched herself away. “I’m sorry, Maddox, I...shouldn’t have done that.”

  He stiffened, his hands dropping to his sides. “It was my fault. I...shouldn’t have touched you.”

  He was letting her off the hook when they both knew that she’d initiated the kiss. Heck, she’d practically begged him for it.

  “It’s been a long day, Rose. Go to bed.”

  This time his voice sounded gruff, his words almost an order.

  She glanced down and saw the bulge in his jeans and realized he needed distance between them. After all, he was a man and she had rubbed herself against him.

  His reaction was normal. A physical reaction. It certainly didn’t mean that he wanted her personally.

  So she turned and hurried up the steps to her bedroom, willing herself to keep the tears from falling until she closed the bedroom door and collapsed on the bed alone.

  * * *

  DAMMIT. MADDOX STRODE outside onto Rose’s porch and cursed himself for losing his head.

  But the sadness in Rose’s eyes and the anguish in her voice had nearly undone him. Coupled with his own emotions over his father’s illness, his frustration with his brothers and his anxiety over this investigation, he’d found it damn hard to walk away.

  Still, he was a lawman, prided himself on maintaining control, on compartmentalizing and remaining professional.

  But no woman had ever touched him like Rose. Not just physically, but on another level. She made him want to be a better man, to slay her dragons and make her smile, and promise her things that he had no right to promise her.

  A noise sounded from the woods, and he surveyed the property, his instincts kicking in. Someone had tried to kill Rose once, and they might make another attempt.

  Her life depended on him remaining alert and being prepared for another attack.

  He rubbed his hand over his gun, then jogged down the porch steps and walked around the edge of the house, scanning the backyard and woods for anything suspicious. The back door was locked. Windows closed.

  Nothing stood out.

  So why did he feel as if someone was watching Rose now, waiting to strike?

  Night noises echoed from the land beyond, and a coyote howled somewhere nearby.

  Finally he grew weary and went back in the house. It was quiet upstairs. Hopefully Rose had fallen asleep. God knew she’d been through hell, and had to be wiped out.

  The call from the marshal echoed in his head, and that uneasy feeling hit him again. Was he anxious about what the man had to say?

  Or because he should have already called the Marshals Service himself?

  Sweat beaded his neck, and he filled a glass with water and chugged it, then punched the number for the marshal’s office in Cheyenne. Maybe Baxter would give him a hint as to what he had to tell him.

  But a voice mail clicked on, so he left a message asking Baxter to call him.

  If he knew what he was dealing with, maybe he could warn Rose in the morning before he met with the man.

  * * *

  ROSE DUCKED INTO the closet and hid behind the coats. Her mommy was screaming and crying. Then she yelled for her to run and hide and not to come out.

  Outside the room, a tree branch beat against the house. Rain pounded the roof. Another noise made her jump.

  She was shaking so hard her knees knocked together. What was happening? Who was that bad man at the door? Why did he have a gun?

  Why were Mommy and Daddy so upset?

  She didn’t like it here in the dark. Something cold touched her foot. A snake? Spider? Roach?

  She shook her legs and feet, then grabbed a coat to wrap around her to keep the icky bugs off. The coat smelled funny, like dirty socks and dust and something else stinky, like that brown stuff Daddy drank sometimes.

  Another noise made her jump. Then more shouting, and a popping sound so loud that she thought the roof was going to explode.

  Rose buried her face in her hands to keep from crying. Daddy said to be quiet. Hide and don’t make a sound. Don’t let anyone know you’re in the house.

  Another popping sound and Mommy screamed again. Then a big clunk like someone fell. More noises. Shoes pounding the floor.

  Furniture being moved. A lamp or something glass broke. Doors opened and slammed shut.

  Was the bad man leaving?

  Another boom like something heavy fell on the floor. Mommy’s crying got quiet. Daddy yelled something, but his voice sounded funny. Far away.

  Lights flickered on. Footsteps clattered. Someone was coming toward
the closet.

  She balled herself up as little as she could and covered her head with the coat. Dust filled her nose and mouth, but she shoved her face down hard and bit her lip to keep from crying.

  What would the bad man do if he found her?

  She didn’t know how long she stayed there, but she closed her eyes and tried to think about Christmas and the dollhouse she wanted Santa to bring, and how fun it would be to make sugar cookies with Mommy. But tears blurred her eyes and she kept hearing sounds and the rain got louder.

  She didn’t know how long she hid in there, but she thought it got quiet and maybe the bad man was gone.

  She inched up on her knees and peered through the crack in the door.

  Then she saw the man. He yanked her mommy by the hair. Then he shoved a gun at her face.

  The gun went boom and then all Rose saw was red...

  * * *

  ROSE JERKED AWAKE, shaking and sweating. She couldn’t breathe.

  Tears streamed down her face as she stumbled from bed and fought for air. Suddenly the door burst open, and a man’s big shadow filled the doorway.

  Rose screamed, the red blinding her.

  Then the man reached for her. She beat at his hands, fighting to get away, but his arms closed around her, holding her so tightly that she couldn’t move.

  “Rose, it’s me, Maddox,” a deep voice said. “Stop fighting, you’re safe.”

  His words finally registered through the haze of her panic, and she blinked to clear her vision. But the red blended with the darkness, and she couldn’t make out Maddox’s face.

  “You were having a nightmare,” Maddox murmured against her ear. “But you’re safe now. I’m here.”

  She closed her eyes and collapsed against him. It was a nightmare, wasn’t it?

  Or...had it been real, a memory, not a dream?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Maddox’s heart had seized the moment he heard Rose’s scream.

  He’d imagined the man who’d attacked her sneaking in and trying to kill her again, so he’d barreled up the steps, gun drawn.

  He held her until her shaking subsided, then leaned back against the headboard and pulled her up next to him. She lay her head on his chest and curled up beside him, and he curved his arm around her shoulder, determined to make her feel safe.

  Yet her eyes still looked glazed.

  “What happened in the dream?” he asked softly.

  Her breath hitched. “I was a little girl, four or five years old. And my parents were home, but someone else was there, someone they were afraid of.”

  Maddox tensed. “You’re talking about the Worthingtons?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think it might have been before they took me. When I lived with my birth parents.”

  So she did think the Worthingtons had taken her? “What happened?”

  “Someone came in the house, and my mother told me to hide. I darted in the closet and crawled behind the coats. It was dark and my dad was shouting, and my mother screaming, then it sounded like they were fighting with someone, a man, turning over furniture.”

  Maddox rubbed her shoulder with his thumb, hoping to keep her calm. “Go on.”

  Rose sniffled. “I was terrified but I peeked through the crack in the door and...” Her fingers dug into his chest, her agitation escalating. “A man shot my mother, and then there was red everywhere...blood...so much of it. That’s all I could see...blood...”

  He wrapped his arms around her again, soothing her. “It was just a dream, Rose.”

  She shook her head against him, then looked up at him, her face haunted. “It seemed so real, though, like it happened...like I was there.”

  Maddox considered her comment. If she had witnessed her parents’ murder, then she might have been placed in foster care or been given to a relative afterward. If the Worthingtons took custody of her, they might have gone into WITSEC to protect her.

  It would explain a lot.

  “Have you had other memories similar to this?”

  “No.” She clamped her teeth over her lower lip for a moment as if she had to think about the question. “Although the night Thad attacked me, when that gun went off, for a second, everything went blank. Well, not blank, but an image of blood flashed behind my eyes.”

  “From a gunshot wound?”

  She nodded. “Blood spraying on the floor...”

  He tilted her face up to study her. “Rose, you said you saw a man standing over your mother, that he shot her.”

  “Yes.” Her voice cracked.

  “Did you see his face?”

  Rose closed her eyes and pressed her palms against them as if trying to visualize the shooter. “No, it was dark and he...had his back to me. He yanked my mother up by the hair and pressed the gun to her temple and...God...” She choked on the words. “He shot her.”

  Maddox gritted his teeth. If Rose had witnessed her birth mother’s murder, the killer was probably afraid her memory would return and she’d send him to prison.

  But it had been twenty years. Why come after her now?

  * * *

  BY THE TIME daylight dawned, Rose forced herself to crawl from bed—and Maddox’s arms.

  He had been nothing but chivalrous when he’d consoled her.

  Although she’d wanted more...

  She climbed in the shower while he brewed coffee and changed in the downstairs bathroom. Apparently he kept a duffel bag with extra clothes in his trunk for emergencies when he worked a case all night.

  But as she dressed, the memory of that nightmare taunted her with the fact that it might have actually happened. That she’d had another set of parents who’d been murdered in their home when she was little.

  Had she seen the man’s face, and been too traumatized to remember it? Or had his face remained hidden in the shadows?

  She dried her hair and applied powder to camouflage the dark circles beneath her eyes. The lack of sleep and worry showed in the shadows and lines on her face.

  What did Maddox see when he looked at her? A foolish woman who’d fallen for a con man who’d lied to her?

  Irritated with herself for caring what he thought, she brushed her unruly hair and pulled it back at the nape of her neck with a silver clasp. By the time she entered the kitchen, Maddox was sipping coffee and had two plates of eggs on the table along with toast.

  “Thank you for making this,” she said, although her stomach was still tied in knots.

  He gestured for her to sit and handed her a mug of coffee, then he wolfed down his food. “I have to meet that marshal this morning. Then I want to check in with the ME and Hoberman.”

  “I’ll go with you to meet the marshal,” Rose said.

  Maddox’s jaw tightened. “I want to speak to him alone first.”

  “Why?”

  Maddox carried his empty plate to the dishwasher, rinsed it and placed it inside. “Because you’ve been through enough, Rose. Let me take you some place safe, then I’ll report back after I talk to him and drop by the morgue.”

  “Do you think they’ll release my parents’ bodies today?” Although if that dream was a memory, her actual birth parents had died twenty years ago.

  “I doubt it. The autopsy will take time, and we need to verify their identities.”

  Despair threatened to overwhelm her. She needed to grieve their loss, but so many questions still remained unanswered for her to know how she felt. Sad? Angry?

  Alone...

  Maddox folded his arms. “You can stay at my ranch while I’m gone.”

  “Thanks,” Rose said, although she didn’t want to put Mama Mary in danger. “But I should stop by Vintage Treasures today.” She gestured toward the music boxes. “My mother never kept written records of the history of the boxes she collected. She always said she kept the stories in her head. But I’d like to research them so I know the history behind each one.”

  She also needed to start thinking about funeral arrangements for her paren
ts. But she couldn’t face that yet.

  “Are you going to sell the music boxes?”

  “No, they’re all I have of my mom.” She retrieved her cell phone to take pictures of the pieces to take with her to the store. “At least the woman I thought was my mother.”

  * * *

  MADDOX DIDN’T KNOW how to respond so he gave her time to assimilate everything that had happened as he drove her to Vintage Treasures.

  Who was Rose’s birth mother?

  He didn’t think it was the woman who’d raised her as Rose Worthington, but he refrained from speculating. He needed to get the facts.

  He studied Rose’s antiques shop as she unlocked the door and they went inside. Furniture, picture frames, dishes, artwork, clothing, homemade quilts and Afghans and other assorted items filled the store. Collections of rare coins, thimbles, lace, dolls and even arrowheads were displayed near a sitting area, where Rose served tea, coffee and shortbread cookies.

  The bell over the door tinkled, and a young woman with short, spiky dark hair entered, an oversized bag slung over one shoulder, her denim-and-lace dress similar to the vintage clothing on display in the far right hand corner of the shop.

  The young woman looked him up and down then smiled at Rose. “Hey, Rose. I didn’t think you’d be in today.”

  “I needed to do some research.” She waved a hand toward him. “Trina, do you know the sheriff, Maddox McCullen?”

  Trina gave him a flirtatious smile and extended her hand. “No. I mean I’ve seen you around town, Sheriff, but it’s nice to finally meet. I’m Trina Fields.”

  Maddox shook her hand and forced a smile in return, although he kept it professional. Trina was attractive, but not his type.

  Hell, he didn’t have a type...

  Rose. Yes, Rose was his type. Dammit.

  “What’s going on, Rose?” Trina asked.

  “It turned out that Thad lied to me. He attacked me the other night and then disappeared.” She started to confess about shooting him, but Maddox shook his head to silence her. Thankfully she understood.

  “Oh, my God,” Trina said. “Rose, are you okay?”