Redemption at Hawk's Landing Read online

  The idea of her alone at eighteen made his stomach knot. The idea of someone threatening her and possibly following through made that knot tighten even more.

  She closed the blinds, and he pictured her undressing, slipping into pajamas and retrieving her gun to sleep with.

  The image aroused him and stirred admiration for her independence.

  It also made him want to go inside, crawl into bed and tell her she didn’t need a gun, that he would take care of her.

  Shaken by that thought, he started the engine. He phoned his deputy and asked him to check the databases to see if anyone in town owned a dark sedan. As he expected, a dozen or more popped up.

  Geoffrey Williams was one. But, hell, so were the mayor and Cora Zimmerman and the local preacher.

  Still, he spent the next hour driving from Honey’s house to town and back, searching for the sedan.

  No one would hurt Honey, not as long as he was sheriff.

  * * *

  HONEY LAY AWAKE for hours in her childhood bed, torn by memories of growing up.

  As a child, she always locked her bedroom door.

  Tonight she left it ajar so she could hear if an intruder broke in.

  The day took its toll, though, and she finally fell into an exhausted sleep. Dreams of hiding in the closet when her father was in a drunken rage mixed with nightmares of showing up at school in mismatched, raggedy clothes and running from the mean girls who’d laughed at her and called her names.

  She wanted to join in and had inched up to the circle of girls at the edge of the bleachers. But one of them spotted her and started laughing.

  “Go away,” one of the girls yelled. “We don’t want you around.”

  She turned and ran. They chased her onto the football field where she fell face-first in a mud puddle. She pushed herself up, face and clothes covered in mud, and tried to stand, but she slipped and hit the wet ground again.

  When she looked up through tear-soaked eyes, the football team was laughing. Harrison was standing at the edge of the field, stone-faced and disapproving as if she’d interrupted their game.

  She scrambled up and ran from the field toward the woods. She wanted to get lost. Never go back again.

  But where would she go? She was underage, would have to live on the streets. Her house was dangerous, but she wasn’t stupid.

  The streets would be worse.

  Still she ran into the woods. At least she could hide there until school was out. Then she’d run home and clean up the mud.

  She tripped over a tree stump and hit the ground. Weeds clawed at her hands and she tasted dirt.

  * * *

  A NOISE SUDDENLY jarred her awake. Honey clenched the sheets and sat up to search the room. Cool air brushed her cheek, and she jerked her head to the side. The window was busted.

  Moonlight shone in, illuminating a rock on the floor.

  Another loud sound, glass shattering. She slid from bed, grabbed her robe and pulled it on, then slid her gun from the nightstand. Gripping it with both hands, she tiptoed to the bedroom door and looked around the living room and kitchen.

  She didn’t see anyone, but she went still and listened. The floor creaked. The wind whistled. The sheers in the living room billowed out as the wind blew through the shattered window.

  Was someone inside?

  Tense seconds dragged by. More glass breaking. The second window in the living room. Then another crash—the window in the kitchen.

  The rock hit the floor, glass spraying.

  She startled and bit back a gasp.

  Someone was throwing rocks at her house. Why? To scare her off?

  She inched toward the window and peered out but she didn’t see anyone. The sound came again, this time from her father’s room, then her room.

  Someone was breaking all the windows. Was it the person who’d threatened her earlier?

  She inched back toward the bedroom and grabbed her phone. She hated to call Harrison a second time in one night, but she was scared.

  What if this was the same person who’d killed her father?

  Another noise made her jerk her head toward the back door. She held her breath, straining to hear as she crept through the hall. Another loud noise. The rock hitting the door.

  Heart racing, she punched Harrison’s number.

  * * *

  HARRISON HAD JUST dozed off when the phone jarred him awake. He snatched it on the second ring.

  “Harrison, it’s Honey. I’m sorry to bother you but someone is throwing rocks through my windows.”

  What the hell? His feet hit the floor and he was dressed in seconds. “Lock the door and stay inside. I’ll be right there.”

  He flipped his siren on as he got in his SUV, senses alert as he sped toward Lower Tumbleweed. The road was deserted, most houses dark, the citizens of Tumbleweed safely tucked in for the night.

  Except for Honey.

  Who the hell would throw rocks at her house this time of the night—or morning?

  Dawn streaked the sky, the morning sun struggling to peek through the dark clouds. Dust blurred the horizon as the wind swept it from the abandoned farm. Desperate for rain, the grass was turning brown and the crops were hurting from thirst.

  Deciding he didn’t want to alert the culprit at Honey’s with his siren, he flipped it off and slowed, cruising slowly down the street and searching for signs of trouble. The houses neighboring Honey’s father’s house were vacant, the run-down properties desolate and forgotten.

  He should have stayed here tonight as he’d suggested to Honey.

  What if she was hurt?

  Images of her bloody and unconscious flashed behind his eyes. Then an image of her lying dead like her father.

  If whoever had killed her father thought something in the house might incriminate him, he might try to frighten her off with a warning—or come after her.

  He scanned both sides of the road and the woods backing up to the houses, but didn’t see a car or a person. But the houses on both sides of Honey’s had shattered windows, the panes broken out.

  He cut his lights and veered into the Grangers’ driveway. The lights in the den were on. The blinds slid open and Honey peered at him. Relief flooded her face.

  He paused to listen for sounds of the culprit, but the whistling of the wind rattling the leaves on the trees was the only sound in the night.

  He motioned to Honey that he was going to check the property, and she gave a nod. He pulled his flashlight from his pocket and shone it to the right of the house in search of the perp. Nothing but trees and a cat that darted from behind the neighboring house.

  He flicked it across the front of the house. Both front windows were shattered. Turning in a wide arc, he scanned the ground for footprints. The grass looked marred, flattened in places from foot impressions.

  But the rocks and dirt blended with the grass and he couldn’t determine a definitive print. A partial near the sidewalk indicated the foot had been large, but he couldn’t discern if the shoe was a sneaker or boot.

  Damn.

  He walked around the side of the house, searching the ground for more footprints or something the perp might have dropped. The side window had also been shattered. When he reached the back door, he spotted indentations in the wood from the impact of the rock. More than once. Wood had splintered to the point that the rotting board had a hole in it.

  Anger surged through Harrison.

  Honey hadn’t done anything to deserve this.

  He strode toward the woods, grass, leaves and brush crunching beneath his boots. A twig snapped. The sound of a coyote howled in the distance.

  He spotted movement in the woods and shone his flashlight in the direction where he’d seen it. Seconds dragged by as he searched. Finally
another movement deep in the woods.

  An animal or the predator who’d terrorized Honey?

  It was too damn far away to tell.

  He glanced back at the house, tempted to give chase, but what if he was wrong and the movement was a damn deer and he left Honey alone and vulnerable?

  Cursing again, he continued walking the back of the property, then veered left to the other side of the house. Another window shattered, this one in the laundry room.

  No wonder Honey had been frightened. She’d been attacked from all sides. Had there been more than one perpetrator?

  He shone the light toward the land connecting to the Grangers’ place. The house was deserted and falling in. Rotting boards sagged on the exterior. The windows had also been shattered.

  Irritated and worried about Honey, he conducted one more sweep of the property, circling the house. He stepped onto the makeshift step then jumped onto the porch.

  Honey opened the door before he could even knock.

  He swept his gaze over her, needing to know that she was okay. Safe. Unhurt.

  “I’m sorry I called,” she said, “but I thought if it was the person who killed my father...or Chrissy, you’d want to know.”

  Harrison ground his teeth. “You don’t have to apologize, Honey. You did the right thing.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip and hugged her arms around herself, then nodded. She looked shaken and exhausted.

  Harrison forgot that he shouldn’t touch her or get involved or that they might be on the opposite sides of this case when it was over. Or that his mother would have a fit if he knew he actually cared about Honey Granger.

  And he was starting to care for her.

  That thought made his gut pinch with fear, but he ignored it and pulled her against him. “Are you okay?” he asked in a gruff voice.

  Honey leaned her head against his chest, her breathing erratic. “Yes,” she said so softly that he barely heard her.

  But the courage in that voice and in the way she’d responded to everything that had gone wrong in her life aroused his admiration again. In his mind, he saw her as that skinny, frail, lonely little girl who was cast aside by her mother and classmates.

  Saw her father raising his hand to her as he imagined he’d done a dozen or more times.

  Saw her running from the football field that day she’d fallen in the mud.

  He’d done nothing then.

  He would make up for it now.

  Guilt, need and fierce protective instincts surged through him, and he lifted her chin with his thumb and searched her face.

  “You aren’t hurt?”

  She shook her head. “There’s glass everywhere inside, but I’m fine.”

  Except she wasn’t fine and they both knew it.

  “I’m going to find out who did this,” Harrison said. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Honey.”

  She started to say something but he stopped her. “Shh.” He pressed his finger to her lips to quiet her. “I mean it. People in this town haven’t been nice to you and it’s not right. I should have stood up for you a long time ago, when we were kids.”

  A blush stained her face and she averted her eyes as if bad memories had assaulted her.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you of the past.”

  “I can’t ever forget the past,” Honey said. “Not until we figure out if my father killed your sister.”

  The mention of his sister twisted his insides, but he knew now without a shadow of a doubt that Honey had suffered because of Chrissy’s disappearance. That she had cared about his sister and would never have covered up for her father if she’d known that he hurt her.

  Their gazes locked. Tension escalated. Emotions and desires flamed between them.

  She shivered and Harrison realized he’d wanted to soothe and protect and touch her ever since he’d seen her at the morgue.

  No longer able to resist, he stroked her cheek with the back of his thumb, then lowered his head and kissed her.

  Chapter Nine

  Honey had wanted to kiss Harrison ever since she was sixteen.

  His body felt hard and strong, his mouth hungry and eager but so gentle that tears pooled behind her eyelids.

  She blinked them away and leaned into him. His hands stroked her back a second before he pulled her closer against him. She clutched his arms, suddenly dizzy, her world turning upside down as if she’d been swept up in a windstorm.

  He deepened the kiss, his lips moving over hers. Her heart raced as he plunged his tongue deep inside her mouth.

  Desire, need and hunger bolted through her, and she lost herself in the moment. She couldn’t remember when she’d been kissed like this or when she’d even wanted to be kissed like this.

  But Harrison’s kiss made her feel alive. Her blood seemed hotter, her body achy, and need pulsed through her.

  He lowered his hands, slid them over her hips and pulled her tighter. So tight she felt his hard length press against her belly.

  But her common sense kicked in, whispering to her.

  She couldn’t—shouldn’t—be kissing Harrison Hawk. He was the sheriff, for God’s sake. He was trying to hang her father for murder.

  His mother hated her.

  And she hated Tumbleweed. She’d be leaving as soon as possible. Her life was in Austin.

  The wind whistled around her, clearing her head, and she pulled away from Harrison. He gripped her waist, but she took a step back.

  “Stop, Harrison, we can’t do this.”

  His breath puffed out, erratic and unsteady. “I’m sorry. That was...out of line.”

  “Yes, it was,” she said, regretting the words when he winced as if she’d slapped him. But she didn’t apologize. It was better this way.

  “I’m here to cremate my father and get rid of his house,” she said, reminding them both that romance—or a one-night stand—didn’t fit with her plans. Or his.

  “I know,” he said, his voice rough with what she assumed was regret. “It won’t happen again.”

  “No, it won’t,” Honey said. “I’m not the person everyone made me out to be in high school. I don’t sleep around.” She wiped her sweaty palms on her robe, well aware that her nipples had tightened to hard buds beneath her gown. Had he felt it?

  “I didn’t—”

  “Let’s just drop it,” she said, willing herself not to reach for him again. She felt safe in his arms. Safe and wanted and void of the shame and ridicule of the town.

  Harrison Hawk was strong and protective and honest and handsome—everything she’d ever wanted in a man.

  Everything she couldn’t have, especially considering their pasts.

  “I called you because someone was outside,” she said, desperately trying to steer them back on track.

  He shuffled, rubbed his chin and glanced toward the window. “I looked around but no one was out there. Did you see who it was?”

  Honey shook her head. “It was too dark. And I was afraid to get too close to the window for fear of getting hit.”

  “That was smart,” Harrison said.

  Or cowardly, Honey thought.

  “Some of the other houses out here have been vandalized,” Harrison said. “Both houses next door had windows shattered, too. So it’s possible that this was just some teenagers.”

  Honey nodded, although in light of the fact that her father was murdered and she’d already received one threat, it seemed too coincidental.

  “You really believe that?” Honey asked.

  Harrison shrugged. “I said it’s possible. I’ll collect the rocks and send them to the lab for analysis. If it’s kids, we’ll probably find prints.”

  “Thanks, Harrison.”

  He nodded, then hu
rried to his car and returned a minute later with a crime scene kit.

  Honey went inside and started a pot of coffee. There was no way she could go back to sleep now. Not after being awakened by whoever had been out there.

  And not when her body was still tingling from Harrison’s kiss.

  * * *

  HARRISON CURSED HIMSELF for kissing Honey.

  Just because he was drawn to her didn’t mean she was attracted to him. For God’s sake, he was supposed to be doing his job, not acting on impulses driven by his libido.

  Honey had every reason to despise him and his family. They had treated her unfairly. And now here he was, getting warrants to search her property to find evidence to prove that her father was a murderer.

  Even though Honey acted tough, labeling her father as a killer would hurt her.

  He had to keep his distance. Besides, he did not push himself on any woman who didn’t want him.

  And Honey had made it clear she didn’t.

  Setting his jaw firmly, he phoned his deputy and asked him to pick up the search warrants for the Grangers’ land, then strode up the step to the porch.

  Dawn streaked the sky, the morning light illuminating the bleak condition of the house. The scent of strong coffee brewing and pine cleaner hit him as he entered. He scanned the living room area. It looked as if Honey had emptied shelves and cleaned, but shards of broken glass were scattered across the floor from the rock’s impact. He took pictures of the windows, floor and glass shards.

  Then he yanked on rubber gloves, opened his kit and removed evidence bags. He picked the first rock up and placed it in the bag, then put the second one in another bag.

  Anger rolled through him at the sight of more glass in the laundry room and Granger’s room. Glass was also scattered across the bed where Honey had been sleeping.

  He knotted his hands into fists. Even if this was teenage vandals, they could have hurt Honey.

  Furious, he photographed the damage.

  By the time he finished, Honey was sipping coffee in the kitchen. She looked pensive as she gazed through the back window at the woods.

  “My deputy should be here soon with the warrants.”