In Seconds
- Автор: Новак Бренда
- Серия: Bulletproof #2
- Год: 2011
- Язык: французский
- Жанр: Остросюжетные любовные романы
Электронная книга - «In Seconds». Краткое содержание книги:
Laurel Hodges has changed her identity twice. She's been on the run for the past four years, trying to outdistance the gang members who blame her for the death of one of their own. She's finally found peace and stability in the small town of Pineview, Montana. But just when Laurel thinks she and her children are safe...the nightmare starts all over again.
The Crew, a ruthless prison gang with ties to Laurel's brother, will never forget and they'll never forgive. And now that they've finally tracked her down, they'll stop at nothing.
Sheriff Myles King, who happens to live next door with his thirteen-year-old daughter, appoints himself Laurel's personal guardian. His growing attraction to her could change his life—Myles is beginning to picture marriage and family. But it could also end his life. If he can't save her, everything he's built, everything he wants, could be destroyed. In seconds...
“Three rainbow trout! They’re in the cooler. But I don’t know how to gut them and neither does Nana. Do you think Sheriff King’s at home?”
Great. Another reason for him to turn to Myles. “Not yet,” she said. “But I can go online and look for a tutorial. Want me to do that?”
“Nah, Sheriff King will know how.” He glanced toward the stairs. “Where’s Mia? I want to show her.”
Vivian propped up her smile with a bit more determination. “In her room.”
He dashed around her, yelling his sister’s name as Nana Vera reached the front door. “He had such a good time,” she said, using the doorjamb to help her get up that final step.
Vivian held out an arm to steady her. “I didn’t realize you knew how to fish.”
She shrugged her bony shoulders. “I don’t. But there was a book on it at the library. I read it last week. Then I went down and bought what it said I’d need. Somehow…it worked. Jake and I both learned something today,” she added with a tired laugh.
Vivian shook her head. “I’m impressed.”
“I’m a better fisherman than I thought. But I don’t have the foggiest idea what to do with those poor creatures now that they’re in my ice chest. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting to catch a thing.”
“Beginner’s luck.” Considering the smell, the mess and the revulsion factor, maybe they should let her son seek Myles’s help. “I’m sure we can get Sheriff King to teach the kids.”
Vera adjusted her wide-brimmed hat. She was also wearing long pants and a lightweight yellow jacket to protect her from the sun. “I doubt he’ll have time,” she mused. “Not today.”
“Why’s that?”
“He’s probably at the autopsy. And who knows what he’ll have to do afterward.”
“The autopsy’s today?” Myles hadn’t mentioned it when he stopped by earlier. He was so careful to keep the details of the case to himself.
“According to Lawrence Goebel.”
Goebel was the county coroner. He was also Vera’s ballroom dance partner. They went down to the veterans’ hall once a month and took a few turns around the dance floor, but a decade earlier, they’d entered numerous competitions. Vivian thought they owned every ribbon that could be won in this region. She’d once asked Vera why she’d never gotten romantically involved with Goebel—they made such a handsome couple—and Vera had whispered that she and Goebel were both interested in the same man. To their mutual disappointment, that man had recently married a third party. “What does he have to say about the murder?” Vivian asked.
“Pat was killed by blunt-force trauma.”
Vivian raised a finger to indicate silence. Jake was bringing Mia down to see his prized fish. Although the children would hear about the murder eventually, Vivian didn’t want them to be frightened by the more gruesome details—probably because of the images that still haunted her.
Only after they’d brushed past and run outside did she resume the conversation. “What kind of blunt-force trauma?”
“Who knows? But the killer used something to bash in his head.”
“A rock? A lamp?”
“Could’ve been either, I suppose. It was a furnished rental. But…”
“What?”
She looked around as if double-checking that they were alone. “Gertie had to go through the place this morning and take inventory, poor thing.”
“Was she able to do it?”
“With her sister’s help.”
“Was anything missing?”
“Just an electric can opener.”
Vivian backed up a step. “That’s the murder weapon?”
“Used with enough force, an electric can opener can crush a skull as easily as a bat or a rock, I suppose.”
Sickened by the thought, Vivian bit her lip. Poor Pat. Had The Crew done this to him? If so, would she be able to find out before it was too late?
“Did Larry say if the sheriff has his eye on any particular person?” She needed a hint of reassurance, something to tell her she was overreacting.
But she didn’t get it.
“They have no motive and no witnesses,” Vera said, “which means they have no suspects and very little chance of tracking down the culprit.”
9
The motorcycle vibrated beneath Vivian as she clung to the man driving it. Sheriff King seemed to be taking the winding road too fast. But maybe it only felt that way because she hadn’t been on a bike in years. She wasn’t used to the exhilaration, the sense of freedom and power, or the other feelings that arose as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed herself against him…?.
He’d given her a leather jacket and a helmet to wear. She hadn’t asked where he’d gotten them but they were obviously closer to her size than his. She assumed they’d belonged to his late wife. It was too sad to imagine what Amber Rose must’ve gone through before she died, and what Myles and Marley must’ve suffered. So Vivian chose not to think about it. She told herself she was simply grateful that he’d been practical enough to bring them. Warm as the day had been, the temperature was dropping rapidly as they barreled through the mountains.
“You okay?” he yelled when she kept shifting.
Her gun, which she’d shoved into her waistband, was cutting into the small of her back. She’d been trying to ease the discomfort and put some space between them at the same time. The gun she could move. But with the bike leaning this way, then that, it required constant effort not to plaster herself against him.
Should she ask him to slow down? No. She’d come out with Myles tonight to convince him that she was tough enough to take care of herself. Learning that she was frightened of riding on a motorcycle would hardly boost his confidence, especially when he seemed so comfortable on the bike, as if it was merely an extension of his muscular body.
“Fine!” she assured him.
Apparently taking her at her word, he opened the throttle, and she squeezed her eyes shut as they flew around the next turn and the next.
After that, Myles didn’t attempt to communicate with her. It was too difficult to hear above the engine. Vivian didn’t want to talk, anyway. The noise created a buffer that distanced her from everything, even her cares and worries. For tonight, her children were safe and so was she. Not only that, she had the whole evening, and the longer they traveled, the easier it became to relax. Soon nothing mattered except the speed and roar of the bike and the man driving it.
After an hour or so, Myles turned off the highway and down a dirt path that led into the woods. She got the impression that he was taking her to a cabin—and he was—but there was also a small clearing that became a beach. It sloped down to a lake about the same size as the one they lived by.
“This is beautiful,” she said when he cut the engine.
He barely grunted. He didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood. But she didn’t care that he wasn’t Mr. Congeniality tonight. With the sun beginning to set and the weather so mild, she was content to revel in the moment.
After lowering the kickstand, he waited for her to get off before swinging his own leg over the seat. She hesitated a few steps away, tempted to ask how he’d found this place. But she didn’t. They’d reached a tentative peace, and she didn’t want that to change. Besides, she liked being here without feeling any pressure to entertain him.
He set his helmet on the seat and she handed him hers, which he put beside it. Then he got a sack out of his saddlebags and strode to the cabin as if he assumed she’d follow. He didn’t beckon her or even turn around to see if she was coming.
Something had changed since he’d been at her house earlier. He’d made a decision. She could sense it. He’d been matter-of-fact, purposeful. For her part, she’d been so grateful he wasn’t pressing her for information about her ex-husband or why she had a gun in the house that she’d been willing to discount his aloofness as preoccupation with the murder.