You're the One Page 8

  “I know the courts,” Kirk echoed, his face sober.

  “Yeah, I bet you do. You’ve seen criminals walk away scott-free after some horrendous things they’ve done.”

  “Yeah.”

  Silence filled the room as they both got lost in thoughts and memories before Kirk finally broke the silence. “So, you got Mozart from that cattery?”

  “Yeah. He was the only surviving Sphinx. They only have soft downy hair, really fine, and in winter they need a lot of warmth. That woman had left them in a concrete-floored cage with wire all around, even on the roof. The rain had gotten in and the other two Sphinxes were dead. Mozart was this shivering, sickly boy. The vet thought he’d die, I was determined he’d live. One look into that face, into those eyes, and I knew he was mine.” Moz smiled slightly. “He’s been with me ever since.”

  “And suffers anxiety if you’re not around.”

  “He’s fine for the periods I’m at work, but he’s used to being with me on days off and night time. So yeah, I need to get him settled and in an area bigger than a bedroom.”

  “What about you?”

  “I settle pretty much anywhere.”

  “Huh.” Draining the last of his coffee, Kirk straightened. “Okay, I better get back on the road. Thanks for the coffee.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Kirk levelled a look at him. “Do I need to say anything more about Dawson and Harding?”

  Moz levelled a look back. “I heard you.”

  “Just so we understand each other.”

  “We’re on the same page.”

  “Good.” Kirk nodded. “Catch you around.”

  “See you.” Moz waited until he heard the front door shut before murmuring quietly, “Unless they hurt a hair on Del’s head, then they’re open game.”

  Now he was alone, his thoughts drifted back to Del…and the kiss.

  Cripes, he’d actually kissed her, and it had been some kiss. Those plump lips were as dewy and soft as they’d appeared. If he could have deepened that kiss even more, coaxed her to open for him, he bet she’d taste as sweet as honey.

  Arm bent slightly, hand braced on the bench, Moz took a mouthful of coffee and squinted at the posture-safety poster on the far wall. Geez, he hadn’t meant to kiss her, hadn’t meant to do anything but go in looking for socks. The fact that she’d actually thought to get some in stock for him was, well, touching, to put it sloppily.

  Those big eyes of hers, one minute snapping with temper, the next sparkling with amusement, he felt like he could look into them forever, drown in the pale blue depths.

  So many things he hadn’t meant to do, hadn’t even consciously thought about, but it had happened. He’d watched the graceful, natural sway of her hips as she’d led him around the racks to the sock display, that long blonde hair that swung silkily down her back, that faint, fresh scent she used, the warmth of that body as he’d leaned closer to reach over her to take a pair of socks. That curvy, slim body pressed against his front, the nestling of her bottom against him, the heat that had spread out from the contact to curl languidly through him. Then she’d turned and looked up at him, suddenly uncertain, blue eyes wide, little tongue flickering out to moisten those plump lips…and that husky voice asking if there was anything else he needed.

  Hell yes, there was something - her. Could anyone blame him for the desire that slammed through him, hitting hard and deep? He wanted her, wanted to taste those lush lips, had given in to the primitive urge.

  Was he sorry? Hell no. Any regrets? No. Okay, well, not exactly regret, but he’d been shocked as shit when he’d realised what he’d done, had expected her to slap him silly.

  Moz sighed, slumped back against the bench. Then he’d retreated. Bumbled about, tried to apologise and ran like a little kid caught with his hand in the biccie barrel.

  Actually, to be truthful, he’d have liked his hand to be somewhere all right, namely up her blouse or down her panties, but he had no idea how she thought about him. Apart from the fact that he apparently annoyed the hell out of her.

  She made him horny.

  Go figure.

  Taking another swallow of coffee, Moz debated his next move. Basically, he wasn’t sure. They didn’t exactly have any history between them. Oh, wait, unless he counted the fact that he’d trapped her against her kitchen wall the previous day and ended up with a boner to rival all boners last night when he’d contemplated where that could have led.

  Shit, maybe he should have seen where it would lead. But whatever she’d been feeling, she’d hidden it deep and brazened her way out.

  Mr Suave he wasn’t. Maybe if he got really stuck he could talk to Grant, someone who wasn’t closely connected to Del.

  Or he could just do his job like he was supposed to and try to figure out Del and his next move later.

  Del and his next move? Was there going to be a next move?

  Moz pursed his lips, pictured Del’s pretty face with those soft lips and expressive eyes, and decided that yep, there was definitely going to be a next move. But first things first.

  Taking the mug of coffee, he strode out into the main office, flicked on the radio so that music played softly, and settled down to finish some paperwork before heading out to the abattoirs and his other designated duties.

  The fun just never stopped.

  ~*~

  Del returned home later than usual, pulling into the space in front of the old house with relief. Man, it was good to be home, even if said home was threatening to fall down around her ears.

  Getting out of the car, she studied it in the gloom. The outside sensor light hadn’t come on because she was trying to save on power. She only put the sensor on when she knew she was going to be coming home in the dark.

  The old house probably did look a bit spooky, most old houses did. The dark veranda with the shadows, the dark windows, but it didn’t faze her. After living with the creaking framework, she knew the house well and didn’t feel any fear. This house was definitely not haunted.

  A dog howled in the distance, a harsh voice quietening it quickly. Turning, she peered in the direction of Harding’s home across the road. Headlights flickered over the tree tops before disappearing. Whoever drove along the road had probably turned off into Harding’s driveway.

  Mentally shrugging, Del locked the car door and strode onto the veranda. The house was cool inside thanks to the stone walls. The old runner from her parent’s home ran down the corridor, making it a little less stark looking. Thankfully, she’d managed to get the ceiling put in the house before she’d bought the shop, so that combined with the new lino lifted the feel of the house.

  Sure enough, the new locks on the windows were sturdy, the best to be had, but she’d expected no less from Ryder. Admittedly, it did give her a feeling of protection, though if anyone were really going to try and gain entrance they could just smash a window.

  Security screens could stop that.

  No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than she shrugged it away. Being locked in didn’t suit her, the thought of grills on the windows making her shudder. So far Gully’s Fall was a safe place, the majority of the inhabitants having grown up and grown old here, most of their off-spring still here continuing life. The tourists hadn’t given them much trouble and it was still a safe place to live. Maybe one day it would change but she certainly hoped not. If and when it did, she could always re-evaluate.

  Showering quickly, she pulled on a nightgown and cotton dressing gown, slid into a pair of thongs and returned to the kitchen to scrounge in the freezer. Her mother had given her some leftover stew, so she zapped that in the microwave.

  She was just starting to spoon it into a bowl when the sound of men’s voices yelling disturbed the quietness. Dogs barked, snarling filling the air, followed by a yelp.

  Placing the bowl down, Del flicked on the back light and ran outside, picking up the baseball bat her father had insisted she take for some protection when she’d first moved out to the h
ouse.

  Peering around, she listened. Cursing sounded from the road and she moved quietly around the house, sticking to the shadows. Another dog barked, then something came hurtling through the bushes, branches cracking, growling and snarling filling the air. Something small and furry, spitting and hissing, bounded past her feet to scamper around the back of the house.

  Perplexed, Del raise the bat, resting it on one shoulder as something else much larger barrelled through the bushes.

  A dog, big and powerful, bounded into the clearing. It swung its head towards her, teeth bared, growling as it came to a stop and eyed her.

  Del’s heart raced. She couldn’t remember - did you look an aggressive dog in the eyes? Wasn’t that a sign of aggression in turn? Or a sign of power? One thing she knew, you didn’t run. That invoked a chase instinct, and this dog looked like it would happily chase her and bring her down. Not to mention rip her apart.

  Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit!

  Frozen in spot, heart pounding, Del dropped her gaze from the dog’s eyes, watching its feet instead, needing to keep alert as to its intentions. If it jumped for her, she was going to start swinging the bat. Hurting an animal was a no-no for her, but when it came to vicious dogs and safety, she drew a line.

  This was the line, but only if it attacked. Please don’t attack, for my sake and yours.

  Hands shaking, she licked dry lips.

  The dog took a stiff-legged step forward. Another. Her grip on the smooth wood was sweaty.

  Voices neared, the sound of boots running down her driveway.

  “Goddamn it! Killer, you bloody dumb bastard! Get the hell back here!” A man yelled. “Killer!”

  The dog swung its head around, eyes catching in the light of a torch.

  Relief flooded Del as she saw the leash the man held as he approached the dog.

  Immediately the dog whined, head going down, tail tucking between its legs, the aggressive creature of seconds ago morphing into a more cowed animal. The man roughly snapped the leash on the thick, studded collar, giving the dog a boot in the ribs as he did so.

  “Hey, what the hell?” Frightened of the dog Del might have been, but the man’s actions were uncalled for. “That’s not the way you discipline a dog.”

  ‘The man looked towards her as three other men appeared around the bend.

  Del looked at them, her heart kicking up another notch. Crap, who were they?

  “Damn it, Fritz, I told you not to let the bloody thing loose!” Pierce’s voice cut through the tension.

  Relief swept through her when she spotted him and Brand. The third man was Cutter, stepping out from behind them to look at her, his gaze assessing. It wasn’t a good look or a comforting one. The man was trouble, his rather plain face having a brutal cast to it.

  Angrily, Del switched her gaze to Pierce. “If you can’t keep your dogs under control, you need to keep them tied up. You know that.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Pierce shoved the man holding the big dog’s leash. “Get that bloody thing back on the ute.”

  The man grunted and yanked the leash, the dog falling into step behind him, its tail still between its legs, though it cast a glance back in the direction of the prey it’d been chasing.

  “And you can tell him that if I see him abusing that dog again, I’ll report him,” Del added sharply.

  That had Cutter’s gaze narrowing. “It’s just a dog.”

  “It’s an animal that deserves respect.”

  “It’s not your business.”

  Del lowered the bat. “Any animal that gets abused is everyone’s business.”

  “Then maybe you should learn to mind your business.” He took a step forward.

  In the night, with the glow of the torches and the backwash of the back veranda light, the men unexpectedly appeared more menacing.

  She was suddenly acutely aware that she was alone, facing down three men with just a bat in her hands and her tough attitude. She had the sudden feeling that if she showed fear or ran, they’d chase her like the dog would have and bring her down.

  Cripes, she’d never been afraid of Pierce or Brand, had known them since school though they’d never gotten on, running with different groups. Born troublemakers and bullies, Brand and Pierce had gotten into fights with Scott, Ryder and other kids they classed as ‘goody-two-shoes’ at different times growing up.

  But now, seeing the glint of their eyes in the torch lights, the way they watched her intently, it occurred to her that they might have slipped from simply troublemakers into darker territory.

  Cutter was definitely in darker territory. He might live in Ellor’s Loop but stories of assault charges against both men and women were known even in Gully’s Fall. The man wasn’t just trouble, he was a predator.

  Heart thundering, knees trembling a little, Del kept eye contact with him, knowing instinctively that he was the one to watch. The other two would follow his direction. Maybe. Possibly.

  Show no fear.

  Her hold on the bat tightened. “You got a problem, Cutter?” Almost immediately she winced inside. She’d meant to sound sure of herself, instead it had come across as more of a challenge. Oh great. “Because if you have, you can get off my property. I don’t want you or your problems here.” She stared him down, refusing to look away.

  Silence filled the clearing before he said with menacing softness, “Maybe you just bought some problems, Del.”

  The last thing she wanted to hear. “You mob stay off my property, we don’t have a problem.”

  “But if you hear dogs barking you’re making it your problem, aren’t you?”

  “Barking dogs don’t worry me.”

  “Howling ones, then.”

  “Dogs can howl through loneliness.”

  “Then let’s just say a dog in distress.”

  “No.”

  “You’re lying.”

  She was. They all knew it. So she simply watched him in silence. She might be scared, she’d been dumb to come out alone at night not knowing what was happening, but she wouldn’t back down. To show weakness right now would not only make her weak in their eyes, but it wasn’t in her nature.

  Ryder was right, she had more guts than sense. More pride than intelligence. Plus they all knew that no matter what she said she’d be lying. It didn’t matter if she was crapping her daks, she would never ignore a distressed animal.

  Cutter laughed suddenly, ugly and low. “I like a woman with spirit. Know what I like even more?” When she didn’t reply, he smiled. “I like to break that spirit.”

  She just bet he did.

  “Not going to talk now, Del? No smart comments?”

  Del kept hold of the bat, kept hold of her tongue.

  He leaned forward just a little, the slight move somehow ominous. His eyes glinted in the torch light. “See you around, sugar.”

  “I keep this bat handy, Cutter.” She could have bitten her tongue when the comment slipped out, but it was too late. “Just remember that.”

  He laughed, amused. Very bloody, darkly amused. “Oh, I will. Trust me, I will remember.” Swinging around on his heel, he jerked his head at Pierce and Brand. “Let’s go.”

  Without hesitation they followed him, disappearing around the bend of her driveway.

  While every instinct shouted at her to run inside the house and lock the doors, Del nevertheless stood in place, the bat gripped tightly in her hand, her gaze never wavering from where they’d walked. Their voices faded as they reached the road and crossed over onto Pierce’s property.

  Only then did she turn, forcing her pace to be steady as she walked back around the house to the where the light lit up the back. She refused to run, because to do so would mean giving in to fear. Not going to happen.

  As she started up the steps, she nearly jumped out of her skin when something spat at her, a low hissing following.

  “Bugger me!” Hand to her chest, heart pounding, she peered at the old sofa on the veranda.

  Staring back
at her, fur bristled, was a kitten. It was this little thing that had shot past her, chased by the dog.

  “Oh man.” Lowering the baseball bat, Del knelt on the veranda. “Hey, baby. It’s all right.” She held out a slightly shaking hand.

  The kitten spat again, hunched further under the sofa.

  After several seconds trying to coax it out, Del hurried inside and opened a can of sardines, tipping them onto a saucer before going back onto the veranda, hoping the kitten hadn’t taken its chance to disappear.

  It still huddled under the sofa, no longer spitting but growling a little.

  “Here, baby.” Del placed the saucer near the kitten’s nose, letting it get a good sniff.

  It meowed, moved forward.

  Del shifted the saucer a little further away. The kitten followed hesitantly. The whole time she spoke softly, cooing gently until it finally came out fully, so intent on the saucer.

  As it ate, Del slowly edged her hand forward, the kitten darting away a little when she touched it. She drew her hand back, waited, still crooning softly. It edged forward again, had another bite, and then settled to eat.

  This time when she stroked it gently, the kitten stayed put.

  Cripes, the little thing was so small and hungry, gulping the fish down. Del felt the dampness on its coat, the smell of urine. Poor little bugger had wet itself in fright while being chased.

  She continued to stroke it, continued talking as it finished the fish and sat upright, looking up at her out of big eyes.

  Carefully, Del slid her hand around it, feeling the trembling of the little body, unable to help but smile a little when she realised it was purring. Good sign. It continued to purr as she scooped it gently up into her hands, slowly gathering it to her chest.

  Pushing upwards, she kept the kitten in one hand, the bat in the other, and entered the house, locking the doors securely behind her.

  In the safety of the house, she held the kitten up in the air. The little thing couldn’t have been more than eight weeks old, a tiny ball of straggly black fur with a white blaze down its nose. A quick check confirmed it was a girl.