Page 10 of Silverstorm

“What are you going to do? Handcuff me and drag me off in your cruiser, if I don’t comply?”

He lifted an eyebrow in her direction. The idea had merit, she was certainly trying his patience and handcuffs might show her the gravity of the situation.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, putting me in handcuffs? Is that what gets you going? Do you get off on power tripping and lording it over helpless females? Is that your kinky kind of crap?”

The ferocity of her attack caught him off guard. He’d never do anything to a woman that she hadn’t consented to, and how dare she insinuate that he would? But her spiteful words weren’t enough to make him leave her. His job was to protect the innocent and vulnerable and those who couldn’t protect themselves. And she ticked all three boxes. Even if she was the most annoying person in the world, right now. He wasn’t leaving her here. He stood his ground. Her outburst didn’t deserve an answer and so he gave her none. She was only trying to scare him away. And he didn’t scare easily. At least, he wasn’t scared by big burly men looking for a physical fight. This small woman glaring up at him, however, made him feel so uncomfortable, he had to tamp down on the urge to get in his car and flee.

Aria stamped her foot on the ground and glared up into his face.

“Answer me, goddamnit.”

But when he still stood there, immovable as a rock, all the fight suddenly seemed to leave her. Shoulders hunched, she wrapped her arms tighter around her body.

“Why are you doing this? You barely know me. Why…?”

It was a good question, and one he didn’t have an immediate answer for. He couldn’t very well say that he felt he owed her a debt for some reason. That he’d watched her from afar back when they were teenagers at school and had wanted to reach out and offer his friendship—he had an inkling of what she’d been through already with her mother, and what she was still going through with her father—and yet he’d done nothing. Like the rest of them, he’d sat back and pretended to ignore her as she stumbled through school, painfully shy, with no one who really cared about her.

“It’s my job,” he replied softly

“It’s not your job to offer a stranger a safe haven.”

Perhaps not, but he knew was he couldn’t leave her out here alone.

“Come on. I live over in Turner Street. I’ll lead the way.”

He waited a heartbeat. And then another, before she finally said, “Fine,” in a flat voice.

He wished she’d smile again. It was such a beautiful smile. He wanted to make her smile so that her nose wrinkled in delight. He was determined to see that smile once more.

CHAPTER FIVE

ARIA FOLLOWED JUDE’S straight back along the pathway that took them down the side of the little wooden house, scuffing her feet as she went. Jude was clearly walking with a limp now, but she refrained from commenting. He needed to know that she was still not happy with this arrangement. Not happy at being told what to do. Not happy that he thought he could take over her life. A rear porch light came on as they rounded the house—it must’ve been motion sensitive—and illuminated a pretty cottage garden.

Completely separate from the house, in the back corner of the yard, sat a little self-contained bungalow made from the same weatherboard and painted the same cream color as the main house. She’d refused to let Jude carry her bag, he was already doing enough for her, ordering her around like she was one of his deputies, and she hoisted it over her shoulder as it slipped down again. It was big and heavy, and she felt a twitch low in her belly. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be carrying heavy things. But then he certainly didn’t need to know that.

She stifled a yawn, then shivered from the cold, even after she’d thrown on a sweater. A comfy bed and clean sheets might not be such a bad thing, after all. Jude stopped at the door to the bungalow and fumbled with a key. She watched him, shoulders wide and impressive, filling out his jacket nicely. Just the mere presence of him set her on edge. But it wasn’t a bad kind of set on edge, not like someone dragging their fingernails down a blackboard. It was more like a low thrumming deep in her stomach, spreading a warmth through her chest. Like she was acutely aware of him, but he also made her feel secure. Like no one could hurt her when he was around.

Jude stood back and held the door open, ushering her inside with a chivalrous dip of his hand. It was dark inside, and she fumbled around on the wall, feeling for a switch. Jude’s hand brushed across hers and she pulled away with a squeak. Not sure if her girly sound was because of the shock of touching another human being, or from the zing of electricity his fingers left behind on her skin.

“Sorry, let me,” he apologized. A light came on and a small cosy room was unearthed from the darkness. The room was decorated in soft, neutral colors, with a tan couch, a cream rug, and white-washed furniture, with added pops of color to bring it alive—blue floral cushions on the couch, a blue vase on the sideboard, a couple of big watercolor pictures on the wall.

“Oh, this is gorgeous.” Aria was more than a little surprised. It definitely spoke of a woman’s touch, homey and inviting, and it made her wonder if the inside of the main house was more of the same.

“It’s got all the mod cons. There’s a television over there.” He pointed to a small wall-mounted screen. “The kitchen is small, but functional. And it’s stocked with all the cutlery and crockery you should need.” He moved farther into the room. “The bedroom is over here, it’s got built-ins if you want to unpack your stuff. And the other door is the bathroom.” He opened the door and flicked on the light to show her. “It’s small, but again, it’s got everything you need.”

“This is great,” Aria said, trying to take in everything at once. “Really great. Thank you.” She tried not to sound too surprised to find this little gem in the backyard of the local deputy’s house. But he seemed to catch her tone.

“This is my mother’s place. She decorated this cottage. I moved back in to look after her a few years ago. She’s got Alzheimer’s.”

Ah ha, that explained it. This was no bachelor pad. But his face grew strained as he mentioned his mother.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she replied. What did you say to a man who had the courage and compassion to care for his own mother? Her mother never got the chance to grow old. Perhaps to some, that might be a blessing in disguise. Would Aria have nursed her own mother if she made it to old age? She liked to think she would have.

“No need to apologize, but thank you, anyway… She was moved to care home a few months ago, but I still visit her almost every day.”

“That’s lovely.” What an attentive son. He obviously loved his mother. And for a second, she wondered what it would’ve been like to grow up in that sort of environment. But rehashing the past would never give her clarity, so she dropped the thought like a stinky bone.

“My mother used to rent out this cottage. It gave her extra income. But as she got sicker, people started taking advantage of her. When I found out the woman who was living here was only paying her ten dollars a week in rent, instead of a hundred, I kicked her out, and no one’s lived here since. That was when it became clear she couldn’t live on her own anymore, and I moved in.”

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