“Times change, I suppose.”
“Not that much, they don’t.” Her chins wagged as she chuckled. “I seen him around town. He’s still got that look in his eye. Little bird told me he had that eye on you.”
“Well, your little bird’s right. And I’ve got mine right back on him.”
Mrs. Metz laughed so hard she had to put down her box of Ho-Hos to hold her belly. “With a boy like that, you’d better keep it there. He’d be harder to keep down than spit on a hot griddle. He was a bad one, Regan. Bad boys turn into dangerous men.”
“I know.” Regan winked. “That’s why I like him. You come in and browse real soon, Mrs. Metz.”
“I’ll do that.” Chuckling to herself, she emptied her cart. “Stop gawking, boy,” she snapped at the skinny clerk, who was still watching Regan’s retreat, “and ring me up here. You ain’t never going to be dangerous enough to reel in that kind of woman.”
Amused by the encounter, Regan strolled down the sidewalk. It was a good town, she thought, lifting a hand in response to a greeting from across the street. The sidewalks were uneven, heaved up by tree roots and frost, the library was only open three days a week, and the post office was closed for a full hour every afternoon.
But despite that, or perhaps because of it, it was a good town. She didn’t think Rafe realized he’d been welcomed home.
No fatted calf, she mused, crossing at the corner and turning down Main. That wasn’t their style. The prodigal son just slipped back into the town’s rhythm with neither a hitch nor fanfare.
When he left again, his departure would be just as un-heralded. A few comments over the counter at the post office, some speculation at the diner. Then the town would move along, as easy as ever.
She hoped she would.
Shifting her bag, she circled around the side of the shop. Enjoy the moment, she reminded herself. Don’t project into the future. Those were the rules; she’d stated them herself. All she had to do was follow them.
And if she found an excuse to slip by his house later, steal an hour with him, so much the better.
Bolstered by the idea, she took her keys from her pocket. She jingled them as she climbed the stairs with her groceries.
If she’d been paying attention, if she hadn’t been thinking about Rafe, perhaps she would have noticed sooner. But her hand was already reaching for the door when she saw that it wasn’t on its hinges, but was propped there.
Her mind stayed blank for an instant too long.
Even as she spun around to run, Joe hauled the door aside. The crash dragged a shriek from her. It was choked off to a gurgle when his arm jerked around her neck.
“Wondered which one of you’d come first. This is good.” His breath panted out, sour with whiskey and excitement. “Been wanting to get my hands on you for a long time.”
He pressed his mouth to her ear, excited by the way she tried to curl away from him. “I’m going to show you what a real man’s all about. Going to get you out of those prim and proper clothes and show you real good.”
He panted as his free hand came around to squeeze hard on her breast. Her skin crawled, and for one hideous moment the fear was so bright it blinded her eyes, and her reason.
“I’m going to get me some of what I hear that bastard Rafe MacKade’s been getting. Then I’m going to fix your face so nobody thinks it’s so pretty anymore.”
As he started to drag her over the broken door and inside, the horror of what he would do flashed through her. She swung back. Groceries flew, smashing into the little alley below. Her heels skidded back over the door.
“Cassie gets here, I’m going to give her the same. But first I’m going to enjoy taking you down a few pegs.” With his free hand, he yanked her hair, darkly pleased when she whimpered.
Then she remembered the keys that were still gripped in her frozen fist. With prayers screaming in her head, she flung her hand back, hacking with the point she’d pushed between her clenched fingers.
He howled like a wild dog, and the vicious grip released. Dragging in air, she flew down the steps, certain he would be on her again in an instant. At the bottom, she stumbled, went down hard on her hands and knees. Prepared to scream, she looked back.
And saw him crumpled on the landing, holding a hand to his face, while blood dripped through his fingers. Like a woman in a trance, she rose to her feet, put one foot slowly in front of the other until she reached the diner. The buzzing in her ears warned her to take deep, careful breaths.
She stepped inside, closed the door behind her, unaware that her coat was hanging by one sleeve and the knees of her slacks were torn and bloody.
Cassie dropped the tray she was holding, shattering dishes. “Regan! My God!”
“I think you should call Devin,” Regan said, testing each word as she spoke it. “Joe’s on the landing of my apartment. I think I hurt him.” When the room revolved, she braced a hand on the back of a booth. “I have to sit down now.”
“Go call Devin,” Ed snapped, and rushed over to ease Regan into a booth. “Head down.” In a quick movement, she had Regan’s head between her knees. “Long, deep breaths, that’s a girl.” Eyes sharp, she scanned the room, where a half a dozen customers sat staring. “Well, what are you waiting for? One of you big strong men get on over there and hold that son of a bitch for the sheriff. You, Horace, get up off your lard butt and get this girl a glass of water.”
Ed’s rasped orders had everyone moving at once. Satisfied, she eased Regan up again. “Got a little color back,” she declared, and sat back on her haunches. She took a cigarette from the pack in her apron pocket, lit it with a wooden match. After one long drag, she smiled. “Hope to hell you hurt him bad, honey. Real bad.”
Sitting in Devin’s office, with the coffee Shane had poured for her warming her hands, Regan was sure she was over the worst of it. Everything had happened too fast for anything but pure emotion. But the rabbity fear had passed now, and she could think.
Beside her, Cassie sat saying nothing. Shane paced, like a boxer revving up for a match. At his desk, Devin coolly filled out a report.
“I’m sorry to ask you to go through it again, Regan,” he began. “The clearer your statement, the easier it’ll be to close it all up.”
“That’s all right. I’m fine now, really.” Absently she picked at her torn slacks. The knees beneath still burned. As much, she thought, from Ed’s liberal application of antiseptic as from their abrupt meeting with asphalt. “I’d like to get it over with. I can—”
She broke off when the door burst open. For an instant, she saw nothing but Rafe’s face—pale, hard as rock, lit with eyes green enough, sharp enough, to murder in one vicious slice.
The rabbit pulse pounded in her throat. Before she could get to her feet, he was on her, dragging her up, crushing her in an embrace that bruised ribs.
“You’re all right? Are you hurt?” His voice was raw, brittle as broken glass. He couldn’t think. There’d been nothing inside him but bright terror from the moment he got word of the attack. His body was ice, enveloping hers as he buried his face in her hair.
Perhaps that was why she began to tremble helplessly. “I’m okay. Really, I’m—” But her voice shuddered off. If she could have burrowed inside him, she would have.
“Did he hurt you?” With a hand he was fighting to steady, he stroked her hair, eased her face back so