Duke, page 6
Slowly, she lowered herself to the couch and even lifted her foot onto the coffee table without him having to ask.
Using a wet cloth, he wiped away the little blood on the bottom of her foot before inspecting the punctured area. The cut wouldn’t need stitches as it was not much more than a surface scrape in the arch of her foot. Her leg tensed as he added some antiseptic cream to the wound.
“Are you in contact with the police on my mom’s case?”
“Yes.”
“Do they know where we are?”
“No.”
“Don’t they want to talk to me? About what I saw at my condo or what I might know?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“They want a witness statement from you of what you recall when Celeste was shot. They want to question you too. Things you might not realize may or may not be connected.” Duke dug in the metal first aid kit for the biggest bandage. He peeled off the backing and placed it on her skin, lightly massaging the sticky edges down. “Does anything pop into your head?”
Sage leaned back, relaxing deeper on the couch. “I know Dean had a massive following, but I don’t know why they would kill him and then go after me and my mother. It doesn’t make sense. A random shooting makes more sense, but then my mom ...”
Duke had been thinking the same thing. “Did he have any enemies that you know of?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing that stands out.” Generally, people knew something, they just weren’t aware of which details were important.
“I haven’t seen him in years. I honestly only know as much as the tabloids write.” She stared down at Duke with lowered, sleepy eyelids. As her exhaustion took over, he would push her with questions until she no longer answered.
“Do you read them?”
He picked the cloth back up and dabbed the dried blood off her scraped knee. She didn’t flinch. Her body sunk deeper into the couch. A yawn lifted and dropped her chest. He wanted to tell her to change into clean clothes, but wouldn’t risk changing the mood.
“Maybe. Sometimes. On those low moments when I see his face on the front cover or an article featuring him, I might pick it up. Even then, sometimes I read it and sometimes I toss it in the garbage without opening it.”
“Do you ever recall reading anything odd? That stuck out as unusual or strange?”
She shook her head. “When did you become a detective and a bodyguard?”
“I want the person who shot your mom and dad behind bars.”
The wood beams in the ceiling above them caught her attention. The hint of tears glinted in her eyes, even as she tried to blink them away. She took a deep breath and ran her hands over her face, but didn’t look at him.
“My mom has this little beauty and essential oil shop on a side road in Oakston. It’s odd and funky, just like her, with a hippie, bohemian feel that welcomes everyone. She draws even the quietest person into a friendship. Long conversations encourages them to come back for more visits. She doesn’t care if they buy anything or not. Usually their conversations aren’t even about any of her products.”
That sounded like Celeste. She’d always had a way with befriending strangers.
“Yesterday we had the meeting of a lifetime scheduled. She stopped at my condo and I was just getting ready to leave.” She sighed. “It was my chance to repay her.”
“Repay her for what?”
Her eyes were on him again, eyebrows knitted together. She blinked as if she’d forgotten to whom she’d been talking. “Nothing.” She looked away. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“It looks like it matters to you.”
She moved her legs, purposely pulling her knees out of his reach as she placed her feet on the floor between them. “My mom matters to me.” Her eyes shifted to look down at the space between them. Duke’s didn’t follow, instead rememorizing the changes of her face. Her skin was lighter as if she stayed out of the sun, and there were small laugh lines around her eyes which he hoped were the aftermath of joyfully living her life to the fullest. With Celeste at her side, how could she not?
“What happened?” Sage asked, sitting up and pulling his hands closer to her. She flipped his cut and blood pooled in his palms.
“The wall met my fist.” His tone was gruff to deter further questions, but she’d never been one to catch a hint.
“Why?”
“Sweet Sage ...” His nickname for her left his lips in a soft tone he’d once used before he’d planned on kissing her, touching her, stripping her naked.
His fingers twisted around hers now, against every part of him that rebelled. At this point, her vulnerable state made her off limits no matter what past they shared.
His eyes found hers, drowsy with a mixture of sleep and desire. It had always been this quick between them, this simple, when it wasn’t simple at all.
“I’ll break you.” His fingers tightened around her. “I’ll screw you and walk away when this is over. You know it. I know it. And we both know you always wanted more.”
Her fingers slipped out of his grasp. “Was that speech for me or you? Because all I asked about was your hand and you twisted that into me wanting to straddle you here on the couch.”
Damn it, he was getting sloppy. Had it been him? Was he that off that he couldn’t read the signals right?
She picked up the damp cloth and one of her hands gripped his, flipping it back over, while the other pressed it against his palm. “I’m not the young, sweet Sage you once knew, which, in a lot of ways, opens my eyes to more than the black and white naive life I once lived.” She tilted her head down, her eyes concentrating on his cut as she lightly rubbed the cloth against his rough palms. “You don’t have to remind me of who you really are. I don’t forget the men who have broken me.” She set his hand on her lap to unscrew the lid of cream. She squirted a dollop onto a Q-tip before smoothing the cool cream over his cuts. “It makes me wonder if your hands hit the wall to remind yourself you’ll break me.” She looked up at him. “You don’t have to worry about that, Duke.”
Like hell, he didn’t. He’d never hurt her again.
She let his hands go. “There’s nothing left inside me to break. You shattered it the first time.” She reached for a blanket resting on the back of the sofa. “I don’t want to sleep in that little room tonight. It makes me feel claustrophobic. I’m going to sleep on the couch.”
And run out the door the minute he laid down in the room, no doubt. Like hell.
She rearranged a pillow at the end of the couch and lay back with what looked like a tired half smirk. She curled her legs onto the couch as to not touch him. “You can stay there, or sleep on the chair. I’m not going anywhere.” Her eyes drifted closed as if they couldn’t stay open any longer. “I gave you my word.”
Damn it. He’d prefer her mad at him any day over whatever this was that made him feel like a total piece of shit.
Chapter Ten
THE SOFT WHISPERS of voices woke Sage from a deep sleep. Her body felt like a ton of bricks had been piled on top of her. A pounding headache behind her eyes prevented her from moving her head, and her eyes felt too heavy to open. She laid still, listening to the low tones.
Had she left her television on? Was her mom here with breakfast? Ally? Linda?
Then Duke’s low tone registered somewhere in the jumble of her brain and the events of the day before came rushing back. The shooting, the drive, seeing Duke again, her failed escape plans, and her agreement to obey Duke in order to receive updates on her mother.
With her face looking at the back of the couch, she stayed still, not ready to start today. What time was it? Did it matter when she was stuck here waiting for the police to find the person who wanted her and her mother dead? Would it be days, weeks, months? Would Duke stay on the job that long? Or would he walk away?
“Duke, you have lots of time. The nurse doesn’t come until after lunch,” Susan whispered. The small size of the house made their words crystal clear to Sage’s ear.
“I’ve arranged a meeting with one of the detectives on Dean and Celeste’s case. They want a witness statement from Sage, and I’ll be taking her into the city this morning before your nurse arrives.”
“Do you think it’s safe to take her back into the city?”
“I chose a reclusive spot that Bowie used to go to when she needed to get away. I know the owner, and there’s a back door if we need a quick escape. I won’t leave her side. She’ll be safe with me. She needs to give them her statement in case she knows something she doesn’t realize.”
“Have you gotten an update on Celeste’s condition?”
“Not yet. I’ll call them in a bit. Stop worrying about us and focus on yourself. It’s your first chemo treatment and you’ll need all your energy.”
Sage’s eyes flew open and the brown corduroy couch stared back at her. Susan had cancer? Guilt flashed through her at the way she’d treated her the night before.
“Now you stop worrying. Sage is your priority.”
“You’re right there beside her on my priority list. I’m going to have a shower. Can you watch her?” Duke asked.
“Of course.”
Unmoving, Sage listened to Duke’s heavy footsteps fade down the hallway. When the door closed, Susan asked, “Would you like fresh bread and homemade jam?”
Sage considered lying there, pretending to be asleep, but there was no point after finding out Duke’s plans. Plus, she wanted a police update more than he did.
“Coffee?” Sage asked.
“Roasted with fresh, local beans.”
Sage propped her hands under her and pushed herself into a sitting position, surprised at the comfort of the older sofa. She stretched her arms above her head and took a deep breath before rising to her feet.
Susan poured her a coffee as she crossed the room. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Black, please.”
Susan grinned at Sage over her shoulder. “I get a please today.”
She carried the mug to the wooden table and set it on a knitted coaster.
“Thank you.” Sage wrapped her fingers around the warm mug.
“And a thank you. I think we’re on a roll.” Susan took a seat across from her, sliding a coaster under her mug. “Did you sleep all right?”
“Yes.”
“Is the couch more comfortable than the bunk bed?”
Sage brought the hot liquid to her lips and took a small sip before answering. “I don’t remember what the bunk bed mattress feels like.”
“How’s your foot? Duke told me you scraped it. I’ll have to have the porch checked over. This place needs a lot of fixing, but when I’m done renovating the whole place will look amazing.”
Sage couldn’t share small talk with Susan without addressing the previous night’s ignorance. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you yesterday.”
Susan’s smile didn’t falter. “Don’t be sorry because I have cancer. Be sorry because you were acting like a brat.”
The edges of Sage’s lips lifted. “A lot happened yesterday and I would’ve never spoken to you the way I did under any other circumstances. Not anymore. That’s not who I am. It’s just my mom...”
“I understand. I meant it when I said you had a pass. We’re okay, Sage.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, tell me, how are you feeling?”
Sage shrugged. “I don’t know. None of this feels real and then I close my eyes and see my mom bleeding on the floor and I remember and”— she shook her head—“I want to be with her, at her side when she wakes up.”
“As a mother, trust me when I say that Celeste would want you safe. Your safety is more important to her than waking up with you.”
Sage glanced at the edge of the hallway where Duke had disappeared and the hum of running water sounded.
“He’s good at his job,” Susan said.
Sage rested her chin in one palm and traced the rim of her mug with her other. “I never doubted his ability to protect. It’s complicated.”
“Sometimes it’s less complicated than you first think. It just takes a little digging to see the whole story.” Susan stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get changed out of my nightgown.” She pulled the edged of a plaid cotton gown.
As she headed to the hallway, Sage asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be supervising me?”
She didn’t stop her pace. “I know when to stay and when to go.” She disappeared around the corner, and the sound of her door shutting echoed into the kitchen.
Sage sat back in her chair and rubbed her hands over her face with a yawn. She needed to shower and change too, but not until she’d had at least one cup of coffee. Maybe two. Maybe she’d down the entire pot.
She finished the first mug at the table, before pouring a second. The sunny day drew her to the back door and she took in the view of the backyard. Trees lined the property. Beyond the tree tops she could see water. Some of the flower beds had been weeded, but most were overgrown with weeds matching the ones in the front of the house and all the flower beds needed to be filled with additional dirt. Among the dire need of repair, Sage could see Susan’s finished vision. If Sage’s mother had been here, she would’ve been outside before the sun rose, weeding and sowing the garden, scraping and sanding the chipped wood on the porch for a fresh coat of sealer and cleaning up. Celeste loved Mother Nature.
“We’re leaving in an hour.” Duke’s thunderous voice made her jump. “Shower or don’t. Change or not. It doesn’t matter either way, but in an hour we’re walking out the front door.”
Her instinct was to fight him, but her promise held her tongue in place.
“Okay.” She turned to find Duke leaning against the counter watching her. Sage ignored the ping of desire. She’d always been attracted to his quiet, serious, and at times, ignorant looking mannerism that came with his job. But behind closed doors, when his guard was down, she remembered the way his lips curled into a handsome, carefree smile she hadn’t been able to keep her lips off. His laughter had a way of rumbling up his chest and she’d never tire of hearing it. She’d also found those small things, parts of him he didn’t reveal, truly attractive.
“Celeste is still not awake. I’ll contact the hospital for another update when we’re in the city.” She also remembered the way he read people, just like he was doing with her now.
Sage turned her back to his watchful eyes and stared out the window. “I want to help catch the person who shot her.”
“I’ve already set up a time and place.”
The place he’d frequented with Bowie.
“Then I’ll get ready.”
“Dress down. We don’t want you recognized in the city.”
She finished the mouthful of coffee in her mug and then she walked to the sink and rinsed it. Duke caught her wrist as she passed him. “How’s your foot?”
“It feels like the aftermath of scraping it on a wood plank.” She glanced at his hand wrapped around her wrist. “How are your hands?”
He let go, cutting off their personal conversation. “You have forty-five minutes.”
She silently saluted him before leaving him alone. When she stepped into the bathroom, the warm steam of shower touched her skin. If that wasn’t bad enough, his woodsy smell overpowered the small space. She dropped her towel on the closed toilet seat and grumbled to herself as she stripped off her dirty clothes and tried not to let flashes of his naked body into her head.
Chapter Eleven
DUKE DIALED STONE’S cell phone.
“Hey, Duke, what’s up? The truck is loaded with two-by-fours and I’m ready to build a frame.”
He’d forgotten about the original plan to fix the greenhouse frame. It’d been a way to pay Susan back for her generosity as well as distract Sage while the nurse was here.
“There’s been a change in plans,” Duke said. With Celeste being shot, he couldn’t leave Susan alone, but he couldn’t take her with him.
“We’re on the road,” Stone said. Duke caught an underlying warning or wariness in his tone. Something was amiss. ”We’re just around the corner. We’ll talk when we get there.”
The phone went silent before Duke could ask who the “we” was. He guessed it was Bowie.
He closed his eyes, listening to the water from the shower hum down the hallway, and knowing she was naked under the light pressure of the shower head. He could almost feel his hand on her wet back as the water streamed down, his fingers tangled in her hair and a firm grip pulling her naked front against his, kissing her swollen lips, trailing down her neck and ...
“Everything all right?”
Duke’s eyes snapped open at Susan’s voice.
Shit. She’d crept up on him and he hadn’t heard a damn sound.
She’d changed into black leggings with an oversized jersey grey shirt and the knitted poncho hanging over her shoulder would be to warm her during the treatment.
He cleared his throat. “Stone, and I assume Bowie, are almost here.”
Susan rolled her eyes and tossed the poncho over the back of the couch and stalked into the kitchen. She grabbed a washcloth from the sink and wiped the already clean surface of the counter.
“Those two are worry warts. I don’t need an audience today. I need a good book, a warm sweater, and peace.”
Duke agreed and disagreed. He agreed that Stone needed to watch Susan, but disagreed with having Bowie around to cause a conflict with Sage. If he could convince Bowie to make herself sparse until he and Sage were gone, it would make his day a whole lot simpler.
“When Sage and I return, which shouldn’t be later than mid-afternoon, we’ll make ourselves discreet.”
She moved to the kitchen table—again with a shining surface—and started another wipe-down. “Don’t be silly. You two are my guests. Those two”—she hiked her thumb at the front door—“are going to be my nagging parents for the day.”
Duke chuckled without catching himself and Susan sent him an approving smile.
He straightened his lips. “I need to have a word with Stone.”
