Midnight Sacrifice (12 page)

“Mom, why don’t you sit down?”

“I’m not an invalid, Mandy,” her mom protested, but she was two-handing the cane. She shuffled to the medicine cabinet, unlocked it, and squinted at a prescription bottle of pain pills. She swallowed a tablet with tap water and gave them a weak smile. “Please excuse me. I’m going to go back to bed. I’ll see you later, Danny. Let us know if you need anything. Mandy will take good care of you.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Let’s get you checked in.” Mandy faked a smile and led Danny back into the foyer. At the registration desk, she pulled out a new guest card, slid it across the counter to him, and then booted up the inn’s laptop.

Danny filled out the empty boxes and handed her the card. “Is she all right?” he asked in a low voice.

She typed his name and address into the system. “My mother hasn’t been feeling well.”

“I hope it isn’t serious.”

Mandy tapped computer keys. “She had a heart attack over the winter.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. She’s on the mend?”

“Yes. Her recovery is slow but steady.” Slow being the operative word.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Danny handed her his credit card. “So, you’ve been running the place by yourself?”

“It’s just temporary.” Mandy stared at the card. The familiar panic welled up inside her. Her mother was going to be OK. She had to be. Mandy couldn’t take over the inn and Bill and everything. She’d only been doing it for a couple of months, and she was exhausted already. Her stress level was busting through the roof, even without Nathan hanging over her head for the next year. “How many nights will you be staying?”

“I’m not sure. Could be a couple of weeks. I feel responsible for Reed’s house. I’ll have to arrange for the repairs or cleanup or whatever.” Of course, Danny would do the honorable thing.

“Oh.” Two weeks of looking at him, the hero, and being reminded of what she’d done. Two weeks of not letting her thoughts slip out of her mouth no matter how much his eyes tempted her to spill everything. Two weeks of resisting the heat simmering deep in her belly right now.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, of course not.” She smoothed the anxiety from her face and handed him a key. “The room should be all set. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.” He pocketed the key and picked up his duffel bag from the floor. “Try to get some sleep. You look tired.”

“You, too.” Mandy watched him ascend the stairs until his long, jeans-clad legs disappeared from sight.

What was she going to do? She’d barely resisted him when he wasn’t living under the same roof. Now she didn’t stand a chance. After two weeks, his constant questions about Nathan were going to feel like a barrage.

CHAPTER TEN

Danny closed his shaving kit and dried his face with a fluffy, white towel. He left the steamy bathroom. The room was small, the furniture probably antique but not fussy. The décor was Yankee sparse, nothing taking up space that wasn’t useful. The wood floor chilled his bare feet. Spring mornings in Maine felt like freaking winter. He massaged his hand. After last night’s batting practice with the lamp, his arm was stressed. Fiery pinpricks shot from his elbow to his fingertips, and it wasn’t even six a.m. Not a good sign.

He dressed in jeans that didn’t smell like an ashtray and grabbed a pair of socks from his bag.

Coffee. He needed coffee and food. Three hours of lying in bed not sleeping had left his whole body cramped and his head achy. Yeah, right. His crankiness had nothing to do with the erotic thoughts that stemmed from seeing Mandy in her pajamas and robe. He was ridiculous. She’d been covered from head to toe in more flannel than Mrs. Walton, for crying out loud. There was nothing sexy about flannel. Except on her. Her mussed hair and sleepy eyes had given him a clear image of her in bed, which was great until he remembered she had a boyfriend.

Disappointment crawled into Danny’s chest and got comfortable. He’d known coming up here that she was taken. Hell, he’d saved her man’s life. So what was his deal? Jed may not be fully recovered, but he had a business breeding and training hunting dogs and, hopefully, a future that included a return to guiding
tourists through the wilderness. Danny was a damaged veteran with no immediate prospects. His siblings didn’t really need him to run the tavern, and Sullivan’s could only support a limited number of people. Returning to the army wasn’t an option. So what was he going to do with the rest of his life?

The only goal on his horizon was figuring out what happened to Nathan Hall. As far as goals went, it was a huge freaking long shot. The only things he’d managed to accomplish so far were pissing off Mandy and burning Reed’s house down. The phone call to Reed should be fun.

He turned on the TV and checked the weather. Same as yesterday. Sunny. Cold in the morning. Warmer in the afternoon. Possible rain later in the week. Danny flipped to the news. Stalling. Yup. That’s what he was doing.

Shit.

He could skip breakfast and slip out without seeing her at all. No. Being love-struck as a high schooler over Mandy Brown didn’t give him an excuse to backslide. According to his therapist, avoiding uncomfortable situations wasn’t healthy. His recovery from post-traumatic stress was more than a slippery slope. As last night’s trip to flashback land had demonstrated, it wouldn’t take much to send him careening over the cliff he’d clawed his way up last winter. Discipline had been a key to his recovery. So he would eat regular meals, exercise, and attempt to get enough sleep. In a couple of hours, he’d make the call to Reed and fess up. And he’d face Mandy Brown.

Dammit. He’d be healthy even if it killed him.

A news clip showed a reporter standing outside a large brick building. The caption read M
USEUM
T
HEFT
B
AFFLES
B
ANGOR
PD.

“The theft of a collection of Celtic artifacts baffles Bangor police. Last night, thieves bypassed more valuable pieces to steal
items from a Celtic collection on loan from a Scottish museum. With no sign of a forced break-in, detectives are trying to determine how the thieves gained entry to the building.” When the clip ended, Danny switched off the TV. Anything Celtic set off his internal sensors. He needed access to a computer. Maybe Mandy would let him use her laptop. And on that note, it was time to get moving.

He grabbed his running shoes from the corner and shoved one foot in a sneaker, then the other. Dropping to one knee, he tied shoe number one. By the time he got to number two, his bum hand was shaking so hard he couldn’t hold on to the laces.

His chest burned. Sometimes, the smallest roadblocks were the hardest to overcome. He swallowed his frustration. This was what he wanted when he volunteered for this trip, wasn’t it? To be on his own. To not have his siblings there to jump in and help him with everything. More than a year after his war injury and medical discharge, Danny had come to the conclusion that the only way to reenter the pool of self-reliant humans was a giant swan dive. Testing the waters with a pinky toe only gave him more opportunities to quit.

After three more attempts, Danny gave up. If he rested his hand, the muscles would calm down. He tucked his laces into the top of his running shoe, but only because his stomach was audibly growling. As his siblings kept telling him, Sullivans weren’t quitters.

Most of the time, Danny believed them.

But right now, packing up his shit and going home was hugely tempting.

He left the room and jogged down the stairs. The clinking of utensils on dishes drew him through the doorway at the back of the parlor. The dining room held eight square tables with four place settings apiece. On the far wall, a long oak sideboard
boasted an assortment of breakfast foods. Beverages in urns and glass pitchers were lined up on a buffet on the adjoining wall. In between was a doorway Danny assumed led to the kitchen. Only two tables were occupied. An older couple dressed for some sort of outdoor pursuit were finishing up close to the door, and four old guys in fishing hats were tucking in to full plates in the corner.

Danny grabbed a thick mug from the closest table and filled it with coffee. Sunrise peeked through the side windows as he perused the chafing dishes. He loaded a plate with pancakes, bacon, and whole wheat toast. One-handed, the process took him a while. Once seated, he ate with rapid efficiency, keeping one eye on the doorway.

When he was finished, he bent down and slowly tied his laces on the first try. Patience was a virtue he often neglected.

Mandy didn’t appear. Danny drained his coffee. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. An angry Mandy was better than no Mandy at all, which was just pathetic.

“Mom, you’re not supposed to be working.” Mandy loaded coffee mugs into the dishwasher. Sweat beaded on her forehead. A strand of hair escaped her ponytail and fell across her cheek. She tucked it behind her ear. “There’s oatmeal in the dining room.”

“I’m just helping you with the pancakes.” Standing in front of the stove, her mother added a lump of butter to the griddle with one shaky hand. With the other, she gripped the edge of the counter.

“The doctor said it would take several months to recover. You have to be patient.”

“I’m tired of being useless.” Mae raised a defiant chin.

“I know. It’s only temporary. Sit down. I’ll make you some scrambled egg whites and wheat toast.”

Mae ladled pancake batter into the hot pan. “You have enough to do. You don’t need to wait on me.” Despite her protest, Mae leaned harder on the counter.

Mandy started the dishwasher, crossed the kitchen, and wrapped an arm around her mother’s shoulders.

“I’m not good at sitting around.” But Mae’s face was pale, her voice breathy. Clearly, the small effort of standing at the stove, flipping pancakes, was draining her. “You can’t make breakfast alone every day. Running this inn is too much for one person.”

“You did it for years,” Mandy said.

“Which is how I know how hard it is,” her mother quipped.

“How about I give Mandy a hand this morning?”

Mandy whipped her head around. Danny was standing in the doorway. His black hair still damp from the shower, worn jeans and a snug T-shirt outlined his hard body. No one should be allowed to look that good after less than three hours of sleep.

She cleared her suddenly constricted throat. “Guests don’t work in the kitchen.”

“I’m not really a guest, am I?” Danny asked with a bad-boy grin. He sauntered across the kitchen and looked over her mother’s other shoulder. “Mm. Mm. Those sure look tasty.”

Even in pain, Mae gave him a smile. Oh, no. Her mother was falling for Irish boy’s charm.

“We’ll manage, but thank you.” Moving closer to her mom, Mandy pulled a stainless steel bowl from the wall shelf. She separated four eggs and beat the whites with salt and pepper.

Instead of yielding to Mandy’s attempt to claim her space, Danny took her mother’s arm. “How about I take over the griddle, Mrs. Brown? It would make me feel better knowing I was helping Mandy after I interrupted her sleep last night.”

“Well, all right.” Her mother moved aside. She pulled a mug down from the cabinet and filled it with decaf before sagging onto a stool at the center island.

Mandy looked over at Danny. Clearly this wasn’t his first time in a kitchen. Even one-handed, he handled the spatula like a pro. Mandy wiped a hot pan with vegetable oil and poured the beaten egg whites in with a sizzle. A few minutes later, she slid the low-fat breakfast onto a plate, added some fresh berries, and set it in front of her mother.

While Danny flipped pancakes, Mandy went into the dining room to check on the guests and the coffee supply. The first wave had finished. Mandy cleared their tables. She walked back into the kitchen and collected the stack of pancakes. By the time she’d refilled the chafing dish in the dining room, Danny was drying the clean griddle with a dishcloth. “Your mother went to rest.”

“OK.” Mandy loaded the dishes into the second dishwasher. “You don’t have to do all that.”

“I know. I want to.” He set the griddle on the stove. “You took me in last night. Now it’s my turn to help you.”