“
So about the tenant,” he said after they exchanged greetings, sitting out in the garage where Doug had an old couch and a TV set up, along with a kerosene heater.
A beat-up fridge in the corner kept the beer flowing.
“How did that come about?”
The place was crowded and dirty, dust-filled cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, the garage large enough to hold two cars, plus Doug’s little man-cave in the back.
The only place in the house where he could almost do whatever he wanted.
He puffed on his cigarette then hung his head, the light reflecting off the top where his brownish hair had begun to thin.
“Needed some extra money to fix the truck.
Then this hot chick at Finnegan’s said she was looking for a place to crash….”
He put on his best repentant face.
“I figured, what would it hurt?
You’re my brother.
You’d help out if you could.”
The door that led to the house opened, Felicia, Doug’s wife, standing in the threshold, glaring at them.
Doug snapped his hand down to hide his cigarette behind his back.
“
You need to walk the dog.
You both need the exercise.”
She let the black lab out, narrowing her eyes.
“Are you smoking out here?”
Doug flashed an all innocent look, jerking his head toward the heater.
“Kerosene.”
She shot him a look that could curdle milk, then yanked the door closed without another word.
“
She’s right.
I could use the walk.”
Doug patted his potbelly with a sheepish look.
“I did put on a couple of pounds.”
Bella, the dog, ran to greet Murph.
He scratched behind her ears.
“There you are, girl.
Look at you.
Happy to see me?”
Bella put her front paws on his knees so she could lick his face, the warmest welcome Murph had received in this house yet.
Doug pulled his cigarette back out and drew on it.
“Felicia’s been in a mood all week.”
He shrugged, then blew out smoke and looked at Murph.
“Do you ever miss Mom?”
he asked out of the blue.
Murph had to think about it.
There wasn’t much to miss, as horrible as that sounded.
“I think about her.”
“
She used to go after you something fierce.”
“
She did.”
Doug had always been the golden boy.
He was four years younger, had always been their mother’s favorite.
Murph looked too much like their deadbeat father, so their mother couldn’t stand him.
Nothing he’d ever done had been good enough.
Doug had always been the prince, gotten everything their mother had been able to give, including the house when she’d passed.
“
She went easier on me,” Doug said in a sentimental tone.
“I always thought I had it good.”
“
You did.”
But Doug shook his head.
“I never learned to fend for myself, not like you.”
He took a swig of his beer.
“Felicia’s different.”
Maybe.
But Felicia could be mean in her own way.
Doug had married an overbearing wife because he missed his mother, but Murph had a feeling the marriage wasn’t working out for Doug exactly as he’d expected.
Murph used to be jealous of his little brother back in the day, but now he was beginning to think he might have gotten the better end of the deal.
Doug drew on his cigarette, then dropped his hand, in case Felicia came back.
“Hey, maybe now that you’re home for good, you’ll settle down and get hitched.”
“
I don’t think so.”
Murph didn’t plan on getting married.
He hadn’t so much as lived with a woman.
He was very comfortable with the whole solitude thing.
“
Kate’s pretty.”
“
She’s moving out.”
Doug nodded, bent to tip some ashes into the ashtray he kept hidden under the couch—no matter how many times Murph had told him it was a fire hazard—then looked up.
“I already spent her rent money.
I can’t give it back.”
“
Don’t worry about it.
How about if we grab a couple of beers later this week?”
Felicia didn’t like it when Doug had people over.
She was likely to give him an earful for Murph stopping in unannounced today.
“
Anytime, bro.
You give me a call.”
Doug grinned with relief.
They talked some about what had happened in town while Murph had been gone, what was going on at the lumber yard where Doug sometimes worked.
Then, when Felicia came out the second time, glaring at Doug to walk the dog already, Murph took leave of his little brother and drove home at last.
Snow began to fall, swirling in the wind, but not heavy enough yet to snarl traffic.
People around here were used to driving in worse.
Murph cut through town without any trouble, turned down his street.
And saw Kate surrounded by dark shadows at the mouth of the alley.
A switch flipped inside him, and he went into fight mode instantly, his senses sharpening.
He didn’t think, just reacted.
He pulled the car up, tires screeching even as Kate dropped the bags she’d been carrying and went for her purse.
The gun
, he thought, and burst from the car.
His weapons were in the bag in the trunk.
No time.
One of the boys had a knife out already.
He ran.
“Stop!”
And jumped between them, his back to her, risking getting shot as he faced her attackers.
They shrank back, eyes jittery—from drugs?—but didn’t scatter.
The one in the front, the biggest one, glanced back at his buddies.
He was the leader of the alley cat gang.
The kid didn’t want to lose face.
He looked familiar.
Eduardo something.
Murph knew his father, had picked him up before for shoving bottles under his shirt at the liquor store, and on other stupid offenses on half a dozen occasions.
Murph nodded toward the kid’s knife.
“
You need to put that away.
Now.”
Instead, Eduardo charged at him, screaming obscenities.
And just as Murph managed to grab his arm without letting the little turd nick him, the rest of the dimwits joined in, pulling their own weapons, a couple of nasty looking blades designed to give them the street cred they craved.
Murph knocked Eduardo back into his buddies.
He didn’t want to kill them.
Okay, he did, when he’d first spotted them attacking Kate, but he didn’t want to put that kind of trauma on her.
He was a cop and a soldier, he’d better be able to subdue three snot-nosed kids without lethal violence.
He put on his scary face.
“Scram!”
But the idiots were still thinking about it.
Then suddenly, Kate screamed like a ninja and rushed forward, around him, with her gun aimed.
Smarter than Murph had given them credit for, the kids ran into the black alley and disappeared.
For a moment, he was tempted to run after them, if only to get away from the ungodly sound she was making.
Instead, he reached for her gun.
He didn’t want her to accidentally squeeze the trigger and hit one of those boys who might still be loitering in the shadows of the alley.
Killing another person wasn’t the easiest thing to live with, regardless of the circumstances.
He took the weapon from her stiff fingers and flicked on the safety.
“You scared them off.”
Her hands began shaking.
“
That’s good,” he told her.
“You usually don’t start shaking until the fight is over.
That’s something.”
While she stared at him pale-faced, he pulled his phone, called the station, caught Harper on the other end and told him what happened, which way the kids were heading, what they wore and what information he had on Eduardo.
Then, after he hung up, he refocused on Kate.
“
I could have shot you.”
Her face paled another shade.
“I had my finger on the trigger and you jumped in front of me.”
“
That was stupid,” he acknowledged.
And, okay, he wasn’t stupid, so why had he done it?
Because he wanted to protect her not only from the kids, but from doing something she’d regret later.
He bent to grab her bags then began walking toward his car that waited with the motor still going and the driver’s side door hanging open.
“Come on.
Get in.”
She did, sliding into the passenger seat next to him a few seconds later.
She stared straight ahead, toward the alley as if worried that her attackers might come back.
“
Where’s your car?”
“
At the shop.”
“
What’s wrong with it?”
“
Heater.”
“
Why didn’t you call me?”
She glanced at him.
“
You're not my keeper.
We barely know each other.”
She wrapped her arms around herself as he pulled away from the curb and headed home.
“I don’t have your number.”
He rattled it off.
“Save that.”
He waited until she pulled her phone out, then repeated his number again.
Paused.
“I’m sorry you were scared.
They’ll be taken care of.
I promise.”
She didn't start crying or freaking out as he half expected.
She simply nodded.
“I think they just wanted my purse.”
Then they were at his driveway and he pulled into the garage since the snow was picking up.
He carried her bags into the house and set everything on the counter.
She passed by him.
“I’m taking a shower.”
And then she disappeared down the hallway.
He wanted to go after her.
To do what?
Offer her a shoulder to cry on?
Stupid.
As she'd said, he wasn't her keeper.
They barely knew each other.
They certainly weren't friends.
The urge to comfort her was ridiculous.
Since he needed to walk off the adrenaline of the fight, he strode through the house, through rooms he hadn’t yet finished.
He scanned the ripped-up floors, the doors that lay against the walls and the water-stained ceilings.
Not the prettiest sight he’d ever seen, but it had potential.
The place could look pretty nice, after some hard work.
The extra rooms were just as he’d left them.
Kate hadn’t spread out.
She didn’t seem to have much.
She had no personal effects anywhere but the master bedroom and bath, Murph noted on his way back to his living room, then stilled when his gaze fell on his duffle bag next to the couch in the corner.
The bag no longer leaned against the wall exactly the same way as he’d left it.
He strode over, looked inside, his muscles tensing.
A couple of things were off, the book he’d carried to war—
The Odyssey
by Homer—on top instead of on the bottom.
Someone had been through his things.
The first person to flash into his mind was Kate.
Had she come back home this morning after he’d left the house?
Had she gone through his belongings?
Why?
Because she still didn’t trust him?
Or was she looking for money?