Kitabı oku: «Christmas Blackout»

TWO

The side of the old wooden barn rushed up toward the windshield. Benjamin yanked the steering wheel hard to the left and prayed for just enough traction to avoid ramming straight through it. He spun and barely cleared the corner. But the brick chimney wasn’t so fortunate. The truck crashed through the chimney sideways. Bricks rained down onto the hood, cracks spreading across the windshield like sudden frost.

The seat belt snapped him back against the seat.

He gasped in a breath. Well, that was either the bravest or the most foolish thing he’d ever done. His attempt at a steady but fast descent down the hill had turned into more of a slide than he’d wanted. But it was more than worth the risk if it meant saving Piper’s life.

Where is she now? Is she all right?

At least he’d thought to let the dog out before attempting the hill.

Benjamin yanked open the driver’s door and leaped out into the snow, throwing the door closed behind him. The windshield exploded, showering the inside of the truck with glass.

He cupped his gloved hands around his mouth. “Piper! Shout if you can hear me!”

He yanked his hat down farther, wrapped his scarf twice around his face and pushed his way through the snow.

A huge man dashed around the corner and froze. A battered black winter coat hid his form and a black ski mask covered his face. But Benjamin could clearly see the knife clenched in his outstretched hand. Benjamin leaped for it, forcing the masked man’s arm into the air as he wrenched the weapon from his grasp. The masked man punched out hard, catching him in the jaw.

Benjamin stumbled back. But he managed to keep hold of the attacker’s knife.

The man gave up and bolted for the tree line. The urge to chase after him surged through Benjamin. But finding Piper was all that mattered now.

“Hey, Piper!” He ran around the side of the barn. “Piper! Where are you?”

No answer but the howl of the wind and the ice pellets smacking the ground.

Then he saw her. Facedown in a heavy snowbank beside the barn stairs. He ran for her, slid one strong arm under her and pulled her to her feet. When he saw the bag tied over her head, his throat tightened so he couldn’t even speak. He unwrapped the string from around her neck as quickly as he dared and pulled the sack off her head.

His gaze fell on Piper’s face. Chestnut hair fell loose around her shoulders. Her huge, dark eyes looked up into his. She gasped in a deep breath.

Then she punched him squarely in the gut. And ran.

Benjamin felt the air rush from his lungs. “Piper... Wait...” His winded chest struggled for breath. “It’s okay! It’s me—”

“Benjamin?” She turned back. Sleet poured down her slender frame. Her eyes scrunched as if trying to focus.

He realized she wasn’t wearing her glasses and could barely see without them.

“Yeah, Piper,” he said softly, yanking off his hat and scarf. “It’s okay. It’s me. Benjamin.”

“Thank God!” A smile crossed her lips as her eyes rose upward in prayer. Then her gaze turned back to his. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

He crossed the snow toward her, feeling that odd lump in his throat grow even bigger.

Piper had been the first person to really call him “Benjamin.” She’d known exactly who he was the moment they met. Most Ontarians between the ages of thirteen and twenty-eight seemed to, thanks to a particularly horrendous documentary about his accident that was regularly shown in high school assemblies. But in that moment, when she’d been play-fighting with the dog in the entrance to his store and he’d rushed over to greet her, she’d stretched out her hand and said, “Do you prefer Benji or Benjamin?” As if the fact that his sister, his friends and every single news outlet still referred to him by his childhood nickname hadn’t settled the matter. It was the most rebelliously thoughtful question he’d ever been asked.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.” He pulled off his gloves and let his bare fingers brush her hair. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She grabbed his left hand and held it tightly. Somehow her voice managed to sound a bit stronger than his. “What happened to the guy who attacked me?”

“Gone.” His eyes glanced toward the empty tree line. “He ran.”

“What did he look like?”

“Tall. Heavyset. Black ski mask. Tattoo on his wrist but I couldn’t make it out.”

“It was a bear,” she said, “and the word Kodiak. But I have no idea who he was. He said he was looking for someone I used to know, a woman named Charlotte. But I haven’t seen her in years.”

She didn’t move. Neither did he. They both just stood there, knee-deep in ice and snow, with sleet smacking against their bodies and their hands holding on to each other. Her face was turned up toward his, her cheeks flushed. She’s beyond beautiful. The thought hit him from out of the blue. There was a quality to her that defied his ability to find adjectives to describe her. He wanted to pull her close, wrap both arms around her and shield her body from the storm.

But he’d never hugged Piper before. Sure, they’d hung out as pals. Great pals. Which was different than a hugging kind of friendship.

Her free hand brushed his beard, as if to double-check he was really there. “But how about you? Are you okay? Where’s the dog? I thought I heard something crash into the barn.”

“Don’t worry. Everything’s fine.” He pulled her hand away from his face, stepped back and held both her hands together in front of him at arm’s length, with what he hoped felt like a reassuring squeeze. “I let the dog out at the top of the hill so he’s probably racing through the trees right now. My truck is mostly okay. I didn’t spin out of control so much as do a fast and calculated skid.” Because, in that second, it was a choice between watching her die from a distance or getting down the hill fast enough to save her. “Now, we need to call the police. My cell phone can’t get a signal.”

“Mine might. I dropped it in the barn. Plus, that’s where I lost my glasses. My vision’s pretty blurry without them.”

He stretched out his arm to guide her up the stairs. Instead, she let go and started walking. He followed her into the barn. The smell of old wood and hay filled his senses. Lights flickered to life above them, revealing rows of stacked chairs, folding tables and boxes of Christmas decorations. A loft lay on one side, with bales of hay tucked underneath. He spotted a fireplace against the far wall, but it was entirely cemented up on the inside and probably hadn’t been used in decades. At least he hadn’t driven into the chimney of a working fireplace. Something crunched under his foot. He bent down and picked up the remains of a blue-and-silver decoration.

“Watch your step. He jumped me the moment I stepped in the door.” She started feeling around on the floor. He unzipped his ski jacket and knelt down beside her. The wind howled, shaking the door in its door frame. “I hit my head and lost consciousness. I never even saw it coming.”

All the more reason to be thankful he was leaving Harry behind as a guard dog. “Isn’t it a bit late to be down here all by yourself?”

“I’ve been walking down the hill to the barn, alone, ever since I was a kid.” She rolled her eyes. “Even before Uncle Des put the path and lights in. Which I think he only did because Aunt Cass was worried I’d break my neck running through the trees in the dark.”

“You used to live with them, right?”

“Yeah. The Downs is theirs and I run it for them. They’ve had to temporarily move in to a retirement building in town because of health problems.” She sighed and sat back on her heels. “Found my phone. Parts of it, anyway.”

He looked down at the pieces in her hand. It looked as if someone had stomped on it. Glancing behind her, he spotted her glasses. He carefully bent them back into shape and cleaned them on the corner of his shirt before handing them to her. “Here you go. Now, what kind of security do you have if he comes back?”

“Just the usual locks on the doors and windows.” She slid her glasses on. Then she grabbed a box of Christmas things from the floor and carried it across the barn, scooping stray decorations off the floor as she went. “I have three guests at The Downs right now, so I won’t be alone. But there’s absolutely no reason for anyone to come back here looking for Charlotte. If she was in trouble I’m the last person she’d go to for help. We weren’t even friends.”

She set the box down beside a pile of other ones. “Charlotte was just my arrogant, former roommate. Six years ago, she talked me into letting her come stay at The Downs by telling me she could prove it had some hidden, rum-running past and had been used as a speakeasy during Prohibition. But she was probably just using me to get a break from her abusive, controlling ex-boyfriend. He was some nasty piece of work.”

“Nasty enough to threaten to kill you in order to find her six years later?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Piper shrugged. “I never met him. She called him Alpha—like the head of an animal pack. He called her constantly, expected her to drop everything and run to him, and sometimes sent really creepy presents like dead flowers. But he was also really financially generous when he wanted to be. Rich and twisted. Even if this Kodiak guy isn’t Alpha, he could be a sign her taste in men hasn’t changed.” She crossed the barn toward him. “But either way, any sympathy I had for her disappeared the moment she repaid our kindness by robbing The Downs, smashing years’ worth of handmade Christmas decorations into tiny pieces and knocking our tree through the front window—”

The door slammed shut so hard the whole barn shook.

The lights went out.

* * *

Her heart was beating so hard she was almost afraid Benjamin could hear it. He’d thrown his arms around her and now the warmth of his chest was pressed up against hers, the strength of his arms wrapped around her shoulders. Right then she needed it. She could barely keep her knees from buckling.

“Hey, it’s okay.” She forced herself to step back out of his arms. “It’s probably just the wind coupled with some ice on the power lines.”

“Maybe it’s nothing. But maybe it’s something.” Benjamin’s hand slid down her arm and squeezed hers. “Either way, get behind me and stay close.”

Tempting. But no. She’d spent way too long trying to rid herself of the dizzying butterflies that soared through her veins whenever Benjamin was near. She wasn’t about to lose her head now. Sure, back on the island last summer she’d thought their relationship was heading somewhere romantic. Right up until he’d taken her out to dinner her last night on the island only to blindside her with the news that he was determined to remain a commitment-free bachelor for the rest of his life.

“Power goes out around here all the time in the winter.” She pulled her fingers out of his grip. “It usually comes right back within minutes. But even if it is someone dangerous, I’m going to meet it head-on.”

Benjamin didn’t step back. “Look, Piper. I know you’re plenty strong—”

“Yes, I am. Just because one thug managed to get the jump on me doesn’t suddenly mean I’m helpless.” She sounded more defensive than she meant to. But the fact that Benjamin was probably pretty used to taking charge in bad situations didn’t mean she was some damsel in distress, counting on a handsome man to save her. Especially not the kind of a man who was in a hurry to leave. “Don’t forget, I was a pretty fierce hockey player and not half-bad at mixed martial arts, too. Both times I took out guys every bit as big as Kodiak.”

The only reason she didn’t compete nationally was the cost of the training and the time she’d be away from The Downs, where she was needed to help run the place.

“I remember.” His voice dropped. “But I nearly lost my sister, Meg, to the Raincoat Killer last year. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Not when there was a chance that I could’ve stepped up and done something to protect you.”

The lights flickered on again. There was the furious yip of barking and the scramble of paws. Piper flung the barn door open, then dropped to one knee as Harry bolted through. She buried her face in the husky’s soft fur. “Hey there, guard dog. Welcome to The Downs.”

Benjamin looked out. “Well, if there was anyone there, Harry frightened them off.”

“Thanks for bringing him down. I think he’s exactly what I need around this place.” She gripped the dog’s collar and stood. Time for her to call the police and for Benjamin to get back on the road.

“I’m going to miss him like crazy.” Benjamin followed her out of the barn. “But sadly, once I’m on my boat, I’ve got no room for Harry.”

Or a relationship. Or a family. Or emotional complications of any kind.

He’d told her so that last night on the island. It didn’t matter what kind of fireworks that man set off inside her chest, Benjamin couldn’t even commit to a dog.

They rounded the corner and Piper gasped—his truck was a mess of scrunched metal and broken glass. “I thought you said everything was okay.”

The chimney had a huge chunk missing from one side. Bricks dented the hood of his large black pickup. Yes, she’d heard the sound of a collision. But he’d been so reassuring she’d just trusted him when he told her everything was okay.

“The truck will be fine,” he said. “A new side panel and a fresh windshield and it’ll be good to go. I’m really sorry about the chimney. Hopefully it’s nothing a good masonry job won’t fix. I’d offer to do it myself if it wasn’t knee-deep in snow and I didn’t have places to be. I just hope it won’t be a problem for your Christmas Eve shindig.”

“It’s more than a shindig.” She took a deep breath and reminded herself that none of this was Benjamin’s fault, and that he was even more inconvenienced than she was. “It’s called Christmas Eve at The Downs. The purpose is to provide a really awesome potluck dinner and carol singing for people in the community who have nowhere else to go. Aunt Cass started it twenty-five years ago. This is the first year I’m managing it on my own. The barn’s really old and I really should have gotten a new roof put on it this year. But the priority has been saving up to renovate the bed-and-breakfast.”