A Home of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #4)(58)
Author: Brenda Novak

With Jon’s help, Smalley clambered to his feet. “I can’t believe you did this,” he complained. “I can’t believe you busted up my face over a…a two-bit—”

“Don’t say it,” Mike warned, but Smalley wasn’t thinking fast enough to stop himself.

“Whore,” he finished, and Mike hit him again.

“Mike!” Jon tried to catch his staggering, three-hundred-pound brother and wound up falling to the blacktop with him.

Rage and adrenaline surged through Mike, but he shook the sting out of his fingers and ignored the Small brothers as he spoke gently to Lucky. He needed to get her inside before she ended up with pneumonia. “Come on, Lucky,” he said. “Lean out. I’ll help you.”

She was shaking so badly, she could hardly hold his coat around her, but she managed to do as he asked, and he pulled her into his arms.

“Lucky stole your damn inheritance,” Jon said. “She’s living in your grandfather’s freakin’ house—and you make enemies out of us, just because we’re trying to give her a little motivation to—” His brother made a noise of warning or complaint, Mike couldn’t tell which, and Jon seemed to be more cautious about his next words “—to move on down the road?”

Mike shifted Lucky closer to his chest. “From now on, no one hurts Lucky or they answer to me.”

Smalley shoved his massive body into a sitting position and wiped the blood pouring from his nose. “People aren’t going to like this, Mike.”

Smalley’s voice held a distinct threat, which made Mike turn back. “I already know about your father and Red, Smalley. You cause any more trouble, and I won’t be the only one.”

MIKE LEANED against the kitchen counter, still too angry to sit.

Lucky sipped a cup of coffee at his kitchen table, just as she had the night she’d first arrived in town almost four weeks ago—only this time he was glad, relieved, to have her there. What if he’d been sleeping as soundly as usual and hadn’t heard Smalley’s truck? What if he hadn’t gotten up?

At the thought of her being treated in such a cruel, demeaning manner, his jaw tightened and his right hand curled into a fist. Too bad the Smalls had driven off as soon as Jon could get his brother into the truck, because Mike wanted to hit someone again.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he said. He knew she’d been through a harrowing ordeal, but he’d been stewing for more than an hour while she recuperated in the bath, and the thought of what might have occurred if he hadn’t stopped it scared the hell out of him. “What were they doing? Threatening you to keep quiet about the past?”

Lucky stared into her cup so long he wondered if she was going to respond. Finally, she lifted her eyes. She was all bundled up, wearing his sweats and slippers and bathrobe—evidence that she was still trying to get her body temperature under control. But her thick, curly hair, the hair he loved to touch, fell down her back in shiny waves, and her skin glowed with a comforting, healthy sheen. She looked fine, which should’ve helped. Except he kept seeing her tied up, nearly naked and absolutely blue with cold, and the memory provoked him all over again.

“They wanted me to give them my mother’s journal,” she said.

“You told them about the journal?” He realized he was shouting and lowered his voice. “Damn it, Lucky. You had to know Dave wouldn’t be happy about that. I warned you he might be dangerous.”

“I didn’t tell him about the journal, exactly. I merely alluded to the fact that I knew he’d been with my mother and that I had proof.” She lifted her chin and gave him that “no one pushes me around” look he couldn’t help admiring, especially after everything she’d been through.

“When?”

“At the Honky Tonk the night you drove me home. Dave let me know he wasn’t too pleased that I’d returned. I let him know I didn’t care.”

“I’m waiting for the part where you told him you had enough information about the past to ruin his reputation and possibly his career.”

“I guess that would be when he insulted my mother.”

Insulted her mother? Everyone insulted her mother. Mike might have chuckled had the situation been less dire.

“Smalley cornered me by the bathroom that night, and you found me in the hall,” she went on. “You thought I was drunk.”

“You weren’t?”

“I was, sort of, but that wasn’t why I hit the ground.”

“They hurt you that night?”

“A little.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He was nearly shouting again. Taking a deep breath, he continued more calmly. “You should’ve let me put a stop to it right away. You could have frozen to death out there, Lucky. What if I hadn’t come out?”

“I’m sure they didn’t expect to see you. It’s Christmas, it’s late, your house is set back. They were just driving up and down a public road.”

“They were trying to keep your house tantalizingly close.”

“That, too.” She toyed with the Sweet’n Low packets his cook always left in the middle of the table. “Anyway, if they thought you’d care about what was happening, they probably would’ve taken me somewhere else.”

“Shows you how stupid they are. I wouldn’t let them treat anyone that way. Least of all—” He’d been about to say “least of all you,” but he didn’t feel ready to deal with the fact that it wasn’t simply cruelty to others that had him so riled up. In hurting Lucky, the Smalls had somehow trespassed against him. He tried to convince himself that it was merely because Lucky was now his neighbor, but he knew it was more than that. He would’ve been angry no matter who the Smalls had abused, but he wouldn’t have been quite this angry.

“Least of all a woman,” he finished stiffly and turned to pour himself some coffee before she could read the truth on his face.

“Well, they didn’t get what they wanted, that’s the main thing.” She smiled as though her words held great significance, but Mike was fixated on the fact that she could’ve stopped them and hadn’t.

“Why didn’t you give them the damn journal and be done with it?”

The smile disappeared. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

She sighed. “I don’t really want to go into this, Mike.”