Hidden Away

CHAPTER 5

SARAH watched from between the slats of her wooden blinds as the man jogged down the beach. Every so often he’d stop, drop down and do a series of push-ups. Sweat gleamed in the sunlight and she could see the strain on his face as he pushed himself harder.

Ever since she’d freaked out two days ago when she’d realized he was following her, she paid careful attention to her new neighbor. Granted, her imagination had run wild, but she didn’t get down on herself for being careful.

He was a big man. Beautiful. She chided herself for her fanciful thoughts, but the man was beautiful. He was solidly built, lean and muscled with no amount of spare flesh anywhere that she could see. His black hair was mussed on top, as if he’d outgrown a more severe military cut. Judging by the amount of time he spent working out and the way he’d roll his shoulder with a grimace, she figured he’d been injured. Maybe he was on leave or maybe he’d been discharged after his injury.

Or maybe she was just trying to convince herself that her new neighbor wasn’t a threat to her.

She closed her eyes and let the slat fall. Not everyone was the enemy. The problem was figuring out who wasn’t, and she didn’t have the luxury of differentiating.

It relieved her that she felt the stirrings of interest—feminine interest—in this man. That she could look and appreciate and even wonder about him made her want to do a fist pump in the air. Up yours, Allen Cross. You haven’t won. You didn’t destroy me.

A plaintive meow broke her from her thoughts and she turned to see the cat sitting on the countertop, eyeing her expectantly. Sarah smiled and walked over to rub her hand over the cat’s head.

“I suppose I need to name you. I can’t continue calling you Cat, can I?”

The cat blinked and let out a purr, then walked over to the cabinet where Sarah kept the cat food. She reared up on her hind legs and pawed at the door. Sarah chuckled and went to oblige the hungry animal.

Her new neighbor had already established a routine. She felt like some stalker watching his every movement. Part of it was her wariness, but the other part was curiosity. There wasn’t much else to do out here but watch the water. There wasn’t a lot of traffic down this way because of the smaller number of houses, most of which were rentals. He was the only other person she saw on her end of the beach with any regularity, and she found herself fascinated by him.

He was up early in the mornings, jogging, sometimes running. Then he’d disappear into his cottage only to reappear later with his fishing gear. He’d set up, wade out into the surf to cast his line and then wade back and position his pole in the holder. Then he’d kick back in a rickety-looking lawn chair, ice chest on the ground next to him and wait.

She had to admire his patience. He’d sit for long periods of time until the rod tip bent, when he’d leap up to set the hook and begin reeling in. Most of the fish were smaller, but she’d stood in her window watching for a solid half hour watching him wrestle a huge catch to the shores.

He’d unhook it, admire it, hold it up in the sun and then wade out to free it again. Then he’d begin the process all over again.

She envied his freedom. The complete lack of care. He didn’t look as though he had a worry in the world other than enjoying his quiet day in the sun. She poured the cat food into the bowl and set it on the floor, then stood back as the kitty began devouring it like it was a piece of prime steak.

“Patches,” she decided. “Not terribly original. I’m sure there are thousands of other calicos out there with the same exact name, but I bet you’re the only one on this island.”

Patches didn’t look up from her food.

Sarah went back to the window to see if she could catch another glimpse of her neighbor. To her surprise, he’d changed into a pair of swim trunks and was now standing at the water’s edge. The waves foamed and covered his feet as he stared over the horizon.

He raised his arms and then began a series of motions that looked to her like a martial arts workout. Maybe Tai Chi? She watched, absorbed by the sensuality of his movements. She might have expected a man of his size to be clumsy, but he moved with a grace that surprised her.

Lyrical. He moved in harmony with the water, as though he blocked out everything but the beauty immediately surrounding him. She was, in that moment, insanely jealous of the peace that surrounded him like an aura.

She stared unabashedly as he went through the motions. At one point he turned, and she could swear he saw her watching him, but she shook off the notion. She was staring through an opening no bigger than an inch and he was at least fifty yards away. Maybe farther.

Still, it was enough to pull her away from the window. She needed something else to focus on. The isolation was driving her insane. Her gaze snagged on her laptop bag.

The waiting was making her crazy. Maybe she could check out the little bookstore in the town square. She’d even seen a section in the market where they rented DVDs. She hadn’t even turned on the television to see if it or the DVD player worked but movies would be a welcome distraction.

And she totally needed to get out of this cottage before she lost her mind.

She grabbed her bag, made sure the cat was nowhere near the door and let herself out. As she descended the steps to the beach, she looked to her right to see her neighbor swimming at a fast stroke away from shore. She stood and watched for a moment until he got so far away she could no longer see him and then she headed down the beach in the opposite direction.

Her first stop was at the coffee shack, where she set up in her usual corner, accepted a cup of the local brew from Marie and then she went through the steps to check her email. As suspected, she had no new messages. It was tempting to search the local news in Boston but she was too paranoid. The last thing she wanted was to tip off anyone as to her location. And who knew what could be accomplished on the Internet?

Yes, she was paranoid, but she could live with that. It might just save her life. It didn’t help that she was a complete idiot about technology.

Her instinct was to hurry through her coffee, go to the bookshop and rush back to her cottage. But she tempered that urge and remained to sip at her coffee and watch the goings on in the little café, such as they were. She hated the idea of going back to the cottage, where she’d once again be alone. She hated being alone. She was a people person. She liked being around people even if she didn’t interact with them much, loved the big city with all the flashes of color and culture.

She glanced out the front window to watch the passersby and speculate on their circumstances, where they came from, where they were going. When the waitress came to offer her a refill, she smiled and accepted, determined to stay and enjoy her break from isolation.

After the second cup, she was jittery from the double jolt of caffeine and anxious to be off. She slid out of her chair, careful to tuck her laptop into her bag and then exited the front of the shop to cross the street to the bookstore. It was two doors down from the market with only a fishing supply shop to separate them.

When she entered, she was instantly assailed by the smell of old books. She sniffed appreciatively and went to the shelves to browse the selection. An older lady with a warm smile waved from her chair behind the register and Sarah offered a brief acknowledgment before turning back to the shelf in front of her.

It was easy to get lost in books. It was more than an hour later when she realized how long she’d been there picking over the titles. She looked ruefully at the dozen or so books she’d stacked to the side and decided it was enough for now. It would give her a good excuse to return when she’d finished them.

She hauled her loot to the register and plunked them down in front of the woman.

“Hi there, you like to read, I see,” the woman said cheerfully. “Most folks who come through here just pick up one or two. Beach reads they call them. If you ask me, any book is good for the beach.”

Sarah smiled. “I do enjoy books. I don’t think these will last me long, but they’re all I can carry with me right now.”

“I’m Martine,” the woman said, extending her hand.

“I’m ... Sarah.”

“Well, Sarah, it’s very nice to meet another book lover. When you’re done with these, you can bring them back in. I’ll give you credit toward more book purchases.”

“Thank you, I will.”

Martine rang up the books and Sarah paid her in cash. Then Martine placed the books in a plastic grocery store bag and handed it over to Sarah. Sarah juggled her laptop bag, hauling it farther over her shoulder, and took the sack from the shop owner. With a wave, she headed back outside.

Just the little bit of human interaction warmed Sarah on the inside. She needed this. Needed to connect to other people, even in a superficial way. Head down, she turned the corner of the bookshop into the small alley that separated the store from its neighbor. The DVD rental place was behind the market. She’d make a quick stop, pick up a few movies and then she’d be set for entertainment for the next several days. Between the times she spent watching her neighbor, that is.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t see the person in front of her until she ran smack into the man. She bounced off as adrenaline spiked in her veins. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Before she could react, the dull gleam of a knife flashed in her face and the strap from her bag carrying her laptop nearly wrenched her shoulder from its socket. She dropped the bag of books and grabbed the strap before her assailant could wrest it free.

She pulled and stumbled back, and came face to face with a grubby-looking man who looked to be in his early twenties. He was unwashed and unshaven and her nostrils flared at the overwhelming smell of body odor.

“Give me the bag,” he ordered in clipped English.

He gripped her hair and yanked, pulling her closer to him—and to the knife he held barely an inch in front of her nose.

She couldn’t lose her laptop. Her whole life was in that laptop. Panic and hysteria rose and slammed through her veins with the force of a cement truck.

“No!”

The exclamation rose in her throat and was forced out before she could think better of it.

The hand tightened in her hair and then she was slammed against the outside wall of the shop with enough force to knock the breath from her and make her eyes water. The man grabbed clumsily for her bag, and the knife wavered in her vision. Taking advantage of his lapse, she grabbed his wrist and knocked the knife from his hand.

And suddenly she was free. She stood against the wall, shaking violently, not comprehending what had just happened. She watched in disbelief as her neighbor, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, let out a snarl of rage as he smashed his fist into the face of her attacker.

The noise attracted onlookers. Several gathered at the end of the alley and a moment later, the constable ran down to intervene. It was over almost as soon as it began. Her attacker lay bleeding on the ground, begging pitifully for mercy. Her neighbor hauled him up and shoved him in the direction of the approaching constable. Then he turned to Sarah, concern etched on his brow.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He moved closer and gripped her shoulders. She flinched and tried to move away, but he held tight as he stared into her eyes.

“I-I’m fine.”

“Did he hurt you?” he demanded.

She shook her head and to her consternation, her teeth started to clink together like ice tumbling into a glass.

He touched her cheek, then pushed back the hair that had fallen over her eyes. She glanced away to see the constable putting her attacker in handcuffs. “He had a knife.” She pointed to the ground, where it had fallen.

Her neighbor bent and retrieved the knife, holding it up as he inspected it in the sunlight. Then he frowned and handed it over to the constable.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Didier,” the constable snapped at her attacker.

Sarah frowned and pushed herself around her neighbor. “What do you mean? Do you know this man?”

The constable sighed. “He’s a troublemaker. I’ve picked him up a few times, but he’s never resorted to violence. He’s a petty thief.”

Heat suffused her cheeks. “He threatened me! I hope you’ll keep him locked up this time so he doesn’t terrorize others.”

The constable’s brows drew together as if he had no liking for her telling him how to perform his duties.

“He pulled a knife on the lady,” her neighbor said in a dangerous voice. “If you won’t deal with the matter, I’ll report this matter to your superiors.”

“Of course the matter will be dealt with,” the constable huffed. “He’s going to jail. He’ll be summoned to appear before the judge.” He looked to both Sarah and her neighbor. “I’ll need the both of you to come with me and give a proper report.”

The pulse at the base of her neck pounded viciously. Report the crime. What she hadn’t, in her cowardice and shame, done before. She so indignantly informed the constable that she didn’t want this man to be free to terrorize others, and yet she’d done just that when she’d refused to report the crime against her so many months ago.

She eyed her attacker bleakly, shame crowding her mind, pushing her fear and anger and everything else solidly aside. She was a hypocrite. And a coward. She didn’t deserve justice because she’d never sought it for herself.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” her neighbor murmured. “I’ll go with you.”

Startled, she took a step back and found herself pinned against the wall again. She stared warily at the big man who’d come to her rescue, hating the inadvertent fear that raced up her spine.

He stood there waiting, not making a move toward her, almost as if he knew how badly he scared her. He watched calmly, waiting, his gaze drifting over her face, taking in every detail. It unnerved her and exposed her vulnerability.

“If you’ll come to the station straightaway,” the constable urged as he pushed Didier down the alleyway in cuffs. “I’ll need to log a full report so the proper charges can be pressed.”

Sarah swallowed the nausea that welled in her throat. Regret burned in her chest over past mistakes. But she wouldn’t make that mistake again. She was through being a victim. She wanted control back, and she was tired of living in fear.

Her neighbor held out his hand, palm up, his expression devoid of any emotion. It was though he wanted to appear as nonthreatening as possible; and the thing of it was, she wanted to take his hand. She wanted to lean on someone else, just for a few minutes. She wanted it more than anything.

She wiped her hand over her mouth to disguise the tremble and then averted her gaze. “We should go,” she said without taking his hand. She started after the constable, leaving her rescuer to follow.

He fell into step behind her, but he kept at least a foot between them. Still, he loomed over her, blocking the sun as they stepped onto the street. She quickened her pace, unsettled by him, and why, she wasn’t sure.

When they reached the small station at the far end of the town square, her neighbor held the door open and ushered her inside. There was no air-conditioning and it was a good twenty degrees hotter inside the boxlike building. None of the windows were open to allow the sea breeze in, and she glanced nervously back toward the door. She couldn’t remain in this airless place for more than a few minutes. She’d go nuts.

A younger officer sat at a desk idly flipping through paperwork. He looked up when she and her neighbor entered.

“Comment puis-je vous aider, madame?”

“English please,” she said. “Parlez-vous Anglais?”

The officer nodded. “But of course.”

“We’re here to give the constable our statement,” her neighbor said.

“Ah, very good. If you’ll have a seat, he’ll be with you momentarily.”

Sarah nodded and sank onto one of the metal chairs, relieved to be off her feet. She stiffened when her neighbor sat next to her, their legs grazing as he shifted to get comfortable.

“My name is Garrett.”

“I’m Sarah,” she said quietly.

“Pretty name. Very classic. I like non-frou-frou names.”

She glanced up and smiled. He smiled back and she found herself mesmerized by his deep blue eyes.

“Thank you.”

He cocked his head. “You’re welcome.”

“We’re neighbors,” she blurted.

He smiled again. “I know.”

“He tried to take my bag. I couldn’t let him.”

The words came pouring out and she winced at how defensive and silly she sounded. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

“It’s not worth your life,” he pointed out.

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand. Everything is in that bag. I can’t ... I can’t lose it. Especially not to some bullying jackass.”

Garrett chuckled. “I’m not convinced you even needed my help. You had him disarmed before I got to you.”

She made a face. “I was scared out of my mind. I’m so grateful you were there.” Then she frowned. “You were swimming when I left the cottage. How did you get into town so fast?”

He lifted a brow and amusement gleamed in his eyes. “Keeping tabs on me?”

She flushed and looked down. “I saw you exercising. When I left, you were in the water.”

“I came into town after my swim. I’d only just arrived when I heard the commotion in the alley.”

“You have excellent timing,” she said ruefully.

The constable strode into the tiny waiting room and gestured for Sarah and Garrett to follow him back. Sarah rose and nervously ran her palms down her sides. It occurred to her that as angry as she was, and as much as she wanted the asshole to pay for his crime, it was stupid of her to draw attention to herself. Even dumber to go on record where her name and information would be a matter of public record.

The problem was, she hadn’t thought. She’d reacted. She’d allowed emotion to overshadow common sense.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she blurted. “I don’t want to press charges.”

Ignoring the constable’s open mouth and Garrett’s frown, she bolted from the station, cursing herself with every step. The door banged closed behind her as she hurried onto the street. Garrett caught up to her before she’d even made it a block. Though he didn’t touch her, he stepped in front of her, effectively halting her in her tracks.

A scowl darkened his face. “Hey, what happened back there?”

She tried to step around him but he blocked her escape. “Nothing, okay? I changed my mind.”

“You’re going to just let him get away with that?” Garrett demanded.

She blew out her breath as rage curdled her veins. “Look, my preference would be to let the little bastard rot, but I can’t afford to draw attention to myself.”

She closed her eyes. Damn it, but she was a walking disaster today. Nothing was coming out right. She may as well have told him everything about her situation. She’d already slipped up and told him her first name. But that was okay. Sarah was a common enough name, and her neighbor didn’t strike her as the type to get chatty with the locals.

“Okay, I get that.”

Garrett’s deep voice washed over her, soothing her fraught nerves. To her surprise, there was no reprimand in his voice. Just an intimate gentleness that made her shiver.

“Why don’t I walk you home?” he offered. “Since I’m going the same way and all.”

She hesitated for a moment, lips pursed in concentration. Then she realized how ridiculous she was being. They were going the same way. They’d end up walking together whether he was officially escorting her or not.

She relaxed and offered the most convincing smile she could muster. “I’d like that. Thanks.”