Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense March 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Dana Mentink (e books free to read TXT) 📖

If Rita was a snake in their midst, he was going to be there to prevent her sinking her fangs into Laney.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Laney had polished the dining room tables after breakfast until they shone. The few guests still in attendance had already departed to take advantage of the relative cool. In the afternoon they would be returning to use the pool, nap or gather in the shade underneath the sprawling tree, recharging before their evening plans. Death Valley was a place where people structured their activity levels to match the most hospitable temperatures. There was really no other choice. She’d already added the important details to the chalkboard in the dining room: “sunup 6:19 a.m., sunset 7:14 p.m., high temperature 96. Stay hydrated!”

She’d first come to Las Vegas from Oregon when an acquaintance told her there were plenty of hotel jobs to be had. A flat-broke teenager, all alone, having recently lost her baby, she couldn’t think of another plan. Climbing out of that bus, she’d thought the heat would cook her on the spot. She’d been trying hard not to cry when Aunt Kitty found her in the bus station.

“Where you headed to, hon?” she asked.

“Nowhere,” she’d croaked. Aunt Kitty plopped down next to her, bought her a bottle of water and brought her home to Death Valley as if she were one of the brood, along with Jude and his absent sister, Sadie. It was Aunt Kitty who had found her work at the Hotsprings Hotel, the place where she’d met Beckett.

Determined not to fall into a nostalgic pit of despair, she finished wiping the table, which had housed the bacon, eggs and Herm’s made-from-scratch blueberry muffins. Admiral happily snarfed up the crumbs that settled to the floor.

She headed to the oven to finish the oatmeal-raisin cookies that would go in the dinner pack for the evening tour. It was the first recipe Aunt Kitty had taught her, and one of the few that she could not possibly mess up. Herm sang from his repertoire of country songs while he delved into the commercial freezer to inventory the supplies. The kitchen was redolent with the smell of cinnamon. Her thoughts drifted to Beckett. Four tires would take a while to replace, so she was not surprised at his delay, but she found herself breathing easier when she heard his truck pull up.

He entered through the back kitchen door with all the delicacy of a tornado about to touch down. As he bent low to retrieve the napkins he’d knocked to the floor, she noted the tension in his tall frame. For some reason, he wouldn’t look her directly in the eye.

He slouched against the kitchen counter, frowning.

“Sit down,” she said. “You can sample a cookie while you tell me all about what happened.”

“I already…”

“I want to hear the whole story. You only gave me the highlights on the phone, I’m sure.”

As he sat, she noticed the smear of blood on his throat. “Beckett,” she cried, moving to him to peer closer.

“It’s not bad.”

She tipped his chin up. The strong curve of his jaw was so familiar and new at the same time. Clean-shaven, as he’d been every day since she’d known him, his skin was smooth under her touch. He was a paradox to her, meticulous about his grooming, couldn’t stand his hair getting long enough to tickle his ears, yet completely oblivious about the hole in the knee of his jeans.

“Can I get a haircut appointment with my best gal?” he would call out, bursting through the back door of the hotel, heedless of the hour. She would laughingly shush him before she got out the electric shears and began her trimming. It was an effort, since he would try to steal kisses throughout the whole process.

Swallowing down the memories, she studied the wound. His face was so close, she could smell the clean scent of the locally made soap they supplied at the hotel. Her pulse ticked up. “The cut is long but not deep.” She cupped his chin. “Tell me what happened right now or I’m calling Jude.”

“Kenny went at me with a knife,” Beckett said after a pause.

The breath crystallized in her lungs. For a moment, all she could do was stare into his brown irises, her own shock mirrored back at her. A knife, drawn across his throat. A fraction deeper and… Unfortunately, her eyes began to fill. Annoying hormones. She whirled away and retrieved the first-aid kit. With a shaking hand, she glided an alcohol-soaked cotton ball on the wound.

Beckett grimaced at the sting. “He wasn’t trying to kill me. If that was his goal, I’d be dead already.”

“Why do I not find much comfort in that?” It occurred to her with a jolt that Beckett’s death would mean her baby would be fatherless. But wasn’t that what life would be like for the child anyway, after they divorced and Beckett made good on his promise to move away? Wasn’t that what she wanted? She stood frozen, clutching the cotton.

He reached up and circled her wrist. “Kenny’s got something else in mind.” He paused. “He wants to hurt you because he knows that would be the worst thing that could ever happen to me.”

She stilled. This time, she could not hide her tears. No words were necessary; she was sure he could read her thoughts like he’d been able to do most of the time they’d known each other. No one could hurt me worse than you did.

She allowed his hands to circle her waist, spanning the growing life inside her. For a moment, she could almost pretend he was still the loving man who had committed before God to stay by her side.

For better or for worse… The muscles worked in his throat, pain etched in the lines around his mouth. Pain? He had no idea how much pain he had unleashed in her