Page 96 of Deathmarch
When the old-fashioned phone on the table rang, Allie didn’t pick it up immediately. She expected Harper, calling to yell at her for leaving his apartment without telling him first.
She ran her fingers over her still-purplish ankle, then refastened the brace around her foot as she sat on the bed. She’d been contemplating a nap, feeling decadent with so much time on her hands. Normally, the travel from booking to booking ate up a ton of her time. And a good night’s rest was often elusive, sleeping in a new bed every night, people in the next room blaring their TV or having a party.
So nap, definitely, but first she had to deal with Harper. She hobbled over to the phone, steeling herself so she wouldn’t give in at the first sound of his voice.
“Ginny Knapp is calling you from the Historical Society,” Shannon said on the other end. “I’m going to put her through, then I’m off to the grocery store. Do you need anything?”
“I’m good. But thank you for asking.” A click, and then Allie was talking to the head of the Historical Society. “Mrs. Knapp?”
“Oh good. You’re still at the B and B. Quick question. You mentioned that you have a substitute teacher certificate. Is that for Pennsylvania? And is it up-to-date?”
“Yes and yes.” When she didn’t have bookings and money was tight, sometimes she substituted.
“Listen, I was just talking to Principal Orvosh at my book club meeting. They’re short of a history teacher for Monday. The regular teacher was put on bed rest today. She’s having some complications with her pregnancy, so I recommended you. The principal loved your show. I gave him your cell number, but he just called to tell me he couldn’t reach you. I couldn’t either. Your cell phone gives an error message.”
“My phone broke.” Something she had to take care of and soon. She needed a phone to run her business. Clients could be calling.
“He said if you’re interested, you can just go in and talk to him Monday before classes. He’ll be in by seven.”
“Do you know how long he would need me?”
“The rest of the school year. Is that a problem?”
A long-term assignment, months in a place instead of days, settling in—all things Allie didn’t do. For a reason.
“Sorry. Thank you for thinking of me for this, but I won’t be able to help. I have bookings all the way down to South Carolina.”
She wasn’t going to give up her hard-won business. She wasn’t going to stay in town and try to fit in, just to be reminded by everyone that they never forgot who her father was. She was a historical reenactor, and a damn good one at that. In Broslin, she’d never be more than the town screwup’s daughter. That was how small towns worked. They never let go of the past.Never.
And if she stayed…Harper… She’d fall for him again, and then he would break her heart again. She couldn’t take that one more time. She wasn’t sure she would survive the pain. Because what she’d felt for teenage Harper back in the day and what she was beginning to feel for adult, hot-cop, funny, kind, thoughtful Harper now… The things she was beginning to long for…
And she didn’t do longing. She did not long for things she couldn’t have, as a rule. She’d wasted too much time on that already. Wishing for a mother, a father who didn’t drink, who had a steady job so they wouldn’t have to worry about the power being shut off… All that was in the past. She had her business now and her independence, and she was happy with what she had.
She was hobbling back to the bed when someone knocked on her door.
“Harper?” She braced herself mentally as she limped forward to let him in. Might as well get that argument over with.
The man standing outside her door wasn’t Harper, however. He was older, eyes smaller and meaner.
He stepped forward, and she stepped back on instinct. A mistake. That one move erased the possibility of being able to close the door in his face. And she wanted to. The cold, calculating way the man was looking at her set off some serious alarms in her brain.
“I don’t know who you are, but I need you to leave my room. Right now.” She tried to shove the door closed, way too late.
He held it open with one hand while yanking a small handgun from his pocket with the other. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.” His gaze darted around the room. “I just need you to make a trade. You come quietly now.”
“What trade? Forget about it. I’m not going to get kidnapped twice in the same day.”
She backed away another few painful steps. The chairs by the table were heavy antiques. She needed to reach the closest one and break it over the man’s head.
He moved after her. “Listen—”
But she didn’t. She turned to run. Forget the chair. By the time she lifted it and swung it, he could shoot her twice over. The bathroom door stood open. She could lock herself in there, open the window, shout for help…
Except he caught her before she gained a yard, his fingers closing on the back of her sweater like the claws of a predator. Her damn foot slowed her down too much, left her vulnerable.
“Leave me alone!” She swung at him, but before her fist could connect with his face, he punched her in the stomach.
God, that hurt.
