Seeking Shelter. Angel Smits
It didn’t. Just like every other room he’d seen in the old Victorian, the ceilings were high, but the rest of the space was closed in and cramped. The furniture was period, taking up most of the room. He could move around. Almost. The dormer window straight ahead was small, and fastened shut.
Jace’s chest grew tight, and he took only an instant to toss his backpack onto the bed and shrug out of the leather jacket that was slowly roasting him to death. He made a mental note: no leather in the desert.
Hastily, he backed out the door and hurried down the stairs. The wooden steps groaned under his weight. Finally, he cleared the front parlor and stepped out onto the long, wide veranda. Fresh air engulfed him, easing the constriction in his chest and nourishing his starved lungs. He cursed at his past, the memories of his father’s death in that damned coal mine, of Linc’s recent near miss, of Jace’s own inability to control his nightmares.
“You okay?” Hank stood in the doorway, the screen door open.
“Yeah,” he admitted, moving toward the railing. “Just...needed some fresh air.”
“Well, we got plenty of that around here,” the man said before he disappeared back inside.
Jace watched twilight slip over the countryside, silhouetting the town against the darkening sky. The small rise on which the bed-and-breakfast sat gave him a view of everything in the community.
Jace settled in the wooden rocker that took up at least four square feet of the porch. It wasn’t often a piece of furniture comfortably accommodated his large frame. This felt good. Leaning back, he tried to clear his mind. The quiet helped, almost.
He shoved his fingers through his hair and leaned forward, elbows on knees. What the hell was he going to do?
From here, he could see the lone light in the small store. The diner and the gas station were still open, but everything else was closing up. Why he’d thought it’d all be open now, he didn’t know. Hell, L.A. hummed with life ’round the clock, and he was used to that.
But this wasn’t L.A. Not by a long shot. Around here they probably rolled up the sidewalks at sundown. Jace needed to finish his business and get back to his life, such as it was. And let these people get back to theirs.
Silently, he fingered the safe deposit key in his pocket. What did you say to someone who hadn’t known her father? And how was he supposed to explain the money? The echo of a cheesy game show announcer spun through his head. “You’ve just won a brand-new car!”
Jace cursed and rubbed his throbbing forehead. He needed some sleep. Maybe in the morning his mind would be clearer, but he’d have to wait until everyone was asleep before he could settle in.
An hour later, Hank was still puttering around in the kitchen, getting everything ready for breakfast tomorrow morning. The old guy was rough, but he seemed committed to making this house a successful business.
“You gonna be out here much longer?” His voice came from the darkness, in the general direction of the front door.
“I was thinking about it.” Jace wasn’t going to tell him he didn’t plan to go back inside tonight.
“I need to lock up.”
Times like these, Jace really missed Mac. He’d have understood. There would have been no need to explain. Jace hadn’t slept indoors more than a handful of times in the past ten years.
The small apartment they’d shared hadn’t been much to brag about, but the balcony had been uncovered and Jace had bunked out there most nights. If it rained, he’d slept inside with the sliding door wide open.
This place didn’t have any sliding doors.
“Look.” Hank stepped into the light. “I gotta lock up. We’re a small town, and on the whole a safe place, but I got customers to keep happy.”
Jace stood and paced. The familiar edginess crept up on him. He could feel it, lurking in the shadows. “I ain’t much for sleeping inside,” he finally admitted. It was an understatement if he ever heard one.
Hank’s eyebrows lifted. “You plan on sleeping out here?”
“Yeah. I thought about it.”
The man crossed his beefy arms over his chest. “Tell me why. Give me a straight answer, and I’ll consider making an exception and give you a key. If I don’t believe you, I’ll go inside and you can fend for yourself.”
Jace almost let him do just that. Almost. He paced some more, his mind racing. “My dad died in a mine cave-in when I was a kid. Too many nightmares.”
The long glare his host kept trained on him was working on something, but Jace couldn’t read the man that well. Finally, Hank stuck his hand out and Jace saw the porch light glint off a single key.
“I’ll lock up and you can come and go as you please until you check out.”
“Thanks.” Jace smiled and pocketed the key.
“There’s a hammock out in the backyard. You’re welcome to use it.”
Jace nodded his thanks. “Hey,” he said. “Do you have a phone book around here?”
“Yeah. I’ll get it for you in the morning. It’s in the kitchen.”
“That’d be great.”
“I know most everyone and everything around here. Maybe I can help.”
Jace wanted people to think he was staying only because of his bike. He didn’t want to ask too many questions yet. But he didn’t want to come across as suspicious later. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he was acting just like Mac had, paranoid for no apparent reason. “Yeah, I’m looking for someone. Her name’s Madeline Grey. Do you know her?”
Hank’s face transformed from friendly innkeeper to the hard-traveling man Jace had seen in his eyes earlier. “Yeah, I knew Maddie.” He stepped closer. Menacingly close. “She’s been dead for over ten years.”
“I’m sorry.” And Jace was. That explained why Mac hadn’t been able to find her. “She had a daughter. Amy.” Jace glanced toward the now closed general store. “Is that her over in the grocery?”
Hank continued to eye him with a heavy frown, as if he’d be able to read his thoughts if he looked long enough. “I don’t know why you’re here, or why you’re asking about Maddie and Amy, but if you’re here to cause her or that little girl any trouble, you’ll have me to answer to.” Hank let the threat hang in the night air. It lingered long after he’d gone back inside and locked the door.
* * *
THE ARIZONA DESERT HAD always fascinated Amy, even though she’d lived here most of her life. She got up early each morning before the town was awake, before Katie got up, before she had to open the store. She loved this time of day. It was her time.
A cup of coffee on the back porch usually helped her gather her thoughts. She could make her plans for the day and just be Amy. Not Mom. Not the storekeeper. Not the girl down the street. Not the broken young woman who’d come home to lick her wounds. None of that. Just Amy.
Today, the relaxation was harder to find. Too much had happened lately and her mind swirled with it.
She hadn’t slept well last night, and when she had, she kept seeing the stranger, Jace. Which she blamed on Caryn.
“You’re an early riser.” The deep voice startled her and she nearly dropped her favorite coffee mug. As it was, she sloshed several drops on the front of her shirt. She’d have to change before she started work. Frowning, she looked over to see the man who’d haunted her dreams standing only a few feet away.
Today, he wore blue jeans and a black T-shirt that hugged his chest and shoulders. His long, dark hair hung loose and damp around his shoulders.
It took her brain a minute to