Seeking Shelter. Angel Smits
back to wanting a dad.
What was wrong with the way things were? Amy looked around at the store, at her daughter munching away on her cookie. She’d managed to support them for the past two years with this store. They weren’t rich, but they made it.
No, she wasn’t ready for any changes. Things were going to stay just the way they were.
* * *
JACE HAD JUST PASSED the highway sign that told him Rattlesnake Bend was another twenty miles when the bike’s engine started to miss.
Damn. He should have taken the time for the tune-up. After driving to Pennsylvania when Linc had been trapped last spring, then back to Los Angeles, he’d known the bike needed some TLC. But there hadn’t been time. Or motivation.
Mac’s dying had been damned inconvenient.
The bike missed again, and he cringed. He hated driving the twenty miles, pushing the bike into probable damage, but stopping out here in the middle of nowhere wasn’t an option.
By the time he’d forced the bike to the city limits, he was worried about the engine. It finally gave up, sputtering and falling silent, a pathetic state for the Harley beast Jace loved. He’d have to push the big bike the last couple of blocks to the old-fashioned gas station up ahead.
As he walked, Jace looked up and down the street. Rattlesnake Bend, Arizona, boasted a population of 423 if the city limit sign was to be believed. The bullet holes in the sign and a few scattered cars parked at uneven angles to the curb crowned this as Podunk, America. The Café sign said simply what it was. It probably didn’t even have a full name.
Jace had seen town squares like this back in the Midwest with one major difference. Those communities had actual parks in the center of the square. Here, the desert provided only hard-baked dirt for a couple scraggly pines and an old, dead cottonwood that looked more like the local hanging tree than actual landscaping.
The town was quiet as it baked in the sun. Lord, it was hot, despite it being midwinter. How did people live here in the summer?
Sweat poured down his face as he finally stopped by the pumps. Gas wouldn’t help, but he wasn’t pushing any farther. The desert sucked.
A man about his age came out the front door. Jace glanced up and smiled. The good-ole-boy look was still in style. Grimy ball cap, bill forward, not sideways. T-shirt beneath an unbuttoned denim shirt with one of those ovals on his left side that labeled him as Rick.
“That’s sure one pretty bike.” The man’s gaze roamed over the Harley’s body almost as if it were a woman.
“Yeah. You should see her when she’s cleaned up.” The chrome and denim-blue paint were covered in road dust at the moment. “She was running rough out in the desert. I let her go as far as I could.”
“Been pushing a ways? Whatcha think’s the problem?” Rick crouched down next to the bike, peering at the engine with a practiced eye.
“She needed a tune-up a while back. Sounds like a plug, maybe a plug wire that’s toast.” Jace knelt beside him.
“I think it’s more than plugs, but don’t think I got this kind, anyway.” Rick leaned in closer, poking around in the compact engine. “We’d better look at the points and the generator. Nearest parts store is over in Gilcrest. That’s fifty miles. Could be a challenge to get it quick. You might be stuck for a couple days.”
Jace cursed. Getting the bike there, or the part here, wasn’t going to be easy. And that was if it was just the plug and wires. He sighed. He wasn’t really in a hurry. There wasn’t anything or anyone waiting for him in L.A. And he had business here, anyway.
“We got a problem?” Another man’s voice cut through the desert heat.
“Nothing we can’t handle.” Rick stood and glared at the other man. He didn’t seem much older, but Jace couldn’t tell for sure, as a worn cowboy hat shaded his eyes. The badge on the man’s shirt proclaimed him the local law. Jace looked up at him from where he crouched.
Jace had had enough run-ins with cops to know they either trusted you and left you alone or they didn’t—and the latter could be pure hell. He’d learned long ago to keep a low profile until he knew which kind he was dealing with. Not always the easiest thing to do, but the wisest.
Rick interrupted Jace’s thoughts. “Gavin, quit being an ass.”
Jace turned his attention back to the engine, but kept his ears open. He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t here to get involved with the locals, at least not these two.
“Rick, I’m just tellin’ you. You need to be careful.”
Rick sighed. “If this town is going to survive, we can’t chase off everyone who comes to town who doesn’t fit your standards.”
Jace heard more than words in their conversation. He heard a history he wanted no part of.
Ah, small towns. He’d grown up in one. Everyone knew everyone else’s business. There were no secrets, no true privacy. He’d run away from just such a place when he’d turned sixteen. He was in no hurry to go back.
“It’s my job to keep everyone safe.” The lawman stepped closer, crowding Rick.
“Yeah, and you’re an elected official. Screw up and we’ll vote you out of office. We need people to come here. You like them tumbleweeds blowin’ across your doorway?”
As if on cue, one the size of a VW Bug chose that moment to meander across the wide street.
“Shut up, Rick.” Gavin had the sense to step back. He still loomed over Jace, though. “You just watch yourself,” he said in a low voice.
Jace resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and slowly unfolded his lanky frame. He realized that he was a good head taller than either man. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of my business as soon as I can, and be on my way.”
He didn’t explain that his business in Rattlesnake Bend was more than fixing his bike. He didn’t think good old Gavin could handle that piece of information.
Jace had traveled five hundred miles over the past two days to get here. He was tired and hot. No local yokel was going to get in his way, but he didn’t intend to get in theirs, either.
He took another glance around the deserted town and sighed. Just because he had the address didn’t mean Madeline Grey and her daughter were still here. He wished he’d pushed that attorney for more info, but then he’d probably still be in L.A. Behind bars, most likely.
All the way here, he’d thought about Mac’s family, wondering what the heck to say. He still hadn’t figured it out.
Until he did, he wouldn’t start asking questions, even if one of these men could give him answers. He could wait a little longer. Until he knew the lay of the land and the mood of the people, he’d keep his business to himself.
Jace stood watching as the lawman strolled away, little puffs of dust rising up behind his boot heels.
“You can leave her here, and I’ll call over to Gilcrest to check on the parts, if you’d like,” Rick offered.
“Thanks.” Together, they pushed the bike inside one of the bays.
“Be a shame for something to happen to such a pretty girl.” Rick grinned as he eyed the bike with that same sense of awe. Jace almost felt sorry for the man’s wife, if he had one. She hadn’t a chance measuring up to the machine. The mechanic pulled down the old garage door to block the bike from view.
“The diner open?” Jace didn’t remember how long ago he’d had breakfast.
“Not till five. Lunch rush is over. Caryn heads out to her place to take care of her horses this time of day. There’s stuff over at the grocery you can eat up quick, though. Just stay away from anything in the front counter.” Rick shuddered and then laughed as he walked back into