Page 35 of Some Like It Hot
“King David. He wrote that—it’s the Twenty-third Psalm. One of my grandmother’s favorites. She cross-stitched it—it’s in a frame in the lodge.”
“Your dad quoted it before we headed out.”
“Yeah, he does that a lot. He says that sheep are sort of stupid. That they’d follow the other sheep right over a cliff. And they get lost easily.”
Riley reached up and unclicked his sling.
“What are you doing?”
He put his hand on the seat, palm up. “You don’t try and fix me, and I’ll try not to get you into trouble, okay?”
She glanced at him, the quirk of his smile, the texture of his eyes, and slipped her hand into his. “Not much trouble, at least.”
Because maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to be whole to let Riley into her life.
Maybe he could simply help fill the broken places.
He closed his hand around hers. “Hey, there’s a car up ahead.”
They’d jerked and rolled their way down the dirt-tracked mile, and the road opened to the A-frame clearing. A dirty red Accord sat in the driveway.
“Maybe that’s Darryl’s car.” She pulled the truck up next to it and reached for the door handle.
“Stop.” He tightened his hold on her hand.
She frowned at his knotted expression. He shot a look at the house. “Let me go in first.”
“What are you going to do? You’re supposed to be in a sling. And I’m the one with combat training.”
He blinked at that. Then he pulled the sling off his neck. “Just stay behind me.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake— “The woman is inlabor—”
“And her husband is a fugitive from the law!”
She held up her hand. “Down, boy. Fine. You go first.”
“Thank you.” He got out and rounded the truck to meet her, then took her hand in his.
As if she might disobey him. Good grief. But again, there went the crazy whoosh of, well, yes, relief.
Oh, he’d gotten her all worked up, thinking danger was lurking… This was silly. “Alicia!”
No movement, and the front door was closed. Riley led the way up the steps, then let go of her hand to knock on the door. “Alicia,” he said, “we’re here to help.”
“She could be in the back,” Larke said and reached for the knob. It was unlocked.
She eased the door open, glanced at Riley, and he stepped inside first.
Only the plink of water sounded in the sink, the curtain to the back drawn, the house eerily quiet. “Alicia?”
A wadded-up blanket lay on the sofa, an indented pillow against the arm. Riley walked over to the sofa and pressed his hand on the pillow, checking for warmth, maybe.
She closed the door behind her.
And that’s when a hand clamped onto the back of her neck, fingers like a vice into her flesh. “Don’t move.”
She jerked, and across the room, Riley whirled around.