had been a busy day and a busier evening rush. Anyone could have left that cap any time during the supper hours, but there was something about it that made her think of him. Maybe it was the color; her loner had been wearing black.
Her loner—that’s how she was thinking of him, as if she knew him. Maybe it was that she recognized a part of herself in the man. Maybe because she understood it wasn’t only courage but something stronger that had made him stand motionless staring down death.
Yeah, she recognized the feel of despair that clung to him. She knew a like soul when she saw it.
She stowed the cap in the lost-and-found box, tucked it beneath the cash register and got back to work. Rachel was clattering around in the back office—it was little more than a closet, which it had been years and years ago when their parents had run the place.
But after their death, Paige had taken over and decided the front counter was no place to work on the books. So she’d checked out a how-to guide from the library and put them all to work. Amy had chosen the soft yellow paint because it was her favorite color. Of course, she was nine years old at the time. Now the color only reminded her of times best left forgotten. So she was happy to finish the mopping while Rachel muttered about over-rings in the cramped little office.
Amy glanced at the clock—ten thirty-eight—before rapping on the door, which was open. All she saw was Rachel’s back as she hunched over the plywood desk built into the back wall. That didn’t look comfortable. “I’m done out here. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Nope. This tape is a mess. I need to talk to whichever of the twins did this today.” Frustrated, Rachel slid back in the folding metal chair and rubbed her forehead with both hands. “Those two are giving me a serious headache.”
Their teenaged cousins were not the most faultless of employees, but they were eager and worked hard. “They just have a lot to learn.”
“I know.” Rachel’s sigh spoke more of her own tiredness than of her upset at the girls, who had both turned seventeen last month. “I’m just going to throw all this in a bag and take it home. I’ll make the deposit tomorrow.”
“Sounds good to me—”
The lights blinked off and stayed off. Pitch black echoed around them.
Amy didn’t move. “It looks like we lost power. Do you think it’s off for good?”
It stayed dark. That seemed like answer enough. Amy was trying to remember where the flashlights were when Rachel’s chair creaked and it was followed by the rasp of a drawer opening. A round beacon of light broke through the inky blackness. Leave it to Rachel. Amy breathed easier. At least they’d be able to close up without feeling their way in the dark.
Lightning flashed, and immediately thunder crashed like breaking steel overhead. Closer. The front was coming fast and moving toward home. She thought of her little boy. Westin was safe with the baby-sitter, but he’d be worried. She couldn’t call to reassure him. It wasn’t safe with the lightning crackling overhead and besides, if the power was out, then the phone lines were probably down, too.
She grabbed her purse from the shelf and her jacket hanging next to it, working in the near dark, for Rachel was hogging the flashlight to zip the cash receipts and the day’s take into her little leather briefcase. Once that was done, Amy hurried ahead and rechecked the front door—locked, just as it was supposed to be—and followed the sound of Rachel tapping through the kitchen toward the back door.
Outside seemed just as dark. An inky blackness was broken only when lightning strobed overhead and speared into the fields just out of town. It was definitely heading south. All she wanted to do was to get home before a tree or a power line blocked the road out of town.
She manhandled the door closed and turned the key in the dead bolt. The wind whipped and lashed at her, strong enough to send her stumbling through the puddles. In the space between lightning bolts, she could feel the electric charge on her skin. It came crisp and metallic in the air.
Rain came in a rage and it bounced like golf balls over the battered blacktop lot and over them. She hadn’t gone two yards and she was drenched to the skin. Following the faint glow of Rachel’s flashlight, she let the wind hurl her toward two humps of shadows that became two parked cars as they stumbled closer. The windshields gleamed, reflecting the finger of fire sizzling overhead. Lightning snapped into a power pole a block or two away. The thunder boomed so hard, Amy’s eardrums hurt with the shock.
Maybe that’s why she didn’t see another shadow until headlights flashed to life. She recognized the row of piercing fog lights blazing atop a pickup’s cab. Oh, heavens. It was the two men who’d hassled her in the restaurant.
It happened so fast. The truck screeched to a halt inches from Rachel, who’d been in the lead. The passenger door thrust open and suddenly there he was, the dark form of a stocky man, muscled arms held out with his hands closed into fists. Everything about him screamed danger. He stalked toward Rachel like a coyote ready to strike.
Amy didn’t remember making the choice to fight instead of run. She was simply there, between the man and her sister. Protective anger made her feel ten feet tall. “Get out of here. Now.”
“Hey, that’s no way to talk. I just wanted to give you girls a chance to make back your five bucks. Maybe even earn a tip.” The strong scent of hard liquor wafted from him.
She wasn’t afraid; she was mad. “That’s a horrible thing to say. Shame on you. You get back in your truck and leave us alone, or I’ll—”
“Yeah, what are you gonna do, pretty lady?” he mocked, and then the smirk faded from his shadowed face.
For out of the black curtain of rain emerged another man. One who stood alone.
Maybe it was the glaze of light snaking across the sky behind him. Or the way his dark hair lashed in the wind, but he looked like a warrior legend come to life. There was no mistaking the sheer masculine steel of the man as his presence seemed to silence the thunder.
He didn’t utter a word. He didn’t need to. The look of him—iron-strong and defensive—made the troublemaker shrink back as if he’d been struck. The ruffian cast one hard look at Amy—she saw the glint of malice before he leaped into the cab and slammed the door. The truck shot through the downpour, roaring out of sight.
Amy realized she was trembling from the inside out, now that the threat was gone. She swiped the rain from her eyes. She didn’t know why some people behaved the way they did. As long as Rachel was safe. They were both safe. She remembered to send a note of thanks heavenward.
And her loner—her protector—waited, his back to them, his feet braced wide, his fists on his hips looking as invincible as stone as he watched in the direction of the road, as if making sure those troublemakers weren’t doubling back.
“Oh, I can’t believe those men! If you can call them men.” Rachel walked on wobbly legs toward her car. “I’ve got to sit down.”
“They scared me, too.” Amy opened her sister’s car door and took the keys from her trembling hand. She sorted through them for the ignition key as Rachel collapsed onto the seat.
“Are you all right?”
Amy turned at the sound of his voice, rough like the thunder and as elemental as the wind.
He was simply a man, not legend or myth, but with the way he looked unbowed by the rain and lashed by the storm, he gave the presence of more.
When he spoke, it was as if the world silenced. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? I came across the parking lot as fast as I could.”
But from where? Amy wondered. He could have come out of the very night, for he seemed forged out of the clouds and dark. She swiped a hand across her brow, trying to get the rain out of her eyes and saw the faint glaze of lightning reflecting in the windows far down the alley. The town’s only motel. That’s where her loner had come from.
“You arrived