Chapter 15

"I want his head on a platter!"

Nick watched Brad prowl the bedroom. He'd been doing it since Nick arrived an hour ago, following Steve's call. He glanced over to the window where Steve was talking to Eduardo and Nancy for their statement, attempting to remain professional.

Assault calls usually weren't easy ones to respond to, but this one felt personal. Racing here at three times the speed limit and keeping his car on the road had been no effortless task either. But walking in and seeing Trisha slumped on the floor, a bruise already forming on her perfect cheek, took every ounce of control he had to do his job tonight.

The men were all standing outside waiting for news, huddled together in worry. Doc Wilson-as everyone in town called the seventy-year-old man who had been the sole medical personnel in Small Rapids for forty years-had come and gone. Nick wanted her in a hospital, just to get checked out, but the closest one was in Madison. The old doctor's hands were shaking as he checked her out, but everyone seemed satisfied with his judgment.

Trisha was leaning against her mother on the floor, an icepack to her cheek and a dazed look to her eyes. Her father was doting to the bump on her head and cooing to her quietly.

Trisha hadn't said a word yet.

His gut twisted. He cleared his throat and turned to Brad. "How long has Mike Peltzer worked on Eaton's Orchard?"

"Why aren't you out there looking for him?" Brad whirled on him, eyes aflame.

Nick forced his tone to remain even when he wanted to roar, too. "Don't you worry, Wayne is doing just that." Nick flipped his notebook open and tried to focus. "How long?"

Brad sighed and finally gave in to sit on the edge of the bed. "Almost a year. I told her not to hire him."

"Did he ever threaten Miss Eaton before?"

Brad rose again. "Listen to you. Miss Eaton. As if you hadn't been on a date with her, as if you hadn't had a meal in the house with her family. I don't know where you came from, but we're not cold drones--"

Nick sat Brad back down on the bed with a firm hand to his shoulder. He didn't need to give this pest any explanations. And calling her Miss Eaton was the only thing keeping Nick detached right now. "If you think this is easy, it's not. But I have a job to do and you're not making it simpler. Has he ever threatened her before?"

Brad jerked his head aside, anger draining away. His shoulders slumped. "No, not that I know of."

Nick closed his notebook and replaced it in his back pocket. "I know you two are close friends, but don't go off like a vigilante. Let us handle it." Not for the first time, he wondered about Brad and Trisha's history.

He peered over at Trisha and was surprised to see her looking at him, her brown eyes clearing and seemingly hazel in color now. Kneeling down in front of her, all the tension crept back into his body. He strained for patience as he tilted her chin gently to get a better look at her bruised cheek.

Nick hissed. "He clocked you good, didn't he?" He turned to her mother. "Let's get her back to the house. I need to talk with her alone for a few minutes."

Hank and Mabel assisted their daughter in standing and, assured she wouldn't fall back down, Nick walked over to Steve. "I'm going up to the main house with them to get a statement from her and make sure she's settled."

Steve rubbed at his thinning hair. "I'm done here. I'll radio Wayne and catch up with him."

Brad was still sitting on the bed with his face buried in his hands. Anger could take everything out of a man when it subsided, the worst kind of adrenaline crash. Nick knew his closeness with Trisha and bit back a sigh.

Placing his hand on the man's back, he leaned over. "We're taking her up to the house."

Completely fatigued, Brad looked up. "She okay?"

Nick nodded and followed the Eatons outside. The men took one look at her curled under her father's arm and dispersed inside, satisfied for now she was all right. Eduardo and Nancy came out and trailed them to the main house.

Trisha stopped just inside the doorway, gaping at the staircase, and let out a groan.

"I'll walk you up." Nick turned to her parents, making sure he wouldn't get resistance from them.

When they walked into the adjoining living room without argument, Nancy patted Trisha's hair, her eyes wet. "I'll make some tea. You go talk with Nick and I'll bring it up to you."

Trisha hadn't uttered a word since Brad had found her lying on the floor unconscious. Worried she might be in shock, Nick wrapped an arm around her waist and climbed the staircase, assisting her with each step. She didn't put up a fight, simply laid her head on his shoulder.

Looking down his nose at her, he found her long lashes closed and he shook his head. Something in his chest stirred, giving him a sudden urge to lift her in his arms and cradle her to his body. Her soft to his hard. Having her there against him felt too damn right. It was the first time since he got the call that he felt like he could breathe again. He wasn't the comforting type. Hell, he wasn't even the knight in shining armor type. But Trisha made him want to be a hero.

She pointed out which room was hers. When she settled on the bed, she leaned against the headboard, pulling out the ponytail at the back of her head. She winced, probably at the pain from her bump after hitting the floor.

He instinctively reached for her.

Putting up a hand to stop him, she muttered, "I'm fine. It just hurts like hell."

Annoyed with himself and the situation she put herself in, he paced her bedroom. He'd dealt with domestic disturbances, drug deals, abused children, and occasionally with murder, but he never had to deal with Trisha before.

She brought out emotions he couldn't professionally put aside. He didn't like it. Not the sight of her pale, limp body lying on the floor, nor the swift need to hold her close. It grated his nerves watching all those hands on her when he wanted them to be his. He wanted to soothe her, be who she needed.

Christ. He'd known her a couple of weeks. He hadn't even kissed her yet. What the hell was the pull toward her about?

He swallowed and glanced around, antsy as hell and worry still eating his gut. Her bedroom set was mahogany and crafted in clean straight lines. There were no embellishments or frills, just a few pictures on the yellow walls. The comforter on the bed was a deep, rich gold and matched the drapes hanging on her open window. He thought about how closely their tastes matched and how well-suited they were to each other before quashing the thought.

"Sit down, Nick," she murmured, drawing him back to her.

He obliged, sitting next to her on the edge of the queen-sized bed.

"So serious." She pouted her lips mockingly at his expression.

Pleased to hear the sarcasm return, he slanted her with a gaze of contempt. "He could've really hurt you. Why didn't you have backup with you when you fired him?"

The question was professional and curt, but she must've seen his underlying worry and relied on her backbone to defend against him. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, one-hundred percent defiant. "I can handle my spread and staff on my own."

Defensive as she, he tensed. "I can see that by the bruise on your cheek and the egg on your head."

She ground her teeth. "Who the hell are you to tell me-"

"You scared me." He searched her face, surprised by the admission and truth behind it. He forced his features to remain unreadable despite his contrary words.

Her demeanor deflated on the spot. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Nothing like this has ever happened before." She looked away, a blush rising up her neck and spreading to her cheeks. Rolling those chocolate eyes, she looked back at him. "He caught me off guard and in a moment of weakness. It won't happen again." She played with the hairband in her lap. "Is Brad okay? Did he freak out?"

He banked down the irritation that she asked about another man when he was sitting right here in front of her. "He's fine. You gave us all a good scare. Your parents are downstairs. I'll send them up when we're through."

She nodded, causing her hair to fall over her face. Giving in to the urge, he tucked the chestnut strands behind her ear and left his hand to linger at the side of her face before dropping it back to his lap. "Do you want to press charges?"

Lazily, she blinked. "I don't think so. Should I?"

He shrugged as if he didn't care. "It's up to you. If he hit you, he's probably done it before. It could prevent any more occurrences. I don't think he'll be any more trouble to you, but one of us will drive by every couple hours tonight to be sure."

She closed her eyes and laid her head back gently against the headboard. "I'll come to the station in the morning."

"I have to tell you something before I go." He waited until she opened her dazed eyes and focused her attention on him. "After I dropped you off last night, someone called me. They warned me to stay away from you."

"What?" Her features no longer drowsy, she perked her head back up. "Who?"

"I don't know. Sounded male, though. I couldn't make out an approximate age, but it was an adult. He whispered and held something over the receiver to mask the voice."

She shook her head slowly, confusion in her brow. "I don't know anyone who would do that."

"Who was aware we went out?"

She flinched and shook her head again. "Everyone here. But it's a small town, everyone probably knew. Word travels fast. No one would care who I date."

"Any bad ex-boyfriends I need to know about?"

"No." Her vague expression gave him the confirmation he needed.

Nancy walked in and set a cup of steaming tea down on her bedside table. The tears were gone but the expression on her face told Nick they threatened to come again.

"I'm going." He rose. "I'll see you in the morning. Wake her every two hours tonight, okay?" he told Nancy.

When he left, he was only slightly comforted that she had Nancy by her side to dote on her instead of him.