To Cherish Read online

  Trying once again to get some sleep.

  The night air was cool, but he didn’t mind. He silently made his way down the driveway toward the cheerful yellow mansion. The large three-car garage was located to the east, and remembering how he’d found the baseball card halfway between the house and the garage along the east side of the house, he decided to walk around that way first.

  But he didn’t find anything suspicious, including any indication someone else had been there recently. Not that it was easy to tell in the darkness. He rounded the garage, then paused for a moment, before crossing the stretch of lawn to the main house.

  He stepped quietly, knowing the master suite where Jemma and Trey were staying was located along the east side of the house.

  As he rounded the corner, his gaze rested momentarily on the glistening water of Lake Michigan. The McNally B&B offered an incredible view, and he knew that it would attract guests to the B&B.

  A sudden movement from behind caught him off guard, and he attempted to lift his arm in a defensive move, mere seconds before something hard slammed against him. Pain reverberated along his upper arm and shoulder, ricocheting through his skull. He thought about Jemma and Trey, praying they were safe inside the master suite.

  Then, there was nothing but darkness.

  4

  Jemma sat up in bed, her eyes wide with alarm, when she heard a muffled thud somewhere outside. She pulled on a sweatshirt over her boxer shorts and T-shirt, grabbed her phone and tiptoed out of the bedroom, to avoid disturbing Trey.

  The instant she shut the door behind her, she dialed 911. It seemed to take forever for the dispatcher to answer. “Clark County Sheriff’s Department, what’s your emergency?”

  “I think there’s someone outside my house.” She kept her voice hushed as if whoever was outside might overhear. “Please send a deputy.”

  “Okay, ma’am. Stay inside with the doors locked, okay?”

  “I will.” She disconnected from the line and stood in the living room, soon to be dining area for their guests, staring out through the French doors, trying to see if anyone was out there.

  She had a clear view all the way to the lake, although it wasn’t easy to see in the darkness because the moon was covered by the clouds. She considered flipping on the outside lights but feared that might spook the intruder.

  If it was Randal out there . . . she couldn’t bear to finish the thought.

  The silence was suffocating. Jemma tried to be strong, wanting, needing to maintain her independence, but couldn’t seem to shake the fear that Randal was making his way toward the door right now.

  She scrolled through her contacts to find Garth’s number. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed the button to call him.

  Within seconds she heard the faint sound of a phone ringing from the speaker she held to her ear as well as from outside. It took a minute for her to understand the implication. She crossed the room and pressed her face to the glass, peering into the darkness. This close to the window she could hear the ringing phone more distinctly.

  She hit the stop button on her phone and instantly the ringing sound from outside ceased as well. Garth? Was he outside? Or just his phone? She stood frozen at the window, trying to summon the courage to go outside to see if Garth was in fact out there or not.

  Not a good sign that he hadn’t answered the phone. But what if he was hurt or worse? She’d hate herself if she didn’t at least check.

  Arming herself with a knife, she eased open one of the French doors and cautiously slid the screen aside. The sound of the screen door sliding along its tracks was incredibly loud in the absolute silence.

  Her heart thundered in her chest. Every instinct told her to go back inside, but she stood where she was, convincing herself she could do this. She was smart and brave. She would not be a coward. Sucking in a breath, she slid through the narrow opening into the cool night. After crossing the concrete patio, her bare feet sank into soft, damp grass.

  She moved silently toward the corner of the house, the spot from where she’d heard the ringing phone. A low groan reached her ears. Her heart lodged in her throat as she carefully peered around the corner.

  At first, she didn’t see anything, but then a dark shape and a flash of pale skin caught her eye. The lump on the ground moved again, and she finally realized that the man lying there was Garth.

  She hurried forward, dropping to her knees beside him. “Garth? What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Jemma?” His voice was low and husky. He winced and struggled to sit up. “Get back inside where it’s safe.”

  There was a part of her that longed to do exactly that, but she forced herself to ignore it. “I’ve called nine one one, a deputy is on the way.” She spoke in a loud tone, hoping that anyone lurking nearby would hear it.

  “Good,” he muttered. “But I still want you to go back inside.”

  Staring at his face in the moonlight, she could see a dark bruise marring his right temple. She set the knife down to free up her hands. “Come on, let’s get you up to your feet. We’ll go in, together.”

  He groaned and pushed himself up to his knees. Then he planted one hand against the side of the house, as if to steady himself. Placing her arm beneath his, she helped him stagger to his feet.

  “Go inside,” he said again, leaning heavily against the house. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Together,” she repeated, wrapping her arm around his waist for added support. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  With halting steps, they managed to get around to the corner to the French door that remained open. She mentally berated herself for being so stupid and hoped that no one had sneaked inside while she’d been with Garth.

  She flipped on the lights and then helped Garth through the front living room to a kitchen chair. Once he was seated, she hurried back down the short hallway to the master suite, desperately needing to make sure Trey was still safe and asleep.

  He was. Thank goodness. Her shoulders slumped in relief. Whoever had hit Garth must be long gone.

  She hoped.

  Closing the door of the master suite behind her, she returned to the kitchen. Garth was still sitting in the chair, gingerly pressing his fingers to the bruise on his right temple. In the light, she could see some swelling about the size of a duck egg.

  “We need ice for that.” She opened the freezer and pulled out a handful of small rounded ice cubes. After wrapping them in a clean washcloth, she pressed it against the side of his head.

  He let out a low hiss of pain, but then brought his hand up to the ice pack. “Thanks. That helps.”

  Before she could ask more about what had happened, the flash of headlights flickered through the window of the front door. “That must be the deputy.”

  “Great.” Garth’s tone was dour. “Now everyone will hear about how I allowed some jerk to get the drop on me.”

  “It could have happened to anyone,” she protested as she walked through the great room to the front door. She was surprised to find a rather petite red-haired deputy climb out of the squad car.

  “Thanks for coming so quickly,” Jemma said as she opened the door.

  “I’m Deputy Waldorf,” the female officer said. “Just wanted you to know I’ll be looking around outside.”

  “You may want to speak with Deputy Lewis, first,” Jemma informed her. “Appears whoever was out there assaulted him.”

  “What?” Deputy Waldorf’s eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly pushed past Jemma to enter the house. As if she’d been in there before, she headed through the great room and into the kitchen. “Garth? What on earth happened?”

  “Trina,” he acknowledged with a wince. “Keep your voice down a notch, my head is pounding.”

  “Sorry.” Trina’s expression was full of concern as she examined Garth’s injury, and Jemma had to squelch a flash of jealousy. What difference did it make if Garth and Trina had a thing going? She wasn’t interested
in traipsing down the relationship path again.

  Trey’s health and well-being came first, followed by running a successful B&B. She needed to establish some independence. She’d started by returning to her career as a teacher and had now jumped into managing her own business.

  A man would only get in the way.

  “What happened?” Trina asked, planting her hands on her slim hips. “Why are you out here?”

  Garth winced and glanced at Jemma for a moment before answering. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to take a quick look around, make sure things were safe and secure.”

  “Apparently, they weren’t,” Trina muttered, and Jemma shivered, realizing that it was entirely possible that Randal had been outside somewhere.

  “Yeah, well, I went around the garage first and didn’t see anything. Then I came up along the east side of the house. I heard and felt someone behind me and brought my arm up to defend myself seconds before something blunt hit me.”

  Jemma sucked in a harsh breath. “A baseball bat?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

  “I don’t think so,” Garth said quickly. “My injury would be far worse if the weapon had been a baseball bat. And it felt short and blunt against my arm.” His gaze dropped to the wide work belt around Trina’s waist. He reached up and lightly touched the dangling baton. “More like that.”

  The blood drained from her face as she stared at the stout blunt police baton.

  Randal had assaulted Garth. She knew, deep in her bones, there could be no other explanation.

  What would have happened if Garth hadn’t come out to check on her tonight?

  She curled her fingers into helpless fists. With sick certainty, she knew the cruelty wouldn’t stop until either Randal was locked up or she was dead.

  Desperately fearing he’d succeed in making it the latter.

  Garth couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid as to get smacked in the head by a police baton. He wasn’t a rookie and had to silently acknowledge that his shortsighted stunt of coming out to the B&B alone while off duty could have ended much worse.

  Idiot. He deserved to get smacked in the head.

  “The guy who attacked you is a cop?” Trina asked, a hint of skepticism in her voice.

  “My ex-husband, Randal, is a cop, yes,” Jemma said, her expression full of fear and regret. “I have reason to believe he’s stalking me, waiting for a chance to grab our son.”

  Trina’s eyes widened, and she glanced between him and Jemma. “Okay, I think I need to take a look around outside, before I take you to the hospital.”

  “Not alone,” he protested. “There’s a small wooded area between this place and the house to the east. He might still be hanging around. I’m not going to the hospital, I’m fine.”

  “I’m sure he’s long gone by now,” Trina said, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I’ll take extra precautions. And yes, you are going to the hospital.”

  “No.” Garth removed the ice pack from his temple and set it on the table. “If you won’t call for backup, we’ll go together.”

  The way Jemma twisted her hands together betrayed the extent of her anxiety. He’d noticed she’d done that yesterday the first time he’d responded to her call.

  Two emergency calls in less than twenty-four hours. He was starting to believe she was right about her ex and understood they need to catch Cunningham in the act, and soon.

  Ignoring the ferocious pounding in his head wasn’t easy, but he accompanied Trina outside, both carrying large flashlights.

  Of course, they found nothing, aside from the knife Jemma left behind. Not even another baseball card, as he’d half-expected.

  Guess the thunk on his head had been enough for Cunningham, he thought wryly as they went back inside.

  Jemma had brewed a pot of coffee while waiting, although in her hands she cradled a cup with a tea bag floating inside.

  “I made decaf,” she offered. “If you’re interested.”

  “None for me, thanks,” Trina said. “I need to get back out on the road. Garth, I noticed your truck parked along the side of the road.”

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “You shouldn’t drive. In fact, I still think you should go to the hospital.”

  “Not happening. It’s a measly bump on the head.”

  “Stubborn,” Trina muttered. “Are you sure you don’t want a lift?”

  “I’m sure.” He picked up the ice pack and pressed it against the lump on his temple. The coldness only numbed a fraction of the pain, but he was grateful for that much. “Why are you on duty anyway?” He belatedly realized she had been on first shift with him the day before.

  “Nathan called in sick, so I’m pulling a double. I’m working with Alex.”

  He winced again, realizing he’d have to make sure to report to work in the morning to help cover her open shift. “Okay. Just make sure you and Alex take turns swinging by this place during the night.”

  Jemma walked Trina to the front door, returning a few minutes later. She sat down beside him, sipping her tea.

  “I wish you’d consider going to the hospital.”

  “I’m fine,” he repeated. “Honest.”

  Her gaze was skeptical. “Okay, would you be willing to stay here for the rest of the night?”

  He lifted his eyebrow in surprise, glad that the small movement didn’t add to his current pain level. “Um, yeah. If that would make you feel better. But I don’t want to cause you extra work.”

  Jemma’s smile was sad. “I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink if you leave. Now that Dalton and Jazz are engaged, they’ve been staying at their new place so we can rent out as many rooms as possible.” Her fingers twisted as she looked at him. “I could ask them to come here, but I’d rather not disturb them.”

  Logically, he knew that she had plenty of rooms available, at least until their first guests arrived. “I don’t mind.”

  “Thank you.” Jemma took another sip of her tea and then rose to her feet. “You can choose whichever room you like; there are seven of them upstairs, each with their own bathroom.”

  Personally, he didn’t care either way. One room was much like the other. “Which is your favorite?”

  “The yellow room,” she answered without hesitation. “Jazz always preferred the green room, which was good because I called dibs on the yellow room when we came to visit Grandma and Grandpa. Sometimes had to share a room, though, and in those cases, we took turns.”

  Her eyes softened when she talked about her siblings, especially her twin. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for her to grow up with loving parents and older siblings. His childhood had been as different from hers as salt and pepper. “Yellow room it is.”

  “Great. Do you need help navigating the stairs?”

  “No.” The word came out more forcefully than he intended. “Go back to bed, try to get some sleep, okay?”

  “Okay.” She carried her empty mug of tea to the sink, then turned back to face him. “Good night, Garth.”

  “Good night, Jemma.”

  Once she left the kitchen, he blew out a breath and tried not to think about what a huge mistake he was making by staying here in the B&B with Jemma and Trey.

  He wasn’t supposed to get personally involved, remember? Why on earth had he agreed to sleep here, and worse, in her favorite room?

  Of all the idiotic ideas, this had to be the biggest one yet. He was going out on a limb here, putting his job in jeopardy, in order to protect Jemma and Trey.

  He added more ice to the makeshift cold pack and wrapped it in a plastic bag so it wouldn’t get the sheets wet. Then he made his way up the massive curved staircase to the second-floor bedrooms. The yellow room wasn’t difficult to find, and he could swear he smelled daffodils as he washed up in the bathroom. The room was cute and homey, breezy yellow curtains covering the windows and several beautiful scenic oil paintings decorating the walls. It was nicer than his apartment by a mile. He gratefully crawled i
nto bed. Placing the ice pack between his temple and the pillow and despite the incessant headache, he fell asleep.

  At various points throughout the night, he dreamed Jemma was there, hovering over him asking him questions. Each time he reached out for her, his fingers found nothing but air.

  The jarring sound of a ringing phone dragged him awake. Bright sunlight poured in through the windows, illuminating the yellow walls. It took a minute to remember he was in Jemma’s favorite room of the B&B. His headache wasn’t gone but seemed more tolerable as he groped for his phone.

  “It’s right here.” Jemma’s voice from the doorway startled him. “I’m sorry to wake you, but some guy is demanding to speak with you.”

  “What time is it?” he asked, scrubbing his palm over his bristly chin.

  “Eight o’clock,” she admitted, her expression full of guilt. “I know I should have woken you up earlier, but I think it’s best for you to take the day off. I’ve been reading up on head injuries, they can be very serious, and it can take weeks to recover from them.”

  “I don’t have weeks,” he muttered, holding out a hand for the phone. He didn’t want to admit how much he liked the idea of staying home at least for a day or two. “This is Lewis,” he said, answering the phone.

  “Hey, Garth, it’s Derek. The drunk you brought is ready to be sprung, but I heard we’re supposed to wait until you come in to talk to him. And um, you’re late for your shift.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.” He swung his legs over so that he was sitting up on the side of the bed. “Can you stall him for a bit? I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  “I will, but he’s making noises about getting a lawyer, so you’d better hurry.”

  “I will, thanks. See you soon.” He disconnected from the phone, realizing he was almost out of battery.

  It would have been smarter to go straight home, now he was even further behind.

  “I’ve made toast and eggs for breakfast,” Jemma said. “I think you should eat before you leave.”