I'll Be Watching You Page 20

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, enjoying in a sick kind of way how Zell followed her into the bar to make sure she was all right. Sick because she didn’t need a man looking after her, and she shouldn’t like Zell being the man who was looking after her. She grabbed an unopened bottle of Captain Morgan and locked the door. “I presume you have root beer at home.”

  “I also have spiced rum.”

  “Well, this one’s on me.”

  A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of Zell’s octagon home. She was somewhat heartened to see the stuffed alligator still standing sentry on the small entrance porch. Smitty took several steps back when he saw it. Even Oscar wasn’t too sure; he backed right up into Smitty, sending him staggering farther backward.

  “It’s stuffed, Smitty,” Zell said on a laugh. “Keeps the salesmen away, though.”

  Smitty took a closer look at it. “That’s Elva’s gator, isn’t it?”

  “I gave it to Zell, sort of a peace offering for kicking him out of my bar. Who knew I’d need him to rescue me so many times?”

  Zell opened the door and stepped aside. “I’m just a regular hero nowadays.”

  She felt a hitch in her chest at the sight of him, still banged up from the last scuffle and now with a few new scratches. “I’m sorry, Zell.” There, that hadn’t been so bad. It had come out all on its own and made her feel a little bit better.

  “Hey, I’m the one who drove by to make sure they weren’t hanging around. It was my choice.”

  She suspected it went deeper than being a choice with Zell. He felt compelled to protect her—only because she was a woman, she quickly reminded herself when something close to adulation started filling her chest. She walked inside the house and came to a stop.

  “Wow. This place is incredible.” She’d never seen anything like it. The shape of the house was one thing, lending interesting angles to the common areas. The living room, dining area, and kitchen were on the left side of the house. In the center was a fountain; water bubbled over a stone alligator into a copper basin. Two stories of windows opened the house to the night. Upstairs was an open loft.

  “My bedroom,” he said right behind her.

  She jumped at both his nearness and his words. “Pardon?”

  “That’s my bedroom you were looking at. I’ve got another bedroom over there.” He pointed to one of the doors behind the fountain. “Office is in here.” She could see it through French doors, lined with built-in shelves and a desk. “Bathroom’s over there. I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

  Smitty said, “Let’s get this forced doctoring over with. I want to go home.”

  “You sure you don’t want to crash here in case you die in the night or something?” Zell said as he walked into his office.

  “Naw, I want to die in my own bed.”

  “Suit yourself. But ladies, first.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, glad for a few minutes alone to let the adrenaline drain. “Do Smitty first.”

  “All right, old man, come on in and let me flash a light in your eyes.”

  “Need some help?” she asked. Oscar started rubbing against one of the corners, and she quickly shoved him away. She’d seen the dirt marks from where he did that at home. So he rubbed against her instead.

  “I’ve got it,” Zell said at the same time that Smitty said, “Don’t need no woman fussing over me.”

  Kim pressed her hand against the back of her head as she walked around the living room area. Blood dotted her shaking fingers. She focused on the unique décor. There were old pictures, paper rifle shells in a glass case, a bottle of some clear liquid, and even an old jail cell turned into a small wet bar. The place looked more like a museum, the many items showcased against every bit of available wall space. There was a lot of gas station paraphernalia. An old pump sat in one corner, topped by a lighted Texaco sign. Old tin signs, some rusted, touted things like Socony air-craft oils, Dr. Pepper (“When Hungry, Thirsty, or Tired”), and Welch-Penn motor oil. One sign read, “Authorized dealer Stewart-Warner South Wind car heater. Heats HOT in 90 seconds.” A large frame held a sepia-toned hand-drawn map.

  “Those are from my grandpa’s service station, before he started the alligator farm,” Zell said from behind her, making her jump. “The map is one my granddad Zelwig drew up before there were any maps down here. When he was a kid, he took surveying crews into the swamp.” He walked into the kitchen and filled a glass with water, then grabbed a bottle of aspirin from the cabinet.

  Smitty followed sporting a bandage on his head. “No concussion,” he said to Kim’s unspoken question. “Only a little knock on the noggin.” He took the glass and pills and downed them in one long gulp. After setting the glass on the counter, he looked Kim over. “You gonna be all right, young’un?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be fine.” The shakiness in her voice gave her away; she could see it in Zell’s expression.

  Smitty bid them farewell and headed out. Zell pulled one of the stools from around the long counter around to the kitchen. He patted it and set the first-aid kit on the counter. As she settled onto the stool, he fixed two tumblers and handed her one. “Sounds like you need it.”

  “I’m fine,” she repeated, but took a long swig…and nearly choked on it. She took another sip. “It’s not bad.” The spices in the root beer blended perfectly with the spiced rum.

  His first-aid kit put hers to shame. He opened a medicated pad and gestured for her to turn around. “I take this whenever I go out,” he said, nodding toward the wetlands. He touched the pad to the back of her head. “Ouch. Does it hurt?”

  She hissed. “It does now. You don’t have to do this, Zell. I can handle it.” It felt strange to have him fuss over her like this. No one had fussed over her since her dad had died.

  “How can you tend to something you can’t see?” He continued to swab at the assaulted skin.

  She gave up and enjoyed it. Well, as much as she could, being in pain and all. “You’re pretty good at this. Did you get a degree in nursing, too?”

  He chuckled. “No, just read up on it. Had to, working with gators and being so far away from civilization at times. And Dad, he was always getting into scrapes of some kind or another.” He drifted into silence.

  Zell had had to grow up awfully fast. She couldn’t blame him for not wanting someone else to look after. She wasn’t even his girlfriend, not even his friend, technically, and look at the trouble she’d caused him.

  “Is it bad?” she asked.

  “Some small cuts.” He moved in front of her, face to face. “You’ve got some down the back of your arm, too.” His finger skimmed down her skin.

  “He was sitting on me,” she said as it came back. She shuddered. “He was sitting on me telling me what he was going to do to me.”

  He brushed his thumb against her lips. “Shh, don’t think about it. You’re all right now. It’s over. ’Sides, they probably would have chickened out.”

  “Zell, why are you doing this? Why did you come by the bar tonight? You don’t owe me anything. Just the opposite, in fact.”

  He let his hand drop away from her mouth. “I’m not thinking about the whys, just what needs to be done.” He turned her head back and continued ministering first aid.

  She saw crayon drawings on the refrigerator, signed lovingly by Tullie. One was obviously Zell wrestling with a gator. She felt all tight inside. His gentle touches weren’t helping. She tried focusing on the living room instead. A traffic light with only red and green lights hung from the center of the ceiling, alternating between Stop and Go. Yes and no. She wanted to tell him to stop and she wanted him to never stop touching her. “What’s in that bottle up there on the shelf?”

  “My granddad’s moonshine. The bowl of the fountain is the top of his still. Granddad Zelwig learned shinin’ early on from his dad. Between the Depression and the hurricanes, it was tough times back in the twenties and thirties. The family put up on shell mounds, trying to make a living by farming,
trapping whatever was in fashion at the time. After a while, they had to resort to illegal activities, like hunting gators and making shine.

  “Even when prohibition ended, Zelwig continued with the shine. The old-timers said he made the best in the area. He used to set up fake stills all around the swamps to throw off the law. Had to move the real one around a lot. They had a big cowbell on the front porch, and when word got out that the law was coming, someone rang the bell. Everyone in the family got together and moved the still to a clump of mangroves until it was safe.”

  By the time he’d finished the story, he had put salve on her scalp and had started on her arms. His fingers felt warm against her neck as he brushed away loose bits of gravel. His hands skimmed down the front of her arms as he cleaned the scrapes on the back. When she turned to watch him, he was totally focused on his task. She couldn’t quite read what was in his eyes other than a burning intensity. Anger at the two men maybe? She hoped, because she didn’t want to see that intensity aimed at her.

  Once he finished her other arm, he took her hand and inspected it. Her palms were all right, but her knuckles were bruised where she’d hit Billy Bob. Very slowly, he raised those bruised knuckles and brushed them against his mouth. She shivered. His gaze met hers, and she could hear the silence in the room. She pulled her hand back and whispered, “I should take care of you now.” Yes, that’s what she needed to do.

  She turned to the kit and pulled out another medicated pad while he positioned himself between her legs, leaning against the counter where she sat. He had a wide scrape on his right cheek where he’d hit the gravel. He didn’t move as she ran the pad across his skin. Didn’t move his gaze from hers either. Her voice came out low when she said, “This is beginning to be a habit.”

  “Mmhm,” was all he said.

  As she smoothed on the antibiotic with her thumb, the tips of her fingers slid into his hair. She dropped her hand and wiped off the rest of the salve. “Is there…are you hurt anywhere else?” A loaded question, she realized.

  “A few new bruises.”

  She took a drink, a small sip. Not enough to bend her sensibilities and make her think Zell had been very close to kissing her.

  “You’re obviously not against alcohol as a rule. Why don’t you drink?” he asked, leaning against the counter between her legs again. She felt his breath against her chin, smelled the spice of the soda and the husky scent of the alcohol.

  “I don’t like losing control.”

  He nodded. “Is that why you pick guys like Simon? Cool, calm, and professional?”

  “Yes,” she heard herself answer much too honestly. It was hard to lie when he was so close. She could feel them moving toward a line, enemy and friend.

  “Why, Kim, I think someone must have broke your heart along the way.”

  She couldn’t help her soft laughter at his using her earlier supposition. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  His voice was low and coaxing. “I am the Sage, you know. Maybe I can help.”

  She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Oh, man, could he help. Except that he didn’t mean that kind of help. “The only man I ever gave my heart to broke it.” She took a breath and opened her eyes. “He played reckless and got himself shot.”

  “Your dad. I’m sorry about that.”

  She lifted her gaze to him. “Why would you want to give me advice? Last I heard, you wanted me out of town.”

  “For good reasons.”

  She tilted her head. “I don’t think I heard all those reasons.”

  He braced his hands on the counter on either side of her. “I knew you were going to be trouble the minute I heard you were in town. I never imagined what kind of trouble. Your being back is putting me in a weird place.”

  “Like between my legs,” she said with a wry smile, glancing down when he clearly thought she’d meant it some other way. “The way you’re standing.”

  “Ah.” But he didn’t move.

  She realized he’d actually answered her quasi-question. He’d stepped on that line. “What’s the weird place?” she asked.

  “I should hate you because of my family, but I’m having a hard time hating you. I want to make sure you’re safe, but I get a hassle every time I get between you and those boys. It’s got me turned upside down.”

  Her heart was thumping low and heavy in her chest. She brushed her finger over the healing cut above his eyebrow and caught his slight intake of breath. “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

  “Yeah, that’s the other thing.” He gave a long shake of his head. “I want you to be this cold-hearted bitch-on-wheels.” He pulled her off the counter and set her on her feet. “It’s damn impolite of you to be so appealing.” He swept her with his gaze, one part annoyance and two parts something much more interesting.

  She tried hard not to grin at those words. “Sorry about that. I’ll try to step on your feet once in a while. Maybe kick you out of the bar again. Would that help?”

  They shared a smile, and her heart tripped over that smile of his. No man should be armed with a weapon like that around a vulnerable woman.

  “Don’t kick me out. That was too embarrassing. Why don’t you call me names instead?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Let’s see…dork, dog breath, bonehead—”

  He kissed her. His mouth covered hers as though he’d been doing it for years. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted this, but the rush of relief that was mixed in with surprise was proof enough if she’d needed more than the sigh she’d let out. The kiss was tender, sweet, and short enough to make her want more.

  “Stay here tonight.”

  She blinked. “Boy, you move fast.”

  He laughed, and she swore she saw a tinge of color brighten his cheeks for a second. “I meant in the guest room. Once Buck hears his two boys got arrested, you never know what he’s likely to do, especially after drinking all day.” He rubbed her chin, but his gaze was on her mouth. “For the record, I don’t think it’d be a good idea at all for you and me to start anything.”

  “No, probably not,” she said on words as light as a breeze. She cleared her throat. “Definitely not. We have a lot of…history. And you have loyalties.”

  His laugh was humorless. “Loyalties. Yeah, that about sums it up.”

  “You were willing to lie on the witness stand—to perjure yourself for those loyalties.”

  “I was. I did. Back then, loyalty was more important than the truth. Or even the law.”

  She looked into his eyes and wondered if she saw regret. “And now?”

  “I don’t know anymore. Told you I was turned upside down.”

  He slowly, perhaps reluctantly, pulled away, walked to a linen closet and took out a pile of towels. “For Oscar,” he explained. “The bed in the guest room is made. I’ll be next door if you need anything. I’ve got some work to finish.” He nodded toward the office. “I may be gone by the time you get up in the morning. I’ve got to present my report to the state in the morning. Make yourself at home.”

  Those last words twanged at her heart and made her realize just how at home she did feel here. “Thanks,” she said in a softer voice than she’d intended.

  “Do you need a shirt to sleep in?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” She wasn’t sure what to make of Zell. That she wanted to make something of him scared her more than anything.

  CHAPTER 15

  Kim woke the next morning and discovered that it wasn’t morning at all—it was two minutes past noon. She pushed out of her bed and discovered that it wasn’t her bed. Everything rushed back and swirled around in her head with the dizziness that came from moving too fast. The attack, fear, and Zell’s tender kiss. When she managed to push back those disturbing images and regain her mental footing, she looked down to find Oscar missing. No wonder she’d slept so late.

  The back of her head ached like someone had taken a meat tenderizer to it. She checked the pillowcase; at least she hadn’t b
led during the night. The only marks were the residue from the antibiotic. She felt out of sorts, achy, and dragged out.

  Hanging on the inside doorknob was a shirt—a tropical one with pink hibiscuses scattered over a background of a blue-green that matched Zell’s eyes. Without even bothering to put her bra on, she slid into the shirt. It smelled new and felt store-crisp. She slid into her overalls and stepped outside her bedroom.

  The house was quiet. She remembered Zell saying he probably wouldn’t be there. A sun-gilded peace filled the place and soothed her soul. With the white carpets and beige and brown furniture, it felt warm and sit-right-down-and-make-yourself-at-home comfortable. She wandered over to the hand-drawn map and found Red Ant Camp. Macgregor’s Landing was to the east of that. Oscar lifted his head from a pile of blankets near the kitchen, and then trotted over to greet her.

  She was getting used to the strange feel of his skin and hair, and even that ugly face was beginning to grow on her.

  “Good morning, sweetie-pig,” she said, borrowing Amy’s phrase.

  Amy! The bar! Oh, crap. She searched for a phone and called Southern Comfort. Smitty answered.

  “It’s Kim. I overslept. You got it under control?”

  Smitty chuckled. “Overslept, eh? Yep, it’s fine here. Wednesdays are usually slow, so if’n you want to snuggle on in with Zell—”

  “I’m not snuggling with Zell, so get those dirty thoughts out of your mind. I slept in the guest bedroom. How are you feeling?”

  “Ah, got a bit of a headache, but I’m okay. How ’bout you?”

  “I’m achy and I want a shower really bad, but otherwise, I’ll make it.” She took in the room filled with Zell’s legacy. “I hope I didn’t cause more trouble for Zell.”

  “Ah, he can handle it. The important thing is that you’re all right. I was serious about relaxing for a while. I can cover lunch.”

  “I may take you up on that. I’ve got someone I need to see. Did you know about Elva buying something from Ernest Jones?”