Until You Page 2

  “Surely you did,” she snapped. Now that her fear was abating—after all, she knew this man, more or less—anger and confusion swamped her. She didn’t like being afraid. In fact, she’d never been so terrified in her life as when he’d rolled over and she had realized he wasn’t Ben. It made her angry that he had scared her. It made her whopping mad.

  The anger was alien to her—Anna didn’t normally waste her time or energy on emotions—but it was there and undeniable.

  “So when Ben wasn’t here,” she said hotly, “you just decided to let yourself into my house while no one was home? That’s...unconscionable.”

  At least he had the good grace to look sheepish. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done it.”

  “It was highly presumptuous.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And rude, and tacky, and unkind to scare you the way I did. I’m sorry. I got in about noon. I was afraid if I hung around on your front porch too long your neighbors might call the police on me.”

  It was almost the truth, Gavin admitted to himself. As much of the truth as he was willing to give her for the time being.

  Damn, he really hadn’t meant to scare her half to death. He had to assume her face wasn’t always as pale as milk. He’d scared the color clear out of her cheeks. And she was still shaking. Just a little, but enough to see. He didn’t much like what her fear said about him. He hadn’t come here to terrorize some innocent woman. If she was innocent.

  Gavin assumed she was. It would be just like that irresponsible brother of hers to let her take the heat for his shenanigans. In fact, according to what Ben himself had told him more than once, it was just like him.

  But she wasn’t totally blameless. She was the one, Gavin knew, who had taught Ben, through always bailing him out of trouble, that he never had to worry about dealing with the consequences of his own actions. His sister would deal with them for him. According to the stories Ben told—with pride rather than the rueful shame he should have felt—Anna Collins had consistently reinforced Ben’s irresponsibility time and time again.

  She was Ben’s enabler. Like Aunt Marilyn was for Danny. Like the loved one who always covered up and made excuses for the alcoholic, she had only managed to make matters worse.

  Scratch innocent. Anna Collins was definitely culpable.

  She met his gaze straight-on despite the remnants of fear that darkened those wide gray eyes. She might be at the root of Gavin’s current problem, but a man had to admire courage in a woman, especially when she was barely half his size.

  “You’re right,” she told him. “Seeing a man hanging around my front porch all afternoon would probably have sent several of my neighbors to call the police.”

  “Now it looks like I’ll be talking to them anyway.”

  “My neighbors?”

  “The police.”

  “Why?” She blinked like a baby owl.

  “You dialed 9-1-1, didn’t you?”

  “I hung up before anyone answered.”

  Gavin shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Once you dial all three numbers, they know who called. They usually send a car anyway just to make sure everything’s all right.”

  Terrific, Anna thought with an inward groan. Just what she needed to make her day complete. The police. Her neighbors were going to love that.

  It was barely 9:00 a.m. and she was exhausted. Terror, she assumed, did that to a person. Terror, and anger.

  Well, she had time for neither. Regardless of the fact that Gavin Marshall had scared the wits out of her, he was Ben’s friend. She remembered that now. He shouldn’t have let himself into her house, but he was here now. The least she could do was show him a little hospitality. Not that she was any good at small talk, but she would give it her best. If, she thought, she could ignore that T-shirt he had pulled on. She remembered enough from Ben’s teen years to recognize that the Grateful Dead was the name of a rock group, but while she knew nothing of their music, she found their name distasteful in the extreme.

  But since he’d left home six years ago Ben had not brought any of his new friends home. She wanted the chance to know someone he would choose to call friend.

  Brushing her hands together as if dusting them off, she rose from the dining table and pushed her chair back in place. “When did Ben say he would be here?”

  Gavin pushed himself from the couch and stood, all six foot plus of him. “If he was coming straight here like I thought, he should have been here by Thursday night or Friday morning. Mind if I use your bathroom?”

  “Be my guest. It’s through that door and to the left.” She frowned as she watched his back disappear around the corner into the hall. His wording puzzled her.

  “What did you mean,” she asked when he came back a few minutes later, “if he came straight here like you thought? I thought you said this was all arranged. Didn’t he tell you when to meet him?”

  Well, here we go, Gavin thought, rubbing the side of his nose. “Not exactly.” He wouldn’t lie to her, but she wasn’t going to like the truth.

  Oh, he did love the way she arched that brow. “Not exactly what?” she asked.

  “It wasn’t exactly arranged,” he admitted.

  She folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes narrowed. “I think you’d better explain what’s going on, Mr. Marshall. Maybe I was a little hasty in hanging up the phone.”

  “It’s Gavin, and no, you weren’t hasty. If I can get my car back from Ben, there won’t be any need to involve the police.”

  “What?” she shrieked. “What are you saying?”

  Gavin could have kicked himself. He shouldn’t have put it quite that way. But he was damn good and mad at Ben Collins. The kid had gone over the line this time and somebody had to put the fear of God into that young man before he ended up in real trouble. Ben reminded him so much of Danny it was scary. Gavin did not want Ben ending up like Danny. If it took tough measures to prevent it—and it looked like that was exactly what it was going to take—then Gavin would just have to be tough.

  “I said I came here to swap vehicles with Ben. That much is true. But the original swap—when he, uh, borrowed my car and left me his Harley—was made without my knowledge or consent.”

  Anna gripped the back of the chair she’d just vacated. Gavin Marshall might have said borrowed, but what Anna heard in his voice was something else entirely, something she refused to accept. She forced herself to breathe slowly. “Tell me,” she demanded. “Just come out with it and tell me what’s going on.”

  Gavin let out a long breath. “Why don’t we sit down?”

  “Why don’t you just tell me what it is you’re trying to avoid telling me?”

  Gavin felt as if he were about to go tiptoeing through a minefield, but there was no help for it. He didn’t want to chance Ben getting to her with some sob story and her giving her brother the money he needed. This time Ben was going to have to solve his own problems, by damn.

  Gavin crossed the room and pulled out a chair at the opposite end of the table from where Anna stood. There he paused and waited.

  With a reluctant shrug, she finally pulled out her chair and sat again. “All right, I’m sitting.”

  Gavin sat and faced her. “First of all, you have to understand that I meant what I said. Ben and I are friends. Good friends.”

  With a toss of her head, Anna met his gaze squarely. “I assume there’s a but.”

  “Yeah, there’s a but. He went too far this time when he took my car.”

  Anna lowered her gaze to the table rather than look him in the eye any longer. “You’ve said borrowed, and you’ve said took.”

  “He didn’t ask, Anna,” Gavin said as gently as he could. “He didn’t bother asking if he could take my car. He knows I would have said no.”

  She glanced up at him. “A really good friend, huh? And you wouldn’t lend him your car?”

  “My ’57 Vette?” His voice rose in protest. “Not only no, but hell no. I wouldn’t let my own mother drive that car. And Be
n knows it.”

  Anna’s stomach tightened. As little as she knew about cars, even she knew that a ’57 Corvette was considered a classic. Men, as she understood, were touchy about their toys.

  Ben, Ben, what have you done?

  The thought made her feel so disloyal that shame washed through her. Ben was just young, just a little irresponsible. He wasn’t a bad person. He had a tendency to gamble, but he was more careful these days not to bet money he didn’t have. He promised he’d be more careful. He wouldn’t do anything really bad. He wouldn’t steal a car.

  “Ben’s not a thief,” she said, her voice wavering.

  Gavin winced. The look of pain and pleading on her face was almost enough to make a stone weep, and Gavin was no stone. But he couldn’t let her get to him. If he softened toward her or Ben on this, it would be Ben who ultimately paid the price.

  “He took my keys off my counter when I wasn’t looking and left town. He left a message on my voice mail saying he was on his way to get the money he owes me.”

  Anna’s eyes slid closed. Her throat worked up and down on a swallow. “What...” She swallowed again. “What do you want from me? I don’t...have much money.”

  “I wouldn’t care if you did. It’s your brother I want.”

  “But you can see he’s not here.” There was that pain, that pleading again.

  “Not yet. But he’ll come.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because this is where he always comes when he’s in trouble, isn’t it?”

  Her eyes widened. “How—What makes you say that?”

  “Ben. He talks about you to his friends.”

  The lines of pain on her face deepened, her eyes darkened. “He’s not a thief. He’s not.”

  She sounded to Gavin as though she were trying to convince herself rather than him. But he didn’t really think Ben Collins was a thief. Ben was younger than any twenty-four-year-old should be. He was irresponsible as hell. And despite having stood on the curb with his mouth hanging open while Ben had taken off in his car, despite Ben still owing him money, Gavin still had trouble believing there was anything malicious or criminal in Ben’s makeup.

  No, the car was a prank. Ben was good at pranks. Sometimes too good, and this time Gavin was going to teach the little jerk a lesson before he ended up pulling one of his pranks on the wrong person—or borrowing money from the wrong person—and getting himself into more trouble than he could handle.

  “A few months ago he borrowed money from me and failed to pay it back at the promised time. Two days ago he stole my car from my driveway and hasn’t been seen since. What would you call it?”

  The woman stared at him like a rabbit caught in the glare of headlights. “A misunderstanding?”

  “Nice try, but no.”

  “A...a prank?”

  Ah, so maybe she did know her brother after all. “A damned expensive prank, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I wouldn’t know. You have his motorcycle. They aren’t cheap.”

  “You should know. I’ll bet you paid for most of it. But neither’s a ’57 Vette.”

  Slowly her expression changed from pain and fear to confusion. “How much could a forty-some-year-old car be worth compared to that motorcycle?”

  Gavin knew his mouth had fallen open, but for a minute he didn’t seem to be able to do anything about it. Then he broke out laughing. “That was a good one,” he managed. “For a minute, you really had me going.”

  Her head tilted to one side as her brow furrowed. “Had you going? I don’t understand.”

  Gavin chuckled and shook his head. “You can’t get me twice with the same joke. I’m not that big a sucker.”

  Her expression changed this time to irritation. “I’m sure I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. But since your disagreement is with my brother, and he is obviously not here, I’ll thank you to clean up this mess you’ve made in my living room and vacate my house.”

  It was Gavin’s turn to tilt his head and frown. Mess? He glanced around the living room at the things he’d brought in with him. What mess? He shook his head. “I hate to disappoint you, but I can’t leave until Ben shows up.”

  With her chin jutting out, she rose from the chair and aligned it up against the table where it had been. “There’s no reason for you to wait here for him. I’m quite certain they have telephones in Santa Monica.”

  “So they do. But your little brother knows he’s up to his irresponsible little neck in trouble this time, and if there’s one thing I know about Ben Collins, it’s that when he’s in trouble, he runs home to big sister. I’m sorry, Anna, but it looks like you’re stuck with me until he gets here.”

  “You can’t mean that!”

  “I don’t have much choice.”

  She gaped, her mouth working like a fish out of water. “You can’t stay in my house.”

  “I have to,” he told her. “I promise I won’t be a bit of trouble. You won’t even know I’m around.”

  Her eyes widened with what could only be horror as she looked at his gear lined up against the wall. “You’re not serious. This is a joke. I don’t know what kind, but it has to be a joke.”

  “If it’s a joke, I wish somebody would tell me the punch line,” he said irritably.

  Slowly, with her eyes bulging, she said, one drawn-out word at a time, “Oh...my...word.”

  “I’m sorry, Anna, but I have to be here when Ben shows up.”

  “You can’t stay here,” she said again.

  Okay, he thought, grinding his teeth. He’d tried being reasonable, and she wasn’t going for it. Not that he could blame her, but he wasn’t going to let any of them—her, Ben, nor himself—off easily. It was time to get a little tougher. “Since I outweigh you by at least seventy-five pounds, I don’t think there’s much you can do about it. I’m not leaving until I know where my car is and until I know that I’m getting it back.”

  Her spine snapped straight, like the string on a bow that had just fired an arrow. “We’ll just see about that.” She turned and marched toward the phone again.

  “You’ve already called the police once.”

  “This time I won’t hang up.”

  A little tougher wasn’t getting it, Gavin acknowledged. Anna Collins was not the pushover Ben had led him to believe. He was going to have to bluff, and bluff good. “I haven’t filed a stolen car report yet. I don’t think you want me to.”

  She whirled on him. “Am I supposed to just agree to this crazy scheme of yours? For all I know, you’re making this whole story up. How do I know you haven’t murdered Ben and stolen his motorcycle? How do I know you haven’t come here to kill me?”

  “I’m likely to if you don’t quit calling that bike a motorcycle like it was some ten-horsepower glorified lawn mower. It’s a Harley-Davidson, for cryin’ out loud. A Harley is not just a motorcycle. I’m not here to murder you, or rape you, or anything else dastardly, and I didn’t kill your brother—yet.”

  Both of her eyebrows climbed upward. “I’m supposed to take the word of a complete stranger who’s broken into my house?”

  “I didn’t break in,” he said with disgust. “I have Ben’s keys.”

  Her brows lowered and drew together as she narrowed her eyes. “Yes, you said he left them when he took yours. That sounds very much like a trade to me, rather than grand theft auto.”

  “It might have been his idea of a trade, but I never agreed to it. He’s out joyriding in a very expensive car that doesn’t belong to him, and so help me, if he puts so much as a ding in it, I’ll wring his neck.”

  “All this?” she shrieked. “Over an old car?”

  “A classic ’57 Vette in mint condition is not an old car.”

  “Have you sought counseling for this unhealthy attachment you have for wheeled vehicles?”

  He wasn’t going to have any teeth left if he didn’t quit grinding them. “Aside from the car itself, there were things in it that I need back
.”

  She planted her hands on her hips.

  Nice hips, he thought.

  “What kinds of things?” she demanded.

  Irritated that he would notice her hips when she was insulting his intelligence, his mental stability and his Vette, he caught himself grinding his teeth again. “The kinds of things that are none of your business.”

  “I beg to differ. You’ve accused my brother of a crime, you’ve barged into my home uninvited—”

  “Barging is usually done without an invitation, otherwise it wouldn’t be barging, would it? And I’ve apologized for that a dozen times already.”

  “You can go stay in a hotel. I’ll call you if Ben shows up.”

  Gavin was shaking his head before she finished. “Anna, I can’t do that. If I’m not right here when he shows up, either you’ll tell him I’m here and he’ll leave, or you’ll give him the money to pay me off. I don’t want you getting him out of trouble this time. He’s past the age when he should be accepting the responsibility for his own actions and not running to you for help all the time.”

  Anna opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. It was hard to argue with the truth, no matter how much that truth stung.

  Outside at the curb, car doors slammed. She glanced out the sheers on the front window and stiffened. The police.

  What was she going to do? Tell them the truth and risk getting Ben in trouble, or go along with this stranger and pretend nothing was wrong?

  Her instinct for survival warned her not to take a chance with her own safety. For all she knew, Gavin Marshall could be a serial killer on a cross-country spree.

  But another instinct even stronger, the instinct to protect her brother, rose up in her, along with a voice in the back of her head. Both told her that Gavin Marshall was telling the truth, and that he would not harm her.

  The man looked determined enough, big enough to do anything. Dare she trust that voice in her head?

  Yet there was that faint memory of Ben telling her what a good influence his friend Gavin was, how much he looked up to the man, how much the man was helping him get his act together.