“We need to warm up your muscles. Then I’ll massage your thigh some more,” I said, slipping into his bathroom and grabbing a heating pad. When I came out, his back was against the headboard, his pillows behind him. I propped another pillow under his knee, taking some of the pressure off his joint and thigh, then plugged in the heating pad and positioned it over his thigh.
When I was satisfied that I’d done everything I could to make him comfortable for now, I glanced up at his face, surprised to see pure love in his eyes.
I smiled. “If I’d known the way to your heart was giving you a massage and a heating pad, I would have used those tricks months ago.”
“Liar,” he said softly. “I was the one who had to convince you I was worth the risk.”
He wasn’t wrong, and while part of me felt bad for taking so long to trust him, I knew Marco wasn’t upset by it. He’d wanted me to come to him willingly, and most importantly, to trust that he had no ulterior motive for loving me. He just did.
I climbed onto the bed next to him. “What happened to make your leg hurt so much?”
He’d had twinges of pain now and then, but nothing like this. Not for a long time.
“I had to chase a suspect.”
I sat upright. “What?”
His shoulder lifted into a slight shrug. “It’s part of my job, Carly. And it was just a kid I found tagging a barn. I was never in any danger.”
“But you hurt your leg.”
“I’ll be fine in the morning. I tweaked a muscle is all.”
Maybe, but there was no denying part of his thigh muscle had been irreparably damaged when Carson Purdy shot him. Only a month ago, he’d admitted that his doctor told him he’d pushed his recovery harder than he should have. For the most part, Marco was charming and easygoing, but he could be stubborn and bullheaded when he chose to be.
He was hurting, though, and I saw no reason to point out any of that. We’d just have to wait and see how it felt when he woke up.
“Did you catch the kid?” I asked.
He grinned. “I did. Didn’t arrest him though. Took him to the owner, and the boy agreed to repaint the side of the barn. The homeowner said he’d even pay for the paint. Then I brought the kid home and spoke to his worthless parents.” His mouth pressed into a tight line. “They didn’t seem to give a shit if he was destructing property or not. They were more upset that he’d gotten caught.”
His hangdog expression gave way to resignation, and with a sigh he turned aside and grabbed his bowl of stir-fry from the nightstand. He took a bite, savoring the mouthful with his eyes closed before turning to me again. “It’s not my first run-in with that kid, and I know he’s not all bad. He’s just got shitty parents and shitty friends. There’s still hope he won’t end up working for Bingham.”
“Which is why you didn’t arrest him.”
He shrugged again. “He’s fifteen, so still a juvenile, but all those arrests would do something to the kid. They’d reinforce what everyone’s been telling him his whole life, and if he’s truly bad, why keep fighting it? If I can show him he can have more . . .”
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re a good man, Marco Roland.”
He turned to look at me, but then his gaze shifted, from my face downward, and he tensed, bolting upright. “What the hell happened to your arm?”
I’d considered wearing a long-sleeve shirt to cover up the welts, but I couldn’t keep them hidden forever. Still, I’d planned on keeping my arm turned away from him until I could break the news. I’d forgotten in my worry for him.
“I need to work up to that.”
“Are those . . . those are finger marks, Carly.” A dark cloud had passed over his expression. “Who did this?”
“First, you need to know I’m okay. On a one to ten scale, this doesn’t even rank a point five.”
His jaw tensed. “I need a name, Carly.”
I held his gaze, understanding his need for vengeance all too well, but I wasn’t about to let him go off half-cocked. “I’m not telling you until I tell you the rest, okay? Because the other stuff I need to tell you is much more important.”
The tension in his body shifted from anger to concern. “What happened?”
“When we walked to the river, I forgot to tell you about a mystery woman who came into the tavern after the lunch rush. She seemed intent on stirring up trouble.”
“How so?”
I told him about the fuss she’d caused, from the cigarette she’d snuffed on the plate to the way she’d threatened Max before heading out the door.
What goes around comes around.
He made comments in all the right places, his brow furrowing when I mentioned the threat to Max. It made more sense now that I knew she was Lula’s mother. Louise likely hated Max for his role in freeing Lula from her control. It probably didn’t help that he was the son of the man who’d landed her in jail.
“But she left a note addressed to me. I found it when I was cleaning the table. It said, ‘We’ve got some unfinished business, Carly Moore. I’ll be in touch.’ And it was signed L. I confess I’m grateful she didn’t call me Caroline, but she unnerved me pretty badly, Marco.”
He reached for me and pulled me into a sideways hug.
I rested my chin on his shoulder, part of me hating that I’d begun to rely on him. Everyone had a circle of people they trusted, people who’d have their back no matter what. Everyone needed that. But my past was littered with so many betrayals, and it was hard to let those lessons go.
Marco leaned back and searched my face. “Maybe you should take a few days off. You’re still reeling from Jerry’s death.”
“So I can sit around and mope? That’s the worst thing I can do. I was alone for nearly two weeks between leaving my friends in Arkansas and ending up in Drum, and it put me in the worst place mentally. I need to be with people. I need normalcy.”
“It’s different now. And you’re not alone if you stay home. You have me and Hank.” He sat back a bit, his gaze turning dark. “But you still haven’t told me who grabbed your arm.”
“I’m not done telling you about the woman.”
“There’s more?”
I leaned back, facing him. “I saw her tonight after I left work. She was waiting for me in the parking lot.”
His jaw tightened. “She put those marks on your arm?”
“No.” I paused a beat before launching into the story of Louise’s strange request. “She wants me to help her look into something. In return, she says she’ll tell me about the history of the town. She was so sure I’d say yes she told me to bring her breakfast at the laundromat tomorrow. Even told me what to order. Marco, she’s Louise Baker.”
His eyes bugged out. “Louise Baker?”
“Apparently she’s out of prison. Did you know?”
He shook his head. “No, but I confess I hadn’t been paying attention.”
“I think Lula and Bingham know, because Carnita said they checked out all the books about the history of Drum.”
He snorted. “There are books about the history of Drum?”