Marco’s body tensed with anger. “What the—” He froze, then turned slightly to face me. “He knows about the bust on Hardshaw?”
I nodded. “He asked if I was waiting for Max to find my replacement, but I told him I wasn’t leaving yet, and he got furious. He told me I was being selfish to stay. That I was putting everyone I cared about in danger. About that time, Max and Ruth came out of the back, and Max kicked Wyatt out of the tavern. The customers buzzed about it for the rest of the night.”
“So that’s how you got the bruises, when he grabbed your arm during that exchange.”
“Yeah.”
Marco reached his free hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes. “You have no idea how much I want to beat the shit out of him for daring to hurt you.”
“I know, but it won’t be worth the trouble it causes.”
“I’m not convinced of that,” he said in a grim tone. “But I think you need me here more than you need me proving that I’ll burn the town down before I let anyone hurt you.”
“That’s a little extreme,” I teased. “As far as I know, the Dollar General has never once tried to hurt me.”
He turned to look at me, his eyes troubled.
“Marco, you don’t need to prove anything to me. I know you love me. I know you’ll do everything within your power to protect me, and I know how hard it is for you to restrain yourself. But Wyatt’s up to something and beating the shit out of him won’t help us figure out what it is.”
“You want to find out what he’s up to?” he asked. “How do you propose to do that? He’s not exactly the most forthcoming person.”
“I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “I’m worried that he was so careless talking about my real identity in public. We started off whispering, but he got loud by the end. Everyone heard him tell me to leave town. They saw the way he was gripping my arm.”
A low rumble spread through his chest. “All the more reason for me to confront him, Carly. By doing nothing, I’m sending the message that I don’t respect you.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“But it’s true.”
The sad part was I’d lived in Drum long enough to understand he had a point. “Fine. Then drop by and see him at the garage,” I conceded. “But keep it verbal and stay six feet away from him at all times so neither of you can ‘accidentally’ hit the other.” I paused. “Let the record show I don’t really approve of you having to do this to appease the town, but I understand and won’t stand in your way.”
He pulled me closer to his body. “One of the many reasons I love you.”
We lay like that for a moment, and I reveled in the knowledge that someone truly loved me. I hadn’t felt this kind of love since my mother’s death.
“You need to eat your dinner, Marco,” I said, starting to sit up to reach for it.
“Not yet,” he murmured, drawing me back. “I like just holdin’ you.”
I liked holding him too.
Chapter Seven
Marco woke up around two a.m. with a terrible cramp in his thigh. I got up and grabbed him some ibuprofen and a glass of water. The heating pad had shut off, so I turned it back on and wrapped it around his leg.
When the heat didn’t seem to help and massaging it didn’t do much either, I said, “I think you should go see the doctor, Marco.”
“It’s just a cramp,” he said, gritting his teeth. “There’s a bottle with some muscle relaxers in the bathroom drawer.”
I got him one of the pills, then got back in bed and kept rubbing his leg until his breathing turned even and he fell asleep.
I studied him for a while, brushing a lock of hair from his face. Marco was a proud man, and he loved his job, especially now that they were giving him some investigation work. But I was sure this wasn’t the only time he’d have to give chase—as much as it scared me to consider. What if his leg cramped up while he was chasing a real suspect, not a misbehaving kid, and the suspect took advantage of Marco’s vulnerability?
I drifted off to a fitful sleep, waking up occasionally to check on Marco and make sure the heating pad was still working.
I woke up early, not able to settle again with everything spinning in my head. Trying not to disturb Marco, I slid out of bed, then headed to the laundry room to move my load of darks from the washer to the dryer. I started the light-colored clothes before heading into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.
Marco was still asleep when the pot finished brewing, so I fixed a cup, grabbed a blanket, and headed out to the porch, where I plopped down on the top step. Sipping my coffee, I stared through the sliver-sized gap between the trees at the valley below. I needed a plan to deal with Louise, and I wasn’t certain Marco should be part of it. No doubt he’d balk if I tried to handle the woman without his help, but I was sure it would be safe to meet with her without him. While I had no idea what Louise wanted, I couldn’t see her shanking me even if I refused to help her.
The thing was . . . I wanted him to go. It made me feel weak until I reminded myself that detectives often worked with partners, especially when interviewing questionable characters. How was this any different?
My loose plan was to head over to Hank’s earlier than planned in the hopes I could get him to answer some questions about Louise. I hadn’t decided whether I wanted to tell him about the meeting at the laundromat, but I wasn’t ruling it out. I’d figure it out as I went. Then, depending on how things went this morning, I’d try to talk to Lula.
After that . . . I wasn’t sure, but I hoped to get some direction from Lula’s mother.
The front door opened, and Marco appeared in the doorway with an amusing case of bedhead. “There you are.”
I got to my feet. “You should sit down.”
“Nah,” he said, glancing at me, then off at the view. “I need to walk around. I think I’m gonna take a walk down the road. You want to come?”
I glanced at my watch and made a face. “I need to head over to Hank’s soon. I told him I’d be home around nine, but I want to be there early so we can talk before I have to leave for the laundromat.” My gaze dropped to his leg. “Are you sure you should be walking?”
“Walking is the best thing for it.”
“Okay,” I said as I stood. “I made coffee. Let me get you a cup before I take a shower.”
“Better yet,” he said with a boyish grin, “how about I take a shower with you and get a cup of coffee after?”
I walked over and lifted onto my toes to give him a kiss. “I think a warm shower is a good idea for your leg.” Then I gave him a coy smile. “I can massage your thigh . . . and other things.”
He grinned, then wrapped an arm around the small of my back and pulled me flush to his body. “God, I love that you love me.”
I laughed. “Me too.”
An hour later, I kissed Marco goodbye as he handed me a to-go mug of coffee. He’d insisted he was still game for the laundromat sting, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him no.
He followed me out to my car, his limp less pronounced than it had been when he’d woken up.