The Unexpected Isn’t Always Unwelcome

Danny threw his shoulder into Flygande’s heavy door, yelling, “Claire?” He took two steps at a time up to his apartment. “Claire.”

“Quiet, Danny.”

“Don’t shush me, Em. Where is she?”

“Clark gave her something to calm her. She’s out cold in your room. What’s going on?”

Danny burst through his bedroom door, and it wasn’t until he saw her, surrounded in every pillow he owned like a pillow fortress, that he dropped his hands to his knees, heaving for air.

That damned, twisted message. He hadn’t stopped running since he read it.

“I called the police,” Ian said from behind him.

“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Emelie said.

Ian pulled Emelie aside while Danny stayed in his room, catching his breath.

“What?” Emelie boomed.

Danny shut the door against the noise and stepped quietly back to Claire. He checked her bandaged shin propped up on a pillow and took a closer look at the single butterfly suture on her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, crouching beside her. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.” He moved a strand of hair out of her face and his fingers grazed an icy cheek.

Until your death do us part ...

Danny snatched her wrist. A steady, resting heartbeat pulsed under his fingers, and he let out a long breath. He had to calm the hell down and think.

Pulling a thick blanket from his closet, he moved to drape it over her and froze, realization slowly trickling in. She wasn’t in her muddied sleepwear anymore, but wearing his clothes. Only a t-shirt to be exact. The hem rested against her upper thigh, hovering at the curve of her backside. His belly clenched, and he quickly tore his eyes away, securing the blanket.

He had no idea how long he stayed there, watching the slow rise and fall of her back.

Ian came in and handed him a cup of strong tea. “Officer Murphy is here. He wants to talk to us.”

Danny double checked her blanket before leaving the door open a few inches in case she woke up.

They went to his open kitchen where the chief of police, Tom Murphy, sipped coffee. Emelie, Fin, Mattie, and Dean were all around the oval wooden dining table.

“What’d you find?” Danny said.

“These two found a container of pork blood at a small campsite near her house.” Tom nodded to Dean and Mattie. Even though they were innocent, they had a look of guilt on their faces. Probably from their many run-ins with him.

“There were no fingerprints on the container, but it’s the same variety used for traditional island blood pudding,” Tom continued. “I’ll send it to the mainland lab with some samples from her bathroom to see if they match. Hopefully they do.”

“And her window?”

“Fishing wire rigged to open yet stay unseen. We’re currently fingerprinting the house. If she—”

“She’s asleep,” Danny and Emelie said at the same time.

“Doc gave her something strong,” Emelie added. “She won’t be awake for a long while.”

“Bring her over to the station as soon as she’s up tomorrow. I’d like to talk to her. Is there anything else you can tell me that might help figure out who’s doing this?”

“She writes horror novels,” Ian said. “This reminds me a little of one of them. Where the husband haunts the wife because some creep is stalking her.”

“Phantom Love.” Emelie snapped a finger. “Only that was more of a love story like the movie Ghost. The husband didn’t threaten her, he protected her.”

“Horror?” Tom made some notes. “Any violent ones?”

Ian huffed. “They’re all a bit violent but really, really good.”

“No one is questioning her writing abilities, McClellan. What about her fans? Any crazies?”

“They’re all a bit nuts,” Danny said, and Emelie and Ian protested with middle fingers. “She also comes from a well-known wealthy family and her late husband was famous. Not sure if any of that has anything to do with this.”

Tom kept writing. “What happened when she came here tonight?”

Danny and Ian gave their versions of the story. “Oh, and there were these guys who were kind of pissed at her before they left last night.” Danny crossed his arms. “One was named Trevor Winston. Not sure of the others.”

“I have their license plates,” Mattie said. “Memorized them while I was egging them.”

Tom raised an eyebrow.

“We were throwing them off the island,” Dean added, not helping. “For harassing Emelie like that Seth prick.”

Tom turned to her, and she glared at Dean. “It wasn’t like Seth.” She sighed. “I’ll tell you what happened, but not here.”

“If there’s nothing else anyone can tell me, I’ll be on my way. Call me if anything comes up.” He motioned to Emelie to follow him down the stairs.

“Got any ale we can have?” Mattie asked Danny.

He shrugged. “Help yourself.”

“Sweet.”

Ian stepped in front of them. “No.”

“But Danny said—”

“Nuh-uh. I banned you from drinking here for a reason. Drink and do dumb shit with your own ale.”

“Epic fail,” Fin mouthed to them, shaking his head.

“We appreciate your help, though,” Ian said, ushering them out. “Free meal, without alcohol, the next time you’re here.”

Emelie came in after them, shoulders hunched forward. “Officer Murphy is going to escort me to pick up some clothes for Claire.”

“Em?” Danny said. “You alright?”

Her eyes pooled before she dropped them. “I wish I would have said something, anything, sooner. If I find out Trevor had anything to do with this, I’ll—” She grabbed around her middle.

Danny’s chair scraped across the floor, and he took three wide steps, wrapping his arms around her. “Listen to me. Trevor isn’t your fault, understand? Don’t let another man’s abuse of you make you feel guilty. Not Seth, not Trevor, no one. You hear me?” She curled into him, and he squeezed her. “I’m here for you, Em. You can come to me anytime. Especially with things like this.”

Her voice came out as a whisper. “But you nearly killed him, Danny.”

“Look, what happened with Seth—”

“If he had, it’d been worth it.” Everyone snapped toward Fin. “The fact that the bastard got to live is bullshit.”

Danny and Ian glanced at each other.

“What’s your problem, Finney?” Emelie said.

Fin crossed his arms and looked away from her, jaw welded shut. “Nothing.”

She snatched her purse. “I better go. Officer Murphy is still waiting.”

Danny caught her arm. “Thanks for coming in the middle of the night to stay with her.”

“I just hope she’s alright.”

“If you want, you can sleep on the air mattress in the guest room so you can see her first thing tomorrow.” Danny rubbed his face. “Or should I say later this morning.”

“I’ll stay, too, in case Creep decides to stop by.” Fin edged past Emelie without looking at her.

Exhausted, Danny and Ian moved to the living room and plopped down on the couch with loud groans.

A piercing shriek came from Danny’s room, and they rushed across the hall and through the door. Curled in a tight ball, Claire gripped and wrestled a pile of pillows, fisting the fabric. “Don’t touch me.”

Danny swept the pillows aside, and she gasped. “The curtain.”

“Hey, shh.” He dropped to his knees and brushed hair out of her face. “It’s okay. There’s no curtain.”

“Danny?” Ian whispered, pointing to her shifting eyelids. “She’s not awake.”

“Curtain.” She groaned. Her body rocked back and forth.

“It’s okay, Claire.” Danny smoothed a hand over her hair, down her back, and rubbed gentle strokes up and down. Her breathing began to quiet and when she went still again, he slowly eased off. She yelped and her arms sprang out.

“Shh.” He took both her hands in one of his and rubbed her back again. “You’re okay.”

She whimpered and her body curled into itself. “No curtain.”

He laid his upper half on the bed and placed his face next to hers. Reaching for another strand of hair, the back of his fingers brushed her cheek. “No more curtain,” he whispered.

She shifted and her face inched toward his voice. When the tip of her nose touched his cheek, she nuzzled under it. His wide eyes tracked over to Ian who unhelpfully shrugged and grinned.

Claire hummed, and her body slowly unfurled. Her soft arms wormed out and around him, locking at his back. Danny’s wide eyes met Ian’s again.

“She looks cozy,” he mouthed.

“Ian.”

He stifled a laugh. “Try seeing if you can replace yourself with those pillows.”

Danny lifted the biggest he could find and unhooked her arms. She shuddered and re-locked her arms around him.

“What do I do?”

“Maybe stretch out with her for a few minutes, see if she falls into a deeper sleep.”

“You think so?”

Ian gave him a thumbs up.

Danny carefully lifted the bottom half of his body onto the bed and looked up at Ian, questioning the large blanket he pulled over them.

“She looks cold.”

“Ian, get back here.”

“She needs quiet, Danny.” He tiptoed backward, not fooling anyone, and grinned before slipping out.

Claire shifted again, silencing Danny’s protest. He repositioned her head inside the nook between his arm and chest so her neck wouldn’t cramp. Her hold tightened, pulling her body flush to his.

He froze and blinked slowly. Dear God, he could feel every curve—every soft curve. And against all the warnings going off in his head, he melted into her, sliding an arm over her waist.

Only until she’s in a deep sleep, he told himself and rested his cheek against her hair.

The scent of her traced memories from the night before into his mind. He’d kept coming up with excuses to be close to her, to talk in her ear. Maybe because he rode high on what she’d done for Emelie, or maybe he’d had just enough wine not to care. He wanted to catch the perfume of citrus flowers on her skin and feel its softness whenever his nose bumped her while he talked.

His hand rubbed along her back. He wasn’t sure when he started, nor did he seem to care.

Only while she slept had Jessica ever let him cuddle. Their physical connection began and ended with sex. Another bad sign he’d ignored. Here, with a woman he’d only recently met, he felt more comfort from her closeness than he’d ever had in his entire relationship with the woman he married.

Claire nuzzled deeper, bringing back his thoughts.

It all fell away then. The willpower to listen to the million reasons why he shouldn’t pull her closer, shouldn’t let himself put to memory every line, every freckle of her face.

Nor did he notice the drooping of his eyelids.