CHAPTER 9

At seven on Sunday evening, Julie stood up from her desk and stretched. As usual, she’d spent almost the entire day working. She felt a bit guilty about it—after all, the whole point of going out with Cole was to work a bit less—but she’d had her fun last night and she was paying the price today. The administrative tasks sure took a lot of time, but someone had to do them. And since she had a one-doctor practice, that someone was her. Of course Cloris did all the basic paperwork, but Julie had to review everything because it was her John Hancock going on the bottom of each page.

Her date with Cole last night had been marvelously surreal—like she was living some alternative-reality version of her life. In the past, she would have seen it as a bad thing, but now that she’d gotten a tantalizing taste of Sheriff Grayson, she suspected it wasn’t. In fact, she’d been more productive today than she’d been in weeks, and she strongly believed it had something to do with the fact that she’d turned off her brain from work last night. She smiled to herself. More experiments with Cole were definitely necessary to see if her hypothesis was correct.

Her stomach growled. Being a workaholic took its toll—all she’d had to eat all day was one of Lexie’s double-berry muffins. Where could she go to get some food, fast? The LMK closed early on Sundays and Babs Kincaide’s Clam Shak wasn’t yet open for the season. Ah, but The Rusty Nail was open and it wasn’t that far away. She could do with a nice glass of wine and some tavern snacks before heading home. Quickly, she organized the stacks of paper on her desk and powered down her computer.

She was tempted to peek out the back door—Ben and Chris had been out there all day scrubbing off their graffiti—but the daylight was almost gone. She’d get a better look at the cleanup job in the morning. Instead, she pulled on her light jacket, grabbed her purse, and went out the front door of her office, locking it behind her. Glancing down Front Street, she thought she saw Max Wright just before he disappeared around the corner onto Main, but she wasn’t sure it was him and certainly didn’t want to shout. So she simply turned the other way and headed down to the piers.

Upon reaching the Nail, she couldn’t help but smile. The entrance to the pub was poorly lit. An old sign hanging from rusted chains above the door frame creaked in the evening breeze. The screen door rattled at the whim of the sea air. The place couldn’t have looked less inviting, but Julie knew better. She opened the door and stepped inside.

In sharp contrast to the bedraggled exterior, the interior of The Rusty Nail was warm and clean. John Anson was sitting at one of the old tables with Luke Bedwin. She nodded hello to the two men, who waved back. Some local young bucks played pool near the back of the establishment, showing off for their girlfriends, who perched on nearby bar stools.

Julie walked up to the polished wooden bar. “Hi, Andy,” she said to the large, older man. “How’s business tonight?”

“Can’t complain, Doctor. What can I get you this evening?” he responded genially, pushing a compartmentalized dish of shelled peanuts and pretzels toward her.

“Better get me my usual,” she said, popping a peanut into her mouth.

“Got a nice Pinot in from California. Think you’d like it.”

“Sounds great.”

“Put it on your tab?”

“Yes, please.” Another one of the benefits of living in a small town. Andy kept tabs for any local who wanted one, and sent a bill at the end of the month. Not being a big drinker, her monthly tab was usually between ten and fifteen dollars, but she liked the community that having a bar tab implied.

Julie took her dish and glass and headed to join Luke and John. Though the men were very welcoming, she didn’t really want to talk; she just wanted to be among friendly faces. So she let them chat as she relaxed, enjoying the comfortable surroundings and the big-band music emanating from the jukebox.

She’d been sitting there for fifteen minutes when Don Rathbone came through the door. He made a beeline right for her and stopped directly in front of their table. Julie looked up, surprised that he’d sought her out. He looked worse than usual; his hair was unkempt and his eyes, though glazed over, were shooting daggers at her.

“I know what you’re doing,” he hissed at her.

“You’re drunk, Don,” she said calmly. Beside her, she felt Luke tense.

“I found what you gave to my wife. She don’t need that crap.”

Julie blinked, stalling for time. Had he found the birth control, the number of the domestic abuse hotline, or both? “I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice sounded hollow.

“Called the number. Think I wouldn’t? Huh,” he snorted. “You’re stupider than I thought, Doctor.” So he hadn’t found the pills. Thank goodness. But now she’d made bigger problems for Margo. “No one’s gonna break up my family,” Don continued. “Little stuck-up bitch, I’m gonna ruin you.”

John Anson stood up. “Hey, now, there’s no cause for rudeness. Dr. Kensington hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Looking for trouble, Johnny boy?” Don puffed himself up to his full height, and now his eyes were darting crazily about. He stood at least a head taller than John. Julie stiffened, frozen in place. Things were spiraling out of control and there was nothing she could do to stop it. A thousand things flashed through her mind, none of which were good. She was a doctor, for God’s sake! She didn’t get involved in violence. The aftermath she could handle, but the actual, physical violence that sometimes brought her patients was not only unfamiliar, it was anathema.

“John,” Julie said softly. “Don’t.” Don was obviously strung out on something stronger than alcohol. Actions without consequences would make him more dangerous. She knew she should just get up and walk away, but for the life of her, she couldn’t move her body.

The smaller man curled his hands into fists and tipped his chin up. “I think it’s best that you leave.”

Don cracked a smile. “You gonna make me?”

Luke stood up. “C’mon, Don. No one’s looking for a fight tonight,” he said in a calm voice.

Don looked back and forth between the two men, as if sizing them up. There was a voice inside Julie’s head screaming at her to do something, but she didn’t know what. Instinctively she knew she couldn’t talk Don down from whatever mental ledge he was on. She needed to stand, to act, but she couldn’t make her body move. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Andy step out from behind the bar.

Then Don spat on the table, right in front of where she sat. She jerked back in her seat. Don lunged for her, Luke tried to grab him, and John screamed at her to move, so she ran as if her life depended on it, right out the front door of the Nail. Dimly, she heard pounding behind her on the boardwalk, and Andy’s voice echoing in the night.

She made it as far as the Clam Shak before Don caught her.

“So how was your date last night?” Val asked. He and Cole were lying on the deck of Val’s boat, a thick blanket underneath them. The night was unusually clear. Soon the stars would come out and Cole would be able to make out Ursa Major high in the sky.

“Fine,” Cole said.

“Just fine?” Val probed.

“Yeah,” Cole responded.

Val snorted. “And they say I’m the quiet one.”

“What do you want me to say? That we banged in the back of my car?”

“Did you?”

“Hell, no! You think she’s that kind of woman?”

Val just laughed. “That doctor’s going to put you through the wringer, you know.”

“She already is,” Cole groaned. She’d given him the opening to take things to the next level. In times past, he’d have had no problem accepting that invitation. No problem at all. But not with this woman. She was different.

“Does she know your issues?”

Which ones? “Some, I guess. The fact that she knew what I was back then and is still willing to give it a shot pretty much says it all.”

“She know about the PTSD?”

Cole stiffened. He hated hearing that term. “If she read my medical records she does.”

“She still went out with you, though,” Val pointed out.

“I wouldn’t read too much into it. I’m sure I’ll find a way to foul it up before things get too serious.” Cole tried to sound nonchalant, but truth be told, he was still smarting from Julie’s comment that all she was looking for was a good time.

Val snorted. “You’re not going to let this one slip through your fingers.”

Cole simply grunted. Damn it if his brother wasn’t right. Problem was, he’d never had a relationship start nice and slow. She was open to a physical relationship; she’d made that abundantly clear last night. But he was well aware that if he pushed her for more than that, she’d shut right back down. The fact that he was even worried about pushing for more showed him how far he’d come. He didn’t know whether to laugh or to cringe.

Just then, he heard a woman’s scream and some muffled cries. He was sitting bolt upright in a heartbeat, visions of war flashing before his eyes. He got himself in check, fast, using the techniques he’d learned in therapy. Breathe. Star Harbor, not Afghanistan. Assess self. Assess situation. Breathe again. All good. Now go.

“What the—?” Val said, sitting up, too. “Sounds like it’s coming from the—”

But Cole didn’t wait to hear the rest of his brother’s sentence. In a flash, he’d vaulted over the rail and onto the piers. His feet pounding damp wood, he took off in the direction of the scream. It was close to the Nail. Maybe a bit farther away. He didn’t stop to think; his body simply propelled him toward the action. It was innate, ingrained. Move toward the fighting. Move toward the need. His cell phone rang, but he didn’t answer.

Running hard, he took the corner fast and continued to sprint. His injured leg burned, but he ignored the pain. And then he saw it. About 100 yards away from the Nail, close to the Clam Shak and right under one of the boardwalk lights, three men standing and a figure crouched behind one of the large pylons. Nearer to the action, he sized the situation up fast. Don Rathbone was squaring off against Luke Bedwin and John Anson, and by the way the two smaller men were reeling, they weren’t going to last long.

Don had his back toward him, but the thumping sound his feet were making on the boardwalk cued him in. Just as he approached, Don turned and made to swing. Cole skidded to a halt, ducked the oncoming punch, then with precision, slammed him once right in the jaw. His fist connecting with Don’s flesh made a satisfied thwack.

Don went down without a whimper, crumbling onto the boardwalk in a heap. Must have gotten him right in his sweet spot. Cole leaned over and placed his hands on his legs just above the knees. Within a few seconds, he’d caught his breath. Thank God for his daily workout routine. He made a mental note to include more weekly sprints. And some serious stretching—his thigh was damned tight.

“You guys okay?” he asked, looking up from where Don was knocked out cold.

“Yeah,” Luke said softly, swaying slightly. Blood dripped from his nose onto his shirt, and he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to stanch the flow.

“Thanks,” John said, leaning over as he held his side.

“What made you want to fight this A-hole?” Cole asked.

Luke pointed left. “He went after Julie.”

Cole followed Luke’s finger to the wood pylon. She was there, standing in the shadows, head down. She raised her chin and looked up at him. Even in the dim light, he could see the fear in her gaze. A dull roar began to pound in his ears. Not her. Nothing could happen to her.

“He came at her in the Nail,” John said. “We tried to stop him.” John’s voice faded in his consciousness. And then, silence. All he could think about was Julie, alone, afraid, in the dark, while Don Rathbone pawed at her. His chest grew tight. Breathe.

Slowly, deliberately, he stood upright, straightening his posture into something even his old commander would be proud of. Then he walked toward her and held out his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it. He gripped it in his own, almost to reassure himself that she was still there. She was, solid and real and seemingly unhurt.

“You okay?” he whispered, so only she could hear.

“Yes. I’m okay.”

“He didn’t touch you?”

“Just my arm,” she said, pointing to her upper arm. “Here.” She kept his gaze. There was still fear there, but something more. Resolve. He more than liked this woman. All he wanted to do was to take her home, to quell her fears—and his own—but he had a job to do first.

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he steered her back to her friends, taking care to keep clear of Don’s prone form.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Cole asked. “Start from the beginning.” But before either man could speak, Val and Andy arrived.

“Called you, but you didn’t pick up,” Andy said. “Your response time is faster than my speed dial. Impressive.”

“He had good incentive,” his brother said.

“Enough,” Cole said tightly. “I want the story and I want it now.” The sooner he got this crap out of the way, the sooner he could take care of Julie. As if reading his mind, Val spoke up.

“I can take Dr. Kensington home,” he said.

“No,” Cole barked out. No one touches her except me.

Val raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. Then give me something to do or I’m going back to the boat.” His brother gave him a warning look, but Cole ignored it. He wasn’t close to the edge, but every minute that he couldn’t see to the woman huddling under his arm, the farther he inched toward the black hole. Struggling to keep his temper in check, he focused on the job at hand.

Cole pointed to Don. “Call Hank to come get him.”

“Will do,” Val said, whipping out his cell phone and turning to walk down the boardwalk a bit.

“You three,” he said to Luke, Andy, and John. “Stories. Now.”

He spent the next few minutes hearing their tales. Nothing varied. Hank arrived fast, and Cole snapped out orders. “Lockup for Rathbone. I’m charging him with disorderly conduct, disturbing the peace, assault and, battery to start. We’ll see what else comes up after he comes to.”

Finally, his work was done with the men, the boardwalk had cleared out, and he was alone with Julie.

“Still okay?” he said softly.

“Yes,” she responded evenly.

When he’d seen Julie hiding in the shadows, he’d wanted to break every bone in Don’s body, then wring her pretty little neck for putting herself in danger. His suppressed fury rose hot and fast. He tamped it down as well as he could before speaking. “Why’d he go after you?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Julie?” He stretched out his arm, pulling her away from his body, and let go. Bravely, she met his gaze.

“I can’t tell you. Doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“You’re treating Don for something?”

She pursed her lips together.

“Margo,” he guessed.

She looked out to the harbor.

“Does it have any bearing on the investigation?”

Her gaze was still trained on the water. “If you have to write something down for your report, just say his wife is my patient and he didn’t like what I’d prescribed. Things at their house are … not good. I think he’s using drugs and maybe hurting her. But I don’t have any proof.”

“God, Julie,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “You’ve gotten yourself in a fine mess.”

She turned back and glared at him. “What? What did I do wrong?” she demanded.

Let me count the ways. “You ran,” he said, focusing on the first concrete thing that popped into his mind.

“John told me to move, so I moved. Fast. Anyway, aren’t you supposed to run if someone’s trying to attack you?” She sounded exasperated and truly tired.

“Not if you’re running away from those who can help. You made your rescuers chase you, and that’s never a good thing. You were safer at the Nail.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?” she said. “It’s not like I’ve ever had this happen before!”

“You clearly don’t know how to take care of yourself.” Frowning, he crossed his arms over his chest. His need to keep her safe was primal, and the fact that she hadn’t confided in him about the Rathbones before now made him more than a little pissed off.

“You … I … what arrogance!” she breathed. Even in the low light, he could see a flush creeping up her neck and staining her cheeks red. “How dare you! One date and this is how you act?” Her eyes were bright with anger, her hair was slightly mussed, and it looked like every muscle in her body was straining as she kept herself in check. She looked gorgeous when she was furious. For a moment, he forgot that he was angry.

He forced himself to look at the situation rationally, the way he thought she would. “So you’re telling me that your reaction was intelligent?”

“There was no thought. He came at me. I ran. End of story.”

Cole shook his head. “No. Every situation has a best response scenario. Just like when you’re trying to save someone’s life, there’s protocol. Same here. We need to train you to think about your safety. Train your body to react even when your brain isn’t thinking. I can do a quick, down-and-dirty basics class for you, and then we can get you enrolled in a longer one so you can hone your skills.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said vehemently.

“I’m just doing my job here, Julie, just like you’re doing yours. And my job means keeping you safe. If you’d told me about your issues with the Rathbones earlier, I could have helped you. Instead, we’ve ended up here.” He swept out his arm over the boardwalk, as if to encompass the entire situation. “Don’s a troublemaker, all right.”

She laughed. “It’s weird to hear you call someone else a troublemaker.”

“Yeah, I know. No one lets me forget the old days, either. If I have to hear Babs Kincaide rant one more time about how those damn Grayson boys nearly burnt down the Clam Shak, I’m gonna puke.”

She made a choking sound and started to laugh harder, but then her laughter morphed into something that sounded suspiciously like crying.

“Seriously, Doc. I don’t want to tell you what to do.” He was dying to touch her, but he couldn’t approach. Not yet. “But I do want to help. We all need a little help now and then, right?” Cole said in what he hoped was a gentle tone. He reached out his hand. “Please. Let me help you.”

“I was scared, Cole.”

“I know.”

“I thought he was going to hit me.”

“I know.”

“I—I didn’t know what to do.” A large tear slipped from the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek. She was still looking at him, half-defiantly, as she wiped it away fast.

And then he did the only thing he could do. He moved slowly toward her and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her into his chest, sheltering her. She was shaking hard now.

“I don’t need your help,” she said, obviously trying hard to keep her composure but failing.

“It’s okay,” he said, trying to soothe her by smoothing her back with the flat of his hand. He’d been treating her like a soldier. Or a deputy, demanding that she follow his orders. But she wasn’t military or a cop—she was a doctor and way out of her depth. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she needed him, but now wasn’t the time to push. Especially because she had to accept it on her terms, not his. “I’m going to take you home now.”

She didn’t budge.

“You know I’m not letting you walk home alone, right?” Not after what had just happened.

He felt her nod into his chest.

She wanted to keep some of her dignity intact. He got that, but he wasn’t going to let her put herself in any more danger tonight. “Come on.” His arm around her shoulder, he motioned her forward. But when she went to take a step, she stumbled.

“Whoa,” he said, grabbing her under her arms.

“I didn’t eat very much today. I’ll be fine.” She took another step and almost dropped to her knees.

“You’re not going anywhere like that,” he said, scooping her up easily before she completely teetered over. “I’ve got you.”

She looked utterly mortified that he was carrying her. It was kind of funny, her unwavering stubbornness to do everything herself. But he was trying to be a gentleman, so instead of laughing, he just shifted her weight so that her head would be in the perfect position to lean on his shoulder.

To his relief, she did just that. Then he carried her the entire way to his car so he could drive her home.

And she let him.