Rescued by a Stranger Read online

  “I’d get out if I were you,” Chase ordered, gasping.

  The man grabbed his phone, growled something unintelligible into it, and tossed it to the side. The third of his body visible looked like an athlete’s. His brown hair was blown into disarray, and when he peeled off an enormous pair of sunglasses, dark eyebrows formed a single angry line across a harshly handsome brow. He exploded from the car, his nostrils flaring. Nevertheless, Chase faced him squarely.

  “You’d better have a damn good reason for that stunt, man.”

  Chase took a step forward. “I think it’s you who has the explaining to do, since you were six inches from having hit-and-run charges leveled at you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “About you taking that corner back there at about thirty-five miles an hour, when the speed limit should be fifteen. My friend and I were nearly hit.”

  “I never saw you. You must have had time to move before I reached you.”

  “Not good enough.”

  The man’s fists flexed several times, and a pulse throbbed visibly at the open collar of his white dress shirt. His creased green trousers matched the hue of the Navigator. “What are you doing here anyway? This is private property.”

  Jill reached them, her face mirroring Chase’s anger. He couldn’t afford to fold this hand no matter how weak it was, so he shot Jill a look pleading with her to play along, stilled his breathing with effort, and bluffed for all he was worth.

  “That’s right. And I know as well as you do that Robert McCormick has no love of dickering. We’re on our way there, and I don’t want to be the one to tell him you’ve been trespassing.”

  “You punk. You don’t know Robert McCormick.”

  Chase stuffed shaking hands into his back pockets. If this ruse worked he wouldn’t believe the luck until his dying day. “Is that so? Shall we go on ahead and ask him?” The man said nothing. “This is Jill Carpenter, by the way.” Chase filled the silence. “At the very least the lady deserves an apology.”

  He glared a moment longer, then stiffly inclined his head. “My apologies, Miss Carpenter.”

  He climbed back into the Lincoln and yanked the door closed. Chase stifled a groan. He’d been too angry and focused on the man to notice the stylized house-and-tree logo he’d seen at the stable yesterday. Over the words “Connery Construction” was a fresh two-inch dent and a feather pattern of scratches.

  “I want your name and address,” the driver growled.

  “Make an appointment with Mr. McCormick. He’ll be glad to give them to you.”

  A final tense glaring match glued them in place for several more long seconds. “I’ll find out who you are, I promise you that,” the man said.

  “Sooner than you think,” Chase replied under his breath.

  When the Navigator had backed around and disappeared, Jill stared after it, rubbing her shoulder absently.

  “Wow,” she said. “My hero again. Thanks for saving my honor, but that was rash.”

  “Really. You noticed.” The adrenaline rushed from his system. He wanted to sink into the grass and simply let it grow over him. “He was an ass, but I didn’t do myself any favors.”

  “I saw the logo. I’m sorry. I’d laugh, but I know it isn’t funny.”

  “Hell, he could be Duncan Connery for all I know.” The thought sent Chase’s stomach into a sick roil.

  “Hey, are you all right?”

  “Not so much. I shot myself in the foot. It doesn’t feel all that good.”

  “You actually did a nice thing, you know.” Her fingers on his upper arm soothed, as did her eyes, peering at him in concern. “You can make this right. I’m sure of it.”

  He should tell her. Tell her how bullies and creeps who drove by with weapons far stronger than this guy’s rude words made up his world. But then he’d have to tell her how minor throwing a rock was in the list of his transgressions.

  With a deep breath and a redirect, he dismissed her thanks. “How’s that shoulder? You didn’t hit it again, did you?”

  “It didn’t feel all that great running up here, but I’m fine. Let’s get you out of here.”

  “Maybe I will cancel that appointment.”

  “What, and let the jerks of the world win? I say go find him and push him down.”

  He wanted to tell her the jerks of the world almost always won. Instead, he forced a smile that felt anything but cheerful. “He was a big ol’ guy. What if he pushes me down?”

  She winked, as blind to his bluff as the Connery man had been. “I’ll hold your coat for the fight.”

  Chapter Eight

  CHASE PARKED THE CREATURE in an oversized space at the drab industrial park and shut off the engine. For all Jill’s denigration of it, the Suburban drove well, but he would have been grateful had it driven like an Asian elephant. At Jill’s insistence he’d dropped her at the clinic and taken her truck to his appointment. The only downside to her kindness was that now he had to return to Kennison Falls, something he hadn’t planned on doing. Find a hotel and stay the heck away from the little town that revved up his volatile emotions—that had been his plan.

  Instead of being one more nondescript cement-block structure, the brick-and-glass home of Connery Construction blossomed like a rose in the industrial desert. A luxuriant lawn lapped up against the building like a cool green pond. A carved wooden sign, flanked by profusely blooming wild rosebushes, bore the parent version of the Connery house-and-tree logo. Chase winced when he passed it.

  The company’s lobby was to interior design what the exterior had been to landscape architecture, dominated by forest green blended with artsy pastels, pale oak, and potted plants. A young receptionist greeted him with practiced friendliness.

  “May I help you?”

  He nodded. “I’m Chase Preston. I called earlier to change my appointment with Duncan Connery.”

  She lifted a phone receiver. Chase rubbed his damp palms down the sides of jeans until she looked at him.

  “Mr. Connery had to leave for a short while but he’s due back any second and is expecting you. You’re welcome to wait in his office. His secretary at the end of the hall will get you settled.”

  He’d been out. With a sinking heart, Chase guessed exactly where the man had been.

  “I appreciate it,” he lied.

  Compared to the rest of the building, Duncan Connery’s office was unpretentious and gave away nothing about the man himself. By the time a cheerful voice hailed him, Chase was so wound up he jumped.

  “Mr. Preston! My apologies for keeping you waiting.”

  Chase stood and sagged with relief when he met the jovial and completely unfamiliar eyes of Duncan Connery. Tall, distinguished, and fit, he cut a youthful figure for a man approaching sixty-five. Chase extended his hand, hoping it didn’t telegraph his tremble of relief.

  “I’m the one who was late. Thank you for rearranging your schedule.”

  “No trouble I hope.”

  “Yes sir, with a motorcycle. I’m afraid this one’s past her prime by a fair amount.”

  “Wait.” Connery’s smile widened. “Not a Triumph? A’75 Bonneville 750?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You mean to tell me it’s still running?”

  “Actually, at the moment no.”

  “By God, he did it, didn’t he?” Connery circled to his desk chair and motioned for Chase to sit again. “I remember thinking when your grandfather bought that old bike it was a foolish thing for a fifty-plus-year-old man to do. We all teased him viciously. Apparently, it’s on its way to outlasting him, just as he vowed it would.”

  Connery’s easy conversation soothed Chase into relaxing. “When I was a kid he let me help tinker with the engine, but the rest of the family thought, like you did, it was an impractical toy.”

  “I’m close enough to retirement now to admit I was dead wrong about judging ‘old men’ and their toys. If it keeps you young I’m all for it.”

&nbs
p; “I don’t think anyone knows for sure what keeps Delaney Preston young,” Chase said.

  “So he’s doing all right, your grandfather?” Connery leaned back in his chair.

  “He is.”

  “What is he, seventy-seven or -eight now?”

  “Seventy-eight, yes, sir.”

  “He was one of the best foremen my father and I ever had. If he runs his farm anything like he ran the crews, he has a hell of a good operation.”

  “He still oversees everything with a sure hand.”

  Duncan Connery crooked his eyebrows into bushy question marks. “Which brings us to you, the young Mr. Preston. Delaney tells me I can expect no less a performance from his grandson.”

  Inwardly Chase squirmed. “You must have learned to take my granddaddy’s superlatives with a grain of salt.”

  Instinct told him this was a fair-minded man who deserved to know about the rock.

  “What brings you north, Chase?”

  At least he’d practiced this answer. “Looking for a change. I lost a good friend in Memphis, and it was painful to stay.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Connery contemplated him a moment. “Like I told Delaney, we always need good men. And we have endless work. We can’t keep up with all the rebuilding jobs since a pretty severe storm hit last summer.”

  “I heard about that,” Chase acknowledged.

  “We also have a big new project in the works. I’ll be glad to take you aboard, but, obviously, you’ll have to start at the bottom on a crew. It won’t be as easy there as it is with me. Nobody swinging a hammer these days remembers your grandfather.”

  “Bottom of the ladder is fine with me.”

  “Excellent! Let’s get you over to personnel—”

  “Hang on, Mr. Connery. Before we go that far, there’s something I have to tell you.” He leaned toward the man’s desk, rubbing his palms on his thighs again, like a kid in the principal’s office. “You deserve to hear this from me.”

  A scuffle of feet and exchanged greetings in the hall made Connery raise his hand. “Hey, Jim, c’mon in here! Excuse me, Chase, I’ll hear you out, but I want you to meet your likely boss as long as he’s making a rare trip to his office.”

  Connery stood as his man entered the office, and Chase’s luck ran out. The angry driver had added a green sports coat bearing the now-infamous logo on its breast pocket, but his thick brows and furious eyes hadn’t changed.

  “This is Jim Krieger, the foreman on that new project I mentioned,” Connery said. “Jim, this is Chase Preston. You’d remember his grandfather Delaney, I think.”

  Chase and Krieger dropped their hands simultaneously, and bewilderment grew on Connery’s face at the grim stare-down.

  Krieger loosened a clenched jaw muscle. “I wonder if Delaney realizes his grandson belongs with the Twins—as a pitcher.” He barely controlled his envenomed words.

  Connery’s posture stiffened. “This is the boy you encountered today?”

  Krieger’s meager control evaporated. “Ask him how the hell his friend McCormick is.” His fingers curled palmward, transforming large, strong hands into knuckled weapons. “You son of a bitch. What game are you playing?”

  “Hold on.” Chase’s glare didn’t waver. “Before I let the insult to my mother pass, I wonder if your boss knows how you nearly got my friend and me seriously injured.”

  “You lying punk. I refuse to be responsible if you haven’t got sense enough to get out of the road when a car is coming.”

  Chase’s remorse vanished along with words of contrition he’d been ready to offer.

  “All right, Jim.” Connery looked at Chase. “So you admit throwing the rock?”

  “Yes, that’s what I was about to tell you. And I’m sorry it happened, but right this minute I can’t honestly say it wouldn’t happen again. Your man Krieger here had a phone glued to his ear, took a gravel corner at least twice as fast as was safe, and wasn’t about to stop even though his window was completely rolled down and I called to him three times.”

  “This is serious, Chase.” Connery’s features hardened into solemn lines.

  “Yes it is. I’m glad to say neither the young lady involved nor I was hurt.”

  “Don’t even consider hiring this lying asshole.” Krieger spat the words.

  “Enough.” Connery stretched an arm in front of his foreman as if to forestall an attack. “We’re going to sort this out, right now. I’d like to know exactly what happened.”

  Chase squared his shoulders. “I can tell you in less than sixty seconds. When he took that corner he didn’t use a signal, we had no idea he was turning at us, and he missed us by six inches.” Chase narrowed his eyes. “When he didn’t stop, I got his attention the only way I could. I had to force an apology from him. I have a hard time respecting that.”

  Krieger’s eyes bulged as his arrogantly handsome face went scarlet. “You’ve got the balls to talk about respect? Tell me what you plan to do about the vehicle you damaged.”

  Chase barely had to consider his reply. “Right this moment I plan to ignore it and walk away.” He straightened his shoulders. “Mr. Connery, I believe I know why my grandfather calls you friend, and I regret this for his sake. I apologize for damaging the truck. Personally, I think we’re even, but I’ll get you my contact information as soon as I have it.”

  “Now, hang on. I don’t know yet about the truck, but I do know it’s a mistake for you to leave.”

  “No doubt you’re more than right. I didn’t inherit a lot of my granddaddy’s cool head, but, unfortunately, the good Lord gave me double of his stubbornness. This is a matter of principle, Mr. Connery. I appreciate what you were willing to do as a favor.” He started to turn.

  “No.” Connery stepped from behind his desk. “I know you aren’t a kid, but I won’t willingly allow you leave. If I sound like a dictator it’s because I told Delaney I would keep an eye on you. As long as there’s work for you here, you should take it. We can discuss whether any compensation is due for the truck. You need to stay put or we’ll both have your grandfather to answer to.”

  Despite the truth in Connery’s words, Chase stood poised to leave. He did not have to stay no matter what the man had promised Poppa. He did not have to stay and work for an ass like Krieger, and every impulse told him to leave. But the truth was, some of this was on him, too. If he hadn’t thrown the damn rock, he wouldn’t be in this position at all. Besides, Duncan Connery wasn’t the only one who’d promised Poppa that Chase would stay put in Minnesota and not run headlong into the unknown.

  He released an audible breath.

  “I’ll stay under one condition. I will not work for him. Put me on the job you’re taking at Bridge Creek stables.”

  “What the fuck, Duncan?” Krieger bellowed his indignation. “Are you going to let this kid dictate your business to you? He’s a vandal and a liar. I swear to God, he looked me straight in the eye and told me he was a friend of Robert McCormick’s. Challenged me to walk with him to the old man’s goddamn front door. We don’t want someone who can lie that easily.”

  Krieger’s stare tore into Chase like a lightning bolt.

  “If you use that language around women and elderly folk, I’m glad I kept you away from McCormick this one time, even if I had to lie to do it. It doesn’t take much imagination to swear at me. A lot less than to apologize when you’re in the wrong.”

  “Enough,” Connery said. “Chase, how do you know about the Bridge Creek project?”

  “I happened to meet your man Jeff Rigby there yesterday. I figure I could work with him fine.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do. When we’re done here, you’ll go on down to personnel and take care of the paperwork. I’ll have Jeff get in touch when it’s time to start. He’s looking at next week, is that soon enough?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re making a monumental mistake.” Krieger’s anger intensified. “I haven’t worked for you thirty-five years to have my
reputation laid low by a hotheaded punk who was trespassing where he doesn’t belong.”

  “Who said anything about your reputation? Hiring Chase has nothing to do with you, Jim. I owe loyalty to a lot of people.”

  “It’s your company,” Krieger said tightly. “I’m just the guy you pay to keep things running. But I am not responsible for Sandy-fucking-Koufax here. Don’t ask me to bail you out of the messes he makes.”

  He took his turn to try and leave, but Connery stopped him, too.

  “Stick around. We have a few things to discuss. Chase? My secretary will take you on to personnel. If you don’t hear from Jeff in a day or two call me. And come back here after the first week. We’ll discuss how this is working for you.”

  “Yes, sir. I can do that.”

  Chase brushed past Krieger, who didn’t move a quarter of an inch to let him pass easily.

  “And Chase?” Connery added. “No more rocks.”

  He paused a moment, too riled to make a reply that wouldn’t get him in deeper. He nodded. “Let me know about the truck.”

  “I KNOW IT seems impossible, Rebecca, but try it once more. Let the horse push you out of the saddle to post.”

  Jill’s voice remained cheerful after nearly an hour, but Chase could see small chinks in her armor of patience. The bitter-faced teenager astride a rangy gray gelding named Roy made no attempt to follow directions and continued her seat-slapping ride around Bridge Creek’s arena. Chase believed without a doubt the girl could have passably posted the trot. The only instructions Rebecca Barnes had followed the entire lesson, however, had been ones that kept her on the horse.

  The paperwork at Connery had taken longer than he’d expected, and by the time he got The Creature back to Jill she’d been done at the clinic. He’d brought her here to the stable, and he’d been too fascinated to leave.

  He marveled at her reservoir of calm expertise. Within the first ten minutes of Rebecca Barnes’s lesson, Chase had decided she needed a little less leather and a lot more hickory slapping her behind. Although the girl hadn’t spoken twelve words, it was abundantly clear she’d mastered the art of rude behavior.