He had also seen the knife in the man’s hand. His first enraged instinct had been to crash through the glass door, maybe slamming into it with a patio chair. But then he’d thought of the delay that could be caused by tangling with the broken glass and blinds—long enough for Landon to use that knife in panic—and he’d forced himself to stay in control. With his limited viewpoint, he hadn’t seen Landon hit Shelby, which was just as well, as he’d have probably lost all objectivity at that point, but he’d been able to time his arrival around the front of the cabin in time to attack from behind. His heart had been in his throat, his stomach in knots as he’d prayed he would be fast enough to keep Shelby from being harmed. Determination—and the years of martial arts training he’d taken with his brother—had paid off. The element of surprise had been in his favor, as had Landon’s frantic ineptitude. But he never wanted to be placed in a situation like that again.
“You saved her life,” C.J. said, his voice gruff with emotion. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Aaron was aware that Shelby’s life might not have been in danger in the first place if she hadn’t dallied in his bed for so many hours, if she hadn’t walked alone in the darkest part of the night. It still made him physically ill to think of the hours she had spent in pain and terror only a few yards away from where he’d slept in his comfortable bed.
He should have seen her safely home, he berated himself, for far from the first time. Despite her protests, despite her familiarity with the resort and her confidence that she would be fine, he should have insisted, even at the risk of bruising her pride. Not because she was incapable of caring for herself, but because they’d both had reason to suspect something shady was going on with Terrence Landon/Russell King and should have taken reasonable precautions. It was going to be a long time, if ever, before he got past that guilt.
She shifted in the bed and opened her eyes, drawing all attention to her. She smiled
weakly at her mother, then turned her head to seek out Aaron. “You’re still here.”
“I’m still here.”
“I’m getting a little fuzzy on the details, but I can’t remember if I ever thanked you.” Though sleepy, her voice sounded stronger now, more like herself.
“Not necessary,” he assured her.
Still smiling, she allowed her heavy eyelids to drift downward again. “Nevertheless...”
Feeling her family’s eyes turning to him, Aaron cleared his throat. “Now that we know Shelby’s going to be okay, I should really get back to that roof. It really should be finished before the rain that’s being predicted for later this week.”
“Maybe you could give me a lift,” C.J. said. “I’ll spell Bryan at the marina so he can finish the roofing job with you. Sarah, you and Lori can get Shelby home, can’t you? You’ll call us if you need help?”
“Of course,” Sarah said, moving to lay a hand protectively on Shelby’s arm.
“We can take care of her,” Lori agreed, tossing a strand of black hair out of her eyes.
C.J. bent over the bed to kiss his daughter’s forehead. “You do what the doctors tell you, you hear?”
Without opening her eyes, she smiled. “Yes, Daddy.”
“I’ll see you at home.”
“’Kay.”
Aaron took C.J.’s place, resting a hand gently on Shelby’s bandaged wrist. “If you need anything, have someone call me. I’ll be here.”
She opened her eyes then, her smile softening. “I know. You Walker boys are quite the heroes to this family.”
Something about that comment bothered him, but he decided he would mull it over later. After a momentary hesitation, he bent to brush his lips across hers. It wasn’t as if her family didn’t know she’d spent most of the night with him, after all.
“See you, Shelby.”
Sighing lightly, she let her lids fall. “See you.”
He paused another moment, his gaze locked on the bruise on her face, then he turned to C.J. “Ready?”
Chapter Eleven
Because of the late start, it was late afternoon by the time Aaron and Bryan finished the roofing job on the little cabin. The family had gathered again at the home of Shelby’s parents that evening, earlier than they could usually get together because the marina, store and grill closed early on Sundays. Dinner tonight was Texas chili and jalapeño corn bread prepared by Mimi and Maggie, something they’d been able to throw together fairly easily and stretch to feed a crowd.
Aaron joined them for the meal, but Shelby noticed he was rather quiet—not that he had much chance to get a word in. Still rattled by the events of the day, her family was even more verbal and energetic than usual, everyone talking at once, all of them chagrined that Shelby had tried to warn them about Terrence Landon and they’d all brushed off her concerns.
“We really are going to learn to take you seriously from now on when you start spouting your improbable theories,” Steven told her, his smile lopsided. He’d been more attentive to Shelby than usual that evening, no doubt still perturbed that he hadn’t been there for her earlier. They’d teasingly compared concussions and other injuries, but Shelby had been aware that Steven was as relieved that she had survived her ordeal as she was that she still had her brother. They could argue, compete or tease, but through it all they were family—and they loved each other.
She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender, the left still swaddled in a stretch bandage. “No more conspiracies for me,” she vowed. “From now on, I’m keeping my head down and focusing on my numbers and spreadsheets.”
“That would be a shame,” her father said unexpectedly. “Had you made a habit of that, we might never have known that Wade had been siphoning money from us. And who knows, Terrence Landon or Russell King or whatever the hell his name is might have decided this was a good place to return to whenever he needed a convenient retreat from which to run his fencing operation for a few weeks at a time. You did good, honey.”