Page 63 of All We Carry Home

I pulled on my boots and followed her down the spiral staircase and into the dining room that glowed with a few oil lamps.

My heart leapt into my throat. Eva paced in her hospital uniform, her hair ruffled.

I strode toward her, and she let out a breath when she saw me. As I neared, I saw a cut along her left temple that oozed blood. “What happened?”

“A black sedan followed me from the hospital. When I circled back to come here, it rammed into my truck.” She looked in the direction of the front door. “I ran here on foot.”

My blood boiled, and it took every ounce of strength not to take her into my arms and smooth the hair from her wound. “Are you okay?”

“It’s just a scratch.”

“That’s not what I asked.” I moved closer.

“I’ll be okay,” she whispered.

I hadn’t ever seen an ounce of fear in Eva. Now she was shaken. She knew that Victor Merrick would stoop to any level.

His stooges were worse. Even I hadn’t anticipated them being so bold.

Betty stepped up and rubbed Eva’s shoulder in a motherly way. “Why don’t you stay in one of our empty rooms for the rest of the night? We can discuss this all with the sheriff in the morning.”

Eva met my gaze. We both knew involving the sheriff wouldn’t do any good. But having her stay here for the night felt like the best option. Not that I’d be getting any sleep.

“Thank you,” I said to Betty. “Can you see to her?”

“I’ll put her in the room beside yours, Captain,” she said.

I started toward the lobby door, but Eva grabbed my arm, her eyes wide. She’d seen the 1911 pistol tucked in my pants. “What are you doing?”

“Go with Betty,” I said. “And stay here.”

“Warren, please,” she said. “I don’t know how many were in the car or what they really wanted. They probably just wanted to scare me, not hurt me.”

I cupped her elbow and held her gaze. “Well, I have every intention of scaring and hurting them.”

“If they ambush you instead?”

I liked that she was concerned for my safety. Even if she’d been so frivolous with her own. “I’m familiar with these sorts of situations and risks, Eva.”

“This isn’t Germany,” she hissed.

“No, but you’re in the middle of a war, whether you admit it or not.”

She shrank back and crossed her arms, looking ill.

“I’ll be back soon,” I said, brushing her cheek reassuringly, unable to resist the moment. I wanted more, but the brief feel of her silky skin beneath my fingertips would have to do.

I walked out into the cool evening air before she could protest further or slap my hand away for such a forward gesture.

I circled the block without making a sound. The streets were silent aside from the soft hum of the few electric streetlamps. Two blocks away, I spotted Eva’s truck, facing the wrong direction and the door ajar.

Despite some broken glass on the street around the truck, there was no sign of any severe damage. Her taillight was broken, the bumper dented slightly. The key was still in the ignition and her purse was on the floorboard. Small mercies.

I scanned and walked several blocks further but didn’t see any parked or loitering vehicles that looked suspicious.

I drove her truck back to the Geiser, parked it, and walked inside. She was still pacing the dining room, and Betty was nearly asleep in one of the chairs at a table.

“Perhaps you can convince her to get some rest.” Betty sighed. “Roger is at the front desk if you need anything.” Her youngest son worked the night shift. He must have been the one to alert Betty when Eva first came in.