A Creed in Stone Creek - Linda Lael Miller [119]
There wasn’t another vehicle in sight, in either direction, and the effect was eerie, almost postapocalyptic. He’d missed the green light, since he wasn’t paying attention, and watched with some surprise as Melissa turned right, instead of left, which would have taken her in the direction of home.
She cruised past Steven, and he pulled out behind her.
Sure, she’d see him, but he was tired of skulking around like some character in a bad spy movie. He’d defended a stalker or two in his time, but he’d never expected to be one. He did have a little more insight into the nature of obsession than most people, which he wryly supposed was a plus.
When she signaled her intention to turn in at the Stop & Shop, Steven got that spooky feeling again, as if he ought to stay close by, keep her in sight.
Melissa stopped at the gas pump, got out of the roadster to swipe her credit card and fill up.
Steven drove right past her, to a parking space in front of the store, which looked deserted, like the rest of town, feeling ridiculously self-conscious again.
She looked up, smiled vaguely and went back to fiddling with the nozzle on the pump hose. Her brow creased into a frown as she clicked away at the starter lever, getting no response.
Steven sighed, turned, and forced himself to walk casually toward her.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hello,” she responded. She didn’t sound unfriendly, just distracted, as though she knew they were acquainted, but she couldn’t quite place him.
Oh, yeah, he imagined her saying, as realization hit, tapping her forehead with the heel of one palm, that guy I went to bed with.
“Where’s Matt?” she asked. There was a certain distance in her tone, and they might as well have been facing each other from opposite sides of an electric fence—with razor wire strung along the top.
“He’s over at the carnival, with my parents,” Steven answered, in a perfectly normal tone of voice, which was amazing because on the inside, he felt as though he’d swallowed a hive full of bees, all taking flight, all buzzing.
“Oh,” Melissa said, averting her eyes.
Something had to give. Break through the barrier, get them talking like adults instead of feuding teenagers. “Melissa—”
“What?”
“I—we need to talk.”
One of her perfect eyebrows rose slightly. “About—?”
“About us, dammit,” Steven said.
Her voice was sugar-sweet. “And what ‘us’ would that be?”
Exasperated, Steven gestured toward the gas pump. “Maybe you’ve noticed that that thing isn’t working,” he told her.
She sighed, sounding put-upon. “I guess I’ll have to go inside to pay,” she answered. “Get Martine to flip the switch.”
With that, she walked away, moving toward the glass doors of the entrance at an impressive clip.
Steven followed, double-stepping to catch up. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he was surprised—and mortified—to hear himself say.
Melissa favored him with a winning smile, waited while he held one of the doors for her, and whispered, “Try a little harder, then.”
She was inside in the next moment, Steven right behind her.
“There has to be a way around this lawyer thing,” he whispered back, nearly colliding with Melissa when she stopped abruptly.
The store was silent, and yet the air seemed to vibrate.
Martine was indeed behind the counter, and Nathan Carter was right beside her, with the barrel of a pistol pressed up hard under her fleshy chin. Her eyes were round with fear and they flitted between Steven and Melissa, begging for help.
Steven acted instinctively; caught Melissa by one arm and fairly threw her behind him.
“Put the gun down,” he told Nathan, his voice calm.
Melissa was back, and she tried to edge around him, but, with one arm, he eased her behind him again.
Carter merely cocked the pistol, a flashy move, like he’d watched a lot of old Westerns on TV or something, and then practiced endlessly.
Oddly, it struck Steven then, and certainly not for the first time, that if criminals put the same effort into honest work as they did taking