Skye (Rainbow Falls Book 1) Page 4

  She pursed her lips as though deciding what to say.

  “Boss!” Gideon’s voice came from over by the office.

  Sam pointed toward the front of the property where the courtyard met the driveway. “Today is haircut day. Rainbow Falls has a barber who’s a Desert Storm vet. He comes once a month, brings some equipment along, and gives each of the men a wash, cut, and a shave if they want it. Let me go get him settled in. Make yourself comfortable anywhere you’d like. Just don’t go into any of the men’s rooms.”

  He jogged toward the van inching its way into the courtyard. They kept the driveway blocked for a reason. The courtyard was usually in use, and they didn’t need vehicles driving into that space at random. The partition that blocked it could be moved, though, as was always the case on haircut day. Harry gave the men a full-service treatment, and that meant equipment that nobody wanted to haul up the steep driveway.

  “Good to see you.” Sam greeted Harry with a firm handshake. “We’ve got a sizable group for you today.”

  “Sam, my man. Long time. Help me get this unloaded?” Harry unfolded the ramp at the back of his van and opened the swinging doors.

  Together, they rolled the haircut station onto the ramp and lowered it to the ground.

  Gideon and two other residents climbed into the back of the van and began pulling out the items Harry used whenever he stopped by. In no time at all, a wash sink — complete with swooped headrest rim — was set up in the middle of the courtyard, with buckets of water sitting beside it and an array of supplies spread out on a folding table. Rather than pipe water over to the portable sink, residents filled the buckets with warm water from their rooms. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it worked.

  Just as Paul sat down to get his hair washed, the office phone rang. Sam unhooked it from his belt. “Samaritan’s Reach, this is Sam. Can I help you?”

  “Sam Madison?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Mr. Madison, my name’s Conway Schneider. You served with my sister in Afghanistan. Ginger Schneider.”

  Sam’s heart dropped. “Is she okay?”

  “Oh… I’m sorry. She’s fine. Deployed right now, but fine.”

  Sam took a breath and blew it out. “Whew. You scared a year off my life.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Madison. Didn’t think.”

  “Call me Sam, give Ginger my best the next time you talk to her, and don’t give it another thought. Now tell me what I can do for you.”

  “Sure, if you call me Conway. And I’m calling because Ginger mentioned you’d set down roots in Rainbow Falls. You’re not from around here, right?”

  Sam strode toward the office so he could get away from the men’s chatter and better hear Conway. “No, I’m not. I’d seen it on a map once. Then Ginger started talking about her hometown, and it caught my interest. I thought I’d go visit for a spell after I got out, but when I saw it, I knew this was where God wanted me. So here I am. Are you still in the area?”

  “I am. In fact, that’s why I’m calling. I talked to Ginger last night, and she mentioned what you were doing and that you bought the old Silver Heart Motel. I haven’t been out to that part of town in a few years, but if I remember, it’s in need of repair.”

  “You could say that. We’ve done a lot to it, but it’s a constant project.”

  “I own a small construction company. Not big enough that I could send you guys to work for free, but big enough that I could probably give you a day or two of labor at cost. If you’re interested, I can come on by, take a look at what needs doing, and put together an estimate for you.”

  Sam took a deep breath. “There’s a lot more than a day or two of work to be done, but I’ll take whatever you can afford to give.”

  Conway chuckled. “Yeah, I kind of figured it wouldn’t be a small task. But if I can get an idea of everything that’s in need of attention, we can weigh cost and need before we prioritize accordingly. Does tomorrow afternoon fit your schedule?”

  “Yep. I’ll be here.”

  Sam had no sooner hung up the phone than a shout out in the courtyard drew his attention. He ran out of the office. Gideon was holding Alan, one of their newer residents, in a headlock.

  CHAPTER 7

  Skye ran.

  Sam’s voice bellowed behind her. “Somebody had better tell me what’s going on, and I mean now.”

  She sprinted past the picnic table, around the back corner of the building, and doubled over. There wasn’t much in her to come up, but her body didn’t seem to understand that as she heaved over and over again into the grass.

  Another voice reached her. “I don’t know what started it, but it might have something to do with your lady friend. She’s puking her guts out behind the building.”

  Sneakers slapped pavement, then crossed over onto dirt before they came to a skidding halt behind her.

  Large hands gripped her shoulders with a soft touch. “Skye, are you okay?”

  The spasms in her stomach stopped long enough for her to gulp down some air. “I’m fine.”

  Sam guided her upright as she wiped the back of her hand against her mouth.

  She’d already told him he scared her. Now he’d seen her throwing up. She was earning top points for making a lousy impression.

  “Look at me, Skye.”

  She couldn’t. The ground was so much easier to stare at. “I said I’m fine.”

  He released her shoulders, and she shivered as her inner chill replaced the warmth of his touch.

  Sam bent down and got directly into her line of sight. “I need to know what happened. I can’t let my residents fight, but I need to know what went on out there before I take action.”

  “I…” She swallowed then grimaced. She needed some mouthwash.

  “If I let you freshen up, will you be able to tell me what started the fight?”

  Skye nodded.

  “Alright then. Follow me.”

  Sam led her past the picnic table and into the courtyard. His steps were slow, and she kept up easily, but she refused to lift her eyes and meet the gazes of the men. The jittering emotions in her middle were too mixed up for her to tell them apart. Was she embarrassed or terrified?

  Sam opened a door across the courtyard from the office and waved her in. “The bathroom’s on the left. Help yourself to anything you need.”

  She squeezed past him to get into the room, his room by the looks of it. It had all the ambiance of a hospital room that had been stayed in too long. Or a motel room that someone tried to make feel like home.

  Skye hurried through the space — a bedroom — and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She slid down, her back against the door, until the cool linoleum of the floor welcomed her. Skye pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and buried her face in her cocoon.

  No tears came, but sobs shook her body until she had to fight to get any breath into her lungs. Her body’s battle for air won, beating back the icy fingers of terror that had her curled up on the floor of a virtual stranger’s bathroom.

  Using the sink, she pulled herself up and looked in the mirror. A cool washcloth against her face would feel sublime, but she didn’t have her cosmetics bag with her. She couldn’t repair any damage she did, so she skipped the washcloth and instead reached for the tube of toothpaste. She squeezed a generous dollop onto her finger and rubbed her teeth. She rinsed, spit, and wiped her mouth on a nearby towel.

  There wasn’t much more she could do. She wouldn’t be able to hide out much longer, either, without Sam coming to look for her. Getting stuck in the small confines of the bathroom with him was a bad idea. Her nerves still jangled from passing him in the doorway to his room. Another reaction she’d rather ignore. Had it been fear? Or…?

  Her head dropped forward. She needed to get control, to rein in her thoughts. Her questions. Her feelings.

  “Skye?” A light tap on the door accompanied Sam’s voice.

  Drat. She’d waited too long.


  Skye took a deep breath, reached for the doorknob, and twisted. The door opened inward toward her and revealed Sam standing a few feet back, giving her some much-needed space. She flicked off the bathroom light and moved past him and back into the sunlight.

  This time she walked ahead, allowing him to follow her. She returned to the laundry room where she’d been killing time while Sam had handled whatever he’d needed to do earlier.

  He followed her in and looked around the space.

  Skye had folded the laundry in the two baskets with clean clothes. She’d emptied the dryer onto the room’s small counter, moved the items from the washer machine to the dryer, and begun a new load of wash. She turned away from Sam and started folding the clothes still piled on the counter. The laundry basket they belonged to sat at her feet, its masking-taped name — Alan — glaring up at her.

  Sam crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “Everyone’s been sent to their rooms until I can get this sorted out, and I had to send Harry home, too. Are you ready to tell me what occurred?”

  Skye folded a worn t-shirt with meticulous care. Concentrating on each crease and fold allowed her to breathe. It gave her the control she craved when so much around her was spinning out of control. “You were busy, and I was bored, so I thought I’d help. I don’t know how to do much, but I can handle a washer and dryer. So I folded the clothes that were waiting to be picked up and started a new load of wash. I wasn’t bothering anybody, but all the sudden, a man came in, and he kept yelling at me.”

  “Who?”

  “He was one of the guys standing by me when I first got here. Not the one who called you. The other one. His breath…”

  Sam didn’t move or speak.

  Skye began pairing socks and rolling them together. “He got in my face, but I couldn’t understand anything he was saying. His eyes were dead, and he was yelling at me, and his teeth were rotting, and I couldn’t get away from him because he was blocking the way to the door.”

  “Then what happened?”

  Skye slipped the socks down into the basket with the shirt and picked up a pair of pants. “The man who called you Boss grabbed the angry man from behind and dragged him out of the room.”

  “Anything else?”

  She glanced over at him. He hadn’t budged. Not a single muscle had moved. “As soon as the door was clear, I ran. Then you found me.”

  “Did the first man touch you?”

  Skye stared at her hands. “No. He might have. He kept getting closer, but then that other man came along.”

  “Stay right here.”

  Sam disappeared.

  She jumped as knocking rang on a door somewhere.

  Sam returned a minute later, another man in tow. “This is Franco. He’s going to stand right outside the door to the laundry room. He won’t let anybody in, and if you go anywhere else on the property, he has to go with you.”

  Skye’s eyes flitted from Franco — another imposing man — to Sam. “That’s not necessary.”

  Something flashed in Sam’s eyes. Was it pity? She clenched her jaw and glared.

  “It is. You can’t leave until you get apologies from the men involved, but I want you to feel safe in the meantime.”

  Sam’s words swirled around in Skye’s mind until they were twisted up in knots.

  You can’t leave. I won’t let you, and you’re too weak to make me.

  The line between what he’d said and what she’d heard was getting blurrier by the second.

  “I can leave if I want to.”

  Sam blinked before his eyes widened. “Of course. I didn’t mean you’re not allowed to. I would appreciate it, though, if you could stay until the men apologize. Do you think…?”

  Skye nodded. “Franco and I will do nicely together.”

  Her heart should be pounding. She should be trembling.

  But she wasn’t.

  Was it Sam’s calming presence or Franco’s intimidating one that made the difference?

  And when had Sam gone from threatening to calming? Not that he’d ever actually been threatening. She couldn’t forget the impression he’d made, though, when she’d first met him.

  Skye could speak to a boardroom full of people without a moment’s panic but had completely taken leave of her senses when that man had come rushing at her. She didn’t want to think about the reason just yet. So, like any mature adult, she focused on the task at hand and shoved her jumbled-up reaction down deep inside where she couldn’t see it well enough to analyze at present. She could take it out for a closer look after she was far away from this place and the tattooed man with the ice blue eyes.

  A stranger approached the door and spoke in hushed tones to Franco. Then he poked his head inside the door. “Name’s Matt. Sam sent me to pick up my laundry.”

  Franco stepped far enough into the doorway to glower at the man while Skye pointed to the basket with Matt’s name on it.

  “Thank you, Miss Skye.”

  The man disappeared out the door, his basket in hand.

  A couple of minutes later, another head popped around the door following a short conversation with Franco. “My name’s Benjie. I’m here for my clothes.”

  Skye pointed to the basket, and Benjie picked it up and gave her a half-bow. “Thank you for folding my laundry, Miss Skye. It’s been a long time since anyone’s folded anything for me.”

  He left as quickly as he’d come, and Skye finished the clothes she’d been working on. Alan’s. She put the basket full of folded clothes on the floor and slid it into the spot where Matt’s had been.

  “Hey, Franco?”

  The bulky man stepped partway into the doorway.

  “Is he going to be coming for his laundry?” She pointed to Alan’s basket.

  Franco crossed his arms and shook his head. “Not until he’s ready to apologize.”

  Skye swallowed. “Is he the one who came to my rescue?”

  Franco shook his head again, and Skye shivered. Obviously, Sam had insisted she needed someone to keep an eye on her for a reason.

  CHAPTER 8

  Sam knocked on Alan’s door. When the man didn’t answer, he knocked louder. “I have the master key, so you might as well let me in.”

  Alan finally yanked the door open, but then stormed across the small room to the table and single chair on the other side of the bed.

  Wisdom, Father.

  “Do you want to tell me what set you off?”

  Alan crossed his arms and tipped the chair back on two legs. “That woman was folding my clothes.”

  “She was trying to help.”

  “No one touches what’s mine.”

  “First off, she was being helpful. She wasn’t harming you or your clothing. Secondly, I don’t care how you think she wronged you. You have no right to speak to anyone the way you did to her. You’re being written up.”

  “Whatever. You don’t want me here anyway.”

  Sam looked around Alan’s room as he leaned against the wall and sank to the ground. “This is your second write-up in the ten days since you arrived. One more and you will be asked to leave. I don’t want it to come to that. If I kick you out, you won’t be allowed back here for ninety days.”

  Alan huffed.

  Sam took his time stretching his legs out in front of him. “You need to get your act together. Terrorizing people isn’t the way to make friends, but that’s not the point. Even if you don’t want friends, I can’t let you threaten people who are trying to help this place be successful.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I’m walking you over to the laundry room, where you will collect your folded clothes. You will apologize for frightening Miss Skye, and you will thank her for the effort she put into your laundry. Then you will come right back here to your room where you will remain until dinner.”

  “I ain’t apologizin’.”

  “You are if you want to sleep in that bed tonight.”

  Alan glared daggers at him.

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nbsp; Sam remained seated.

  Alan grumbled a bunch of words.

  Sam frowned. He was better off not understanding.

  Alan thumped the front legs of his chair down on the floor. “Fine.”

  Sam bit back a smile as he followed Alan out his door.

  Franco held his position by the laundry room as they approached. His stance would have intimidated even a battle-hardened leatherneck. Sam smirked when Alan’s steps faltered.

  Sam nodded to Franco, who moved aside to let Alan pass.

  The smaller man sauntered into the laundry room, snatched his basket off the floor, and started stomping his way out. Franco blocked his exit.

  Familiar tension coursed through Sam’s body, the same as any time a conflict was at hand. Of course Alan wasn’t going to be compliant. The man had a hefty chip on his shoulder, and it spilled over into his attitude and actions the way hot lava spilled out of an exploding volcano.

  Sam held his position at Franco’s elbow. Tension or not, he wouldn’t give up on diplomacy just yet. “Alan would like to say something.”

  Alan groaned before following through with gritted teeth. “I’m sorry for scaring you. Thank you for folding my laundry.”

  “Apology accepted.” Skye’s voice was stronger than Sam expected. “And you’re welcome.”

  “Hmph.” Alan rushed through the now-clear doorway and back across the parking lot.

  Sam nodded to Franco before heading over to Gideon’s room. What a day for his intern, Lance, to be gone. Another pair of eyes sure would have come in handy.

  Gideon opened the door before Sam finished knocking. “Come on in, Boss.”

  Like all the other men, Gideon only had one chair. He offered it to Sam and sank to the floor opposite it.

  Sam tapped his leg. “Rules are rules.”

  “I’d do it again.”