Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)(27)

“Mike?” she asked.

“My buddy the cop. Mike.” He swallowed. “He says what you really have to do right now is turn yourself in—maybe not to the police. But to someone in the law, someone who will listen to your story. I’m thinking a lawyer, or the judge.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?” he repeated, surprised.

“Okay. I’m terrified, but okay.” She shuddered. “It’s your way or running, hiding. Either way, the danger is pretty much the same. Him.” Then, quietly, “Thank you. For offering. To help.”

“It feels good to help,” he said. “Just do it for Chris. Let’s get him outta this mess.”

“Yeah, I’ll try that,” she said, but her voice was shaky.

Preacher didn’t look like the kind of guy who could use looking after, watching over, but this is what Jack did. It was partly out of habit—he’d had the big man’s back since they were in the Marines together; Preacher had served under him twice, the first and second Iraq conflicts.

There was another reason Jack was watching closely right now, and that was because Preacher was changing. Jack recognized it at once because it hadn’t been so long since he went through similar changes—although Jack had known exactly what was happening to him, and he suspected that Preacher did not.

After twenty years in the Marine Corps and three in Virgin River, Jack had never formed a strong attachment with a woman. It never occurred to him to settle down, commit to one woman. The closest he’d ever come was one woman at a time. And then Mel came to town to work alongside old Doc Mullins and before she’d been here a week, Jack was cooked. It was the right time, the right woman, the right circumstances. And while it shook him, startled him to feel what he was feeling, it never confused him. It was unmistakable. He’d fallen in love with such a horrendous crash it surprised him that the redwoods hadn’t trembled, as though an earthquake shook them.

It had happened almost as quickly to Preacher. Paige appeared that rainy night just three weeks ago with her child and her bruises and Jack could sense a fire in Preacher right away. At first it appeared to be an intense need to right a wrong, to protect—typical of Preacher. He was that kind of man—tough on the outside and soft on the inside. Justice and loyalty—those values were everything to him. But in the days since what he saw had evolved. Preacher watched over Paige with an intensity that spoke of something more than the goodness of his heart. He would glance at her and his eyes would grow dark. Glow. He’d shake himself, look away, and his brow would furrow as though he were trying to make sense of feelings he hadn’t had before.

Jack and Preacher had such different histories with the opposite sex. Jack had never done well with abstinence—he had always had a woman somewhere. He was driven by those needs. But Preacher was solitary. And while a very private person, he wasn’t secretive. In fact, he was candid. Transparent. Jack was sure that if he’d had women around, Jack would know about it. No, he was fairly sure—this was a first for Preacher. He was powerfully attracted to a woman and didn’t have any idea what to do about it.

Jack watched Paige, as well, because he cared deeply about his friend. This was a kindhearted and vulnerable woman, and she was tender toward Preacher—but it was entirely possible it was no more than gratitude. If she were ever able to put the threats she faced behind her, she would probably go away. Back to a family somewhere, perhaps. Or even some new place.

For now, they were inseparable. The three of them. Preacher kept Paige and Christopher under his protective wing, as though danger loomed nearby and might strike at any moment. When there were no patrons in the bar, Preacher and Paige sat at one of the tables and talked or played cribbage; if Christopher wasn’t napping, he was on Preacher’s knee. When the place was busy, fishermen dropping in for drinks or dinner after a long day on the Virgin, Paige and her son would be in the kitchen with Preacher, helping out or just keeping him company. She worked in the bar, apparently content with her duties and constantly checking with Preacher to ask what he’d like her to do.

It was obvious what Preacher was beginning to feel. Not so obvious what Paige was feeling. And no time presented itself in which Jack could talk to Preacher privately. Of course, he wasn’t sure what he’d say, anyway. But there was one thing Jack had heard—these domestic situations were probably more dangerous than war. Volatile, unpredictable, lethal. Cops often said they’d rather walk into an armed robbery than a domestic. Jack didn’t want anything bad to happen to this woman—he liked her. But he also didn’t want anything bad to happen to Preacher.

With this on his mind, he wanted to talk to his wife about it. “I’m going to step out for a while,” Jack said to Preacher. “You got the bar?”

“Got it,” he said.

Jack walked across the street to Doc’s where he found Mel and Doc playing gin at the kitchen table. Mel had a nice little stack of pennies sitting by her hand. When she saw him standing there, her blue eyes sparkled and she smiled at him. “When you’re done with the game, can you go for a ride with me?” he asked.

“Where?”

He shrugged. “Just for a ride. Me and you. The sun’s out for a change.”

“You can be done right now,” Doc said. “I haven’t had gin once.” He threw his cards down and stood up.