It wasn’t until Anya got home that afternoon that she got a chance to mull over her conversation with the man who called himself Rafe. He hadn’t even told her his last name yet he’d had the audacity to think she would go out with him.
She was grateful that he’d rescued Hans and she’d told him that. Many times. Apparently, he didn’t think that was enough. He’d actually asked her – no, told her – to go out with him. And then he’d gone and made that crude remark. Such a turn-off.
Still peeved at his comment, she slammed the pot down onto the burner, making the nearby teacups rattle. Maybe she was overreacting, maybe what he’d said wasn’t all that bad, or maybe…she paused and gazed out the window…maybe she’d responded so coldly because her heart had done a funny thing at the sound of his voice. For some strange reason it picked up pace, almost as if she were glad he’d called. But that could not be true. He was nothing to her, nothing but a kind stranger. And so she’d remained aloof. It was the proper thing to do.
But then as her gaze fell on the blossoming cherry tree in the garden below her mind took her back to the previous afternoon and the image of the helpful stranger filled her mind. At first she’d been too preoccupied with Hans to pay much attention but once she’d reassured herself that the child was fine she’d looked up and found herself gazing into golden eyes that glinted in the sunlight, eyes that reminded her of the flickering flames of a fire.
He was handsome, this stranger, with his wide forehead, square jaw and those intense eyes of his. She liked the way he stood tall and she liked the way he looked, with his broad shoulders, his slender but muscular frame and the sexy curve to his legs that reminded her of the cowboys in the old movies of the wild west.
The thing that really got her attention, though, was his soot-black hair which he’d pulled back in a short ponytail tied at the back of his head with a cord made of leather. She’d seen it when he was holding the kicking boy. The way he wore his hair made him look very much the rebel. And everyone knew the best thing to do was to stay far away from rebels.
And with that thought Anya shook her head, a smile of regret on her lips. Her thoughts of Rafe had been nice while they’d lasted but that was where they would have to end. She would probably never see him or hear from him again and, as depressing as that thought was, that was as it should be. From here on she would do her best never to think about that man again.
Two hours later Anya was pulling on her sweatpants, getting ready to head out to the class she held for seniors, when there was a knock at her door. Quickly, she pulled up the pants then, still shoeless, she padded out of her room and down the hallway toward the front door. It wasn’t a big house, only a tiny bungalow she’d inherited from her great aunt, so she didn’t have far to walk.
She pulled the door open to find her neighbor standing on the porch, her hand on the handle of a vacuum cleaner. “Danke schon, Anya,” she said with a smile full of gratitude. “I’m sorry I had to impose on you but I didn’t want Karl to come home and find the house a mess.”
“It’s no problem, Helga. You couldn’t have known your vacuum cleaner would suddenly die on you. It was my pleasure.” Smiling, Anya took the handle that the woman was tilting toward her and pulled the vacuum cleaner into the hallway.
“I’ll ask Karl to get mine fixed tomorrow,” Helga said, her tone still apologetic. “Thank you again, Anya. I know you’re rushing out so I won’t keep you.”
Her neighbor seemed to be in a hurry this evening and that, Anya knew by now, was a cause for concern. “Just a second,” she said, reaching out to catch Helga’s hand. Slowly, she turned the woman back to face her. And that was when she saw it. As she’d suspected, Helga was sporting another bruise.
Releasing the woman’s hand, she folded her arms across her chest, feeling the anger beginning to bubble inside. “What did he do this time?”
“Nothing. I swear. This was all my fault.” Self consciously, she lifted her hand to the purple bruise by her left temple. She’d kept it hidden by tilting her head while she spoke to Anya, letting her hair fall over it. Now, though, she’d been forced to face front and there was nothing she could have done to conceal her injury, nothing short of tying a scarf around her head. Clearly, she knew that would have been way too obvious. “I opened the cupboard door and then forgot.” She gave a nervous giggle. “Would you believe, I turned and bumped into it?”
Anya almost gave a snort of disgust but she held it in. Of course, she didn’t believe a word of Helga’s story. Karl Gruber was a known abuser and any bruise that showed up on his wife had most likely been put there by him.
And Anya was sick of it. “Helga, I’m going to say this one last time. Either you report Karl to the police or I will.”
“Now, Anya. You know I don’t want you getting involved. I’ll handle it.” Helga was beginning to look flustered, almost angry.
“Like you’ve handled it every time it’s happened?” Anya shook her head. “Step aside. I’m going to have a talk with that husband of yours.”
Helga sucked in her breath. “Don’t you dare, Anya Petersen. You just stay out of my business.” With that she whirled around and marched down the steps and down the pathway, walking fast and not looking back.
Anya could only stare after her. Finally, shaking her head, she stepped inside and closed the door, her thoughts steaming with anger and frustration.
There was nothing she would like more than to beat Herr Gruber into the dust. And one day, if Helga would let her, she would.
CHAPTER THREE
“Woohoo! Now that’s what I call spiffy.” Lion was grinning from ear to ear.
Rafe totally ignored him, peering into the mirror as he straightened his tie. If Lion wanted to play the fool that was his business.
“Where’d you get that suit?” Khalil asked as he followed Lion into Rafe’s motel room. “You didn’t have that tucked away in your backpack, did you?”
“Nope,” Rafe said, pulling back from the mirror and flexing his shoulders. “Rented it. I need to look good today. Decent.”
“Dress to impress, that’s what they say.” Lion was looking him up and down like he was appraising a prize bull. “And today you’re going to impress. Trust me.”