Guarding Her Heart (Guardians Inc. Book 1)

by Belle Calhoune

  “He's taking Tony to jail. I can't let him do that,” she shouted.

  “Sheriff, what's going on?” her father asked as he grabbed Marissa firmly by the wrist and pulled her to his side.

  “What your daughter is neglecting to tell you is that this...so-called brother of hers sent Marissa out last night at one o'clock in the morning to do his dirty work." He spit the words out in a fury. “He sent her to the Wharf to pay off his gambling debt. Alone.”

  A look of horror flashed onto their faces and Mrs. Santana cried out, “Tony! You wouldn't...how could you?”

  Matt leaned in so that his face was pressed up against Tony's face, eyeball to eyeball.

  “You almost got your sister killed. She saw a man get shot and killed last night. If that's not bad enough she was shot at, chased and attacked at the hospital by this person.”

  Tears filled Tony's eyes and his lips trembled as he looked towards Marissa and said, “I'm sorry sis. I should never have asked you to get involved.”

  Matt's lip curled up and he sneered at Tony. “You think? I know they say chivalry is dead, but you give a whole new meaning to that phrase.”

  “You can't make me feel any worse than I already do,” Tony cried as tears rolled down his cheeks.

  Matt has seen a lot of manipulators in his years on the force, but Tony Santana took the cake. Even now, he was working the sympathy angle and trying to get his family to take pity on him. He saw himself as the victim in all this, he realized, not Marissa. He shook his head with disgust, wishing that he could shake some sense into Tony before he managed to get someone killed.

  The sound of a police siren shattered the moment, and all eyes turned towards the squad car barreling down the street. Matt muttered softly as Evie careened into the driveway and then slammed on the brakes mere inches away from where they stood. He gritted his teeth and reminded himself to have a long sit-down with his deputy about her atrocious driving skills. He watched as Evie and Beau jumped from the squad car, each of them making a beeline for Tony. Beau scowled as Evie beat him to the punch and grabbed Tony by the cuffs. Not that she knew it, but Evie wasn't getting any romantic interest from Beau anytime soon. Evie was too competitive. He hated to admit it, but no man wanted to be shown up by a woman.

  When Marissa moved towards Tony her father grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. “You can't fight all his battles, baby. He's up to his neck in this, and he's got to face the music about his dealings with Ronnie. As the Bible says, let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

  Tears flowed down Marissa's face as she watched Tony carted away in Evie and Beau's squad car. Her parents agreed to follow behind in their own car and bail him out of jail. As he watched Marissa fall apart, Matt fought the urge to reach out and console her with a soft touch on her cheek or by placing his arm around her shoulder. He almost had to physically restrain himself from reaching out to her. Who was he kidding anyway? He'd just arrested her brother. He knew at this moment she probably hated him even more intensely than she ever had before.

  ***

  The first few minutes of the car ride to Cruz's house were filled with a thick tension. The low hum of the radio was the only source of sound as a famous singer belted out her bluesy ballad Summertime. Neither one of them had spoken a single word to the other since the deputies had taken Tony into custody. Marissa knew her body language spoke volumes. Her body was slightly turned away from Cruz and she hadn't spared him a single glance. She didn't think she could bear to look at him right now. He was so smug. So annoyingly sure of himself, she thought angrily.

  “I wish you hadn't done that,” she finally spit out.

  “What?” he snorted. “Tell the truth? Give your selfish big brother a dose of reality? Let him know what a cowardly thing he did?”

  Marissa's felt her lips trembling and she wrapped her arms around her mid-section. “My parents don't need to worry about me.”

  “Why not? Isn't that what parents do? Worry about their kids?”

  Marissa squirmed in her seat, feeling uncomfortable under his hot gaze. “They have enough on their plates as it is.”

  “I've seen people like Tony do their damage up close and personal. It isn’t pretty. Do you want him to continue being selfish and destructive, endangering the lives of people he claims to love?”

  She ducked her head down. She didn’t want to make eye contact with Sheriff Cruz. “I just don't want to make them choose.” Because they might not choose me.

  The thought ripped through her like a tidal wave, bringing with it all the insecurities she'd never managed to shed. As an adopted child she'd always had this desire to please her parents and never cause problems. Although her parents had given her all the love in the world, a small part of her remained convinced their hearts held more love for their biological child. She was the conditional child, the one who'd been born from another woman's womb, a child who didn't share the same bloodline as the rest of the family. She was the child someone else hadn't wanted. A throwaway.

  She could feel his eyes boring into her and she shifted her body slightly so that he couldn't see her emotions. He was looking at her as if he could see straight through her right into her soul. She didn't want him to see her fears, her vulnerabilities, her doubts. She was so used to wearing the mask, she realized. Little Miss Perfect. Miss Everything's all right. For so long she'd been playing the role of the happy go lucky businesswoman, when in reality she was crumbling on the inside. No, everything wasn't all right. She was falling apart at the seams.

  “Why? Cause you think they might choose Tony?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut to block the sudden onset of tears. How did he know? She wondered. Was she that obvious? That insecure?

  “I'm not their biological child. Tony is,” she said in a soft voice laced with tears.

  “So what?”

  “So what?” she answered defensively. “Loving him probably comes more naturally. My mom carried him in her womb. I didn't come to their home until I was five years old. I'm someone else's biological child.”

  “That's nonsense and you know it!” he said explosively.

  She reared back in her seat and shot him a look to kill the devil. “Excuse me! How dare you minimize my feelings. Unless you've walked in my shoes you don't know a single thing about my situation.”

  He wrenched the steering wheel and abruptly pulled the car over to the side of the road, narrowly avoiding a major pothole in the process. He placed the car in Park and turned towards her, his eyes full of disbelief. “How dare I? Really? Cause from where I'm standing you seem to have two of the best parents on this planet. I saw the way they rushed to your side, Marissa. I saw the love in their eyes. I heard it in their voices when they thanked me. Love is love. The love I just witnessed didn't seem to have any conditions on it. And as far as choosing, it seems to me that they already chose you the moment they brought you home.”

  She hung her head low, avoiding making eye contact with him. He'd shamed her, pure and simple. She knew her parents loved her just as much as Tony. She knew it with every fiber of her being. But sometimes there was something inside of her making her feel as if she wasn't a whole person. It was unsettling to go through your whole life without knowing anything about the people who'd given you life. Not having any information about her birth parents and the circumstances surrounding her adoption made her feel insecure. Unwanted. Try as she might, it wasn’t something she could shake off.

  Cruz was right, she realized. She needed to accept her adopted parents' love unconditionally and explore her own feelings to uncover why she felt unworthy of their love. It was dangerous and unfamiliar territory for her, but it had to be done.

  “You're right,” she acknowledged. “I couldn't be more loved by my parents.” She finally made eye contact with Cruz, a move she instantly regretted as she drank in the sheer beauty of his onyx colored eyes. It startled her to the point where she was forced to loo
k away.

  “I lost my mother when I was a teen and my father...well, let's just say he was never father of the year.”

  “Point taken,” she said in a soft voice, feeling humbled by Cruz's honesty.

  Within seconds they were back on the road, and driving towards the more rural part of town. After making their way down several narrow, dirt roads they pulled up at a beautiful log cabin home. After stepping from the car she took a moment to drink in the rustic charm of Sheriff Cruz's house while he busied himself collecting her luggage. If she wasn't mistaken, this property was a former ruin owned by an eccentric recluse in town. It was amazing what he'd done to restore the home from a wreck into a stylish home. As a realtor she was impressed by the sleek design of the cabin and the unique stonework by the front porch. The pebbled walkway added an element of grace to the masculine design of the home. Two over-sized Adirondack chairs in contrasting colors of red and orange sat on the porch, lending a vibrant air to the home.

  “What you've done is amazing,” she gushed as he walked towards her carrying her luggage. “I remember seeing this place a few years ago. Most buyers wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole.”

  “Thanks. I have a buddy who's a contractor and he came down from San Antonio to help me build this place. Lots of others like Caleb and Drew and Tanner helped out on weekends. Sometimes it takes a village to make things happen.”

  “Who's the architect?”

  The corners of his mouth twisted wryly as he said, “You're looking at him.”

  Marissa couldn't hide her surprised expression. She was certain it was written all over her face. It seemed that the Sheriff of Briarwood was way more talented than he let on. Crime fighter. Task master. Architect.

  A small chocolate lab came bounding over to them from the backyard, his excitement evident at seeing his master and a guest. After jumping on his owner he focused his energy on Marissa, yipping at her heels and running around her in circles.

  “Down, Bonkers. Sit,” he commanded with a hand gesture.

  Bonkers didn't seem interested in following any of his owner's commands. The puppy was having a field day making her acquaintance as he alternated between sniffing and licking her.

  “Bonkers,” she said with an easy laugh. “I wonder where that name came from.”

  “It's a perfect name for him because he's a maniac,” he explained as he lifted the puppy into his arms and let him slobber him with kisses. With Bonkers in one hand and her luggage in the other, he climbed the porch steps and motioned for her to follow him into the house.

  The interior of Cruz's house was warm and inviting. He'd painted his walls in Earth tones – the living room was a bright splash of clay, the kitchen was a warm sand and the dining room was a rich sage. Although it was modestly decorated, she could tell that he'd taken great pains to create an atmosphere of tranquility and comfort. Native American artwork hung on the wall, bold and powerful paintings with great broad strokes of color. They added a unique aspect to the log cabin.

  “These are beautiful,” she said “Who's the artist?”

  “My sister.”

  Sister? She'd had no idea he even had a sister. He always came across as a lone wolf, a person who walked alone in the world. She shot him a questioning look.

  “Her name is Ruby. She lives on the reservation. She's my half-sister, although I hate to make that distinction. There's really no half about it.”

  Pine Creek Reservation. Years ago she'd visited the reservation for a field trip with her fifth grade class. She remembered the air of heavy disappointment within the school bus as the children realized they wouldn't be seeing any tee pees or scalped heads. Instead they'd met jewelry makers, faith healers, farmers and weavers. And they'd seen the abject poverty of the reservation up close and personal. It was an experience she'd never forgotten. Although she was curious about his sister's life on the reservation, his shuttered face let her know he wasn't entertaining any questions about his personal life.

  After showing her to the upstairs guest bedroom where she'd be staying, he pointed out the amenities of the room. “There's a chest of drawers and an armoire where you can store your clothes. There's a closet over there and an adjoining bathroom. Don't open the windows under any circumstances. We don't want to give anyone an open invitation to come in.”

  “Thanks. It looks comfortable,” she said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by how quickly her life had turned upside down. Was she really at Sheriff Cruz's house preparing to live in his guest bedroom?

  “If you're hungry I can make some burgers while you settle in.”

  “I'm starved,” she admitted. “I haven't eaten since last night.”

  He turned to leave the bedroom, his steps faltering as he turned back towards her and said, “We're going to have to talk about the shooter. I know you said it's all a blur, but once you get some rest, maybe it'll all come back to you. We have a great sketch artist that we use. She'll work with you to flesh out the details. No pressure.”

  She nodded her head. “Ok. But I still don't remember his face. I know it's odd, but I don't. Doc thinks it might be post-traumatic stress,” she said with an embarrassed shrug. “I know someone wants me dead,” she said as she fingered the bruises around her neck, “and it scares the heck out of me because I don't know who it is.”

  His expression became fiercer as she spoke, and she watched him clench and unclench his jaw, his bold features looking almost savage with his intensity.

  “You don't need to be afraid. Because whoever he is, he's going to have to go through me to get to you. I'm not about to let anything happen to you.”

  As he walked out of the room, she let out the deep sigh she'd been holding. It hadn't been easy admitting to him she was scared. He wasn't exactly a teddy bear. And she was scared. Terrified. Someone wanted her dead. She'd witnessed a murder. Her whole life had been turned upside in less than twenty-four hours because of her brother's shady dealings. Maybe Daddy was right about Tony having to finally deal with his reckless lifestyle. But at the moment she was the one who was caught up in the madness. Although Tony was in police custody, he wasn't the focus of a killer's wrath. She was the one who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time and was dearly paying the price for it.

  She had to admit it. Sheriff Cruz made her feel safe. Being safeguarded by him wasn't a total waste of time, she realized. Someone out there was a killer, and even though she'd blocked out the memory, she'd seen the killer's face. And he knew it! She shivered as a cool chill swept through her body at the memory of Ronnie's death. She remembered sitting in the car and dozing off as she waited for Ronnie. She'd heard something then...a popping sound. A gunshot? Then there was nothing but darkness, as if a black sheet had been placed over the entire scene.

  She took a moment to admire the room she'd be staying in while she was under the protection of the Sheriff. Continuing with his theme of Earth tones, the walls were painted a pretty blush color, nicely complementing the baby blue comforter and the cream throw pillows gracing the Queen sized bed. The room looked pretty stark, and she had the strangest feeling it hadn't seen many visitors. She walked towards the bathroom door and turned the crystal doorknob. As she pushed open the door rays of sunshine poured into the room. The room was painted a soft buttercup yellow and had a dainty, feminine appeal. She wondered idly who had inspired the guest quarters. A woman, no doubt, she imagined. Everything about this room seemed to contradict Cruz's masculine vibe.

  When she laid eyes on the antique claw-foot tub she thought she'd died and gone to heaven. It was a masterpiece, she thought dreamily. She trailed her fingers along the top of the tub, admiring the grace and elegance of the marble. Where on Earth had he found this treasure? As a lover of antiques she was constantly going to estate sales in the hopes of finding a tub like the one Cruz owned. She smiled at the thought of sitting in that tub and luxuriating while sipping a wine cooler and listening to her favorite jazz CD. It would be incredibly relaxing! She imagined herself lyin
g in the tub surrounded by bubbles and soothing music with strong, bronze hands massaging her neck. An image of Cruz giving her a tender kiss popped into her mind, and she blinked several times to rid herself of the image. Where had that thought come from? Dear Lord. Please save me from any further thoughts like this one. I must be losing it.

  “Get it together, Marissa. Just because he's easy on eyes is no reason to have thoughts about the man kissing you.”

  The scent of burgers sent her out of the guest room and heading towards the kitchen. Cruz stood by the stove with his back to her, his dark hair swinging as he cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder while flipping burgers in the frying pan.

  “Tell the parents to go home. He's not making bail tonight.” He paused as he listened to the other end of the conversation, managing to scoop the burgers out of the pan and flip them onto their buns.

  “Keep him overnight, Beau. Pull him of his cell every hour on the hour for interrogation. Give him water and nothing but. By the time morning comes he'll be singing like a bird about Ronnie. We need to act on this fast and get him talking.”

  She must've let out a small sound because he turned in her direction with a look of surprise in his eyes. She watched him disconnect from the call and place his cell phone in his pocket. He turned towards her, his face devoid of expression as he said, “You probably heard all that, but in case you didn't - your brother's being held overnight in jail,” he said simply, his eyes never wavering from her gaze.

  Overnight? Tony was being held in a tight, four by four jail cell with no windows or way out? Her brother was severely claustrophobic and had panic attacks whenever he was placed in small spaces. Being placed in a jail cell would make him stir-crazy, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. A feeling of rage overtook her as she imagined her brother falling apart in a tiny box meant for thugs and killers. She clenched her fists at her side, slamming her eyes shut so that she wouldn't have to see the smug, self-righteous lawman standing before her. Didn’t he have a shred of compassion?