Savior (First to Fight Book 4)

by Nicole Blanchard

  The past can’t touch me here.

  Logan

  My phone rings just as I’m pulling in the driveway. I answer it with a weary, “Blackwell,” without looking at the caller I.D.

  “You sound tired,” Aunt Diane says without preamble.

  “Probably because I am.” I turn away from the speaker when I can’t suppress a yawn. All I want is a shower, my recliner, and a good action movie to turn off my brain. I could also use a beer so bad my hands nearly shake with the need.

  “I wouldn’t call if I didn’t have to,” she says.

  I hold back a groan as I watch my evening of relaxation circle the drain. “It’s okay, I’m just pulling up the drive. Do you need me to come by?”

  “I take back all the unpleasant thoughts I’ve had about you. You’re a good boy.” I refrain from pointing out this boy is on the dark side of twenty. “Sienna called this morning to let us know the air conditioner is out in her unit. I tried to call the repairman, but he said he wouldn’t be able to get it until next week! I can’t let that poor girl die of a heat stroke!”

  The temperature gauge on my dash says the temp is a cool seventy degrees, but I bite my tongue. Mostly because arguing with women, and Aunt Diane in particular, is futile. “I’ll stop by and see what I can do.”

  “Just don’t pester her,” she reminds. “Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you,” I say wearily.

  I end the call and put my truck in park. All the lights in her house are on and most of the shades are up, allowing me to see right into her living room.

  I’ve gotten into a sick, sad habit of just watching her. Though, it’s hard not to when the girl has every light on all the time and every blind in her house open. It’s practically an invitation. At first, it was out of habit and concern for Aunt Diane and Grandma Rose just hiring a stranger, even if she’s Chloe’s friend. When the most exciting thing she did was read books after work, I realized there has to be another reason why I always look to her window before I go to sleep.

  Through the living room window, I find her curled on the couch, an empty plate on the coffee table in front of her and a half-full glass of wine to her side. She’s reading again, though this time from a tablet she has propped on her knees. She’s not very big to begin with, but in her curled up position, she looks tiny.

  I turn away and open the door to my truck, shoving away all thoughts of what it would be like to curl up next to her. I’m going to go in, fix her air conditioning, and get out. Then I’ll take that shower, only now I think I’ll need to make it a cold one. I know she hears me walking up the porch steps, her whole body tenses, but she doesn’t look up until after I knock.

  “Logan,” she says as she stands and moves to the other side of the screen door. She doesn’t open it.

  “Aunt Diane said you were having trouble with the air conditioner.” Impatience roughens my voice.

  Her lips purse, and she crosses her arms over my chest. “I’m fine,” she says. “There’s supposed to be someone coming by—”

  “You’re cracked if you think my aunt will let you go a week without air and heat, especially with colder weather just around the corner. Let me in, I’ll fix it, and then I’ll leave. It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes.”

  An internal struggle wages across her face, and I wonder if she knows how transparent her expressions are. Frustration, anger, impatience all give way to acceptance. Finally, she takes a step back and allows me inside.

  She’s barely been here a month, and already she’s put her stamp on the inside. Even if I could turn the cop off inside me, I’d still be able to get a sense of her from the house alone. It’s neat, almost meticulously so. When I close the door behind me, my eyes land on the top-of-the-line deadbolt and security chain. Those sure as hell didn’t come standard with the place. I had no doubt it would be the same for the back door. The shades are open, but a quick glance confirms all the windows are locked tight.

  “It’s just through the back,” she says and I follow her down a dimly lit hallway to the small kitchen identical to my own. Even the light in the small bathroom is turned on.

  “I’ll let you know if I need anything,” I say as I unlock the door, smiling because I had been right about the lock situation, and head out to the back porch.

  She flips on security lights—new—and they illuminate the entire backyard all the way to the tree line. Shaking my head, I get down to my knees and inspect the unit. Her footsteps retreat into the house, but I know she’ll be watching. Something tells me people being in her space makes her nervous. I can’t help but wonder why that is.

  The air conditioner turns out to be an easy fix and I’m done within the quarter hour like I told her. She’s waiting for me in the kitchen when I walk in. Her hands are free and loose by her sides, but she’s still radiating a nervous energy.

  “You should be good to go,” I say. “Your condensation drain was clogged. Just had to shop vac it out.”

  She blinks her big blue eyes up at me. “That was fast,” she says after a few seconds.

  I shrug, nodding to the roasting pan sitting on her stove. “What is that?”

  “Dinner.” When I don’t move, she adds. “I had a pot roast on today while I was at work.”

  “Smells good.”

  She glances at me and then at the door, and I can tell she’s struggling with telling me she wants me to leave, which only makes me want to stay. “I can make you some to take home,” she finally offers. “As a thank you. I know you just got off work. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

  I gesture dismissively. “Not your fault. I help Aunt Diane out on occasion when I can. And I’d appreciate some pot roast. I was going to get down on my knees and beg, but you saved me the trouble.”

  Laughter dances in her eyes for a second, and all I want to do is make her laugh again to see her face brighten with it. “I wouldn’t want to make you beg.”

  “Thank you, I’d appreciate it.”

  While she pulls out a Tupperware, I get my first close up study of her since she started making it a point to avoid me. Her frame is deceptively slight. Since she’s moved in, I’ve watched her moving around furniture at all hours, so I know she’s stronger than she looks. She tries to hide behind simple, dull colors and faded clothes, but her face is striking, her intelligent eyes too alluring to be forgotten.

  I’m admiring the shape of her legs and the jeans that are almost painted on when I notice a familiar shape beneath her thick cardigan. My brows pull together as the two thoughts collide. First, that her ass is altogether too good to be true, and second that she’s packing another dangerous weapon under those clothes.

  The sight reminds me of the conversation she had with the suit on her porch and renews my interest. What is she doing carrying a gun?

  I barely have time to control my expression before she turns back to me and holds out the container. I take it automatically, noting her own tense look.

  “Thanks for coming by so late.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I don’t want to make her uncomfortable or cause her to clam up, so I walk to the front door, considering my options. She opens it for me, and I walk through. I don’t know what happened to this girl, but it’s obvious that something did. The locks, the lights, the gun . . . my gut twists at the possibilities. Suddenly, the last thing I want to do is make her feel uncomfortable, but I have to know . . .

  “I got a few things to say and the way I figure it, you’ve got a couple options.”

  She licks her lips. “Oh?”

  “You can either tell me to go to hell and slam the door in my face, or you can hear me out.” Before she can speak, I raise my hand. “Before you slam that door, let me elaborate. The only two people I care in the world are giving to a fault. They’re the type who’d give the coat off their back and so on.”

  Eyeing me warily, she says, “Yes, I’m aware.”

  “Good, then you know that there are people in this wor
ld who take advantage of kindness like that.”

  “And you think I’m one of them?”

  “I’d like to think not, but in my line of work it pays to be cautious and when it comes to them, I’m probably overly cautious.”

  “If you think I’m going to object, you’re wrong. Look, I realize you don’t know me, and maybe we got off on the wrong foot, but I do understand the concept of protecting your family.”

  “Then I hope you’ll understand when I ask outright if there’s anything I should be worried about when it comes to you.”

  Her eyes flash, but she doesn’t slam the door in my face. “There are reasons why I like to maintain my privacy, but no, there’s nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Bullshit,” I say without preamble.

  She blinks. “I’m sorry?”

  “I said, ‘bullshit’.”

  “I think it’s time for you to go now,” she says and starts to close the door. When I stop it with my foot, she sends me a fierce look. “You really need to stop.”

  “I want to know what you’re hiding and don’t give me any of that bullshit. There’s a reason why a woman carries a gun on her. If you’re in trouble, I can help you.”

  “Am I doing something illegal?” she asks with forced calm.

  “Are you running from something?”

  “Isn’t everyone?” she counters smoothly. “Besides, you should know better than anyone that there’s evil in this world. I’m a single woman in a new place. Why wouldn’t I protect myself?” Before I can say anything else, she says, “I am no threat for your family, Logan. I just came here for peace and quiet, and I have a right to do so. Now, if there’s nothing else you need, I’d like for you to go now.”

  “You’d tell me if you were in any trouble, right?” Even as I ask, I already know the answer.

  She takes a step back, and I wonder if she’s distancing herself from me or from the question. “There’s no need for you to come and rescue me. I’m not a damsel in need of saving.”

  Realizing I won’t get any further with her tonight, I move my foot and she closes the screen door between us. “Well, we both know I’m hardly chivalrous.”

  The cell on my belt interrupts her response and she closes her mouth.

  “Blackwell,” I say to the caller.

  Our dispatcher Eileen answers, her voice brusque and efficient. “261A at Lawson’s Park. Victim is responsive. Suspect left on foot and may still be in the area.”

  “Be there in ten.”

  I look to Sienna, whose face has gone white. “Go,” she says. “Hurry.”

  I don’t ask how she knew it was a serious call, or why she looked like she’d seen death because there isn’t any time. I make a mental reminder to check back in on her as I dive into my truck and spin out of the driveway.

  On the way, I get additional details from Eileen. According to the victim, the suspect has already left the scene and emergency medical services are en route. All fatigue drains away as adrenaline spurts into my blood. Sirens flashing, I speed through what little traffic there is at this time of night and make it to the park in five minutes flat. My thumb drums against the wheel as I scan the nearby sidewalks for the victim, finally spotting her sitting on the curb half hidden in shadows.

  I throw the gear into park and surge from the truck. The woman is pretty and can’t be older than twenty, but when she sees me, she seems to shrink into herself—the movement making her look younger. I pause and makes sure to keep my hands loose by my side.

  “I’m Officer Blackwell with the Nassau County Sheriff’s Department. I’m going to reach for my badge.” When she doesn’t object, I move slowly to my back pocket and pull it out for her to see. “What’s your name?”

  Her wide eyes don’t seem to take in anything I’m saying, but when I hazard a step forward, she doesn’t back away. I take another.

  “Are you hurt?” I say softly. “Do you need medical attention?”

  When I’m within touching distance, her eyes focus on me, and she whispers, “F-Faith Gallagher,” in a broken voice.

  “Faith, I’m here to help you. You’re safe now.”

  After a few moments she steps to me, and wrap my arm around her to lead her to the tailgate of my truck. I lower it so she has a place to sit and then quickly grab a blanket I keep in the cab. She’s shivering when I wrap it around her, and I scan the surrounding streets for any sign of the ambulance. The girl is going into shock. I speak words of comfort as the adrenaline gives way to shock. I tell her everything is going to be okay.

  What’s more important is what I don’t say.

  I don’t tell her the nightmare is just beginning.

  Piper

  After Logan leaves, I can’t seem to find a comfortable position to sleep. I twist and turn until four a.m. before I finally give up on sleep and move to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Might as well get the day started if my brain won’t shut off. Anything will be better than positing different scenarios with the one man I should be avoiding.

  I fill up the water reservoir and select my single serving of chai latte. As it percolates, curiosity gets the better of me, and I peer through the window over my sink that looks into Logan’s kitchen, a mirror image of mine. The windows are dark and his driveway is still empty. I don’t want to admit it to myself, but I couldn’t go to sleep because he hadn’t come back. I wanted to hear the growl of his truck or the roar of his motorcycle coming down the drive to let me know he’s okay.

  After he left, fear clenched my belly so tight that I had to sit under the scalding spray in the shower until the water ran cold to get myself to calm down. I shouldn’t have listened, but I couldn’t help but overhear the attempted rape call and be thrown back into my own living nightmares.

  I distract myself by belting a robe and stepping out into the cool morning. I’d started a small vegetable garden off my back porch, something I’d always dreamed of doing. Tending it, according to one of the many therapists I was forced to talk to, encouraging the little sprouts to grow is supposed to help me process the losses I’d experienced. I thought he was full of shit, but nothing else has worked and a couple plants won’t take much time.

  So one of the first things I did after I got settled and received my first paycheck was borrow Diane’s car to go to the local hardware store chain to pick up seeds. After consulting with a gardening associate, I settled on broccoli, cauliflower, lettuce, carrots, and spinach for a nice fall garden. If I am still wracked with loss at the end of it, at least I’d have a salad to drown my sorrows.

  When he still hasn’t returned by the time I’ve polished off my chai latte and weeded the garden, my worry is replaced by irritation—at myself. I have no interest in indulging Logan’s curiosity about me or my past. I have no interest in indulging Logan in any capacity whatsoever, so my concern about his well-being is useless.

  I have no desire to become entangled with a man, emotionally or otherwise and something tells me Logan is all about the entanglements.

  Brushing off the dirt from the hem of my robe as though I can brush thoughts of him off just as easily, I get to my feet and head back inside to change and get ready for work. I resolve to keep my routine. It’ll be the best way to keep from inciting his own natural curiosity. Once he realizes I’m no threat to his family, he’ll lose interest, and I’ll go back to being invisible, which suits me just fine.

  Unfortunately, Diane and Rose don’t agree with my plan, and they pounce the moment I step through the door.

  Diane plies me with another desperately needed cup of coffee first. “You look like you could use this,” she says and hands me the steaming mug.

  “Thank you.”

  “Logan came over, didn’t he?” She asks, a little too innocently. “To fix the AC?”

  I sip my coffee, considering my answer. I feel like I’m trapped in a sea of quicksand and taking the wrong step will mean a slow excruciating death. “Yes,” is all I offer.

  “Good.” Dia
ne pats my arm. “That’s real good. He’s a sweet boy, our Logan.” She makes a face. “Well, when he puts his mind to it. He didn’t say anything out of line, did he?”

  It almost makes me smile. She knows her nephew very well and obviously cares for him a great deal. “No, he was very nice.”

  That seems to give her pause. “Nice. Hmm. Yes, well. I hope you had a chance to talk with him. There seems to be some tension between you two.”

  I sip my coffee again. Is it so obvious? “Everything is fine. We did talk for a bit before he had to go.”

  Diane straightens. “Go?”

  “He had to take a call. I gather it was urgent.” Coffee finished, I rinse the mug and set it in the dishwasher. Diane harrumphs behind me, and I hide a smile. Wanting to change the subject, I say, “I was thinking about getting a dog, and I wanted to check to see what your policy is on pets in the cabins.”

  “A dog?” Diane slaps a rag on the counter.

  Lifting my shoulders, I round the bar intending to head to the hall to grab my cleaning supplies. Over my shoulder, I say, “To protect me from your nephew.”

  That surprises a laugh out of the two women. Diane grins. “Have one in mind?”

  “Not yet, I haven’t really had the chance to look around yet. My new boss likes to keep me busy.”

  Diane grabs a pen and paper from the organized area underneath a landline. “Here. This is the number for the pound. Next time you get a day off, you should go by. There’s always a good stray in need of a home.”

  I pocket the paper and send her a grateful smile. “I take it I can have one in the house?”

  She just laughs. “Honey, if you haven’t learned it of me yet, you soon will. I can’t say no to a soul in need. You haven’t said it yet, but you look like you could use some kindness.”

  Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I say, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  The bell at the front desk rings, and she rubs my arm as she moves around me. “No thanks needed, child. It was worth it to see the look on your face.”

  “Do you need a pet deposit or something?” I call out to her almost as an afterthought.