A Time to Protect

by Lois Richer

  “But that doesn’t change anything,” she whispered in wonder. “Even when I didn’t believe, You were still there.” Was that why the Montgomerys were so sure—because they knew this? “Can I trust You?” she asked.

  A small red dot appeared on the floor and moved slowly to the left. A reflection? Chloe bent to trace its path, bumped the cedar rail and toppled backward just as a loud blast shattered the night.

  “Gunshot!” one of the guards yelled.

  Chloe huddled against a post, massaged her sore ankle. Another sound, the same as before, cracked through the night.

  Someone was shooting a gun—at her?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brendan burst onto the porch, his throat clogging with fear.

  “Chloe?” he hollered, hearing the fright in his own voice and not caring that she would hear it, too. “Where are you, Chloe?”

  “Here. I’m okay. I sprained my ankle.”

  “Is that all?” Relief flooded his soul. “Inside. Now.” Using his body as a shield, he urged her up and inside. “Stay put. Promise me?”

  She nodded, blinked when he issued a host of rapid-fire orders before he pulled a gun from an ankle holster and disappeared out the door. A few moments later he came back and sagged against the wall while he regained his breath. “The others will handle it.”

  “Are you all right, dear?” He saw his mother reach for Chloe’s hands, then she stopped and stared. “You’re hurt!”

  Brendan’s heart felt like it had stopped when he saw the blood on her fingers. He pushed away from the wall, took two steps toward her.

  Chloe glanced down. “My ankle hurts,” she whispered in the dazed tone that spoke of shock.

  “Sit down. Let me look.” Brendan helped her into a chair, drew up her pant leg. He exchanged a look with his mother, who immediately began shooing everyone from the kitchen.

  “Go and watch the rest of the video,” she insisted. “Chloe’s fine, just a little shook up. Kyle, take this bowl of popcorn. Madison, you take this pitcher of tea. I spent a lot of time putting together that history of Brendan’s life and no one is going to miss it. It’s his gift from me.”

  “Mom?”

  “I’m perfectly fine, honey.” Chloe sounded anything but fine. “Do as Mrs. Montgomery says, Kyle. You, too, Maddy.” Chloe mustered a smile for her children, who finally obeyed Fiona and left the room.

  Once they were gone, Fiona returned to stare at the bleeding wound. “What did this, son?”

  “I’m guessing a bullet.” Brendan dampened a tea towel and pressed it against the area, which had now begun to throb. “I’ve got to stop the bleeding.”

  “There was this little red mark,” Chloe explained. “I was following it and I stumbled against that big oak stump table. I thought I’d sprained my ankle.”

  “Get the first-aid kit, Mom. I’ll need some gauze. Maybe you should put on the kettle, too. I think Chloe could use a cup of sweetened tea.” Once the area was clean he worked quickly, methodically wrapping the damaged flesh. It would do until they made a trip to the hospital.

  “No sugar. I’m not in shock. I’m perfectly fine.” Chloe stared at him, her eyes wide, unfocused. “God was watching out for me,” she whispered. “I prayed and He protected me.”

  “He sure did.” Having finished his medical treatment, yet loathe to stop touching the warm silken skin which could have been so cold if that killer had succeeded, Brendan forced himself to rise. “You stay put and keep the weight off it. I’ll check with the others then we’ll get you to a hospital.”

  “I’m a nurse, Brendan. I don’t need a doctor. It’s just a scratch.”

  “I’m in charge and I say you need a doctor, Chloe. This is not open for discussion.” Brendan slipped out the door before she could protest and heard his mother tell her to drink something. Closing his eyes, he drew huge gulps of air into his starved lungs and told himself to get a grip.

  “I’m no expert, but I’d say you have it bad, little brother.” Quinn smirked, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Not that that’s a bad thing.”

  “Don’t even go there. I’m supposed to be protecting her, though at the moment it looks like I’m doing a lousy job.” Brendan clenched his fists. He’d left her alone. Only for a moment maybe, but long enough for someone to take a shot that could have killed her. He’d failed. The knowledge stung.

  “Protecting her doesn’t mean you can’t also fall in love with her. And I think you’re doing a great job of caring for that family.” Quinn paused, sat down on one of the chairs. “That mark she saw—”

  “A laser sight. I know.” Brendan sighed.

  “What I don’t understand is why the shooter didn’t start blasting away before this. He must have had chances, yet he keeps using these cloak-and-dagger tactics.” Quinn frowned as he spoke, his gaze on the forest in front of them. “He’s got to be one determined fellow to break through that bush out there. Why go to such extremes?”

  “He’s trying to pick her off.” Brendan saw Quinn’s eyebrow rise and nodded. “The bush makes his escape cleaner. Nobody sees him, notices anything. He doesn’t want an incident, he just wants Chloe to go away. I think he would have preferred an accident. We’re going to have to work doubly hard to keep her safe now.”

  “Because?”

  “Because El Jefe or whoever is behind the recent import of drugs into this area needs the mayor out of the way and this Redding is the guy hired to do it.” Brendan leaned against the railing. “Think about it, Quinn. The mayor’s been in a coma since he was shot. The shooter was faceless, until Chloe interfered. He still wants the mayor, but he needs Chloe in case she can identify him.”

  “And you think…what do you think?” Quinn asked.

  “I think it’s about more than the mayor, or Chloe. I think all of it ties into the drug cartel we worked so hard to get rid of last year. I’m thinking someone is trying to start it up again, someone who knows exactly how things work. Someone who would find it relatively easy to get their drugs moving again. You’ve heard the talk around town.”

  “That the mayor’s too strict? That the drug cartel is gone and we don’t have to worry anymore? Yeah, I’ve heard it.” Quinn stood as one of the agents approached. “Looks like they found something.”

  His comment drew Brendan’s attention to the piece of paper in Fergus’s hand. “What is that?”

  “A map showing specific directions to this location. It’s handwritten—on hotel stationary.” He handed over the plastic-wrapped item for Brendan to look at. “Guess he made a mistake.”

  “And finally gave us a lead?” Brendan shook his head. “More likely it’s a red herring. The guy isn’t dumb.”

  “He might be desperate, though.” Quinn pointed to the name. “You have a picture of what this guy looks like, so why not send someone to check with the hotel desk?”

  Brendan nodded. “We will.” He handed it back to Fergus. “Get it to the office, have them analyze it while somebody checks out the hotel.” Brendan glanced around, impatience chewing a hole in his usual calm. “Do we have an all-clear yet? I’ve got to get Mrs. Tanner to the hospital.”

  “You’ll have to make that call. Whoever it was is long gone.”

  “How?” Quinn waved a hand. “He had to be on foot because I sure didn’t hear any engine noise—nothing but a helicopter could get through.”

  “Maybe, but it’s too dark for us to safely keep looking. We don’t want to endanger anyone.” Fergus glanced at his watch. “We could get Dorne to send someone back in daylight, see what’s out there.”

  “Okay. Leave one man just in case. The rest of us are packing up. We’re going to the hospital.” Brendan pulled open the door, met his mother’s stare. “I want a doctor to look at Chloe. I’m sorry but we’ll have to leave. Thanks for doing this. I appreciate it. I just wish I hadn’t ruined it.”

  “Oh, don’t fuss with me. Get this family home where they belong.” Fiona leaned down to kiss Chloe’s cheek. “
You take care, dear.” She turned to Brendan. “Happy birthday, son.” She hugged him quickly then went to fetch Madison and Kyle. Less than ten minutes passed before they were on the road, heading for the hospital.

  “You’d think that the one night I don’t have to work, I could stay away from that place,” Chloe quipped, making a face at his sour look. “I’m just sorry I ruined your birthday, Brendan. So many people managed to keep it a secret and I messed up.”

  “Don’t fuss with me, young lady,” he ordered in mock severity.

  “You sound like your mother,” Madison giggled.

  “Not that!” he pleaded as he turned into the emergency area. “Anything but that,” he begged in an aggrieved tone. The kids laughed hard and long, and he found himself enjoying the release of tension.

  It took only a few minutes to get Chloe into an examining room. Darcy and Fergus remained with the children outside.

  “What is going on here? I demand to know why these children are playing a game in the hall.” Sylvester burst into the room, his thin face carved into angry lines. “Mrs. Tanner, what is going on?”

  “She’s having a bullet wound treated,” the doctor on duty told him. “And we’d prefer some privacy. Do you mind?”

  “Bullet wound?” Shock registered. His pompous look turned to fear. “Do you mean to say someone actually shot at you?”

  Chloe nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Why?”

  “We believe the person who tried to kill Mayor Vance is also after Mrs. Tanner.” Brendan stood tall, unmoving. “Tonight they got a little too close.”

  “This will not do. What if they came here? We cannot have this kind of thing happening at Vance Memorial. Certainly not.” Sylvester paced back and forth. “This will have to end.” He moved in front of Chloe. “As of now you may consider yourself on indefinite leave. The hospital cannot endanger its other patients by having you on the premises, a target for bullets. When the whole matter has been settled to the satisfaction of the FBI we can talk about reinstatement.”

  “You can’t lay me off because of some madman!” Chloe wiggled off the table, wincing when her foot hit the floor. “It’s illegal. I have to work. How will I provide for my family?”

  “That’s not my responsibility.” After a quick glance at Brendan, Sylvester Grange turned and left, his heels clicking down the tile floor.

  “Stuffed shirt,” the doctor said in a muted voice as he finished bandaging her ankle. “I wish he’d get fired and give us all a break. In any case I want you off this for several days, Chloe. It will heal faster.”

  “Thank you.” She remained silent during the ride home and accepted Brendan’s help into the house as far as the kitchen table, watching without comment when he sent the kids to play a board game upstairs. “Now what?”

  “You should probably get some rest.”

  She made a face at him. “Okay, Special Agent Montgomery, how do we stop this guy?” Her voice was low and tight with tension.

  “It doesn’t stop, Chloe. Not until he’s caught. Until then we are going to be very, very careful.” Without asking he put the kettle on, found some teabags and made a pot of fragrant mint tea. “You’re going to be off work so that should make it a little easier.”

  “Easier?” Her heart sunk to her feet. “I’ve got Christmas to plan for, Brendan. The kids deserve a great Christmas and I want to give it to them. But how can I do that if I’m stuck here every day with no income?”

  “You’ll have an income. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “It’s not just the money,” she told him, the lines at the sides of her eyes crinkling. “I’ll need to go shopping, go to Madison’s holiday concert at school. Kyle’s been telling me about a special program the youth are performing in—I can’t miss all of that.”

  “Chloe, it’s—”

  “You don’t understand. Maddy and Kyle don’t have anybody but me,” she whispered. “I can’t count on Steve—he might show up on Christmas or not until two weeks later. I’m the one who has to make sure everything is okay. They depend on me. I can’t let them down.”

  “You’re not going to.” His heart ached to reassure her but Brendan focused on the problem at hand, pulled out a catalogue. “There are several things in here that Madison has circled. You can order them by phone. After tonight Kyle isn’t going to be able to go on that ski trip, but I know there are other things he wants—a couple of CDs with really weird names, for instance. You’ll be able to shop for them. We’ll just have to be very careful about how we do it.”

  “Really?” she whispered, staring into his eyes as if she were trying to believe he would be able to keep them safe.

  “Really.” He poured her tea, set it in front of her. “I’m not going to let anyone spoil your Christmas, Chloe. I am going to keep this family safe. No one’s coming through me. You have to believe that, to trust in me.” He paused, waiting for her to accept his promise.

  She nodded, but the words he knew she was thinking wouldn’t be spoken. Trusting him meant handing over total control, and after tonight Chloe couldn’t be anywhere near ready to trust Brendan. He’d failed her by letting this happen. Maybe now she’d never trust him. He wished he could change it but that was impossible. So he’d get her thinking about something else.

  “Chloe?” Brendan cleared his voice, shuffled his feet on the floor slightly embarrassed about asking her this. “There’s uh, something I need to ask you.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “It’s just—well, you know those Christmas baskets I told you about?” He waited for her nod. “I know I should have handed the project off to someone else after I started this job, and I did for collecting the rest of the things. But, well, they need to be assembled. I was wondering if you’d help me.”

  “Sure. But isn’t there a committee or something?”

  “Yes, and they’ll get everything together.” He looked sheepish. “I kind of took the assembling part on as my own pet project to make sure those families got a really special Christmas.”

  The sheepish thing must be working. Chloe couldn’t hide her excitement. “I’d be honored to help, Brendan. I think your personal touch will make this an even more wonderful project.”

  “Thanks.”

  Chloe sighed, rinsed out her cup and pulled the grocery list off the fridge. “I’ve got to get started on Christmas baking. Will it be possible to go shopping tomorrow?”

  “I’ll take this and I’ll have whatever you need here before you wake up.”

  “Christmas is almost the only time of year I really enjoy shopping,” she complained. “All the little bits and baubles they get in are fun to look at.”

  “No grocery shopping,” he insisted. “For a couple of days we’ll lie low and see what they’ve planned next. But I will take you over to Quinn’s on Monday. He’s doing something for the model club and I want to see how it’s coming.” His radio crackled. “Excuse me. I need to talk to one of the other guards.”

  Brendan left the room. When he returned a few moments later he told her where to leave the list for him but chose to ignore the curious look she shot his way. Instead he excused himself to go work on his computer.

  The house sat almost silent once the kids were tucked in. Finished with her lengthy grocery list, Chloe folded a last load of towels and decided to retire herself. Just before she did, she walked to the study to say good-night to Brendan, who sat hunched over his laptop, his phone clamped against his ear.

  “It doesn’t make sense.” He scrolled through the information. “More than a year after we got the Diablo syndicate out of town, some new guy shows up and decides to resume business as usual? Why here, Peter? More importantly, why can’t we find him—or someone who can identify him? Nobody seems to have any leads on the boss. Why would he want the mayor shot unless this all has something to do with revenge?” He listened, then sighed. “I’m trying. But none of it makes any sense unless this El Jefe knew Escalante, either worked for him or was s
omehow tied into the organization. We need something to go on. Please, think about it.”

  On the floor by his feet sat today’s newspaper. The headline read “Deputy Mayor Frost cites new priorities.” Big red question marks surrounded the caption. Chloe turned away, slipped upstairs to puzzle it out and came up with nothing. No matter which way she looked at it, there was one thing she couldn’t write off.

  Brendan Montgomery had become far more than an impersonal guard, or even a friend. She woke up each morning eager to hear his voice, to watch his lazy smile tip that charming mouth up at the corners. She relished his good humor and solid presence. And always she was amazed by his quiet confidence that whatever happened, God would be there.

  Until tonight at Fiona’s, she’d never believed God even heard her. But then she’d prayed and—it still amazed her. She picked up the list of verses Katherine had given her, read through them again and waited for each word to sink in. The last one had echoed through her mind for days now, especially after she’d read it again in the book Brendan had lent her.

  “I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you should go. I will counsel you with My eye upon you.”

  God was willing to do that for her? It hardly made sense that the One to whom she’d paid so little attention for so many years was interested in her so much. But there was no disputing those words. She read them over again, switched off the light and lay in bed, waiting to feel that tiny rush of peace.

  “I can trust You, can’t I?” she whispered.

  The only answer was the ring of those words she’d heard so many times before. “We walk by faith, not by sight.”

  “You have made no progress.”

  It was not a question. Harry Redding swallowed hard, forced upon himself that rigid calm that had always been his trademark. Today, in front of the man he’d been told to call The Chief, it failed him.

  “She’s constantly guarded. There is no opportunity. There is a perimeter around the block. Breaking it means alerting their security. Besides, everyone is jittery ever since that last kid died of an overdose.” Was shooting someone worse than killing them with cocaine?