Protector: The Flawed Series Book Three

by Becca J. Campbell

  “But we’re on the highway! How am I going to get back?” She scrambled to get up.

  “Walk.” He slammed his door shut before she could reach for it and worm her way in again. Without waiting another instant, he put the car into drive and sped off.

  A month ago Logan would never have expected himself capable of this kind of severity. He hadn’t been gentle with Violet, but she deserved much worse. And Logan had learned from his last experience. This time he’d been in full control of his actions—he hadn’t hurt her, no matter how badly he’d wanted to.

  The anger that had him revved up slowly cooled as he put distance between himself and that conniving woman.

  He’d made it little farther when he hit road construction. He groaned at the buildup of traffic that had slowed his pace on the highway. Pulling off, he decided to brave a detour in hopes of bypassing the crowd. A couple of side roads later, he was moving again.

  A flash of déjà vu hit when he remembered the last time he’d driven down this road—just this morning.

  Logan’s truck approached Grant’s apartment complex, his mind veering back to the awkward confrontation. When he saw an ambulance with flashing lights in the apartment’s lot, he slowed, frowning. He scanned for people, and when he saw Clementine out front, he pulled into the lot.

  When he jumped out and rounded the ambulance, he noticed the stretcher with the body on it, paramedics working over a man. Logan hurried over to Clementine, who stood with her arms crossed nearby. A worried expression tugged at her gray brows.

  “Is it Grant? What happened?” he asked.

  Surprise flickered in her eyes for a second upon seeing him then she nodded. “Heart attack.”

  “Has he had them before?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Instinct pulled Logan to put an arm around her. She accepted his touch without looking up, her eyes fixed on Grant. They stood watching the quick motions of the two EMTs who moved with routine precision. The thin male paramedic checked Grant’s vitals while his partner, an athletic woman with a pixie cut, held an oxygen mask over Grant’s face. After several minutes, the two workers lifted Grant into the back of the ambulance.

  “We’re taking him to the hospital. You his wife?” the female paramedic asked.

  Clementine nodded.

  “You can follow in your own vehicle,” the woman said.

  Clementine seemed to be in a daze and didn’t respond. The paramedic briefly eyed Logan, then walked off. She shut the back of the ambulance and hurried around to get in.

  When the vehicle pulled out, Clementine was still standing, staring at nothing with wide eyes.

  Logan surveyed her for a moment. “You okay?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “He’s in good hands now. They’ll take care of him.” Worry prickled in his own mind.

  “I never thought something like this would happen—not to him.”

  “You want to sit down?” Logan gently guided her away from the street. He put a hand on her shoulder, and when she eased down on the edge of the curb, he sat next to her.

  After a moment, she let out a shaky sigh. Her hands knit together in her lap.

  Logan’s stomach twisted at the thought of his father, but then he remembered Jade. One worry deferred to another, and Logan shoved the one he couldn’t do anything about into a tightly sealed compartment. He could still help Jade. Eagerness to find her pricked his nerves, but he kept it bottled and watched Clementine. She’d known this man more than Logan ever had.

  “I can’t lose him.” It was soft, nearly a whisper. Clementine stared at her house shoes.

  He put his arm around her again, and she sunk into him, leaning her head onto his shoulder. “He might be fine,” Logan said. “People have heart attacks all the time, and a lot of them come out of it okay.” Logan didn’t want to give false hope, but at the moment she needed something to hold onto. “I know he means a lot to you,” he said.

  “He means everything to me.”

  Logan felt a pang in his heart and realized this woman was no different than himself. They both were worried about someone they loved—he was just better at containing it.

  “You know what I do when I’m worried?” he said.

  She lifted her head and pulled away enough to meet his gaze.

  “I find a place of calm. I will myself there, pushing the fear from my mind. It’s hard, because fear is such a crushing force. But I realized a long time ago that all my fears come from inside.” He tapped his heart with his palm. “You know, fear is an instinct we’re born with, and because of that it’s a little like a vice.”

  Her brow furrowed.

  Logan wasn’t sure if he was making sense. “I say that because it’s something that tempts us and because it’s habit-forming. If you think about it, fear is an incredibly base feeling. Giving into it can actually trigger a panic attack, even make a person pass out. A physical response akin to inebriation or overdose.”

  She gave a thoughtful nod.

  “When I’m worried about something, I take a step back and classify that feeling as what it is—a desire to indulge in that basic instinct. Instead of giving in to it, I tell myself to lock it away. It hasn’t really left. It’s still there, hibernating inside me. I’m not denying it, just forcing myself to defer that temptation. It’s the same as exercising self-discipline over anything else.”

  Her eyes held that processing glint like she was considering his words.

  “Think of it as a chocolate cupcake. I want to unlock the fear—it’s tantalizing and it’s a familiar urge. But instead of letting myself indulge, I refuse. In a moment where I need focus, where fear would incapacitate me and only make things worse—I restrain myself. I can manage as long as I know the cupcake’s still waiting for me. No one’s going to steal it, and it won’t go bad in the next couple of hours. I tell myself that when I’ve addressed the issue, I’ll come back and devour it then. Once I’ve looked at my problem rationally, I’ll release myself to those baser emotions again. But you know what? Nine times out of ten, at that point I’m no longer afraid.”

  He shrugged. “That’s what it’s like for me. Maybe it sounds weird.”

  Clementine’s mouth softened. “I’ve never heard anyone talk about fear that way. You make it sound easier than it is.”

  “It takes practice. Mind over matter, training your thoughts to see beyond your emotions.”

  She took another deep breath, and Logan had the sense she was attempting to compartmentalize her anxiety, to package it away for later.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “You’re welcome. I hope it helps.”

  “I think talking to you already has, a little. I guess I should get to the hospital.”

  Logan nodded at her feet. “Might want to grab some shoes first.”

  She followed his gaze and chuckled. “Oh. You’re probably right.”

  “I’ll walk you back.”

  A little while later he’d helped her find her shoes, her purse, and a jacket, and they walked out of the apartment together.

  “Can you make it all right?” Logan asked. “Need a lift?”

  She stopped at her car and smiled at him. “I think I’m okay now. Thanks for waiting with me.”

  “Any time. Let me know if you ever need anything, okay? Here’s my phone number.”

  She stored the number in her phone and a thought seemed to occur to her. “Do you want to come too? I know he doesn’t remember you but…”

  Logan shook his head. “I would, but I’m in a bit of a hurry myself. My girlfriend had an emergency…long story, but I need to go see her.”

  Clementine’s face softened. “Oh, okay. I hope everything turns out okay. And I’ll give you a call later and let you know how Grant’s doing.”

  Logan gave her a farewell and climbed back into his truck. As he eased onto the road, he pulled out his phone and dialed Jade’s number. He sent up a silent thank you when she answered on the second ring.
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  “How did it go?” he asked. “Did you get to talk to Kelsey?”

  “Yeah. I saw her. She knows Ethan. He kidnapped her too—under different circumstances, but still. It’s definitely the same guy.”

  “And?”

  “Oh, and I found out something else. We knew Ethan could see in the dark, but there’s something else we didn’t realize. Kelsey says he’s actually blind in regular lighting.”

  “Blind?”

  “Yeah. He can’t see a thing unless it’s dark.”

  “Crazy.”

  Jade continued. “I warned her he was looking for her, but she wouldn’t cancel tonight’s event.”

  Logan had forgotten all about the fundraiser.

  “Anyway,” Jade continued, “I’m going to stay here a while longer and make sure she makes it home okay tonight.”

  Logan clenched his jaw, biting back the comment he wanted to make. Instead, he breathed in through his nose. “I’m headed your way.”

  “You’re coming to Pueblo?”

  “There’s no way I’m leaving you alone with Ethan’s next target. You should know me better by now.”

  “Okay. It’ll be nice to have you here.”

  Logan thought of the last time he’d seen Jade. It hadn’t been a full twenty-four hours, but their last rough argument left him aching for the closeness they’d had all year. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  He hung up and glanced at the clock. Going back for his phone, dealing with Violet, and stopping at Grant’s apartment, he’d lost nearly forty minutes. It was fully dark out now, which only made it feel later. He thought of the man lurking somewhere—the man who had taken his girlfriend and was now likely headed her way once again.

  His foot dug hard into the pedal, and he gripped the wheel more tightly in his hands.

  ~

  Ethan’s hand pressed into Nicodemus’s back as they walked up to the reception area at the children’s wing. “Get this over with so we can go get dressed.”

  When Nicodemus muttered a protest, Ethan couldn’t decode the mumble—and didn’t attempt to. He was sick of hearing the man’s complaints.

  His toe bumped the front of the desk, telling him where they were though he couldn’t see anything at the moment. There were altogether too many bright lights in this place, and Ethan was eager to get back into his own element. The hospital’s vacant wing was a darkened haven, and fantasies involving Kelsey bloomed in the back of his mind. Anticipation of his plan raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He licked his upper lip and savored the taste of his own sweat.

  Nicodemus cleared his throat.

  “Can I help you?” The receptionist’s voice was high and youthful. Ninety-eight percent chance she was a looker. Nicodemus’s own change in demeanor seemed to back up that theory. Ethan’s fingertips felt the change in the tension of the man’s spine as Nicodemus adjusted his posture.

  When Nicodemus spoke, his normal slang diminished. “Hello, Miss. I believe that someone may have dropped a wallet?”

  Ethan’s ears caught the soft sound of leather scooting against the wood counter top.

  “Oh! Thank you so much. That’s mine, and I’ve been looking everywhere for it.”

  “Well, my uncle here found it on the floor in the hallway, and he insisted on returning it.”

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  Ethan procured a genteel smile, aiming it toward the voice and giving a slight bow her direction. “There are too few honest folk nowadays,” he said, edging his words with the roughness of old, worn vocal chords.

  “Yes. I thought for sure someone took it from my purse.” As she spoke the last part, a subtle change caught her voice. Ethan imagined her head turning and realized she must be looking somewhere else.

  “Hugh, what are you doing out here?” she said.

  There was no response.

  “You should probably get back to your wing, honey. Do you need anything?”

  “Kelsey.” The voice sounded male but timid and full of youth.

  The woman didn’t speak for a moment, and when she did Ethan realized something must have caught her by surprise. “She—she’s not here right now, Hugh. She’s busy with the gala.”

  Ethan felt Nicodemus’s back stiffen further and could only imagine the emotions boiling beneath the surface. Rage? Excitement? Frustration? There was no way to know. He really hoped Nicodemus wasn’t leering at the guy or something else downright obvious. They couldn’t afford any extra attention.

  “We should be going now,” Ethan said, pressing on his partner’s back to turn him toward the lobby. Nicodemus followed his lead, if somewhat regretfully.

  Ethan heard the woman as they continued to walk away. “Let’s go see if Dr. Stroud is still here, okay? Come with me.” Her voice faded as they turned the corner and headed back out.

  “What was that all about?” Ethan asked, keeping his voice low.

  “Nothing,” Nicodemus muttered.

  “Just keep it together. We don’t need to attract any extra attention.”

  Nicodemus gave an unintelligible reply.

  Thirty minutes and a convenience store restroom visit later, Ethan and Nicodemus were dressed in two of the finest tuxedos that money could buy—cash only so they’d leave no trace. Ethan hoped Nicodemus was conscientious enough to tame the fuzz ball posing for hair on his tiny head. Unfortunately when they stepped out of the car at Sprawling Plains, it was too bright for his vision to activate. It was late enough, so Ethan guessed an overly ambitious street lamp was the culprit.

  Touching his head to check that his own fedora was perched at the ideal angle, Ethan perfected his hunched posture. He brushed the jacket and double checked to make sure his shirt was properly tucked.

  His hand found and clasped onto Nicodemus’s shoulder, and the two of them strode inside. As much as he despised touching his accomplice, the gesture was necessary to avoid using his cane for guidance. It would also support their act of fatherly uncle escorting his dolt of a nephew.

  The soft din as they entered helped Ethan gauge the proximity of the event. When they paused in line, Ethan heard the man ahead of them give his name. A deeper voice answered. “I’m sorry, you’re not on the list.”

  “I wasn’t able to pre-register,” the first man said, “but I have the money for a ticket right here.”

  “We’re sold out. Only people on this list can get in.” Ethan’s stomach fluttered with nerves as he pictured a large, intimidating bouncer checking off names. He wondered why the concern for such a restricted attendance. It was a fundraiser, after all. Was this about elitism? Or was it about security?

  A hint of worry danced in his mind, but he pushed it back. No one knew who they were, and no one had any reason to suspect two wanted men would go to some hospital gala in Pueblo.

  “But I’m with the news station. They sent me here to do a story on the—”

  “I don’t have your name, you’re outta here. Don’t make me call my partner to escort you off the premises.”

  The news reporter grumbled something under his breath as he passed by. Nicodemus stepped forward, and Ethan stayed at his side, hand clamped to the man’s shoulder. He plastered on an aloof expression and raised his chin a fraction of an inch, directing his face to the man who spoke. It was easy enough to pretend he could see.

  “Name?”

  “Hello, sir. How are you on this lovely evening?” Nicodemus’s pleasantries sounded sickeningly false, but hopefully it wouldn’t matter. Ethan knew Nicodemus needed a few solid seconds of eye contact before his power would work. He ticked off the moments in his head, picturing the man looking up from his sheet, eyeing Ethan, glancing back at Nicodemus, and finally holding his gaze.

  “Theodore Whitaker. And this is my father, Harold.”

  There was a pause while the man checked the list. Ethan heard the subtle sound of a finger sliding over the paper, then a shuffle as he turned the page, likely still searching for their
names.

  Ethan’s hands grew sweaty, and he clenched his cane tighter. His heartbeat seemed to slow.

  “I don’t see…” There was a pause, and Ethan pictured the man’s eyes going unfocused, glued to Nicodemus’s.

  “We’re on the list,” Nicodemus said. “We can enter.” The words were spoken with ice, almost as a threat. Ethan hoped no one was standing behind them, because it would have been impossible for them to miss the control exuding from his partner.

  “You are on the list,” said the man, his voice dulled. “You can enter.”

  Ethan released a silent breath as they strolled past the host. Nicodemus guided them to a table, and Ethan eased into the chair, resting his cane against the side for a moment. They’d made it. They were in.

  Kelsey scanned the banquet hall, looking for something out of place or someone with a complaint, but she saw nothing wrong. The guests were finishing dinner, and it was nearly time for her to speak. That brief moment was both a reprieve from the whirlwind of the day’s headaches and a chance for her to get nervous again, thinking about addressing such a large crowd.

  Remembering her personal guest, she hurried to check on Jade while she still had time. Resting a hand on the back of Jade’s chair she asked, “How was dinner?”

  “Delicious. I ate too much. That chocolate cake was amazing.”

  Kelsey gave a wry chuckle. “I’m glad that one worked out.”

  “What?”

  She waved a hand. “Oh, nothing. It’s just one of the many problems I’ve had to iron out.” She pulled out the empty chair next to Jade and eased down onto it. “You know, planning a fundraiser like this is an enormous undertaking. I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I agreed to be on the committee.”

  “I can imagine.” Jade smiled. “But it’s all turned out nicely so far. I mean, dinner was great. I’m sure the rest will go well, too.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  Jade frowned. “There is one problem I see.”