Yuletide Protector (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Lisa Mondello

  “When do you get to sleep?”

  “I slept a little bit in the car last night. And when it got too cold I went for a walk and checked out the yard to make sure no one was lurking.”

  “I heard Spot barking.”

  “He’s a good watchdog. If anyone had been loitering around here, Spot would have barked and I would have been on top of it. It’s kind of nice having a dog in the neighborhood.”

  “Yeah, real swell. Maybe I should get one, too.”

  Daria sighed. Spot was a sweet dog and even though he always managed to make a mess in her yard, she liked him. It was Mrs. Hildebrand’s bark Daria hated being on the receiving end of.

  “I need to go,” she said.

  Kevin smiled, fatigue pulling at the corners of his eyes just like the morning they’d met.

  “What time will you be coming home?”

  She tossed him a wry grin. “I thought you said you were keeping tabs on me.”

  “I know your routine. In to work at nine, out the door at five-thirty every evening. I’m asking just in case you’re planning to run errands after work.”

  “If you insist on this insane idea of watching over me, I should be home a little before six.”

  Kevin watched as Daria turned her back and walked to her truck. He was struck by how odd it seemed to see a woman so elegantly attired in a dress coat, skirt and heels climb into that old clunker. She didn’t seem the type to drive an old beat-up truck. For that matter, she didn’t seem the type to be living alone, fixing up this old house, either. But then, what did he really know about Daria Carlisle…other than that she was stubborn?

  Kevin turned the key in the ignition and heard the engine roar to life. He would watch her walk into her office building and then he would drive away. Her building had security and for now that was going to have to be enough. Besides, Ski was watching George Carlisle. But covering all the bases didn’t take any of the edge off his fear that a guard in her building was not enough.

  Daria was one stubborn woman. She was trading her life in exchange for watching a tree bloom next year. And she’d called him insane?

  No, she’d called the idea of him watching over her insane. Well, Kevin couldn’t really argue about that.

  Shaking his head as his foot hit the gas pedal, he wondered just how long he’d be able to keep this up.

  At the red light, he pulled in behind Daria’s truck and watched as she glanced into her rearview mirror and caught him staring back at her. He didn’t look away. He wanted her to know that he was serious. He was watching. He’d have his eyes on her until he was absolutely sure she was safe from George Carlisle.

  Maybe after a few nights of him staring at her front door, watching her stare back at him from her bedroom window, she’d get the point and leave town as he’d suggested. Otherwise, he was going to have to get used to sleeping in his car for however long it took until they got enough evidence against her ex to put him behind bars.

  Daria’s office was a twenty-five-minute ride from her house. Kevin had clocked it, as well as the time it would take him to get from the station to her house. There was lag time. It couldn’t be helped and it worried him greatly, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it.

  He watched her gracefully step out of her truck and waltz into her building, never looking back at him. Stubborn woman.

  When she was finally out of sight, he realized he felt no relief. Not for her. Not for him. Agitation crawled beneath his skin.

  The woman didn’t want to believe she was in danger. The district attorney and his superiors didn’t want to put forth the resources to ensure her safety. And Kevin was only one man. He couldn’t do it all.

  Lord, please keep Daria in Your watchful eye when my own eyes can’t be there to guard over her. Keep her safe from harm. Keep those who are trying to hurt her at a distance.

  When he was finished with his prayer, he sighed. He had just enough time to get to his apartment, shower and change and then get to work. After the long night he’d had, he knew this day would be even longer.

  The flowers were sitting in the center of her desk when Daria had arrived in her office. The excited stare from her administrative assistant was telling, but nothing was said. Yet. It was only a matter of time before Marla burst.

  Daria hung her coat and stuffed her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk, locking it. Instead of the normal local radio station playing on a nearby radio, Christmas carols floated through the office. Daria listened to a favorite holiday song as she busied herself with all her usual morning routines, ignoring the oversize vase with flowers sitting in the middle of her blotter. She didn’t have to look at the card. She knew who they were from. And the cold chill that knowledge gave her after yesterday’s meeting with Detective Kevin Gordon left her raw.

  “You’re killing me,” Marla finally shrieked, standing at the doorway with her arms crossed.

  “Am I?”

  “Someone leaves you these big, beautiful flowers and you’re checking your in-box to see what’s in store for the day? Forget it! You don’t have any meetings. I already checked. Read the note already, will ya? I’m dying here.”

  She opened the card under Marla’s watchful eye as her assistant dreamily touched one of the bright yellow-and-orange petals in the bouquet.

  You’ll always be my pretty little bird. She placed the card on the blotter and stole a glance at the flowers. The bird-of-paradise flowers were exquisitely arranged in tropical foliage in a crystal vase. Just the sight of them made her heart hammer in her chest—but with dread, not excitement.

  “I would have expected a Christmas arrangement this time of year, but these are gorgeous,” Marla said. “Must have cost whoever sent them a fortune.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Marla glanced at the writing on the card, which was visible since Daria had place it faceup. “Cryptic.”

  “Typical,” Daria said.

  “Typical? Are you kidding? Man, I’m so jealous.” Marla’s eyes twinkled. “So do you know who they’re from?”

  Daria glanced at Marla’s knowing smirk.

  Marla giggled. “They’re from George. I think your ex might want a little holiday reunion with you,” she said in a singsong voice.

  She’d known immediately the flowers were from George, but just the mention of his name sent a trickle of fear through her. The intense urge to tear up the note and toss the flowers, vase and all, in the trash was overwhelming. But that would only end in questions from Marla.

  Instead, she shoved the note into her trash can, got up from her desk chair and carried the vase to the credenza on the other side of her office.

  “What are you doing?” Marla asked, watching in shock as Daria plopped the flowers on the credenza.

  As she walked back to her desk, Daria said, “George and I are finished, Marla.”

  Marla bent down and looked at her squarely, her brown eyes flashing and her mouth agape. “Oh, wow, you’re upset! You were expecting these to be from someone else, weren’t you?” She pointed a well-manicured red-coated finger at Daria accusingly. “If you’ve been holding out on me about some secret boyfriend, you’d better spill, girl. I need details.”

  Daria rolled her eyes. “Get real, Marla. When do I ever have time for a man? If I’m not knee-deep in plaster dust, I’m pulling splinters out of my palms from hauling wood to and from my truck.” She hoped her unrest didn’t show on her face. But she needed to know. “How did you know they were from George?”

  Marla pursed her lips. “Because he strutted right by me this morning as I was walking into the office. Looking mighty fine, if you ask me. What other reason would he have for being here if not to give you these flowers?”

  It had been a long time since Daria had seen George. Would he be so bold after the meeting he’d had with Kevin the other night?

  Daria didn’t believe for one minute that George was trying to win her back. He hadn’t fought the divorce at all, but he’d made it clear he
was angry—deeply angry—with her for initiating it. He’d always been all about appearances. He hadn’t cared about their marriage so much as their appearance as a perfect couple.

  It was so like George to care only about things that other people thought were important, things that impressed. Throughout their marriage, he had been very generous with gifts, even when things were at their worst between them. Unfortunately, the very things Daria had wanted—no, needed—were things George hadn’t been capable of giving.

  In contrast, a man like Kevin Gordon had real depth. She’d been surprised by his determination to watch over her. It was such a contrast to the way that George, by the end of their marriage, only ever thought of himself. But even aside from George, how many men would do what Kevin was doing for her? Sure, he was a police officer, but even he said the department didn’t have the means to protect her.

  No, what he was doing for her—however frustrating it was to be smothered with his protection—came from character. His motives were honest and without any interest in what he could get back in return. It was refreshing to meet someone so unselfish. And she knew she should be grateful for the protection he offered.

  If George was determined to have her killed as he’d planned, she was going to need all the help she could get. Especially since he’d made it clear how easily he could get past security and breeze right into her office.

  Daria glanced at Marla’s wide eyes as she gazed longingly at the flowers. A man like George could easily impress a woman like Marla. And it was clear he had. Her assistant wouldn’t be much of a roadblock if George came to the office again. But why today? Why would he send her these ridiculous flowers? Was he trying to scare her? If he was, he’d succeeded.

  Regardless, his card said it all.

  “What’s today’s date, Marla?”

  Marla gave her a questioning look and tapped her fingers on the small day planner on the corner of her desk.

  Daria stared at the planner and a chill raced up her spine, leaving her hands trembling. In that split second, she knew exactly what it meant. Divorced or not, George’s intentions were clear. To him, she was still his property.

  “Today would have been our anniversary.”

  FOUR

  “Carlisle was in her office, Matt,” Kevin boomed. He paced Captain Jorgensen’s office in a fury, riding on a burst of adrenaline. Ever since Ski had called to tell him George Carlisle was seen leaving the grounds of the building where Daria worked, Kevin hadn’t been able to keep still.

  He’d left her there. Even knowing she could still be in danger, Kevin had watched her step out of her truck and make her way toward the building.

  And all the while George Carlisle, the man Kevin was supposed to be protecting her from, was inside. Or had been. Maybe he’d already come and gone by the time Daria had made her way to her office. Kevin didn’t know. But the man had been there.

  And as he paced Captain Jorgensen’s office, it irritated Kevin to no end that he didn’t know a single thing about what had happened at her office building today. The only info he had was what Ski had reported to him shortly before roll call.

  What was Daria thinking? He’d just told her her ex-husband was trying to have her murdered. Why hadn’t she called him when George made contact?

  The captain pulled the pen cap he’d been chewing out of his mouth. “We don’t have an active restraining order to keep him away. Until we do, there’s no law against George Carlisle dropping by his ex-wife’s office. The building is open to the public. There have to be about thirty companies in that building. The man might have had legitimate business in any one of them.”

  “And maybe I’ll sprout wings and fly like Tinker Bell,” Kevin drawled.

  “That would be a sight to see.” There was no humor in the captain’s voice.

  “You don’t really believe he was there on legitimate business, do you?”

  “No. And neither do you,” Jorgensen said. “But it doesn’t matter what you or I believe. What matters is the law and as of right now George Carlisle has a free man’s right to walk the streets as he pleases. His attorney made sure of that. Until that changes, until he’s actually done something outside of his meeting with you the other night to warrant this attention you’re giving him, there isn’t a thing I can do.”

  Kevin ground to a halt. There were days when the boundaries that closed around him while on the job were frustrating.

  Captain Matt Jorgensen, newly appointed as captain of the precinct only seven months ago, leaned forward and propped his elbows on his desk. He was a lean man, a good six to eight years older than Kevin, though he kept himself fit, so his years didn’t show. His dark hair was slightly thinning on top in the way of a high forehead, but it didn’t seem to bother the man.

  His by-the-book code of policing, leaving no wiggle room where the law was concerned, had advanced him up the ranks of law enforcement ahead of cops with more policing experience than his own ten years. Kevin supposed his code was more from character than career advancement and was possibly the only way he’d been able to keep sane in a world that was sometimes so utterly out of order.

  Very little was ever spoken about Matt Jorgensen’s past. What little Kevin did know was usually talked about in hushed voices. The man had lost his wife in a brutal murder over ten years ago and he’d been fingered. Rumor was, the police hadn’t even looked for another suspect. It had been Matt’s own digging and relentless work with his attorney that eventually got him off the rap. But the case had grown cold and the killer was never found. Matt had gone to the academy soon after.

  “Is Daria Carlisle looking to get a restraining order? Did she ask for your help?” Matt asked.

  “No,” Kevin reluctantly admitted. Which irritated him further. Daria had to have known George was at her office. Ski had seen Carlisle carrying flowers on his way into the building, but not on the way out. When she’d found the flowers, she should have called him.

  “I told you before,” Matt said, leaning back in his chair. “George Carlisle hasn’t broken any laws. And he has a viper attorney who will strike at us if we even breathe George Carlisle’s name the wrong way. Unless you want to get bitten, you need to back off. We have done all we can in this situation.”

  “I should have walked away from that meeting as soon as I heard the static in my piece. If I’d done the job right the other night, George Carlisle might be behind bars right now.”

  The captain’s shoulders drooped in impatient form. “‘Might be’ is the operative phrase. Look, we’ve been through all this.”

  “And none of us came out happy in the end. Least of all Daria Carlisle.”

  Matt threw his hands up by his side. “I don’t hear Ms. Carlisle complaining. You told her what happened down at the salvage yard. You offered her a solution and she flat out rejected it. She hasn’t called this office asking for help, as far as I know.”

  “Because she won’t believe her ex is capable of murder,” he drawled.

  With a shrug, Matt said, “We’ve see that before. Are you really surprised?”

  No, Kevin wasn’t. He’d seen women run back to their husbands after a standoff with a loaded gun to their head.

  Of course, he knew the reason why they did it. Some women simply refused to believe they were actually in danger. They chose to ignore the signs of trouble. He’d seen it firsthand, when his sister’s best friend had been murdered. Lucy had believed she had nothing to fear from her ex-boyfriend. And now she was dead. How many women had he seen follow Lucy’s path in the years he’d been on the force?

  Too many, he decided. He didn’t want it to be too late for Daria, as it had been for Lucy. It had been nearly twenty years since Lucy’s death, but Daria’s case brought all the fear and frustration back.

  Daria wasn’t Lucy. But she did need protection. And he wasn’t going to let her down.

  “We need department support to tail Carlisle. Between me, Jake and Ski, there aren’t enough hours in the day.”
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  “Or enough dollars in your bank account to personally pay off-duty officers.” Matt shook his head and darted a pointed finger at Kevin. “Don’t deny it—I don’t want to discuss it. I don’t even want to know what you, Santos and Stanasloski are doing on your off-hours. I have a feeling it’ll just tick me off and I’m sure it won’t make Carlisle’s attorney any happier. And as far as getting the department to authorize the overtime, no can do. I just can’t justify the expense to the commissioner.

  “Look, you’ve always been focused on your job. In the seven months I’ve been here it’s been clear something is driving you more than just the paycheck. I know what that’s like,” he said. Then Matt’s attention turned to the people gathered in the hall outside his office door.

  “We’ve got company,” he said as he rose from the seat behind his desk. “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this?”

  Kevin threw open the door and stared into the cold eyes of George Carlisle’s attorney. He was Lawrence Bingham, a partner at one of those uptown law firms with a string of names no one but the partners ever remembered. Kevin had met the man the previous morning when Bingham strode into the station in high-class loafers and Sunday casual clothes that probably cost more than a month of the average cop’s salary. Kevin had never begrudged anyone with money. He’d always had enough to satisfy himself and figured most people worked for what they wanted or needed. But he’d never cared for people who flaunted their wealth as a way to set themselves above others.

  “What is going on here?” Matt asked.

  District Attorney Martha Landers stepped into the office beside Bingham, her expression tight.

  Bingham’s cool smile had just enough edge to be annoying. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  Martha sighed. “Mr. Bingham tells me one of your officers is harassing his client.”

  Matt shook his head. “We went over all this the other morning. My officers were doing their job.”

  “Does that include false arrest, too?”