Yuletide Protector (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Lisa Mondello

  “Hardly. I’m worried for Marla. Even after my warning today, I’m not sure she understands what she’s getting into.”

  “She probably wouldn’t listen anyway. But at least you gave it a try.” Kevin dropped the last of the trash on the curb into her garbage can.

  “Thank you for helping,” she said, taking a cleansing breath.

  “Believe it or not, it’s not a sign of weakness to allow a man to be a gentleman.”

  His sudden, warm smile melted her irritation. “I’ll have to remember that. I just wish Marla had told me about George before she went to lunch with him.”

  “Would that have made a difference?”

  Daria thought about it a moment. “I don’t know.”

  Marla’s timing was more than awful. Daria had gone to work the day after Kevin told her about his meeting with George, intending to keep it a secret from her coworkers. She didn’t really need anyone else hovering over her the way Kevin was doing, and she certainly didn’t want anyone to feel as if they were in danger at the office. Now she questioned her decision to do so.

  “He called her, not the other way around,” she said, admitting the real reason for her worry.

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Marla met George at the Christmas party two years ago. And I think they talked at one of the company cookouts. George never seemed interested in her. He never talked about her, anyway. I’ve suspected for some time that Marla’s been interested in pursuing a relationship with George now that he’s a free man. But Marla said he was the one who’d called her, which makes me wonder why.”

  “I think it’s obvious. He’s toying with you. But he won’t be a free man for long if I can help it, and Marla is not the target of his aggression, so you needn’t worry.”

  Kevin spoke the words almost under his breath, but the bitter tone in which he said them didn’t prevent Daria from hearing them.

  Kevin cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking. I’m not sure having dinner together is such a good idea.”

  “Why not? I thought you wanted to talk. And besides, I got a Christmas tree. I was hoping you’d help me decorate it.”

  He glanced over to the back of her truck, then propped his hands on his hips with a low chuckle. “You mean you were hoping I’d drag it in for you.”

  She snapped her fingers. “Busted. Actually, I hadn’t thought about the dragging-in part until just now. Just decorating. But since you insist on being a gentleman, helping me get it inside is a bonus. Come on, what’s the problem? It’s only dinner,” she said. “People eat. I know you certainly do. There’s no sense our both eating alone if I have to cook anyway. I figured you could use a change of scene. Some holiday cheer. It’s not like decorating a Christmas tree over a meal is a big deal that’ll cause a scandal with the neighbors. You’ve been sitting on my curb for the last few days and giving Mrs. Parsons plenty to wonder about.”

  In truth, it was a big deal to Daria. She’d never been one to pursue a romantic relationship. With her nomadic lifestyle, it had been too difficult to start a romance, knowing it couldn’t last. Friends, yes. The reality of having to make quick friendships, both male and female, had been there all her life, the way she’d grown up moving so often.

  The pain of leaving a budding romance, only to have distance kill the relationship, had made her wary about taking risks where men were concerned. There were many times she wondered if that was the reason she’d jumped into marrying George. If they were married, she’d thought there would be no leaving. Boy, had she been wrong.

  But something about Kevin had instantly put Daria at ease, and if nothing else, it was a friendship she wanted to pursue.

  “I’ll be honest with you. If things were different, if I’d never met up with your ex that night and I’d met you at the market like we did, I still would have noticed you.” He drew in a deep sigh and shook his head just a fraction. “And I still would have accepted your invitation to come back here for coffee.”

  She smiled at his admission. Kevin looked directly at her. She liked that about him. He meant what he said and he wasn’t afraid to say it. That kind of honesty was refreshing.

  “Good. Then we don’t have an issue here.”

  Kevin hesitated, gazing at her with eyes that grew darker, more intense as they penetrated her the way they did when he was all fired up. But he said nothing more. For either of them to move out of the cold and into the house, someone had to put an end to it.

  Daria took one step toward him and cocked her head. “Look, it’s starting to snow and my tree is going to get all wet and ruin my newly refinished hardwood floors. I don’t make killer muffins, but I’m a decent cook and I could use the company while I string the popcorn for the tree. Despite everything that’s going on, I actually enjoy your company. So if eating a meal with a friend is something that interests you, then great. We’ll share a meal, have a little conversation over a root beer and then return to our regularly scheduled programming. If not, then you can get a sugar high on Mrs. Hildebrand’s muffins and your trusty bag of Cheetos in your cold car. It’s up to you.”

  As she stared at him, he smiled one of those killer smiles that always caught her off guard even when she was expecting it.

  She didn’t wait for him to say anything. Instead, Daria grabbed the garbage can and walked up the driveway toward the house. When she heard footsteps on the walkway behind her, she turned to find Kevin following her. A smile she couldn’t hide crept into her cheeks.

  “Independent, my foot. You were still going to make me carry the tree in, weren’t you?”

  She chuckled. “Yep. I may be independent but I’m not stupid. I’m wearing heels.”

  Daria hesitated at the bottom of the steps and waited for Kevin to lift the tree from the back of her truck and meet her on the porch.

  “No dead birds tonight,” she said with relief as she opened the screen door and pushed the key into the back-door lock.

  “Is that why you wanted me to come?”

  She flicked on the kitchen light and blinked at the brightness. “Sure. Plus, you know, carry the tree, kill the bugs, remove the mice and whatever else comes crawling into this old house.”

  “Women,” he muttered with a chuckle.

  “Hey, I heard that.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  Dropping her purse and lunch bag on the kitchen table while Kevin shut the door behind him, she said, “Why don’t you prop the tree against the window up front. I need to go to the attic and unearth what few Christmas decorations I own before we can start worrying about how to arrange it. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable in the living room while I get you a root beer. I have frosted mugs in the freezer.”

  He smiled kind of lopsided and tired and she felt her heart do this ridiculous acrobatic roll. She watched as he wrestled the tree she’d bought through the kitchen. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision as she passed the Christmas-tree lot on her way home from work. The smell of pine filled the kitchen and soon would fill her house. She’d sweep up the pine needles that dropped to the floor later, when Kevin left. For now, she wanted to get dinner started.

  It was only dinner and yet Daria was looking forward to spending time with Kevin tonight. No one had been to her house as a guest since she’d bought it. For the longest time it wasn’t habitable, so company was out of the question. But there really hadn’t been anyone she had wanted to invite until now.

  She grabbed the frigid mugs from the freezer and dropped them onto the counter before pulling out a six-pack of her favorite bottled root beer. That’s when the sobering thought hit her. She was actually excited about Kevin having dinner with her, yet she knew Kevin was here for a purpose. He was here to protect her, not because he wanted to spend time with her socially. She’d be wise to remember that.

  “I can look upstairs for the tree stand and get it set up while you’re cooking. Or we could order a pizza or something if you’d rather work on the tree,” he said, now
standing at the kitchen doorway.

  “I don’t mind cooking. And it’s really quick. Besides, you’ll never find anything upstairs. There are tons of boxes.” She handed him the mug of root beer. “You can take a load off while I get dinner ready. My coffee table is meant for putting your feet up.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t dare try that in my sister’s house.”

  She laughed and added, “You look as if you’re ready to drop on the floor. Go ahead. I’ll be in the living room in a few minutes.”

  “I’d rather just talk to you.”

  She smiled as she busied herself in the kitchen with pots and food. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

  “You mentioned you had something in the works today. How’d it go?”

  “Oh.” Her spirits immediately plummeted. “Well, I’d hoped to be celebrating the loan I was applying for. But it didn’t go through. My credit is good, but I’m house poor right now and until that changes, I can’t get an unsecured loan. I don’t have enough equity in the house and you’ve seen my truck.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I appreciate that you’re trying to find a solution to this situation.”

  “For both of us.”

  He offered her a weak smile. “Then my bank account thanks you, too. Have you given any thought to what I said this morning?”

  “About George’s dealings?”

  He nodded.

  She sighed. “I really haven’t had much time. And honestly, he didn’t talk much about work. I found out about the loan shark quite by accident when someone in the building we were living in recognized him. George would have cut off his own tongue rather than confess it to me after I’d been hoarding pennies for so long. But he’d been acting strange, a mixture of being short with me and unusually sweet. So I knew something was up.”

  “Did he tell you how much money he owed or what it was for?”

  “No, he said he didn’t want me to get too involved in the whole thing, that he was protecting me.”

  “Protecting you? From what?”

  “He wouldn’t say. But I gave him what I had saved for the house and he used that. It was almost twenty thousand dollars at that point.”

  Kevin whistled in surprise.

  “I know. I’d been saving for a while.” She shrugged off the memory of turning over the money to her ex-husband. They’d been married. Of course what was hers was his. Even after all this time she had to fight to keep her anger over the whole thing from souring her mood.

  “I’m going to be a few minutes in here,” she said. “Why don’t you take my mug and bring it into the living room and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Okay,” he said quietly. He took the mug from her hand and left the kitchen.

  Daria closed her eyes, relishing the moment alone. Kevin was trying to help her put George behind bars and keep her safe. But she didn’t want to have to relive the mistakes of her past to do it. She didn’t want to talk about her marriage to George. She wanted to have a simple night where she didn’t need to be afraid. She wanted to be happy in her own home again and enjoy the company of the man who made her smile.

  Kevin had a smile that was warm and genuine and put her at ease. She should be terrified out of her mind after hearing the things George had said and done. But with Kevin, she wasn’t.

  She chose one of her tried-and-true recipes of sweet-and-sour chicken stir-fry over white rice not only because it was quick and she could prepare it without fail, but because it was the only thing she had all the ingredients for in her kitchen.

  Glancing in the living room, she saw Kevin had taken her up on her suggestion about putting his feet up. The prospect of sitting on the sofa with Kevin, just talking for a while, was inviting. She wanted to know the man, not just the cop. She wanted to talk like normal people do, about normal insignificant things that had nothing to do with murder or danger.

  Kevin wanted to talk about George. She’d meet him halfway. If there was something in her brain that he could use to put George behind bars and end this craziness, she’d have to find it. But she had no idea what that might be.

  With dinner simmering, she wiped her hands with the dish towel and strode into the living room to grab her root beer.

  She stopped short at the door.

  Still clad in his black jacket, Kevin rested with his body reclined back and his head slightly tilted to one side. One foot was propped up on the coffee table, the other limply rested on the floor. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly parted. Relaxed in sleep as he was, Daria found it hard to tear her gaze from him. He had to be dead on his feet. How could he possibly keep up the pace that he’d been maintaining these last few days? He looked so peaceful that Daria questioned whether she should even enter the room for fear she’d disturb him.

  But she did. She couldn’t help herself. Kevin had only been inside her home a few times. Each time for just a short while and each time under strained circumstances. Kicked back on her sofa, he looked as if he belonged here. Almost as much as she belonged here herself. She wanted to get closer, enjoy the sight fully.

  Letting out a slow breath, she gently sat down on the sofa, keeping enough distance from Kevin so as not to disturb his sleep.

  Guilt stabbed at her. It was her fault he was so exhausted. She thought the loan would help her get away for a little while, but that hadn’t worked out. She’d have to find another way.

  She looked at the tree propped against the window. This Christmas was her first of what she’d hoped would be many Christmases in this house. And regardless of whether or not George still meant her harm, it looked as though she would be spending Christmas here. Alone. She couldn’t expect Kevin or any of the other police officers Kevin had counted on these last few days to give up their Christmas for her. And it was only a matter of time before Kevin’s body and his bank account would give out on him. There had to be another way. She just had to find it.

  EIGHT

  The steady drone of a drill penetrated Kevin’s mind like a piece of wood splintering apart. He opened his eyes to the shock of light blinding him from the wrought-iron lamp on the end table. Confusion made him dizzy until his eyes focused enough to register his whereabouts.

  Shielding his eyes, he took in the room and remembered. He’d come into Daria’s house for dinner. A quick glance out the window showed that it was dark outside and it was still snowing. Out the window, the light from the street lamp shone down on crystal flakes that were still falling heavily. They’d probably have a good amount of snow on the ground before tonight’s storm was over.

  One foot was propped up on the coffee table, the other on the floor. His mug of root beer rested on a white napkin next to the foot resting on the coffee table. The napkin was now saturated from dripping condensation. A large bowl of already strung popcorn garland lay next to it. Daria was nowhere to be seen.

  Rubbing his face, Kevin realized he must have dozed off before dinner had even begun. There was no use beating himself up over it. He knew it was only a matter of time before his body gave out from running on practically no sleep. Although he’d worked many double shifts on cases before, and sat long hours on stakeouts, nothing had drained his energy quite as much as this case.

  This one was different. There was no secret who the perpetrator was or the motive behind his actions. The only missing piece was evidence to nail him.

  Kevin put in the hours at work, diligently combing through files, checking on leads that would give him even the smallest nugget of information about George Carlisle, anything that could help make an arrest against him for any crime stick. And while he kept his mind focused on his duty, there were visions of Daria meeting the same fate Lucy had.

  He wouldn’t let that happen. He’d do everything in his power to make sure Daria was safe from harm.

  And he’d fallen asleep. Good going, Gordon.

  He closed his eyes and offered up a prayer. Speaking softly he said, “Lord, I’m only one man. Obvious
ly not nearly strong enough to carry this load alone.” He continued his prayer to watch over Daria’s home and for the Lord to give him wisdom and strength.

  As Kevin finished, he thought of Daria smiling in the kitchen earlier when he brought in the Christmas tree. He couldn’t deny there were feelings that went deep. Her smile played in his mind while he was sitting out in his SUV or when he was checking around the house in the early hours, just to give him something to do and keep himself warm.

  A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord direct-eth his step. He needed direction on this one. The more contact he had with Daria, the more he was drawn to her.

  As if his dreams had willed her back from wherever she’d been, Daria appeared at the doorway. The sweatshirt she was wearing had definitely seen better days. It must have been adorned with a college logo at one time or another, but constant wear and laundering had worn off most of the decal. In addition, paint stains were splattered down the front. The loose, faded blue jeans were just as well-worn and abused. The only thing that seemed untouched by paint were the white socks that were now slouched around her ankles.

  “You’re awake. I hope I didn’t disturb you. I just thought I heard you talking when I turned off the drill.”

  She’d heard him in prayer. And by the warm look on her face, she’d heard his words. Kevin had never been shy about showing his faith. Yet he never pushed it on someone who wasn’t open to receiving God’s grace. Daria’s curiosity was overwhelming and free of the judgment he sometimes saw in other nonbelievers. It gave him hope.

  “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I hardly remember sitting back on the sofa before waking up.”

  “Despite the age and appearance, the sofa is comfortable. I should know. I slept many nights on it before I was able to afford the bed.”

  “You don’t have to let me off so easy.”

  The smile he’d seen when he woke up was now replaced with a frown. “You can’t keep this up, you know. Even you have to see that.”