He loved that she remembered how much he liked the sweet pineapple soda and sandwich Cuban immigrants brought to Florida. They’d often shared such a meal and longing surged through him for the easy relationship they’d once had. The relationship he couldn’t manage to keep his mind off of.
How could a woman who stood five-seven on her tiptoes wreak such havoc in his life?
He had to get away to compose himself. “Sounds perfect. I’ll work on changing locks while you order. Is your toolbox in the garage?”
“Yes,” she said, seeming distracted.
Despite the desire to know what she was thinking, he hung his jacket on the back of a chair, then went to the garage. Jerking his tie loose, he inhaled deeply of the humid air and blew out his tension. He located a small toolbox and set to work swapping out the locks and constructing a bar to brace the door. He’d just tested it when the doorbell rang.
Adrenaline surged through his veins and his hand automatically shot to his holstered weapon before he remembered their dinner order. He motioned for Claire to stay put on the sofa while he retrieved their food from the deliveryman.
When they were seated at her glass dining table, he bit into the grilled sandwich of pork, ham and pickles then groaned at the tangy goodness. As he swallowed, he searched for a safe topic. “Did you have any luck discovering alibis while I was having fun with CATS?”
She set down her sandwich and wiped her mouth, taking her time as if she didn’t want to talk about the theft. “Not a lot. Since my attacker obviously wasn’t a woman, I started with the guys on the team.”
“You can’t rule the women out. They could’ve hired a guy or teamed up with someone they know.”
She frowned but nodded her agreement. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll talk to them tomorrow.”
“What did the guys tell you?”
“Not much.” She narrowed her eyes. “You of all people know how men are about engaging in small talk.”
“What, me?” He jabbed his thumb into his chest. “I can be social.”
She rolled her eyes. “Only when forced.”
“Okay, granted, I’m not big on small talk, but I speak when it’s important.”
“That you do.” She seemed to get lost in thoughts of their past he knew better than to pursue.
He quickly moved on. “So, no luck at all then?”
“I ruled out two of the guys.”
“And your team’s what...fifteen people? Maybe we should prioritize them so you can give it another go tomorrow with the most likely suspects.”
She sat back, an appraising look on her face. “And how do you propose we do that?”
“The way I figure it, the theft is most likely about money or revenge. Either revenge on you or the army. If we make a list of people with these motives who have the ability to disable security cameras or alter the footage, we should have a place to start.”
“I’ll get a notepad.” She left the room and quickly returned with a pen and legal pad.
“We should start with money,” he suggested.
“Let’s see.” She sat, her hand hovering over the yellow pad as she fidgeted with the pen, twisting it in and out of slender fingers. “I guess Alan Burns is possible. His wife is undergoing experimental cancer treatments not covered by insurance, which means he’s short on cash. And he’s one of our civilian software engineers so he’d be able to modify security. Plus, he fits the physical build of my attacker and he wasn’t in the office at the time of my attack.”
“Good.” Travis tapped the notepad. “Put him on the list.”
She jotted his name down and clicked the pen several times before adding Kent Norton to the page. “Kent’s a lieutenant who was passed over to head up CATS. He’s on the team, but he still complains about having a civilian in charge. He was also out of the office this afternoon, and he’s the right size.”
“So revenge might fit him. Does he have any money issues?”
She shrugged. “Not that I know of. He came into an inheritance not long ago and used it to purchase a condo by Lake Eola.”
“Wow, he must’ve gotten a huge chunk of money,” Travis said as he recalled the expensive housing near Orlando’s famous Lake Eola fountain. “We’ll stick with revenge, then. He might want to get back at you and the army.”
“Maybe me, but I don’t know about the army. He seems like he lives for his career, but you never know, right?”
“Right.” With the discussion firmly on the investigation and not centered on anything personal, Travis started to relax and leaned back. “Anyone else come to mind?”
Deep in thought, Claire lifted her face to the ceiling. He should look away, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the sleek lines of her throat. He knew firsthand how soft her skin felt to the touch. He shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn’t care if keeping his hands in his pockets violated the uniform policy. The rule was so ingrained that it felt wrong and the discomfort distracted him from Claire.
She lowered her head, her eyes awash with apprehension.
“Did you come up with someone else?” he asked, her apprehension making him dread the answer.
“Maybe...I don’t know.” She paused and bit her lip. “There’s this guy. He’s not on the team anymore, and his security access has been revoked so I don’t know if he could pull off the theft.”
“Would he have knowledge of the security system and the technical skills to alter it?”
“Yes. He’s a software engineer.”
“Maybe he could bypass it, then. Tell me about him.”
“His name’s Mike Robb. He’s former army and worked for us as a civilian. He kind of had a thing for me. It got to be a problem, and I had to fire him.”
Travis’s intuition sat up and took notice, raising his concern to a new level, but he played it down. “A thing?” he asked casually.
“Okay, maybe it was more than a thing.” She clenched her hands and took a deep breath. “His interest crossed the line and became an obsession. When his performance suffered at work, I had to let him go. That was about three weeks ago.”
Travis’s gut started churning, the sandwich he’d just enjoyed feeling like lead in his stomach. “Have you seen him since then?”
“Sort of. I mean he’s called me and shown up here a few times. Plus, I often run into him when I’m out, so I figure he’s following me.”
“And you’re just mentioning him now?” Travis’s words shot out like an accusation before his chest constricted.
She eyed him for several moments, her cool expression in direct opposition to his turmoil. “After I was attacked this morning, I considered telling the cops about him. But then you were so certain the attack was related to the theft and Mike was off the team so I thought it wasn’t important.”
Travis sat forward and resisted the urge to get up and pace away his anxiety. “I don’t care if he’s involved in the theft or not. He’s bothering you and I intend to have a word with him.”
“Why?”
He jerked his hands free and slammed a fist on the table. “He’s stalking you, for crying out loud. That’s not okay.”
Claire jumped and he regretted the loss of control, but he doubted any man who’d once loved a woman could hear about such a thing without exploding.
Breathing deeply, she watched him while endless seconds passed. He wanted to beg her to speak, but he waited and cringed inside over her upcoming answer.
“Let’s be clear about one thing, Travis,” she finally said, dead calm in her tone. “Your assignment doesn’t involve my personal life. Any problems I’m dealing with that aren’t connected to the theft are none of your business.”
“Fine. Leave the fact that he’s obsessed with you out of this.” Travis grabbed the pen and wrote down Mike’s name in big, bold
letters then circled it with a thick slash of the pen. “He’s got a personal vendetta against you for firing him, which in my mind makes him our primary suspect, and I intend to have a conversation with him tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said, still calm and detached.
Unbelievable. How could she be so calm? More important, how could she keep this from him all afternoon? This guy was the perfect suspect. Or maybe Travis wanted Mike to be guilty because he was interested in Claire.
Interested, my foot. He’s a stalker. Plain and simple.
Travis gave into the need and got up to pace. He’d spend the night researching Mike, and after dropping Claire at the institute tomorrow, he’d go talk to the guy.
All right, maybe he’d do more than talk. Even if Mike wasn’t the thief, Travis didn’t care what Claire said. He’d let the creep have it for bothering her.
And if Mike turned out to be the thief after all? Then he was an imminent threat to the woman Travis would do just about anything to protect and he’d stop at nothing to keep her safe.
FIVE
As the hours inched closer to sunrise, Travis shifted on the sofa. He should be fast asleep by now but he hated to admit Claire was right. He’d be more comfortable in the queen-size bed in her guest room than with his feet hanging over the end of the sofa. But nothing would change the fact that he was in the same house as her, leaving him more anxious and distracted than he’d been in a long time. No wonder sleep was so hard to grasp.
Pacing always helped in the past. He swung his feet to the floor and saw the clock on her DVR go out. He looked into the kitchen. Stove. Microwave. All the clocks were black. The house silent. Like a tomb.
He glanced at the window over the front door. Streetlights were on.
Someone cut the power.
Not someone. Claire’s abductor.
A muffled thump—maybe a window closing or footfalls—sounded from Claire’s room.
He raced to her door and heard someone crossing the wood floor. Whisper-soft footsteps, but they were there. Could be Claire checking on the power outage, but he wouldn’t risk it.
He whipped open the door.
Claire was in bed. A man stood over her. His gloved hand holding a cloth hovered near her mouth. In his other hand, a gun hung limply from his fingers.
“Stop!” Travis shouted hoping to catch the man off guard but only succeeded in making Claire shoot up.
The intruder glanced at Travis then dropped the rag and aimed his weapon at Travis’s heart, keeping him locked in place when his feet fairly throbbed with the need to take action and protect Claire.
If only Travis could go for his weapon holstered at his side, but the risk was too great. He’d put both Claire and himself in danger.
The assailant backed toward the wide-open window. Travis tried to make out his features, but a dark hoodie shadowed his face. When he’d hefted one leg over the sill and looked away, Travis lunged, grabbing the creep’s shoulders and jerking him back inside.
As he wrestled the man to the ground, Travis caught a glimpse of Claire easing out of bed. He wanted to check on her, but her assailant bucked, and Travis had to focus or risk losing him. “Safe room now, Claire!”
With a roar, the man shot up forcing Travis’s back into the door. Air gushed from his lungs. Gasping for breath, he held on and tried to knock the gun free.
The guy twisted his arm out of reach then heaved his entire weight into Travis’s chest, unsettling his feet. He flailed out, but lost his balance and plummeted toward the floor. The intruder lifted his gun and fearing a shot to the chest, Travis scrambled out of the way. Footfalls pounded behind him and the next thing Travis felt was the crack of the gun over the back of his head.
Pain sliced through his skull as darkness beckoned. Sweet, soft, peaceful darkness of slumber.
No. Claire needs you.
He blinked hard and willed it away. He attempted to get to his feet, but the guy shoved him down and bolted through the door.
Travis tried to rise again, but when he heard the front door open, he assumed the attacker had fled and Travis returned his attention to Claire. She crossed the room, a large metal candlestick gripped in her hands, a fierce scowl on her face.
If the situation wasn’t so dire, he’d laugh at the comical sight she made holding the candlestick aloft as if it would protect her.
“You won’t need that, honey,” he forced the words out, the blackness now calling stronger. “He’s gone. You should call 9-1-1, though.” He tried to add a reassuring smile, but the pull of darkness grew and he let it claim him.
* * *
“Travis.” Panic stealing Claire’s breath, she dropped to the floor and found his pulse. Good. He was alive. “Travis. Please. Are you all right?”
Silence.
What should she do?
C’mon, Claire. Do something. You have to help him.
She slipped her fingers behind his head to lift it to her lap. At the feel of sticky blood, she jerked away.
“No. Oh, no. Oh, no. Please, God, help,” she prayed.
Travis had said to call 9-1-1. That’s what she’d do.
She rushed to her nightstand to grab her phone. As she requested an ambulance, she returned to Travis’s side. By the time she’d ended the call he was waking.
“Don’t move,” she cautioned. “Your head’s bleeding.”
“All the more reason to move so I don’t mess up your carpet.” He got a silly grin on his face.
If he could joke, he couldn’t be hurt too badly. “I called 9-1-1. The police and ambulance are on the way.”
“We should get you to the safe room while I check on Julie.” He staggered to his feet.
When Claire tried to help him, he shrugged her off. The big macho hunk wasn’t about to accept help. Though he was more wobbly than her shaking knees left her, she let him lead her to the laundry room. She understood his need to protect. It was innate in his lifestyle and was why he was so good at his job. And his willingness to put others first was one of his most endearing qualities.
He reminded her of her father, of all the military men and women she worked with. They’d promised to give everything, including their lives, for service to their country, and her respect for them was beyond measure.
A wave of gratitude for Travis’s selfless dedication swept over her, and she opened her mouth to thank him, but he held up his hand.
“Stay here and lock yourself in.” He shut the door and departed.
She twisted the lock then paced in the small room. Back and forth, back and forth as thoughts of his efforts on her behalf reminded her of why she’d fallen in love with him in the first place. If she put the positive traits he’d displayed today in one column and the negative in the other, so far, the positive far outweighed his only negative checkmark for his dangerous job.
“But it’s a huge negative,” she reminded herself before she let his good traits sway her toward making a mistake.
He knocked on the door, the sound sending her toward the ceiling. “It’s me, Claire.”
She let him in and stood back to give him room to secure the door again, his body so close in the tiny space she could almost feel his urgency to protect her flowing through him.
“Julie’s fine,” he said, running his gaze over her as if searching for any injuries. “I asked her to join us, but she said this room is too small for three people so she’ll keep her door locked until I give her the all clear. She asked about the intruder. I couldn’t tell her the whole truth, but I said it’s likely your attacker from earlier today.”
“Since we aren’t certain of the attacker’s identity or motive, she might think he’ll come back. She could be afraid that she’ll get hurt, too. I should go to her.” Claire started for the door.
Travis gr
abbed her arm, the warmth of his fingers in direct contrast to the firm pressure of his grip. “I can’t let you do that until the police arrive and clear the area.”
Claire eased her arm free, but the intensity that remained on his face told her not to bother arguing. “I wish we could tell her what’s going on so she doesn’t worry about her own safety.”
“Not possible. It could compromise the investigation and my CO would never give approval.”
“Then we’ll have to tell her you’re going to keep an eye on both of us while we’re home to make sure nothing happens.”
“Sure. That we can do.” He started to run a hand over his head and winced when his fingers grazed his injury.
“Sit,” she commanded in her best supervisory voice. “I want to look at that cut.”
He arched a brow, and she could see he was thinking about disagreeing so she cast him a stern look.
He laughed, a short burst of surprise that bounced around the small room as he settled on a sturdy hamper. “I’m always amazed that a little bit of a thing like you can get so bossy.”
“Hey, you grow up in a military household and you learn from the best.” She tilted his head to catch the overhead light. The blood had slowed to a trickle, but she still wanted to apply pressure. She’d need a clean cloth to do so. She opened her dryer.
“You’re going to do laundry at a time like this?”
“No, silly.” She pulled out a washcloth. “I need this to stop the bleeding.” She moved behind him. “It’s gonna hurt.”
“In that case.” He looked up at her with the little boy grin so in contrast with the big, brawny man that it melted her heart. “Will you hold my hand?”
She laughed and felt the terror of the night disappear with it, which she felt certain was his intention. She pressed the cloth against his head making him wince.
“Sorry,” she said. “I hate hurting you when you were injured trying to keep me safe.”
“No biggie.”
She lifted his chin until she got a good look at him and their eyes connected. “It’s a big deal to me, Travis. You’re a wonderful, honorable man who deserves the very best in life and I know I hurt you. For that I’m so sorry.”
Holiday Defenders : Mission: Christmas Rescuespecial Ops Christmashomefront Holiday Hero (9781460341254) Page 11
