Protector's Instinct

by Janie Crouch

  She knew Zane would call as soon as he had something concrete to tell her. This safe house wouldn’t be her home for more than a few hours. She and Zane had considered taking her to his place at the beach but decided the fewer people who knew about that, the better. But she would’ve rather been there.

  A knock on the door froze Caroline’s blood. Damn it, would that happen for the rest of her life? Would her mind always automatically go back to the day of the attack whenever she heard a knock? It was one of the things she hadn’t been able to get any control over. No matter what, when she heard a knock on the door, her entire body clenched in panic.

  She walked to the door, trying to get her fear under control. She was in a safe house with an officer outside. Nobody but law enforcement knew where she was.

  But when she opened the door just the slightest bit, a man came crashing through.

  Just like what had happened the day she was attacked.

  If she thought panic assailed her just at the knock, it was nothing compared to the sheer terror that sucked her under now. Every self-defense move she’d learned, every means of protecting herself, vanished from her mind.

  The man pushed her to the ground and Caroline cried out. Scurrying back, getting away from him, was all she could think to do.

  She couldn’t scurry away fast enough. The man walked over to her and gripped her by her hair. Caroline cried out.

  “It’s time for you to come with me.”

  He began pulling and she began to struggle, kicking out toward him, which he just easily sidestepped.

  Her terrified mind waited for the blows to come. The blows that would break her bones, deliver pain she hadn’t thought was possible, like it had before. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew this wasn’t Paul Trumpold. He’d been younger, stronger. Had delighted in her pain. This man was not as fit, was older. Didn’t seem intent on delivering physical blows.

  But when she looked up into the doorway, she swore she saw Trumpold. His dark hair and good looks that had fooled everyone, hiding a monster. Caroline wretched, vomiting up the entire contents of her stomach.

  She struggled to remember a self-defense move, to force herself to do more than just squirm and kick at the man. She sobbed in frustration as he pulled her toward the door, grabbing at his hand to relieve the pressure in her scalp.

  “If you don’t come with me, I’ll be forced to kill you here.”

  The man sounded like he almost regretted that fact, but Caroline knew she couldn’t let him take her from the safe house. She knew firsthand the sort of pain the human body could endure before death. She didn’t want to die here, but she couldn’t let him take her from this house.

  But then he was gone, his hold of her scalp ripped free as he went flying past her deeper into the room.

  It took her a moment to realize there was a tangle of two bodies. And the other one was Zane.

  Lillian stood in the doorway, gun raised. “Are you okay, Caroline?” she asked, her eyes surveying the room rather than looking at her.

  “Y-yes. I’m okay.”

  Zane was fighting with the other man, if you could call it much of a fight. Zane was younger, stronger and obviously enraged.

  Lillian stepped in, gun still raised to chest level. She scoped out the rest of the room.

  “Did the guy come in alone?” she asked, ignoring the punches being thrown by Zane and the intruder.

  “I...I don’t know.” Caroline barely got the words out. “I thought I saw a second man standing at the door, but I’m not sure.” She also thought the man was Paul Trumpold, but he was dead. Caroline knew she couldn’t trust her own mind.

  Lillian quickly made her way into the one bedroom of the safe house, the bathroom and the kitchen.

  “We’re clear here,” she said into some sort of communication unit.

  Jon came running through the door, looked at Caroline huddled up against the wall and Zane and the other man still rolling on the ground throwing punches at each other.

  “Zane, enough,” Jon said. “We need to question him, not put him in the hospital.”

  Caroline watched Zane pull himself together and get off the man, who lay moaning on the floor. Both Lillian and Jon had their weapons trained on him. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Cuff him,” Zane told Jon, then walked over to Caroline.

  She wanted to go to him, to meet him halfway, but couldn’t seem to get herself off the wall.

  He held his arms out in front of him, the way someone would do if they were proving they meant no harm or sudden movement. She knew then that she must look as frightened and horrified as she felt.

  “Zane,” she whispered his name and fell into him. He caught her and lowered them both to the ground, his arms wrapped securely around her.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked. “Do we need to get you medical attention?”

  “No,” she whispered. “He didn’t hurt me.”

  For the longest time they said nothing else, just held each other. She could hear Jon read the guy his rights before they cuffed him. Multiple officers came in and out of the safe house, including Gareth Quinn, who evidently had been knocked unconscious in the car on the street but then came to and called in reinforcements.

  Zane just sat against the wall holding Caroline the whole time.

  “Let’s get you home,” Zane finally said.

  “Don’t you need to go question that guy or something?”

  “It will wait. They’ll get all his info, but they won’t start questioning him without me.”

  Caroline just tucked herself into his arm. She didn’t want to look around. Didn’t want everyone to know that they’d been right to be so protective of her. That when literal push came to shove, Caroline had frozen.

  That she was as weak as everyone thought.

  She’d sworn she’d never be a victim again. Had gone through hundreds of hours of therapy and physical training to keep from being a victim again, but when the crisis moment had come, she’d just folded and begun to cry.

  Caroline wanted to cry now. Huddled against the door of Zane’s truck, staring blankly out the window, she wanted to bawl her eyes out. She’d been fighting so hard for her independence, swearing she could handle herself, that she was so strong.

  One knock on a door and two minutes of a man pushing through had shown her otherwise. She was never going to be okay again.

  “Caro,” Zane whispered, not trying to touch her. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? Don’t hide it if you are. Tell me.”

  “No, he didn’t hurt me. Didn’t hit me at all. Was just pulling me out the door by my hair. You’re more hurt than I am.” She didn’t look away from the window as she said it.

  They rode in silence until Zane eventually pulled up to his beach house. They went up the stairs, Zane unlocking the door, then checking to make sure the house was secure. Caroline didn’t wait outside for him to finish this time. She entered, then crossed all the way to the living room to the outside deck. She crossed to the railing, staring out at her beloved ocean. From this direction she couldn’t see the sun that was beginning to set but knew it was by the purple hues being cast over everything.

  “Caro.” She heard Zane from the doorway. “Tell me what’s wrong. It’s more than just the guy breaking in, isn’t it?”

  She could hear him come a little closer.

  “Although, that’s upsetting enough for anyone. To think you’re safe, that the danger is elsewhere, but it’s not. That’s scary. And not just to you, to anyone.”

  He fell into silence when she didn’t say anything. How could she make Zane understand? He’d always been so strong, so capable. Never plagued by doubt or frozen into inaction.

  Not like her.

  It was a crippling thing to realize all the progress you thought y
ou’d made—you’d worked and scraped and clawed for—was just a figment of your imagination.

  “He knocked on the door.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  Zane didn’t push, just came and stood by her at the railing.

  “Trumpold knocked. The day he attacked me, he knocked on my door.” Caroline knew this was a sore spot for Zane. That he blamed himself for not being the one who had knocked on her door that day. But he didn’t draw the conversation to him or his guilt. She appreciated it. Appreciated the strength in his silence.

  “So when this guy knocked, I panicked. I should mention that I always panic when someone knocks on my door. God forbid you be the poor package delivery guy in my neighborhood. He must think I live on the verge of a nervous breakdown.” She tried to laugh, but it didn’t sound the least bit amused even to her own ears.

  “It’s an understandable trigger, Caro. You know that, right?” he said softly.

  “Oh, God, yes, I understand that. I have spent more time in therapy talking about knocks on doors than anything else. It’s ridiculous.” She tapped her knuckles against the railing. “Even knowing it’s me, watching my own knuckles hit the wood, I still get slightly nauseous at the sound.”

  Zane nodded, not saying anything. She couldn’t blame him. What could you say to that?

  “But I thought it was probably that officer, Gareth Quinn. And I knew I was being a complete coward. So I opened the door.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “It was only opened a crack when he pushed his way through, slamming the door open.”

  “Just like Trumpold,” Zane finished for her.

  “Yes.” Caroline could barely get the syllable out.

  Zane put his hand over hers on the railing. “I’m so sorry.”

  She pulled her hand out from under his. “But that’s not it, not really. If that is what had happened and the dude had scared the life out of me and you’d gotten there just in time to save the day, I’d be fine with that.”

  “I don’t understand. I thought he didn’t hurt you.”

  “He didn’t, Zane. He was planning on dragging me out of the safe house, told me he was going to kill me, but you got there in time.”

  “That’s good, right?” He obviously couldn’t understand the distress tainting her tone.

  “I froze.”

  He didn’t ask what she meant. He’d been in law enforcement too long not to understand.

  “I’ve spent so much time studying self-defense since the attack. Months of classes. Hundreds of hours. But when he forced his way in, it was like I forgot it all.”

  “Caro—”

  She shook her head. “I can see it all playing in my head like it’s a movie. And I want to scream at that girl on the ground, ‘What’s the matter with you? You know how to break his hold. Hell, you know how to break both his arms. Do it!’”

  Her hands clenched into fists. “I just laid there on the ground, crying, Zane. I even vomited. That guy wasn’t as fit as Trumpold, wasn’t as strong, hadn’t stunned me the way Trumpold had with his first two punches. But I just laid there, blubbering. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t gotten there when you did.”

  “Caroline, it happens. People freeze up. Even in law enforcement it happens.”

  His matter-of-fact tone, devoid of anything that could be considered condescending or pitying, helped her in ways he couldn’t possibly know.

  “I hate myself. I hate myself for being so weak. A victim.” She turned away from the view of the ocean and leaned her back against the railing. “Again.”

  Zane came to stand right in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. “There’s nothing about you that’s weak, Caro. And you’re no victim. You were stunned. A situation you couldn’t possibly have expected caught you off guard. It happens.”

  She didn’t want to look at him, but he caught her chin with his thumb and finger and forced her to look up. Forced her to look into those rich brown eyes, where she didn’t see anything close to pity or concern. Didn’t even see love.

  She saw respect, and it meant more to her than all the other emotions could’ve meant combined.

  “We got there when we did, and thank goodness,” Zane continued. “Because those punches I got in on that guy, I needed them, and they’re probably the only ones I’ll legally get.”

  She couldn’t help but smile a little at that.

  “But I have no doubt you would’ve bounced back, Caro. That training you’ve done, it would’ve filtered its way back into your mind, into your muscles. You wouldn’t have let yourself be taken by that guy. I would bet every cent I have in this life and the next one that you would’ve taken him down in the next few minutes.”

  Caroline leaned into his chest. “I just wish I had a replay button. That I could go back and do it again. Make it different.”

  He wrapped his arms around her like he planned to never let her go. “Believe me, I’ve wished for one of those too. But we can only move forward. All I know is that you have the inner strength to withstand damn near anything.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Zane didn’t go back into the station that night. Caroline and her needs were more important to him than questioning the perp they’d caught right away. Plus, Zane probably needed a little more cooling-down time anyway.

  He’d probably lose his newly reinstated status pretty quickly if he started punching on a suspect in custody.

  He had let Jon and Captain Harris know he wasn’t coming in until this morning and both had agreed it was the best thing to do. The suspect—Jon informed Zane that the guy’s name was Donald Brodey, a name that sounded vaguely familiar to him—would wait.

  But now Zane was ready. Wanted some answers. Lillian was hanging out with Caroline so Zane could be at the station getting them. He didn’t want to take any chances until they knew exactly what was going on. After what happened yesterday, Caroline wasn’t as resistant to having Lillian around, which broke his heart.

  Caroline’s reaction to the break-in at the safe house wasn’t unheard of and certainly wasn’t anything that should cause her shame. He’d gotten through to her the best he could about that, but he knew she regretted how she’d reacted. But any law enforcement officer knew full well that practicing, drills, sparring were all well and good, but that in the heat of the moment, training didn’t always translate to perfect real-world responses.

  He wished Caroline could have another chance to fight down the guy breaking through the door, but he damn well hoped it would never happen again. Zane would help her find other ways of making sure she didn’t freeze up again that didn’t involve her being in actual danger.

  Zane found Jon back at the little corner desk beside the copying machine, where the department had so rudely put him when he’d come here initially working the serial rapist case. Nobody in the Corpus Christi PD had wanted an outsider coming in to help with the case. They’d thought Jon would be a hotshot know-it-all.

  He’d been neither.

  “You know we’ll get you a regular desk, Jon. You don’t have to be all Harry-Potter-living-under-the-stairs anymore.”

  Jon smiled. “This desk holds some pretty fond memories for me. Led me to my soon-to-be wife, you know.”

  Zane smiled too. Couldn’t argue with that. Sometimes bad circumstances were what ended up pointing you in the right direction.

  “So does the name Donald Brodey seem familiar to you?” Jon got up and handed a file to Zane.

  “Vaguely.”

  “That’s because you arrested him eight years ago. Felony breaking and entering coupled with burglary.”

  Zane opened the file. “Yes. Now I remember. It was one of my first cases as a detective.” He studied the mug shot of Brodey from nearly eight years ago. He�
�d been in his late thirties then, which put him in his midforties now.

  “Looks like a pretty cut-and-dried case. His prints were at the scene. He’d already done a couple of years for misdemeanor B and E charges.”

  Zane’s eyes narrowed. “But he always said he didn’t commit this particular crime. I remember that.”

  “Did you believe him?” Jon asked.

  Zane shrugged. “Not really. But I have to admit, I might have been more interested in proving my worth to the department than I was interested in listening to some repeat offender argue about his innocence.”

  “Looks like he served six years. He’s been out for about a year and a half.”

  “Honestly, I haven’t thought about Brodey since he went to prison. I definitely wouldn’t have pegged him for trying to kill me. For a damned B and E conviction.” Zane closed the file.

  “Well, he wanted to talk to you.”

  “Then let’s give the man what he wants.”

  They cleared it with the captain and had Brodey brought to an interview room from holding. The man was definitely bruised from their tussle yesterday, but then again, so was Zane.

  “Detective Wales.” Brodey smirked as Zane and Jon entered.

  “Brodey.” Zane took the seat directly across from him. Jon took the one at the corner of the metal table. Jon read the man his rights.

  “Not going to call for your lawyer, Brodey?”

  The older man sat back in his chair. “Nope. Ain’t got nothing to say that a lawyer will change.”

  “I suppose you’re innocent of this just like you were innocent all those years ago?”

  Brodey’s eyes narrowed. “I was innocent of that B and E and you know it.”

  Zane shook his head. “Is that why you’ve been sending me all those texts? My ‘secret’ that would come to light.”

  “Yeah. You can’t hide your secrets forever, Wales.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “And Caroline Gill? What does she have to do with my secrets?”

  “Everybody knows the best way to get to you is through Caroline Gill. That’s why I was trying to take her yesterday. I knew if I could get her, it wouldn’t be any problem to get you to surrender.”