Lone Defender (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Shirlee McCoy

  “The better question is, ‘Do I care?’”

  “Of course you do. I’m the one who dragged you out of the desert, after all.”

  “I can’t believe you’re playing the guilt card.” She scowled, and he smiled.

  “Kane’s suggestion. Is it working?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad, because the thing that would make me happy is if your instincts were telling you to hop on the next plane out of town.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you. I’m staying in Arizona until I get the answers I want.”

  She would, too. He knew it, didn’t know why he’d even bothered arguing. “In that case, you’ve got yourself a bodyguard. Stay put. I’ll get a nurse to take out the IV.”

  “Bodyguard? What are you talking about?” she sputtered, but he ignored the question and walked out into the corridor. As much as he hated to admit it, Skylar had a point. They didn’t know who’d been out in the desert with them, couldn’t know who her enemies were or where they might show up. Getting her out of the hospital and into a secure location wasn’t such a bad idea.

  And he knew exactly where that location would be.

  An hour later, he’d managed to talk the doctor into writing a prescription for Skylar’s antibiotics, convince the police to run a patrol by his place, boot his sister out of the garage apartment for a few nights and arrange for his father and stepmother to drop off his truck at the hospital.

  He shoved his cell phone into his pocket, watching while the nurse took out Skylar’s IV and pressed a Band-Aid into place. “You’re all set, Ms. Grady. Your clothes are in the drawer, and the doctor’s instructions are here.” She handed Skylar a sheet of paper.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’ll need to follow up with your personal physician in the next day or two, and if you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to contact Dr. Sawyer. Here is the prescription the pharmacy filled for you. Now just hold tight while I get the wheelchair.”

  She hurried away, and Skylar dug out her clothes from the drawer. “Six days didn’t treat these very well.”

  “Here.” Jonas pulled clean jeans and a T-shirt from his backpack. “They’ll be big, but they might be a better option.”

  “Almost anything would be better. Thanks.” She smiled, and his breath caught in surprise at the beauty of it. He turned away, uncomfortable with his reaction. In the past year, friends had tried setting him up with sisters, cousins and friends of friends. He’d gone out a few times, had pleasant dates with pleasant women who’d left him feeling nothing but mild interest. Gabriella had been his first and only real love. Four years after her death, and he knew he’d never find another woman like her. Wasn’t really interested in trying to.

  Skylar was nothing like her. So what was it about the woman that had him so intrigued?

  Nothing, that’s what.

  He wasn’t intrigued, he was annoyed, exhausted and ready to say goodbye to Skylar and her problems.

  Ready, but not able.

  Even if he hadn’t agreed to keep an eye on her, he couldn’t walk away. Not when he knew how much danger she was in.

  She might not want a bodyguard, but she was getting one.

  It was as simple as that.

  He walked out into the hall, waiting impatiently while Skylar changed, his thoughts jumping ahead, plotting their next step the way he had when he’d worked border patrol.

  He and Skylar had been at a disadvantage the previous night, outnumbered and outgunned, taken by surprise. Here, things were different. The perps’ approach would have to be different, too. They’d have to come one at a time or risk being detected before they attacked. But the advantage wouldn’t truly be on his and Skylar’s side until they figured out who was after her. And why.

  “They’re a little big, but I’m making them work.” Skylar stepped into the corridor.

  “A little big” was an understatement.

  Faded jeans brushed the floor, despite the number of times she’d rolled the cuffs. His worn blue shirt hung almost to her knees, the crew neck slipping to reveal hints of creamy skin and a scar that ran down the middle of her sternum.

  She must have noticed the direction of his gaze, because she hiked the shirt back into place, covered the scar with her hand.

  “There’s no need to try to hide it,” he said.

  “There is if I want to avoid questions.” She let her hand fall away, offered a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Too late for that.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “Is that from one of the bullets?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “A dirty partner. A drug bust that went bad. Movie-of-the-week stuff. Or maybe soap opera. I still haven’t figured out which.”

  “What happened to your partner?”

  “He was killed during the gunfight. Friendly fire. At least, that’s what everyone said until I was able to tell them he wasn’t a friend. This—” she gestured to the scar “—was his work. He shot me almost before I’d realized he’d pulled a gun.” She touched the edge of the scar, then tugged the shirt into place to cover the purple ridge.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m alive, and I’ve learned from the experience.” She limped to the empty nurse’s station, her wet shoes squeaking with every step. “Looks like the nurse is still searching for a wheelchair. We may as well go.” She punched the elevator button.

  “There’s no hurry. Our ride isn’t here yet, and I don’t want to stand outside waiting for it. No sense giving a sniper the chance to take a shot.”

  “I’m not planning to give anyone a chance to do anything. I need to sit down somewhere quiet, think things through. Try to figure out why searching for a guy like Daniel Redmond would put me on someone’s hit list.”

  “That’s the guy you were hunting?”

  “Yes.” The elevator doors opened, and she stepped in, turning to face him. Her eyes were chocolate brown, her lashes thick and black. Even without makeup, even with her skin red and raw, even drowning in Jonas’s old clothes, she was striking. Average height. Average weight. But there was absolutely nothing average about her.

  The thought surprised him as much as his visceral reaction to her smile had.

  “Did anyone in Cave Creek have any idea of his whereabouts?”

  “No one who would admit it. Someone knows, though. Someone who either told Redmond I was closing in, leading him to attack me, or who doesn’t want me to find him.” She leaned against the wall, her face pallid, her eyes deeply shadowed.

  “Either that or the people who are after you have nothing to do with Redmond.” He pressed a hand to her lower back, urging her into the lobby.

  “There’s no other option, Jonas.”

  “Seems like a private investigator would have plenty of other options.”

  “True, but my most recent cases have involved tracking runaways or finding estranged family members. Nothing that would put me on someone’s hit list. Even if I did manage to annoy someone enough to become a target, it would have been easier and cheaper to kill me off in New York. Why follow me here?”

  “To put the police off the trail?”

  “I’d say that was a reasonable assumption if there hadn’t been a dozen or so people chasing after me last night. I don’t have any clients with big money. None of the people I’ve tracked are rich. It takes plenty of resources to hire a small army.”

  “You’ve got a point.” He led her to a chair, planning to insist she sit, but the double entrance doors opened, and two people walked into the lobby.

  Two very familiar people.

  Jonas braced for the onslaught as one broke away from the other, racing toward him as fast as her high-heeled feet would allow.

  EIGHT

  “Jonas! Thank goodness you’re all right. We’ve been worried sick.” A short, plump blonde raced across the lobby and straight into Jonas’s arms. She offered him a
tight hug, then turned to Skylar. A few years past fifty, the corners of her eyes lined from years of smiling, she had the kind of effortless, natural beauty that would last far into the next decades of life.

  Jonas’s mother? Before she could decide, the woman grabbed her hand, patted her knuckles. “You poor thing. You’ve been through a horrible experience. We need to get you home and tucked into bed.”

  “I—” Skylar tried to protest, but the woman wrapped an arm around her waist and led her toward the exit. It felt odd, the closeness. Shoulder to shoulder. Arm to arm. As if they were family rather than strangers.

  “Debby, if you keep smothering the girl, she won’t make it to the car, much less to Jonas’s place,” a tall lanky man said. Closing in on sixty, his hair more gray than brown, he had the same blue-green eyes as Jonas.

  “I’m not smothering. I’m supporting.”

  “In case you haven’t figured it out, these are my father Richard and his wife, Debby.” Jonas offered a wry smile, hanging back as if he felt as uncomfortable as Skylar.

  Maybe he did.

  Families weren’t always what they should be. Skylar knew that as well as anyone. Maybe Jonas’s relationship with Debby and Richard was as strained as Skylar’s had once been with her family. Love mixed with fear and disappointment and anger.

  “It’s nice to meet you both.” Her voice still sounded as raw and sore as her throat felt, and Debby patted her arm.

  “I’ve got some of my homemade chicken noodle soup already at the apartment where you’ll be staying. You’ll have to have some of it tonight. It will do wonders for you.”

  “You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble. I love cooking. As a matter of fact, it’s my life’s work.”

  “Debby has a catering business,” Jonas explained as he said goodbye to his dad and Debby, his hand on Skylar’s shoulder as they walked outside. Late afternoon sunlight streamed onto the sidewalk, splashing patterns and shadows onto the ground. The contrast made Skylar’s head spin, and she swayed, reaching out, grabbing Jonas’s arm.

  “You okay?”

  “Right as rain.” Except that her head was still spinning, her stomach churning.

  “Then why do you look pale as paper?” He helped her into the passenger seat of a beat-up Chevy truck, reached across her lap to snap the seat belt into place.

  “Maybe my sunburn is wearing off.”

  He chuckled, the rough sound washing over her as she leaned back, closed her eyes. Quiet voices drifted into the truck, but she didn’t look to see who was speaking. Didn’t want to chance being overtaken by dizziness again. Passing out in front of the hospital would mean going right back where she didn’t want to be. Vulnerable. Alone. But she wasn’t alone. Jonas was with her—along with his family. And if danger followed her, she could be bringing it to his home. She shivered.

  “Cold?” Jonas tucked something around her shoulders, his callused hands more familiar, more welcome than she wanted them to be.

  “Worrying that I’m putting your family at risk. I don’t want anything to happen to them.”

  “Neither do I. I told them they should keep their distance until we figure things out.”

  “I hope their feelings weren’t hurt.”

  “I’d rather have their feelings hurt than endanger their lives.”

  “I feel the same. Which is why I know your feelings won’t be hurt when I tell you I want you to bring me to the closest Phoenix police station and drop me off.”

  He didn’t respond, and she opened her eyes. “Well?”

  “What?”

  “I asked you to drop me off at the police station.”

  “I would have responded, but I figured that either your fever is back and you’re delusional, or you didn’t hear me the half dozen times that I told you I’m sticking around until you are on your way back to New York.” He pulled onto a long stretch of highway, his jaw tight with irritation.

  “I can’t ask you to—”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “Jonas—”

  “Tell you what, we’ll work together, try to figure out what’s going on. If things get too hot, you’ll get on a plane and leave town, and I’ll go back to my life.”

  “That doesn’t work for me.”

  “It’s going to have to.”

  “You’re exasperating.”

  “Thanks, I’ve always thought it went well with rude.”

  The comment surprised a laugh out of her, and she gave up the fight. Jonas wasn’t backing down and, truth be told, Skylar was glad. She’d been alone for six days. It felt good to have someone around.

  Six days?

  She’d been alone for fifteen years.

  Unless she counted the two years she’d wasted dating Matthew. She preferred not to.

  “You’re quiet.”

  “My throat is protesting. I’m trying to give it a break.” It was a partial truth, and she was sure Jonas knew it.

  He met her eyes, the contact brief, but so filled with questions Skylar turned away, stared out at the passing landscape. He already knew too much. Had already seen her vulnerable and scared and out of her head with fever. Seen more than anyone ever had.

  “You have your prescription?”

  She nodded, patting her pocket and the plastic bottle of medicine there. She didn’t speak, though. Just rested her head on the window, the rhythm of the truck matching the pulsing rhythm of her heart. She let it carry her away from the pain, the truck, Jonas and his unspoken questions. Let herself drift for just a little while.

  “Skylar?” A callused hand smoothed hair from her cheek, and she jerked upright, scared out of her mind that she was back where she’d been a week ago, lying on the front seat of the jeep, the sun streaming in through the window, scorching her face.

  “Where are we?” She looked into ocean blue eyes, fear slipping away as reality took hold. The hospital visit. The truck ride. Jonas.

  “My place.” Jonas got out of the truck, and she did the same, stumbling from the cab with little grace, her movements shaky and disjointed.

  To her left, a small house stood in the middle of a landscaped yard. Yellow stucco bungalow. Whitewashed front porch. Baskets of flowers hanging from the eaves. Comfortable, homey. Nothing like the house she’d imagined Jonas living in. Everything like the one she’d once dreamed would be hers.

  She’d wanted it so much. The pretty little house. The kids laughing in the yard. The family she could go home to.

  “It’s adorable.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  “Adorable is good.”

  “I’d prefer masculine and tough, but my sister’s vision is a lot different than mine, and I gave her carte blanche when she moved into the garage apartment.” He gestured to a detached garage that sat a few yards from the house, an external stairway leading up to a second-story door.

  “She’s a decorator?”

  “A social worker. At least, she will be once she finishes her master’s thesis. She has a good eye, though, just like Debby, and she knows how to make a house a home. It made sense to let her take charge of the cosmetics.”

  “Jonas!” The apartment door flew open, and a curvy blonde hurried down the stairs. Mid-twenties, Skylar estimated, her hair falling in a sleek bob to her chin, she looked as effortlessly beautiful as Debby.

  “I thought you were going to clear out before we got here,” Jonas growled, and the young woman shrugged.

  “I’m packing.”

  “For a few days, Rayne, not a year. That doesn’t take an hour and a half.”

  “It does when a person actually cares about how she looks.” She patted her hair, offering a saucy smile that made her seem even younger than Skylar had first thought. “Besides, I wanted to meet your guest. I’m Rayne Sampson.” She offered a hand, and Skylar took it.

  “Skylar Grady.”

  “I know. My mother filled me in. Said I should take out a container of her chicken-noodle soup a
nd let it thaw, because you’d need it. I think you need a change of clothes and a shower more. Am I right? Come on. I’ll show you around, get you settled before I head out.” She slid an arm around Skylar’s waist, the same way her mother had done at the hospital.

  “You’re staying with Debby and Dad, right?” Jonas followed them up the stairs and into a small living room, his presence dwarfing the comfortable couch and easy chair, overshadowing the homey decorations. He’d been larger than life out in the desert. The small room only showcased his height, the breadth of his shoulders, the force of his gaze.

  “Tonight, I’m staying with Rachel. We were planning on heading to the college library to work, then getting some dinner, so it made more sense than driving all the way from the university to Mom and Dad’s place.”

  “You didn’t tell Rachel why you needed a place to stay, did you?”

  “I may be your younger sister, Jonas, but I’m not a child. I’ve seen the news. I know some crazy things are going on, and I figured you are trying to keep Skylar hidden away for a few days. If anyone finds out she’s here, it won’t be because of me.”

  “Sorry. It’s been a long few days.” Jonas raked a hand over glossy black hair, and Skylar couldn’t help thinking that no one should look so good after tromping through the desert and running for his life. He met her eyes, and she realized she’d been staring. Realized she’d been thinking things she shouldn’t. Things about the way he looked, the way she felt when his ocean-blue eyes settled on her. Shaky and unsure and intrigued.

  She knew the feelings.

  Knew what they meant.

  Didn’t like it.

  Because those feelings were exactly what had gotten her into trouble with Matthew. Handsome, charming, lying Matthew.

  “I pulled out a couple things for you. A shirt, some jeans. They’re on the bed in my room. There’s a washing machine in here. Feel free to wash anything you need to.” Rayne pulled open a small closet, and Skylar nodded, thankful for the distraction.

  “I appreciate you giving up your apartment, Rayne.”

  “It’s no problem. I’m barely here anymore anyway. Between my work and my school, there isn’t a lot of time to chill.” She smiled, light spilling in from the bay window and highlighting hollows beneath her cheekbones and circles under her eyes. Covered by a deft hand and sheer makeup, they disappeared as Rayne stepped into a galley kitchen. “The soup is in the fridge. Mom suggests you pour it into a saucepan. Me? I’d microwave it.”