Protecting Her Own (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Margaret Daley

Sean tossed his head in the direction of the side of the house. “My deputy has her. He found her out back. She’s okay.”

  Connor turned and saw one of the deputies and Cara making their way slowly across the lawn. For a few seconds his heartbeat pummeled against his rib cage at the disheveled sight of her—alive but hurt. He forced his emotions concerning her into a box and slammed the lid closed, searching for that professional facade so necessary for him to do his job.

  The officer had his arm around Cara and supported most of her weight. The sight of tiny cuts scoring her face constricted Connor’s chest. He forced a stabilizing breath into his lungs, but the band around him contracted even more as the sounds of her coughing competed with the murmurs from the neighbors gathering. Her blue eyes were huge as though she’d been caught at a surprise birthday party. Her short russet hair, which had always been long when he’d known her before, was dusty gray to match the rest of her.

  His gaze zeroed in on her full lips, the corners turned down at the moment. He could remember that when she’d smile at him, it would take over her whole expression. The knot in his gut hardened at the pain reflected in her expression.

  As he neared her, he noticed the trembling in her arms dangling at her sides, the slight limp as she favored her right leg. Her owlish gaze locked with his, and for a few seconds no recognition dawned in them. Had he changed that much? He hadn’t thought so.

  Then a light flickered in the blue depths. Her mouth curved up briefly. “Connor, you’re home,” she said in a raspy voice.

  He had thought his stomach couldn’t tighten any more than it had. But it did. Into a ball of steel, burning its way clear up to his heart.

  No way! I won’t go to that place ever again. The vow tempered the fiery need to hold her and run his arms over her to make sure she wasn’t seriously injured.

  He cocked a grin, stopping a foot from her and the deputy. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”

  She swallowed hard, tried to smile again and failed. She squinted and focused on his lips, then shook her head and pointed to her ears. “Can’t hear you.” A thread of panic edged her words.

  The sheriff wrote on his pad that he’d sent a deputy to Sunny Meadows to stay with her dad and held it up for Cara.

  “Thanks.” Relief flittered over her face, only to be replaced by the pain again.

  Sean jotted something on his pad then showed Cara.

  “Not a gas explosion. House is all electric.” That word ended on a cough.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Connor saw a car pull up to the curb behind the fire truck and Doc Sims climb from the vehicle.

  The short, portly man leaned in, withdrew a black bag, then hurried around to the other side and opened the back door. “Let’s get her over here so I can check her out.”

  “I’m sure you have something to do. I can take her from here,” Connor said to the deputy, a part of himself amazed that he’d volunteered to hold Cara, have her flush up against him.

  His arm coiled about her. The fragrance of lilacs, mingling with the odors of sulfur and dust, wafted to him. The flowery scent teased his memories of days gone by and vied with another—the apple-scented shampoo she’d always used. Some things hadn’t changed. These smells brought up memories of the past when he’d loved her.

  But she’d killed that feeling the day she’d left town without even saying goodbye. She’d disappeared from his life only to reappear several years later reporting the news from a Southeast Asian country in the midst of a rebellion. Chaos had ruled the scene behind her. And yet she’d been calm, totally charged with the action occurring around her. So much like her father when he’d been reporting about a volatile situation.

  That had been his Cara. A thrill seeker. Restless. Needing something she couldn’t find in Clear Branch.

  But it felt right with her in his arms again.

  His thoughts prodded his steps faster until she halted, making him stop, too. She blinked as though trying to orient herself to her surroundings.

  “Slow down,” she said in a voice that had been heard around the world for years until she suddenly dropped out of sight five years ago. “Dizzy.”

  He’d let her get to him. Angry with himself, he clenched his jaws and nodded. At a much slower pace he covered the distance to Doc Sims and eased Cara onto the backseat. The doctor whipped out a blanket and draped it over Cara’s shoulders, sending up a cloud of dust that aggravated her coughing. Connor stepped away as the doctor began examining her.

  “Do you hurt anywhere?” Doc Sims asked.

  Her face crunched up into a frown and she started to say something when Connor replied, “She can’t hear. The blast.”

  “I was hoping she hadn’t been that close to the explosion.” Doc looked from her to Connor. “I’ll take it from here.” A smile accompanied the dismissal.

  Connor backpedaled for a few paces then swung around and went in search of the sheriff. Nothing would be discovered until the bomb squad arrived, but he was itching to do a walk-through. This wasn’t his area of expertise, though, and he would have to wait.

  Was the bomb meant for Cara or her dad? Most likely her dad. But if Cara was still working as a bodyguard, it was possible she had angered someone.

  The sheriff rounded the corner from the side and strode to Connor. “I got a call that the bomb squad should be here shortly. I didn’t find anything suspicious in the backyard. I looked in the kitchen window and saw part of the ceiling on the floor. Cara’s lucky she got out okay. Is Doc going to call for the ambulance in Silver Creek or take her to his clinic?”

  Since Clear Branch was small with a population of four thousand, the ambulance would have to come from the larger town twenty minutes away. “I don’t know. He dismissed me.”

  “That’s our doc.”

  “Do you think the bomb was meant for C.J.?”

  “For over thirty years he was in the middle of any important newsworthy situation in the world working for Global News Organization. His exposé on the Mafia alone would have ruffled people’s feathers. Not to mention he’d decided to write his memoir. Planned on naming names and exposing corruption in high places. People that may have escaped prosecution but not the power of the pen—his words, not mine. So, yeah, I think someone could have a grudge against him.”

  “Maybe the memoir is the key, and that sparked this attack now.”

  Sean rubbed his hand through his hair. “Maybe, but he hadn’t started it yet. Cara has done her fair share of things that would make enemies.”

  “As a bodyguard?”

  “She’s worked a couple of high-profile assignments.”

  “So you think she could be in danger?”

  “Maybe. But if I had to pick one I would pick C.J. He’s got the manners of a pit bull and a rattlesnake all rolled up in one, especially when he’s on a hot story.”

  As much as he wished he didn’t, he still held feelings for Cara. Connor’s own relief, though, that C.J. was probably the target rather than Cara eased the tautness from his muscles. There was no love lost between her dad and him. “Where’s she living now?” Why was he asking? Stay away.

  “Dallas, when she isn’t traveling for Guardians, Inc.”

  He’d heard of the group of all female bodyguards. Its reputation was top-notch. Connor looked toward where Doc was still checking Cara out. Lord, I wasn’t prepared to see her again. “Do you think she’ll go back to Dallas soon?”

  “I don’t know if she’s going back just yet. She’s trying to get something set up so her father can live at home and receive the therapy he needs for his recovery. He’s been getting better. I was surprised this morning when she called to tell me the birthday party she’d planned for tomorrow at the house was canceled because her dad would be at Sunny Meadows a few more days.”

  “She doesn’t have anywhere to stay now,” Connor murmured, looking at the bombed-out front of the house. If he’d realized Cara was back in town, he wouldn’t have come h
ome. Gramps had failed to mention that when he’d talked to him last night before coming from Richmond.

  “There’s always the hotel on Main Street since the lodge by the lake is full with Labor Day approaching. But I’m figuring she needs someone to watch over her until we can piece together what’s going on. Who the target is.”

  Connor chuckled. “I don’t envy you that job.”

  “I don’t have the manpower to watch over her adequately and C.J. at the center as well as try to solve this case. But you could protect Cara.”

  “Oh, no.” Connor shook his head, stepping away from his friend to emphasize he didn’t want anything to do with Cara Madison. “I’d rather be in a pit full of rattlesnakes,” he said in all seriousness, thinking about the sheriff’s reference to a rattlesnake earlier.

  Sean burst out laughing. “I hear where she lives they have rattlesnake roundups. Maybe you could visit her and go to one.” A serious expression descended. “I need someone I trust. Your grandfather lives on the outskirts of town on a few acres. Quiet. Between you and your grandfather, she ought to be safe just in case we’re wrong and she’s the target.”

  “And just how do you think I can keep her at Gramps’s house?”

  “I know that will be impossible, but when she comes into town, you can be with her. Your place is defensible, better than a hotel. Your grandfather has an alarm system. The terrain around his place is open, and the area is a quiet neighborhood without a lot of people.”

  “You make it sound like I should be planning for a war.”

  “Well, not exactly. Just pointing out why your grandfather’s house is perfect, and I’ll sleep a whole lot better knowing she’s being taken care of.”

  “And I should care why?” The tension in Connor’s neck spread down his spine and radiated across his shoulders.

  “Because when I get a good night’s sleep, I can actually function pretty good and might just be able to find out who’s trying to kill one of the Madisons.”

  But I won’t get a bit of sleep, Connor wanted to shout at his friend.

  “It shouldn’t be more than a week at most, and you know your grandfather has a soft spot for Cara. I wouldn’t be surprised if when he hears about the situation, he won’t insist she come stay with you guys. And her dad, too, when he’s discharged from Sunny Meadows.”

  The thought of being in the same house as C.J. increased the pain gripping his shoulders. Connor leaned toward Sean and lowered his voice. “I won’t tell Gramps.”

  “But every busybody in this town will. So cut your losses and just agree now. He probably already knows.”

  There was a part of him that really meant what he’d said about her not staying with him and Gramps, but there was a part that knew if he looked deep down, every one of those words was a lie. As angry as he was at Cara, he never wanted anything bad to happen to her or her father, and there was no way he could walk away without helping to keep her safe.

  His gaze strayed to Cara, still pale with a fine layer of dust covering her, her hand not quite steady as she held out her palm for a pill from Doc Sims. A wet streak down her face stirred feelings in Connor he’d kept locked away for thirteen years. Cara never cried. Living with her iron-willed father had made her tough. The sight pricked his conscious. He couldn’t turn his back on her, and all the protests in the world weren’t going to change that.

  “Okay, I know when to admit I’m defeated. She can stay at Gramps’s.” He swallowed the lump lodged in his throat and muttered through clenched teeth, “And so can C.J.”

  Sean slapped him on the back. “That’s great. Then we’re set.”

  “Are we? You’ve forgotten one important piece in all of this.” At his friend’s raised eyebrow, Connor continued, “You have to get Cara to agree to stay there.”

  TWO

  The softness beneath her cheek tempted Cara to surrender again to the dark void of sleep. She shifted, aches protesting the move. Slowly she raised one eyelid and stared at an unfamiliar chest of drawers.

  Where am I?

  The last thing she remembered was Connor coming into the clinic to check on her. At least that was what she thought. Or was it a dream? When she tried to think about the morning, everything blurred, as though she were looking through sheers into a room and not quite seeing it clearly.

  Her head throbbing where she’d struck the refrigerator, she cautiously rolled over, opening both eyes to stare at a white ceiling. She searched the dimly lit room. The beige blinds were closed. Little gave away where she was. A hotel room? Still at Doc Sims’s clinic?

  She eased up on her elbows to get a better look, conscious of not moving too fast. The room didn’t spin. Her world was stable. Then she zoomed in on a sound coming from her left. A rhythmic ticking. She glanced at the nightstand, which had only a lamp and a clock on it.

  7:00? She glanced toward the window, muted light leaking through the slats in the blinds.

  What happened to the past eight hours? Is Dad all right?

  She jerked up straight in bed and immediately regretted that sudden movement. After the dizziness passed, she swung her legs to the floor and rose slowly, glad she was still dressed in her dust-covered jeans and a University of Virginia T-shirt that Doc had at his clinic. The room held nothing personal in it, only the bed, two nightstands on either side of it, a chest of drawers and a comfortable-looking maroon chair near the one window with a little round table next to it.

  The room is void of any feeling—like my life of late.

  Cara pushed that thought away. She had more important concerns than piecing her life back together. She needed to discover who wanted her dad dead. And that meant getting answers from the sheriff.

  But first, is Dad okay at Sunny Meadows? She looked around for a phone since she’d left her cell back on her father’s kitchen floor. No phone.

  Needing to find out where she was and call the rehabilitation center, she limped toward the door, the pain in her hip and head a nagging reminder of what had happened earlier. Out in a hallway of what appeared to be a house, vague memories of the past tugged at her. Seeing a bathroom door open, she slipped inside and washed off what grime was left on her face and neck then finger-combed her hair into a semblance of order. Cuts on her skin emphasized the ordeal she’d gone through.

  She heard voices coming from her right. Heading that way, she soon entered a kitchen she had known all too well as a young woman and came to a halt when her gaze fell upon Connor Fitzgerald. So she hadn’t dreamed him. He had been at her dad’s house earlier, and she was at his grandfather’s now.

  Connor fastened his hard, slate-gray eyes on her. The chill from that look went straight to her bones.

  “I was getting worried about you, child.”

  Cara shifted her attention to the wiry, old man with bright alert eyes. Mike Fitzgerald sat opposite his grandson. A warm welcome spread across his features as his assessing survey took her in. He rose, still thin with a fit body for his age and a full head of stark white hair. He moved a little slower than she remembered, but with the assurance she’d known, and enveloped her in a bear hug. She winced at the welcoming embrace.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay and staying here. Me and Connor can keep you safe.”

  Staying at Connor’s grandfather’s house? Did she forget something from the morning? All she could remember was lying on Doc’s examination table after he took some X-rays. Totally exhausted and hurting, she’d taken something to help her rest. Then Connor had come in and talked with Doc. When she’d closed her eyes, weariness pulling her down toward the dark, another voice, deep and gruff, joined the two men’s. Mike’s? He’d asked her something and she’d answered. Then she’d drifted off to sleep to the sound of their murmured voices, too tired to care.

  What had been Mike’s question and my answer?

  The scent of coffee floated on the air. She needed caffeine and her brain functioning at one hundred percent before she tackled the man across from Mike Fitzgerald.
/>   “May I have some coffee? Actually, a whole pot full?”

  “Sure, child. Anything I have is yours. You know that.” Mike wrapped his calloused hand around hers and guided her toward the table and a seat next to his grandson.

  Connor’s coldness continued to flow from him and drape her in a blanket of ice. Mike set a big mug of black coffee, the way she took hers, in front of her. She cradled it between her hands to heat her fingers while she waited for it to cool down enough to drink.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two younguns alone. I imagine you have some catching up to do.” Mike hurried toward the hallway as though he knew he needed to escape or risk getting caught in the cross fire.

  She itched to drag Connor’s grandfather back into the chair on the other side of her, but he could move surprisingly fast when he wanted. Taking a sip of her coffee, she stabbed Connor with what she hoped was a piercing look. “Why am I here?”

  “You heard Gramps. Until the person who sent the bomb is caught, you’re in danger. The sheriff asked me to watch out for you. Gramps and I brought you here after Doc gave his okay, so long as we kept an eye on you and let him know if there’s a problem.”

  “His okay! How about mine?” Her voice rose as her temper did. “Maybe I’d rather stay somewhere else. Did you think to ask?”

  “My grandfather did. You can’t stay at your dad’s house. The damage is extensive in the dining room, foyer and kitchen where part of the doorway and wall blew out.”

  “You’ve been inside and seen it?”

  He nodded and delved into his pocket, then presented her cell phone to her. “After the bomb squad okayed the premises, I accompanied the sheriff and ATF agents. I found that on the floor and saw it was yours.”

  “What did they find?” She chanced a sip of the still hot coffee because she needed something to drive the fuzz from her brain. To deal with Connor she had to be clear-headed.

  “It looks like a pipe bomb, and from the damages a large one. The ATF guys gathered evidence to analyze and will get back to Sean when they have anything to report.”