by Dora Hiers
“Dane, I want you to stay at my house.”
She jerked out of his arms, backed away from him, taking the warmth with her. Was that fear on her face? Or disappointment?
“You’re safe with me. You know that, right?” He shivered and frowned at his bloody shirt lying on the floor, but he didn’t have a choice. He’d have to wear it until he got home. He plucked it off the floor, pulled it over his head, and wriggled his arms into the sleeves.
“I don’t need you, Ryker. Go away.”
Now she sounded like the old Dane, that angry, defensive tone lacing her voice.
She didn’t need him? Who was she kidding? He’d practically killed himself protecting her.
Barely restraining his temper, he raked a hand through his hair and spoke through gritted teeth. “In the course of twenty-four hours, I’ve raced up twelve flights of stairs to rescue you from a jerk jutting a relatively sharp knife against your neck, untrussed you from an elevator, and chased a ghost away from your house. Am I leaving something out? Or did I cover everything?”
A glare was his only answer. Yep. Dane was definitely back. She stalked through the family room and into the hall. He followed, practically tripping over her heels.
She walked into her bedroom and jerked out a dresser drawer.
He hesitated in the doorway. “I’ve protected hardened criminals who have been less trouble than you.”
“Go away, McLane.” After tugging out a clean pair of jeans, she swiped at her eyes with a shirtsleeve. Her nose was red.
Oh, man. Now he’d done it. Made her cry. He hated it when she cried. Hated what it did to his insides.
She jerked open another drawer and retrieved a shirt. Then another drawer opened. He turned his head. When he looked back, she’d disappeared. The bathroom door closed with a definite click.
He took the few steps into the room and knocked on the bathroom door. “Dane.”
No answer.
“You can tell me to go away all you want. You know I’m not leaving.”
Still no answer. Tough cookie.
He heard water running in the shower. Now what? He glanced around the room, his gaze stopping at her bedside table. Curiosity made him investigate. A raggedy stuffed doll with red stringy hair sat plopped against the lamp. Phone charger. A picture frame.
Who did she want to see when morning dawned? Who was the last person on her mind when she turned out the light at night?
He picked up the frame and stared at a picture of the three of them. Dane, Stephen and Ryker, at her college graduation. He smiled. Humbled, yet gratified, at the same time. She pictured them the same way he did.
As family.
“Why should I leave my house?” Her quiet words from behind surprised him.
He fumbled with the picture frame and finally managed to set it back on the table so that it stood. He hadn’t heard the door open or the water stop. He turned around, gulped.
Dane’s shoulder length wet hair framed her face and her rosy cheeks shimmered makeup free from the shower. Wearing jeans and a turquoise shirt that hugged her figure, she reminded him about what was good in life. Wholesome, outdoorsy. Made him think about campfires and roasting marshmallows, about cooler temperatures and football games, about the spectacular colors and beauty of fall. How leaves fell from the sky to make room for new green buds to pop in the spring. About seasons. And how life changed. How she’d grown from a pesky kid into a beautiful woman.
Dane made him forget the ugliness in the world. But only for a minute.
She was beautiful, inside and out. He wouldn’t allow some bozo to change that.
“You’re not safe here. And you know it.”
“What makes you think I’d be safer at your house?”
“I’d be there.”
“You were here, too.”
“My house has a security alarm.” Thanks to his mother. As a police officer, she’d insisted on having one installed. “And me. Two for one protection.”
“I can’t stay at your house, Ryker.” Brown eyes stared at him, huge, unblinking.
“Why not?” What was wrong with his house? She seemed quite comfortable hanging out in it earlier. “Is it the cigarette smell?”
Her head shook so quickly, imperceptibly, he almost didn’t see it. “No, it’s not the smell, Ryker.”
“Then what?”
“It was one thing for you to spend the night here last night, but I can’t stay at your house indefinitely. With you.”
“Seriously?” Dane was worried about her reputation?
That was a first. Before Jennifer, how many females ever peeked out the front door of his apartment to see who might be watching them leave? He couldn’t remember even one.
Had things changed on the dating scene that much since he’d been engaged? He hadn’t dated anyone other than Jennifer for a couple years now. Another part of his DNA. No cheating.
Wait a minute. “Does this have anything to do with the purity vow you took in seventh grade?”
She blushed, averted her face.
Oh, man. That hadn’t been anywhere near his radar. No, she couldn’t be, could she? Dane, still a…
What had he been thinking? Shame, and guilt, scorched his conscience. How could a twenty-eight-year-old, one as gorgeous as Dane, make it this long without—
He rattled his head, stopping that line of thought. “You don’t have to worry about me, Dane. I’m like a brother, remember?” Maybe if he said that over and over, it would finally sink in. Like cement.
“It’s not you I worry about, Ryker. I know you. You’re a man of honor and integrity. A man who values commitment.”
That hit him square in the gut. “You’re worried about what people would think?”
She cocked her head, a serious expression on her face, a slight smile curving those luscious lips. “I don’t really worry about what others think, Ryker. I’m more concerned if I’m doing the right thing. If I’m acting honorably before God. I don’t want to disappoint Him.”
He scrunched his face. Since when had Dane cared about disappointing God? She was starting to sound like his friends, Trent and Gunner. He shrugged. “If it’s that important to you, why don’t you invite a girlfriend to stay also?”
Some indefinable emotion washed over her face. Relief? Disappointment? He didn’t know if he could sort it out. He had a hard enough time keeping his own emotions in check, like trying to figure out what he was doing in Dane’s bedroom. Standing there. Talking. About Dane’s purity—
“Thanks, Ryker, but you forget. I’ve been to your house. The moving company only unloaded one bed.”
He flinched. He had to get out of here. It was making him mighty uncomfortable invading Dane’s private space. He stalked toward the door, back stiff, shoulders tense, nerves on edge. “One king-sized bed and a couch. You and your friend can have the bedroom. I’ll take the couch. No worries.”
“Ryker, I wouldn’t want you to do that.”
At the doorway, he turned around. She stood there, motionless, like the little Dane he grew up with, yet so different. So tomboyish, but so feminine. So stubborn, yet so sweet. Maybe if he started calling her Danae, this wouldn’t be so tough.
She was driving him crazy! What did she want him to do? Allow whoever was tormenting her to continue until he carried out what he’d set out to do? Not a chance!
“I’ll do what it takes to keep you safe, Da…Danae. If that means bunking on the couch for a few days until we can figure something else out, that’s what I’ll do.”
Danae’s espresso eyes misted. What was up with her lately? She never used to cry. He rubbed his face with a hand. He needed sleep. And lots of it.
“I’ll do that, if you’re sure it’s really okay.”
“I don’t mind, Danae. The house has plenty of bedrooms. You could invite all of Quiver Full if you wanted to. They wouldn’t have any beds, but—” If that’s what it took to keep her safe, he’d buy extra beds to fill the bedrooms.
“I’ll call Lorie. She’ll come.” Danae pulled out a bag from her closet, started stuffing clothes in it.
Lorie.
All right. They’d start with one female. See how many more they needed to add to make her feel safe, protected.
He walked down the hall, away from her, away from her bedroom, away from the feelings she evoked in him. He unclipped his phone, scrolled through the icons to check his calendar. When was Stephen getting back from his honeymoon?
Not soon enough.
7
Ryker looked up from the tablet, open to the latest news on the Deputy U.S. Marshal’s website, sure that he had misunderstood Da…Danae. Her figure-hugging jeans and fuzzy red sweater looked great on her, fabulous actually, but where did she plan to wear them? “Did you say you were going to church?”
“Yeah.” Danae flicked silky threads of loose hair behind an ear and glanced over a shoulder at him. Turning back around to the counter, she poured milk into the bowl of granola. “Church.”
She nudged a chair out with her toe, then sat down at the kitchen table. “Lorie and I are going to church. Would you like to go with us?”
Church? He hadn’t darkened the door of a church since granny’s funeral. And he hadn’t wanted to go then. Nothing had changed. “To church?”
Danae raised a single dark eyebrow while she chewed. “What part of ‘church’ are you having trouble with, Ryker? The going part? Or just hearing the word?”
Ryker shut down the tablet, his appetite for the news gone. He didn’t really have a problem with church. He had a slight issue with being “in” church. God hadn’t answered his prayers to bring his family back, yet every single one of them had their funeral service inside a church.
He ignored the question. “I thought you wanted to go the football game?”
“We’ll have time. We’re going to the early service.”
“Oh.” That many people went to church to justify multiple services?
“It’s okay if you don’t want to go, Ryker. Lorie and I will meet you back here if you like. Or she can drop me off at Quiver Full. She’s going to spend this afternoon there helping one of the kids with a homework project.”
How could he protect Danae if she was at church and he was at home? Stephen wouldn’t like that. And he sure didn’t feel comfortable letting her go with just Lorie, all one hundred and ten pounds of her.
“Church it is.”
Danae’s smile warmed his belly quicker than hitting the switch for the gas fireplace. He frowned. How much recoup time did his body need? Things just weren’t working properly lately. He’d relax this afternoon at the football game.
“Good morning.” Lorie entered the kitchen and went straight for the coffeepot. She was dressed in jeans, too. What was up with this church?
“Morning.” He wasn’t sure about the good part, yet. The idea of attending church still stung. He glanced down at the jeans and sweatshirt that he’d pulled out of his closet to wear for the football game and stood up. “I guess I’d better go change.”
Danae barely spared him a glance as she turned to rinse out the bowl in the sink, but he noticed a blush spotting her cheeks. “You’re fine the way you are.”
Lorie sipped her coffee and smiled at Danae’s back. “Ryker, our church isn’t formal at all. We have a motto. ‘Come as you are. All are welcome.’”
Huh? He didn’t remember much about church, but he remembered rules.
We don’t say that word in church.
Stop your fidgeting.
You can’t wear that to church. Go change and put on your best outfit.
Since when had jeans become acceptable church attire?
Danae placed the bowl in the dishwasher then dried her hands on a towel. “Lorie’s right, Ryker.” She gestured toward her friend, then her own jeans. “We’re both wearing jeans, and you’ll fit right in wearing them. But, wear whatever makes you feel comfortable.”
He studied their clothing choices. “If you say so. I’ll just go change my shirt then.” A panther’s sweatshirt felt a little too casual.
“Suit yourself.” Danae smiled as she joined Lorie at the table. “But just put your mind at ease, Ryker. This isn’t your grandmother’s church.”
Now how did she remember that?
He quickly changed his shirt, choosing a dressy button-down, but kept the jeans on. He’d trust Danae on this one. He trudged down the stairs, meeting Lorie and Danae by the front door.
“Ryker, you’re not going to a funeral.”
He gulped. Man, when had she gotten so good at reading him? He pasted a smile on his face and pulled the truck fob from his pocket. “Your chariot awaits.”
The drive to church took less than fifteen minutes. Ryker pulled into the crowded parking lot and winced. He wasn’t expecting this big of a crowd. Maybe he should call Trent and Gunner for backup? He parked and unclipped his phone.
Danae stilled him with a touch to his forearm. “It will be okay, Ryker. We have security here.”
“Yeah?” Her definition of security probably meant a couple of paid security guards inside sipping coffee. He’d check that out. He hopped down and offered Danae a hand, surprised when she accepted his help. By the time she got down, Lorie was already out of the truck, walking toward the church at a brisk rate, her blond hair floating in the breeze, a hand fluttering in the air.
“She’s in a hurry.” Ryker noted.
“Yeah, she’s helping in the nursery this morning. Come on.” Danae latched on to his hand and tugged. “We don’t want to be late. We’ll miss the worship.”
They didn’t want to be late? Miss the worship? Who got this excited about church? What was happening inside that made them want to hurry? He kept pace with Danae, cringing at the mass of cars still pulling into the parking lot.
They made it inside, the tunes of electric guitars throwing him off balance. His gaze darted around the reception area. People sat on couches, stood around talking, drinking coffee, hugging each other, shaking hands. This wasn’t anything like the small, quiet church he remembered.
Lorie disappeared down a long hallway. He followed Danae into what he assumed was the sanctuary, but judging by the floor, doubled as a gymnasium.
“After you.” Ryker gestured for Danae to slide into the row of chairs first. Where were the heavy pews?
He followed her in, glancing in every direction for anybody out of place. Not an easy task. Everybody looked out of place, but yet comfortable, at home, laughing and smiling, more hugging and shaking hands.
Lorie and Danae hadn’t been teasing about the dress code. Men wore jeans and flip-flops or suits and ties. Ladies wore dresses, fancy and casual, or pants. People were young, old, little, big, different colors and nationalities.
Crazy. How was he supposed to protect Danae in this crowd?
“Excuse me.” A man’s hand landed on his back.
Ryker jerked his body to shield Danae. The hand fell away.
“I’m sorry to startle you. I just wanted to shake hands with Danae. Excuse me.”
What? Not if he could help it. Ryker inched closer to Danae.
“Oh, hey, David.” Danae stepped from behind him and extended a hand. “How are you?”
“Great. Ready for your big speech tomorrow night?”
Speech? She hadn’t mentioned a speech.
“Sure. Do we have your support?”
Support? What was she talking about?
“Absolutely. How could I not support your efforts to raise funds for such a worthy cause?”
Danae’s smile sparkled. “Thanks. I look forward to it.”
At his growl, Danae’s forehead wrinkled. “I’m sorry. Ryker, meet David Andrew, City Council Member. Ryker McLane is one of my longest friends, a fellow Quiver Full resident. He just moved back into town.”
Andrew smiled, but it was a public relations exhibit, a statue version for the television camera.
Ryker stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Try to stop him. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Great. Well, I had better find my seat before the service starts. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Another fake smile and a nod, and the man hurried away.
Ryker cataloged the council member as he made his way to the front of the church. A little on the lean side, six feet, blue eyes, blond hair. Probably always wore a suit and a plastic smile to maintain his image.
“Ryker?” Danae’s hand touched his upper arm.
He filed the image of David Andrew away. Taking mental snapshots and retrieving them later when he needed them was one of his strong points. What made him good at his job. “Yes?”
“You look lost in thought.”
“You didn’t tell me you were giving a speech tomorrow night.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“What’s this all about?”
“Raising money for Quiver Full.”
“Anything else on the agenda I don’t know about?”
A man’s voice thundered from the stage. Danae stood up to join in, her voice clear and her face lifted in worship. Ryker looked around. Hundreds of people, possibly thousands, stood together, singing, worshiping. He had never seen anything like it before. It was beautiful.
The singing faded, and a different man entered the stage from the side. Ah, the fire slinger, the screamer, the one that would bellow fire and damnation. Here we go.
Ryker settled back in the cushioned seat, determined to tune out for the next hour.
“The Bible tells us that God’s grace is what saves us, through our faith…”
Ryker unclipped his phone and scanned his emails. Nothing that couldn’t wait for a response until later tonight.
“You can’t do anything to earn God’s grace or salvation. It’s a gift from God. Free to you and me, if we just ask.”
He hadn’t heard these words before. Or spoken this way. With love and reverence. Almost in a whisper. Ryker looked around. All eyes were tuned in to the pastor. Except his.
Embarrassed, Ryker parked his phone in his pocket for the time being and turned his attention to the stage.
