“He could. He did.” Tristan’s words were harsh, his grip tight as he hurried her back to the house.
“I’m going to call the police.” Sue hurried inside, and Martha glanced at the broken fence, her heart still beating too fast. Had Johnson been at the wheel of the truck? Things had happened too fast for Martha to see. She couldn’t say for sure that he hadn’t been.
“Someone is going to pay for this.” Her father pushed at splintered wood with his foot, but he sounded more worried than angry.
“Dad? Are you coming inside?”
“Yes, then I’m going out. I’ve got some business to attend to.”
“What kind of business, Mr. Gabler?” Tristan nudged Martha inside the house. Her father followed them.
“I’m going to find that truck. I caught a good look at it. Dark blue Chevy. Two-door. It’s got to have some scratches on the front bumper.”
“I got a good look at it, too, and saw what direction it went in. If you stay here and wait for the police, I’ll take Martha’s car and go look.”
“I think I’d rather go looking.”
“Then who’ll be here with Martha and Sue?”
“You should both stay here with us and wait for the police.” The thought of either man chasing after Johnson made Martha’s stomach churn.
“Babe, I am the police.” Tristan snagged Martha’s keys from the hall table where she’d dropped them when she’d arrived.
“The one-armed police.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
“I won’t.” He stepped out the front door, and short of grabbing the keys from his hands, there wasn’t a lot Martha could do to stop him.
“Tristan, I really don’t like this.”
“Neither do I. Do me a favor and stay inside this time. I don’t want anything to happen to you while I’m gone.”
“You listen to him, doll. I come back and find out you’re out looking for trouble and my heart might give out.”
“I think you’d better stay and keep an eye on her, Mr. Gabler.”
“Jesse. And I’m going. With you or on my own. Your choice.”
Tristan hesitated, then nodded. “Then we’ll go together.”
“Let’s get going then. We’ll take my car.” Jesse kissed Martha on the cheek and hurried outside.
Tristan followed, tucking Martha’s keys into his pocket as he went. Obviously, he had every intention of making sure she didn’t join the hunt. He hadn’t bothered putting on his jacket, and the white straps of his sling were visible against his dark shirt. How much of a chance would he have against Johnson? Not enough. And having her seventy-year-old father along for the ride didn’t increase his odds of success.
“Tristan?”
He paused with his hand on the car door. “Yeah?”
“Are you left-handed or right-handed?”
He laughed, shook his head. “I’m ambidextrous. Now go inside.”
She did. Closed the door, turned the lock. “Lord, please keep them safe.”
She whispered the prayer as she walked down the hall, wishing she could do more. Prayer was good, but sometimes life demanded action. Unfortunately, in this case action wasn’t a possibility. She had to wait. Wait for the police. Wait for Tristan and her father to return. Wait to see how it all unfolded.
“Your father went off with him, didn’t he?” Sue grabbed Martha’s arm as she walked back into the kitchen.
“Yes.”
“He’s a brave man, your dad, but he’s not as young as he used to be. And when he gets back I’m going to tell him exactly what I think of him going off after a killer.” Her voice broke, and Martha put her hand on Sue’s shoulder.
“It’ll be okay. They’ll be back before we know it.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so. Sit down. I’ll make us some tea while we wait.”
“That sounds lovely, dear.”
Lovely. Definitely not a term Martha would use to describe anything about the day. She bit back a sigh, set the kettle on to boil and waited, her mind filling with images—the smashed fence and speeding truck, Tristan’s arm dripping blood as men raced through the trees. Johnson’s cold gaze.
He’d kill anyone who got in his way. Tristan. Martha’s father.
Anyone.
Much as Martha wanted him off the streets, she wanted Tristan and her father safe more. She couldn’t help praying that if it really had been Johnson in the truck, they wouldn’t find him.
NINE
Time ticked by slowly as Martha waited.
Really slowly.
The police came and went. Martha drank two cups of tea and ate three chocolate-chip cookies. Sue made five phone calls. And still Tristan and Jesse didn’t return. Finally, Martha couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed another chocolate-chip cookie, pilfered her spare keys from the kitchen drawer where her father kept them and eased open the front door.
She probably shouldn’t be doing this. She probably should stay in the house where it was safe and listen to another few hours of Sue going over all the details of what had happened with friends, family and acquaintances. She probably should, but she couldn’t. The men had been gone for three hours. That was a long time to be out searching for a truck. Something must have happened. They could have been in an accident. The car may have broken down. Or worse, they might have found what they were looking for. Just the thought of her father getting close to Johnson made Martha shiver as she got in her car.
She glanced in the rearview mirror and started backing out of the driveway, but slammed on the brakes when a car pulled in behind her. Her father’s car. Finally. Relief filled her as Tristan got out of the vehicle and stalked to her door, pulling it open and tugging her out before she even had a chance to turn off the engine.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay inside?” He barked the question, his scowl storm-cloud dark.
“You’ve been gone three hours. Three.”
“I don’t care if it was a hundred. You shouldn’t have come out here.”
“What was I supposed to do? Sit in the house and wait forever for you two to come back?”
“If that’s what it took, yeah.” He ran a hand over his hair, obviously trying to rein in his temper before he spoke again.
“Well, I couldn’t. I was worried. I needed to know that you guys were okay.”
“We’re grown men, Sunshine. Perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves.”
“And I’m a grown woman. Also capable of taking care of myself.”
“You’re also the one Johnson wants dead.”
“I doubt he’s got any fondness for you, either.”
“If he thinks I’m in jail, I’m safe.”
“If. That’s not very likely.”
He shook his head, a half smile chasing some of the anger from his face. “You need to stop worrying so much about me and start worrying about yourself. Where’d you get the keys to your car?”
“I had a spare set. Should have thought of that before I left.” Jesse spoke as he moved up beside Tristan. “Of course, I didn’t expect Martha to come traipsing outside like there was nothing to worry about. This Johnson guy, he doesn’t play games, doll. He’s a cold-blooded killer.” Obviously, Jesse and Tristan had done a lot of talking during the past hours and were now in complete agreement on the situation.
“Don’t worry, Dad. I know.”
“Good. Now I’d better go inside and apologize to Sue. I doubt she’s happy that I went off without telling her what I was doing.” He pushed open the front door and disappeared inside, leaving Martha and Tristan standing beside Martha’s car. Just the two of them. Again. It seemed they kept returning to that.
“I guess you didn’t find him.” Martha knew that wasn’t good, but she was too relieved that her father and Tristan were okay to dwell on it.
“No, but not for lack of trying. We drove through the neighborhood, knocked on doors, talked to people. A few saw the truc
k. None noticed who was in the driver’s seat.”
“Thanks for trying.”
“I’d thank you for staying where I left you, but since you didn’t, I won’t.”
“I’m not good at sitting around waiting.”
“Yeah. I’m getting that. You know, Sunshine, you’re more trouble than I bargained for when I went into those mountains on Friday.” Tristan looked down into her face, studying it, searching it. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but she doubted he’d find it. She was who she was. There was nothing hidden or mysterious about her.
“At least you were bargaining on trouble. I was looking for a nice peaceful getaway.”
“Nice and peaceful, huh?” His fingers curled around her elbow, and he urged her to get back in the car. “I thought you said your life was mundane. Seems like there’d be plenty of peace in that.”
“The past week has been hectic.”
“You mean because you broke up with that Brian guy.”
Surprised, she met Tristan’s eyes. “How’d you know we broke up this week?”
“People talk. Give them an opportunity and they’ll tell you just about anything you want to know.”
“I suppose there’s a reason you’re telling me this.”
“It isn’t going to be hard for Johnson to find out everything he wants to about your life and your habits. He saw your name and address in your backpack. A few questions to the right people and he’ll be staking out every place you go.”
“Every place I go? You’re talking work, home, the movies, the local diner. He won’t have any trouble at all finding me.” Despite the seriousness of the situation, Martha laughed. Nerves did that to her. And she was nervous. Scared. Anxious.
She caught her breath, wiped at eyes that were streaming and met Tristan’s gaze. He wasn’t laughing. That much was for sure.
“Sorry about that. Sometimes I laugh when I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to apologize. You just have to take the danger seriously.”
“Trust me, I do. I saw Johnson’s eyes. There was nothing human there.”
“You’ve hit the nail on the head, Martha. He’s got no conscience. Nothing to keep him from doing things most of us wouldn’t even imagine.” He cupped her jaw, stared into her eyes, and she found herself sinking into his gaze.
“I know.”
“So next time, do what I say, okay? It’s the only way to make sure you stay safe. And I do want you safe.” His eyes were almost hypnotic, his voice soothing, cajoling. Martha imagined most women would do exactly what he asked simply because he was the one asking.
She blinked and pulled away from his touch, starting the engine and driving toward home, determined not to fall for his charm. “You’re good at getting what you want, Tristan Sinclair.”
“Thanks. I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“You date a lot?”
He laughed, the warmth of it rumbling out into the car and chasing away some of Martha’s fear. “I actually practiced on my parents. I have three brothers and a sister. I learned young that getting what I wanted involved finesse rather than fit-throwing.”
“So you were one of those spoiled golden boys? The kind who always got what he wanted because he was charming?”
“Hardly, but I sure gave it a run for the money. I used to keep a scorecard—how many times I convinced my parents to let me have my way as opposed to how many times my brothers or sister did.”
“You did not!” She met his gaze, saw the laughter in his eyes.
“I did.”
“So, did you get your way the most?”
“Not even close. My brother Grayson, he took the lead. Followed by my sister.”
“I’m surprised your sister wasn’t the clear winner what with her being the only girl.”
“Don’t be. My brother grew up to become a lawyer. He puts his persuasive skills to good use every day.”
“Good career choice.”
“We thought so.”
“And you became an ATF agent so you could force people to do what you wanted.”
“Actually, I became an ATF agent to change the world. Sometimes I think I just might be doing that.” He spoke quietly, and Martha dared a look in his direction. He was staring out the window, scanning the trees that lined her long driveway. Looking for signs Johnson was there waiting for a chance to strike.
“Do you think he’s out there?”
“No, but let’s not take chances. Park close to the porch.”
Martha did as he said, opening the door and running inside, Tristan right beside her. “Thanks for the escort, Tristan.”
“No problem. And, Sunshine?” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop.
“Yes?” She turned, her breath hitching as she met his gaze.
“For the record, I’ve gotten a whole lot better at getting what I want.”
Her cheeks flamed and her heart did a strange little dance. She told herself it had more to do with fatigue than with the man who was staring down into her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You do that.” He released her hand, pushed the front door open again. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You’re going home?” You’re leaving me here alone when Johnson might be lurking in the woods just out of sight? That’s what she was really thinking. Thank goodness she had enough self-control not to say it.
“Actually, I’ll be outside in my car. That’s where I’m camping out until Johnson is caught.”
“Your car?”
“I can’t stay in here. Your father wouldn’t approve.”
“You’re actually planning to sleep out there in your car?”
“I’ve slept in a lot worse places over the years.”
“But—”
“You’re a half mile from your nearest neighbor, Martha. You don’t have a security system. Your phone lines are so easy to cut a child could do it. If Johnson decides to come calling, I don’t want you to be alone.”
That was great, because she didn’t want to be alone either. “Look, if you’re really set on staying…” Her voice trailed off as she realized what she was about to say. What she was about to offer.
“What?”
Don’t do it. Do not offer him the apartment over the garage. That will just make things too convenient and cozy. “There’s an efficiency over the garage. The previous owner used to rent it to college students. It’s empty. If you want, you can use it.”
Of course, she did exactly what she shouldn’t and offered him the place.
“How far is it from the house?”
“Not far. It’s just out back.” She led him out back to the square two-story building. A 1960s addition to Martha’s turn-of-the-century home, the single-car garage stood less than a hundred feet from the back of the house. It had been a while since Martha had been inside the efficiency, and it took her a few seconds to find the key. When she did, the door squeaked open, the sound shivering along her nerves. Night hadn’t fallen yet, but it would soon. She wanted to be locked in the house with every light on before then.
“Here it is. Like I said, it’s not much. I don’t even have furniture in here.” She stepped into the large room, and Tristan followed, his arm brushing against her shoulder as he moved past her.
“I don’t need furniture tonight. Maybe tomorrow I can get my brother to bring me a few things.”
“Your brother is in the area?”
“Grayson lives about ten minutes away in a huge house filled with stuff he’s not using. I don’t think he’ll miss a futon and a couple of pots and pans.” As he spoke, Tristan strode across the room and pulled a dusty curtain back from one of the windows. “There’s a good view of your back door from here.” He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Martha, but she crossed the room anyway, looking out onto her backyard.
“Do you want to stay here?”
“It beats sleeping in my car.”
“I’ll bring you a sleeping bag and a r
adio so it won’t be too quiet out here.”
“Quiet is good, so don’t bother with the radio. I wouldn’t mind a couple of aspirin, though.”
“Is your arm bothering you?”
“Yeah.”
“A lot?”
“Like a hot iron is being poked through it.”
“Ouch.”
“Exactly. Come on, let’s go.” He took her hand, his fingers warm and rough against her softer skin. Funny, Martha had never thought of herself as feminine and petite, but Tristan made her feel small and delicate.
Delicate? She almost snorted at the thought. She’d never been delicate, and she never would be.
“Stay here. It will only take me a minute to get the stuff.” She tried to tug away from his hand, but he held firm.
“I think we’ll do this my way instead.”
“What way is that?”
“We’ll go together.”
“That’s really—”
“Not necessary?”
“Okay. Maybe it is, but it does seem a little bit like overkill, don’t you think?”
“What’s overkill? Me walking back to the house with you?”
“It’s a ten-second walk.”
“A lot can happen in ten seconds, Martha. You saw that truck today. It jumped the curb and hit your father’s fence in the blink of an eye.”
He was right. A lot could happen in ten seconds. An engagement could be broken. A mother could abandon her child. A life could be snuffed out.
And a woman who’d said she’d never have anything to do with men again could find herself falling into deep blue eyes. Again.
TEN
Knowing Tristan was sleeping a hundred feet from the house should have made it easier for Martha to rest, but at 2:00 a.m. she was still awake. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Gordon Johnson. And looking into his face wasn’t restful. She supposed she could try counting sheep, but that would require closing her eyes and she’d already decided against that. Turning on the television and watching reruns of sitcoms was another option, but she was afraid the sound would mask other things. Like someone cutting out a pane of glass, turning the lock of the window and opening it. Easing inside. Creeping down the hall.
SB01 - The Guardian's Mission Page 7
