SB01 - The Guardian's Mission

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Good. Do you need anything for your late-night stakeouts?”

  “A futon. A chair. Some groceries.”

  “Seems like a lot to fit in one car.”

  “Martha’s got an apartment over her garage. She offered it to me.”

  “And you accepted?”

  “Yeah. Is there a problem with that?”

  “No. I’ve just never known you to take the easy path in anything.”

  “What’s easy about sleeping on the floor?”

  “Good point. Listen, I’ve got an early meeting, so I’ve got to run. Give me the address and I’ll drop off the stuff you need later in the day.”

  Tristan rattled off the house number and street address, then hung up and stepped outside. His arm throbbed and his body ached, but talking to his brother had lightened his mood. A mood that had been storm-cloud dark since he’d learned that Johnson had eluded capture. He’d wanted the man behind bars in a big way. Buddy might be the boss, but it was Johnson who carried out the orders. In Tristan’s mind, that made him just as dangerous. Maybe more so.

  Dry grass crunched under his feet as Tristan rounded the corner of the house and surveyed the front yard. Somewhere overhead a hawk called, the sound haunting in the still morning air. This was what life should be about—the beauty of God’s creation. The harmony of nature. The peace that came from enjoying the bountiful gifts of the Creator.

  Should be, but wasn’t.

  Much as he might appreciate the scenery, Tristan knew how fleeting peace was. Evil tainted every picturesque landscape. He’d seen it over and over again, and wouldn’t be lulled into complacency by the sweet serenity the morning offered. That, he knew, was a surefire way to get killed.

  A soft sound broke the stillness, and Tristan tensed, scanning the yard. Everything looked as it should, the rustle of leaves in the breeze the only movement. Maybe he’d imagined the sound.

  Maybe.

  And maybe something ugly was hidden behind nature’s splendor. He pulled his gun, the cool metal a comforting weight in his hand. There it was again. The snap of a twig, the crunch of grass. Something big, but not Johnson. No way would the gunrunner announce his presence that way.

  Tristan slid the weapon back into its holster, watching and waiting as the sounds drew closer. A figure stepped out from the thick stand of trees. Short. Athletic build. Wearing a bright green jacket, jeans and hiking boots. Martha. Tristan scowled as she moved into the clearing, completely oblivious to his presence, her focus on something she held in a towel.

  Sunlight danced off golden hair and highlighted the smoothness of her skin. Cheeks pink from the cold, her hair a mop of wild curls, she looked pretty and compelling and much too vulnerable for Tristan’s comfort.

  “What are you doing out here?” His tone was harsher than he intended, his frustration and his worry coming out in a near bark that made Martha jump and spin toward him. “Tristan! You nearly scared the life out of me.”

  “Better to have it scared out of you than choked out of you. I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to wander around alone.”

  “I’m not alone.” She glanced over her shoulder, looked confused for a moment, then shrugged. “At least, I wasn’t. I guess Eldridge got sidetracked somewhere.”

  “Eldridge?” She’d been out taking a walk in the early-morning hours with a man. Tristan knew he should be happy that she hadn’t been outside alone, but the thought of her taking a romantic stroll with another man didn’t do much to his happy meter.

  “My mailman.”

  Could it get any better? If Tristan’s arm hadn’t been throbbing so badly he might have laughed. “You and your mailman are in the habit of taking early-morning strolls together?”

  “Eldridge lives across the creek on the other side of the woods. He’s in the habit of taking early-morning strolls and sometimes he stops here for coffee before he goes home.”

  “I see.” And he didn’t like it. Martha and her mail carrier out on romantic hikes through the woods. No, he didn’t like it at all.

  “Today he found this little guy.” She moved toward Tristan, peeling back the towel and revealing a scrawny cat whose torn ear and feral hiss made Tristan want to pull the creature from Martha’s hands and let it go back to whatever back alley it had come from.

  “He looks mean.”

  “He’s hurt. Eldridge asked me to help catch him so I could take him to the vet clinic.” She dropped the towel back over the cat’s head, bright red scratches visible on her knuckles and wrist.

  Tristan grabbed her hand, tugging her close so that he could examine the wounds, his fingers wrapped around warm, soft flesh. “These need to be cleaned and bandaged.”

  “I’ll do it after I get a carrier for Fluffy.”

  “Fluffy? That cat is scrawnier than a scarecrow without stuffing.”

  “He won’t be once we get him cleaned up and treated, and put some groceries in him.”

  Tristan wasn’t convinced, but decided not to say as much. Standing out front of Martha’s house chatting about the rehabilitation of a scruffy cat wasn’t high on his list of safe things to do. “Where’s the carrier?”

  “I’ve got three or four out in the garage.” She started around the side of the house, but Tristan pulled her up short.

  “I’ll take the cat and get the carrier. You go inside and take care of those scratches.”

  “I can’t let you lug around a squirming cat when you’ve got a broken arm.”

  “Who said anything about letting me? Give me the cat and go inside. It’s not safe out here.”

  “Everything okay?” A man stepped out from the trees, his dark gaze dropping from Tristan’s face to his hand, which was still on Martha’s arm.

  “Fine.” Martha smiled warmly, her eyes glowing vivid green and burnished gold. “Come over and meet Tristan. He’s the agent I was telling you about.”

  “The one that’s staying out in the apartment?” The man moved toward them. Tall. A few years older than Tristan, he had a guarded smile and was carrying a handful of bright orange and yellow leaves.

  “That’s right. Tristan, this is Eldridge Grady. Mail carrier and distant neighbor. Eldridge, Tristan Sinclair. ATF agent.”

  “Good to meet you.” Tristan offered his hand and was surprised by Eldridge’s firm shake. Not aggressive or territorial as some men got when a woman they were interested in was close by.

  “You, too. Thanks for taking care of Marti. My wife and I have been worried about her since she had that run-in with trouble Friday.”

  Wife? Apparently Tristan had completely misread the situation. Suddenly, his bottom-of-the-barrel mood lifted. “I’m worried about her, too. That’s why I was asking her to go inside. Until we capture the man I’m looking for, Martha needs to stay behind closed doors as much as possible.”

  Eldridge turned his attention to Martha, scowling darkly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were still in danger? I never would have asked for your help if I’d known.”

  “I—”

  “Give me the cat and get yourself inside. Mary won’t ever forgive me if something happens to you because I couldn’t catch a mangy cat myself.” Eldridge grabbed the cat from her hands.

  “Fluffy isn’t—”

  “Go inside.” Tristan turned to Eldridge as Marti finally disappeared inside the house. “Is she always this stubborn?”

  “More, but she’s got a good heart. Not enough people in this world are like that. You stickin’ around for a while?”

  “Until I’m a hundred percent convinced Martha will be safe if I leave.”

  “Good to know. Come on. Let’s get this feral beast into a carrier before he decides to start fighting for freedom again and I drop precious cargo.”

  “I wouldn’t call that cat precious.”

  “I’m talking about the leaves, man. If I go home without them I’ll be in the doghouse for a month.” Eldridge nodded toward the leaves he still clutched in his hand.

  “Your wif
e collects leaves?” Tristan took the bundle of gold and red foliage from Eldridge.

  “Nah. She’s got a fall project planned for her kindergarten class and she needs leaves for it. And don’t ask me what the project is. She was telling me during the Cowboys game yesterday and the information got lost somewhere in translation.”

  “You’re a Cowboys fan?”

  “Is there any other football team?”

  “I could name a few.” Tristan tried the garage door, frowning when it opened easily. “Martha needs to be more careful.”

  “I’ve been telling her that since she moved out here, but she hasn’t listened. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve delivered mail and found her windows opened.”

  “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “Would I kid you about something like that?”

  “I guess not. Which carrier do you want? Red? Green? Purple?”

  “One is as good as another. I don’t think the cat is gonna care. Just grab something, quick. My wife is probably staring at the clock thinking she’s going to be late to work if I don’t hurry it up.”

  “Then Fluffy gets purple.” Tristan set the leaves down, opened the carrier door. “Here you go.”

  Eldridge maneuvered the cat in and closed the door. “There. He’s ready for transport.”

  “Thanks for your help.”

  “I did it for Martha. She’s a great lady. I’d hate to see her get hurt.”

  “I feel the same.”

  “Yeah?” Eldridge reached down and grabbed the leaves before spearing Tristan with a hard, dark look. “Well, there are all different ways of hurting people, aren’t there? Keep that in mind, will you, Sinclair? Martha’s had a rough life. She doesn’t need any more trouble in it.” He strode away before Tristan could respond.

  It was for the best.

  There wasn’t a whole lot Tristan could say. He knew a warning when he heard it, and telling Eldridge he had no intention of hurting Martha wouldn’t make any difference. People said things like that all the time. It was their actions that mattered. And Tristan had every intention of taking action. Martha would be safe. He’d make sure of that.

  The cat yowled, pulling Tristan from his thoughts.

  Time to go. The clock was ticking. Johnson was getting closer. And knowing Martha, she was already heading back outside.

  TWELVE

  The veterinary clinic’s waiting room was crowded when Martha arrived at work. She wasn’t surprised. People in Lakeview were curious. Some would say downright nosy. Dogs barked, cats hissed and yowled, people stared and whispered as she moved through the room.

  Martha was almost glad Tristan was with her. At least people were getting their money’s worth. They’d leave with a story to tell—Martha Gabler escorted by a hunky ATF agent.

  She was almost glad, but not quite. Because eventually, Lord willing, the nightmare she was living would be over. Tristan would go back to his life. She’d return to hers. Martha could almost hear the conversations that would take place when that happened. All of them would begin with “poor Martha,” end with “poor Martha” and have “poor Martha” sprinkled liberally in between.

  And she didn’t want to be “poor” Martha. Pitied Martha. Martha who’d grown up without a mother. Martha who’d had to help at her father’s shop instead of hanging out with other kids during high school. She frowned, pushing open the door that separated the waiting area from the offices and exam rooms beyond. She’d thought she’d gotten over that years ago. Apparently too little sleep and too much fear were affecting her more than she’d thought they would.

  “Martha, thank goodness you’re here. The phones are ringing off the hook. The exam rooms are full. And to top it all off, Jessa McBride brought in her three dogs for a walk-in. I tried to tell her we were too busy, but she made such a fuss that I put her in room nine just to keep her from bothering our other clients. You’d think that woman was royalty the way she demands…” Lauren Parker’s voice trailed off as she caught sight of Tristan and the cat carrier he held.

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you’d brought a patient back with you.”

  “I didn’t. This is…” Who should she say Tristan was? A friend? A bodyguard? The man who’d saved her life? “Tristan Sinclair. He’s helping me bring in a wounded cat. If you take care of Fluffy, I’ll take care of Jessa.” Martha took the carrier from Tristan and handed it over the counter before Lauren could ask questions she didn’t want to answer.

  “Fine by me. I’d rather deal with a feral cat than that woman.” Lauren was still eyeing Tristan with blatant interest.

  And why wouldn’t she be? He was probably the best-looking man to set foot in the clinic since the doors opened three years ago.

  Martha knew she shouldn’t be bothered by Lauren’s interest. After all, she had no claim on Tristan. Somehow, though, she was.

  “Is Tori in yet?” Her question succeeded in drawing Lauren’s attention away from Tristan.

  “Her baby was fussy, so she’s running a few minutes late. I told her we could handle things until she got here, but I didn’t know things were going to be so hectic.”

  “How about Dr. Gerald?”

  “He’s not due in until ten. By that time, we’ll have half the population of Lakeview complaining about our service.”

  “The good news is, our closest competitor is thirty miles away. Even if our clients are unhappy, they’ve got nowhere else to go.” Martha attempted a smile as she hurried past the receptionist’s desk and into a corridor lined with doors, doing her best to act as if this was any other day at work.

  Of course it wasn’t.

  Tristan was right behind her, his presence impossible to ignore. Not just because Martha could hear his quiet footfall, but because she could feel him there.

  Warmth. Strength. Confidence. They were as tangible and real as the first rays of sunlight after a storm. And just as welcome, even though she knew she shouldn’t feel that way.

  If she was smart, she’d turn around and tell him to go. Apparently, though, her brain cells weren’t functioning today, because she couldn’t muster the gumption to do it. Instead, she let him follow as she knocked on the door to room nine, braced herself and stepped inside. Three ratlike dogs rushed toward her, growling and barking in a high-pitched frenzy. Martha stood her ground. She’d dealt with Jessa’s spoiled pooches enough to know they were all bark.

  “Sheba, Sherry, Shelby! Cease!” Jessa walked toward Martha. No. She didn’t walk. She glided, her head high, her dark skirt and pink blouse flawlessly tailored. Perfectly arched brows highlighted eyes that were blue today and might be green, purple or violet on her next visit. Collagen lips, Botox-smooth forehead, skin that was just a little too tight across her cheekbones and at the corner of her eyes, Jessa might have been forty or seventy.

  Martha pegged her for mid-sixties and a lesson in what not to do as she grew older. Some things were meant to be—lines and wrinkles were two of them. “Jessa, how are you today?”

  “It’s not my health that’s an issue.”

  “Lauren said this was an emergency visit. What’s going on with the girls?”

  “I’m surprised you need to ask. Can’t you hear the problem?” Her gaze skittered from Martha to Tristan, her eyes widening. “Oh my. I didn’t realize you had someone with you, Martha. Are you a new vet tech? Or perhaps a veterinarian? I didn’t realize Tori was hiring someone else.”

  “Actually, ma’am, I’m neither of those. I’m here with Martha.” Tristan’s voice rumbled out and even the dogs seemed affected by it. They stilled, their beady little eyes riveted to the man in their midst.

  Was no female immune to his charms?

  Jessa obviously wasn’t. She stepped closer, batting her fake eyelashes. “You’re with Martha? As in—the two of you are together? What a surprise so soon after her engagement ended. And what a shock that was. We’d all hoped she’d finally found the man of her dreams.”

  “Brian wasn’t nearly good
enough for her, so I can’t see how her breaking up with him would have surprised anyone.”

  Martha’s cheeks heated, and she knew if she looked, she’d see amusement in Tristan’s eyes. She chose not to look. “What he means is—”

  “Exactly what I said.”

  “Oh my.” Jessa’s gaze jumped from Tristan to Martha and back again, and it was obvious she was already spinning the tale she’d tell her bridge club friends. “Well, then. I guess since things are so busy here today, I’ll take my leave. You can set up an appointment for tomorrow, Martha, can’t you? First thing in the morning, if you will. The girls are on their best behavior right after breakfast.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll see you then, my dear.” Jessa gathered her dogs’ leashes, glided across the room to grab her purse, then returned to Martha’s side, her long-nailed age-spot-free hand gripping Martha’s bicep. “Do try to hold on to this one, Martha. You’re not getting any younger, and soon the only catches you’ll make will be old men or fathers of little hoodlums.”

  “Jessa!”

  But Jessa was already heading down the corridor, her dogs barking and growling beside her.

  “She’s quite a lady.” Tristan had moved closer, so close his breath ruffled Martha’s hair as he spoke. If she turned, she’d be nose to nose with him. Or, rather, forehead to chin. Which was really close to lips to lips. Which was way too close for comfort.

  “Yes. She is.” And Tristan was quite a guy. A fact that Martha decided not to comment on.

  She stepped away, moving down the corridor to the next door and pulling a file from the pocket there. Taylor Murphy and his guinea pig, Mop. “I’m going to check on the next patient. You can make yourself comfortable in the waiting area.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “So you’re planning on following me around all day?”

  “I am.”

  “I think that’s unnecessary.”

  “I don’t, so let’s just play it my way and see how things go.”

  “Fine, but don’t blame me if you’re bored out of your mind inside of an hour.”

  “Sunshine, I could never be bored hanging out with you.” He smiled, that easy, warm grin that made his eyes glow and his face soften, and Martha’s traitorous heart did a little happy dance.