SB03 - The Defender's Duty

by Shirlee McCoy

  “So make a pot over at your place. I’m busy.”

  “And bring it over here for you? It’s much easier just to do it in your kitchen.”

  “You don’t need to make me coffee. I can manage myself.”

  “Are you always this grumpy in the morning?” She walked into the kitchen, more aware than she wanted to be of Jude following along behind.

  “Only when I’ve got an uninvited guest.”

  “Since I’m not a guest, we shouldn’t have a problem.” She plugged in his coffeemaker, and dumped the dregs from the pot. “Do you ever clean this thing out?”

  “If I say no, will you go away?”

  “No, but I’ll clean it.” She glanced at the pot—anything to avoid meeting his eyes. “I think I’ll clean it anyway.”

  “You don’t seem to get it, Lacey.” He took the pot from her hand and set it on the counter, giving her no choice but to turn her attention from the job to the man. Big mistake.

  He was even more handsome than she’d remembered, his eyes silver ice in a tan face.

  “Get what?”

  “I don’t need you to clean out the coffeepot or make me coffee.”

  “Then I’ll start on the dishes.” She turned to the sink, but there was nothing in it. Apparently, he’d decided to clean since last night. “Or the laundry.”

  “You are not going to do my laundry.”

  “Why not?” She pushed open the laundry-room door, smiling at the pile of clothes thrown on the floor. Something to focus on. That was what she needed.

  “Because I can manage myself.”

  “That’s not what—”

  “You were hired to do.” He grabbed the back of her shirt as she stooped to scoop up the clothes. “Leave it, Lacey.”

  He sounded so serious, so determined, that Lacey straightened and turned to look in his eyes. Really look. Worry and anger made them stormy gray, but it was the pain in his gaze that caught and held Lacey’s attention. It must have cost him a lot to walk down the stairs and open the door for her. She should have thought of that. Would have thought about it if Jude didn’t throw her so off balance.

  “How about we sit down and make a grocery list and go over your schedule. You’ve got physical therapy twice a week, right? And church. What other activities?” She sat at the table, hoping he would do the same.

  She should have known he wouldn’t. “No grocery list. No schedule. We’re going next door, grabbing your suitcase and you’re going to head out. That was the plan for the day. Remember?”

  “That was your plan, Jude. I already told you I’m staying. I’ve been paid to do a job. I plan to do it.” Since he wasn’t sitting, she stood, grabbed the coffeepot and rinsed it.

  “No job is worth your life.”

  “And yet you’re a police detective who risks his life every day.”

  “That’s different.” He pulled coffee from a cupboard and handed it to Lacey. “You want some eggs?”

  “Only if I make them.”

  “You think I can’t cook?” He pulled eggs and milk from the fridge.

  “I think you can probably do anything you set your mind to.” She opened one cupboard after another until she found a bowl, her heart beating in a strange, hard rhythm that she couldn’t ignore no matter how much she wanted to.

  “If that’s the case, then why are you sticking around?”

  “Because it’s obvious you don’t want to do the things around this house that would make your life more comfortable.”

  “Like what?”

  “The laundry, for one.” She kicked at a spot of something on the floor. “The cleaning, for another.”

  “And you really think doing those things will make my life more comfortable?”

  “Clean laundry, a clean house and hot coffee make life a lot more comfortable.” Which was something Lacey had good reason to know and even more reason to appreciate. She started the coffee and cracked eggs in the bowl. “Scrambled?”

  “Sure.”

  “And toast?”

  “I’ll do it.” He put bread into the toaster and grabbed plates from the cupboard, moving in close as he worked, his arm pressing against Lacey’s. She wanted to move away but didn’t want to call attention to her discomfort. More than half of her clients had been men. There was no reason in the world why being so close to Jude should bother her.

  “You seem tense.” Jude pulled butter out of the refrigerator as he spoke, and if Lacey hadn’t known better she would have thought he was just making an observation and expected no reply. She did know better. Jude was attuned to everything around him. Focused. Observant. Way too curious.

  “Why would I be?”

  “I don’t know. I was hoping you’d fill me in.”

  “There’s nothing to fill you in on.”

  When Jude didn’t respond she turned to look at him, her heart skipping a beat as she met his eyes.

  “I make you uncomfortable, Lacey. Why? You’ve been doing this kind of work for a decade. It seems to me you’d be over feeling uncomfortable around new clients.”

  He was so right it was scary, his words neatly expressing what she’d been thinking all morning. She didn’t want to tell him that, though, and when his phone rang the sound offered her the perfect excuse to turn away from Jude’s probing gaze.

  She piled eggs onto both plates and set them down on the table. Then opened cupboards until she found coffee mugs. She knew she should go out in the living room and wait there until Jude finished his conversation. That would be the polite thing to do.

  The right thing.

  Of course, she didn’t.

  The eggs were perfectly cooked, the toast slathered with butter, the coffee hot. Why let good food go to waste?

  She sat down, prayed and dug in, only half listening to Jude’s conversation until he said a word that caught her full attention. Murderer. She inhaled sharply and choked on the bite of egg she’d just put in her mouth, coughing hard and grabbing her coffee. Nearly spilling it as Jude patted her back.

  “Better watch it, Lacey. If you choke to death, my brother might think I had something to do with it.”

  “Not once the coroner found the egg lodged in my windpipe.” She shifted beneath his hand, not comfortable with the warm weight of it on her back. Her job required a certain level of intimacy and often a measure of physical closeness, but as a rule Lacey was the one offering the pat on the back.

  If Jude heard her comment, he ignored it, continuing his phone conversation as if she hadn’t nearly choked on scrambled eggs. “Yeah. Murder one. According to the paper, his fiancée didn’t believe it. She screamed curses at the jury after he was found guilty, but that doesn’t mean she wants me dead. You said there’s another possibility. Someone’s wife?”

  He paused, his hand dropping away from Lacey’s back as he limped across the room and grabbed a bottle of Tylenol. He popped three tablets into his mouth, swallowed some water and then spoke into the phone again. “She didn’t make any overt threats against me. Yeah. I know. It’s as often the quiet, unassuming person who’s a killer as it is the aggressive angry one.” He glanced at Lacey and frowned.

  “I hope you’re not talking about me, because I’m not quiet and unassuming. I’m more the open-threat kind.”

  His lips quirked into a half smile, and he turned away, pacing to the back door and pushing it open. Cold air drifted into the kitchen as he disappeared outside; it swirled around Lacey’s ankles and urged her to get up and follow him.

  She didn’t, of course. His conversation wasn’t any of her business, and she had more important things to do. She took a final sip of coffee, searched Jude’s cupboards for plastic wrap and covered his food. She’d heat it up in the microwave when he returned.

  Until then, she’d take a peek in his fridge and cupboards to make a list of what he had and what it looked like he needed, and then start his laundry. He may have said he didn’t need her help, but the pile she’d seen on the floor said otherwise. Besides,
keeping busy was the best way to keep her mind off the things that had kept her tossing and turning when she’d tried to sleep. Murder. Mystery. Men. Jude, to be exact.

  And her past.

  Which was something she didn’t like to spend any time at all thinking about.

  “So why are you? It’s not like there aren’t plenty of other things to set your mind to.” She pulled open the refrigerator door and frowned at the contents. A half gallon of milk, a stick of butter and a few covered Tupperware containers. “This isn’t much of a choice for a man who is trying to regain his health.”

  “Do you make a habit of talking to yourself?” Jude stepped back into the house and closed the door, the quiet click of it reminding Lacey that she was alone with a man who seemed to see much more than any other ever had.

  “Only when there’s no one else to talk to.”

  “And do you also make a habit of looking through other people’s refrigerators?”

  “Only when they’re not around to stop me.” She grinned, enjoying the lighthearted banter more than she wanted to admit. “By the way, you don’t have enough food in there to feed a mouse.”

  “I suppose you want me to do something about that.” He grabbed his coffee cup and topped it off, then took the plate of food Lacey was lifting from the table, putting it in the microwave before she could.

  “It would make sense. I mean, you can’t rebuild your strength with eggs, coffee and toast.”

  “Trust me. I’ve been eating more than that. The ladies at my mother’s church have been generous.” He sent a wry smile in her direction and shoved the covered plate into the microwave. “So, listen, I’ve got a job for you.”

  “Sorry, but I’ve already been hired by someone else.”

  “We’ve already established that I don’t need you hanging around the house getting in the way.”

  “I do not get in the way.”

  “Okay. You don’t get in the way, but I don’t need you here, either.”

  “So where do you need me?”

  “Running some errands.”

  That sounded simple enough, but Lacey was pretty certain it wasn’t. “What kind of errands?”

  “No need to sound so suspicious. All I need you to do is run into town and get me a few things.”

  “What things?”

  “There you go, sounding suspicious again.” He grinned, but Lacey didn’t miss the calculation in his eyes. He was sizing her up, checking to see if she’d buy what he was trying to sell.

  “And there you go again not telling me what kind of errands you’re sending me on.”

  He chuckled and limped into the living room, ignoring the beep of the microwave and the food that was waiting for him. “It’s nothing dangerous or illegal, Lacey. I just need a couple of three-ring binders, some notebook paper and a three-hole punch. And a six-pack of root beer.”

  It seemed like an odd list, but Lacey nodded, grabbing a piece of paper from Jude’s printer and a pen from the coffee table. “Okay, some three-ring binders, notebook paper, three-hole punch, root beer.”

  “You can throw in a box of Twinkies while you’re at it. Some razors. Any brand. Maybe price some big-screen television sets. The one here is too small.”

  She glanced up from the paper, met his silvery eyes. “You don’t look like someone who spends a lot of time watching television.”

  “I wasn’t before. I am now.”

  She frowned, searching his face for a clue as to what was going on. There was no way Jude had suddenly changed his mind about needing her help, and there was no way a man like him really wanted a big-screen TV. Mountain climbing, hiking, camping. Those were the things she could picture him doing. She couldn’t picture him camped out in front of a television set watching hours of sitcoms and dramas. “What’s going on, Jude? And don’t feed me another line about wanting me to run errands.”

  “You’ve got me all wrong, Lacey. If I were going to feed you a line, I’d say something like this.” He moved close, touching her cheek with fingers that were rough and calloused, holding her in place with the sheer force of his gaze. “When I saw you for the first time, I thought you were a fairy-tale princess come to life. Then I looked in your eyes and saw the determination and strength in them, and knew you were something even better. A flesh-and-blood woman. Someone with passion and integrity. Someone I wanted to get to know.”

  Okay.

  He was right.

  That was a line. And a good one, because it was exactly the kind of thing Lacey would have wanted a man to say to her if she’d been interested in dating. Thank goodness she wasn’t. “Look, Jude, whatever you’re planning, you’re not going to hide it from me by offering distractions.”

  “I’m planning to eat breakfast.”

  And something else.

  Something that he had no intention of telling Lacey about.

  Lacey was sure of that; she just wasn’t sure she should do anything about it. Grayson had hired her to help around Jude’s house, run errands for him, make sure he got to appointments and to church if his legs were too weak or painful for him to be able to drive himself.

  Keeping Jude from doing something foolish wasn’t written into the terms of the contract. Whatever he wanted to do, it wasn’t her place to stop him.

  “All right. I’ll get my purse and be on my way.”

  She walked out of the kitchen and opened the door, ready to put some distance between herself and Jude. A little fresh air. A little time. She’d put the job back into perspective.

  “Hold on a minute, Lacey.” Jude wrapped a hand around her bicep, pulling her to a stop. “I’m going to do some gardening soon. There’s a great nursery about twenty minutes from here. Maybe you can pick up some plants.”

  “You’re going to garden?” She gritted her teeth to keep from telling Jude what she thought of his endless list of errands.

  “Isn’t that what all invalids do? Putter around in their gardens and make things grow?” He flashed his teeth in a feral smile that didn’t make Lacey feel any better about the errands she was about to run.

  “Apparently it’s what you’re going to do. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” She took her time going into her house and grabbing her purse. There was no real hurry. There was nothing on Jude’s list that he really needed and no reason for Lacey to rush. Besides, she was curious, and more than a little concerned. No matter how many times she told herself it was none of her business, she wanted to know why Jude was trying to get her away from his house.

  Did he have an assignation with the murderer?

  Had he somehow found out who the person was?

  Or was he planning to go off on his own, hunting for a killer who was probably much better prepared to fight than Jude?

  The thought didn’t sit well with her, and Lacey frowned as she stepped back outside.

  Was Jude going after the killer?

  The question lingered in the air, following Lacey into her car and down the driveway. The answer was obvious—of course he was. Why else would he be so determined to get her out of the house and away from him? An image of Jude lying bleeding and still filled Lacey’s mind, and she blanched. No way could she let him go after a killer alone. She opened Bess’s glove compartment and pulled out a chocolate bar. Nothing like a little sugar to get the mind working properly. Too bad it couldn’t also give her superhuman strength and the ability to stop bullets. Lacey sighed and shook her head. The way she saw it, she had two choices. Go or stay. Which was really no choice at all.

  She pulled onto the main road, found a place to park the car and finished off her candy bar. She wasn’t sure what kind of vehicle Jude drove, but since his was the only house at the end of the driveway, she’d just wait until she saw him pull onto the road and follow.

  Of course, if the murderer parked somewhere else and walked to the duplex, Lacey would be sitting in Bess nibbling chocolate while Jude fought for his life.

  Not a good plan.

  It would be bette
r to get out of the car and walk back to the house. Keep an eye on things from the woods that surrounded the property. If Jude got in his car and tried to leave, Lacey would throw herself in front of his car and pray he didn’t run her over.

  It was a much more dramatic plan than sitting in the car and waiting, but Lacey decided to go with it. Anything was better than sitting in the car wondering what was going on back at Jude’s place.

  She grabbed another chocolate bar from the glove compartment, zipped her coat and slipped into the woods, praying she wasn’t walking into the biggest mistake of her life.

  SEVEN

  Jude waited until Lacey drove out of sight before stepping back into the house. She’d known he didn’t need any of the things he’d asked her to get and hadn’t been happy about the errands, but Jude didn’t care. Jackson had called an hour ago. Morgan Bradshaw, the wife of a man Jude had put in jail for second-degree murder, was living twenty-five miles away in the small town of Lakeview. She’d moved there a week after Jude’s accident.

  A coincidence?

  Jude didn’t think so.

  He walked to the computer and turned it on, smiling when he saw the address Jackson had e-mailed him. There was no need to map it; he knew the street. Had spent a good amount of time in Lakeview when he was a kid. Riding bikes. Swimming in the lake. Hanging out with friends.

  In a half hour he might be standing face-to-face with the person who’d nearly killed him. There was no way he was going to have Lacey with him when that happened. Anyone crazy enough to mow down another human being wouldn’t hesitate to take out an innocent bystander.

  He grabbed his coat and wallet, strapped on his holster and headed out back. A large garage stood outside the fenced-in yard. Jude opened the back gate, entered the garage and unlocked his Mustang convertible. Not the best ride for someone with injuries like his, but Jude hadn’t been willing to give it up.

  Apparently Lacey liked her Mustang just as much. Her car needed a major overhaul, but she defended it like it was her baby.