THE MARINE'S LAST DEFENSE

by Angi Morgan

  “Suspended because of me? But you’re the one who found me and— Why would they suspend a good detective?”

  “It’s complicated. This murder was actually my first and last case for the Dallas P.D. Your turn to share some details about what’s going on.”

  “I’m so sorry that I’ve wrecked your life.”

  “You don’t get to wear that title, Bree. My ex-wife claimed it a while back.”

  She covered her face with her hands, acting ashamed. “Have I endangered even more people? Do you have kids?”

  He shook his head, glad for the first time in years that he and Jennifer hadn’t pursued children. He hadn’t wanted to be an absentee father. And now, if they had, he’d wonder if they were even his.

  The more pressing issue was to get Sabrina Watkins to tell him the entire story. Start to finish—or near finish. It was clear she didn’t trust him enough to share yet. She kept dodging his questions.

  It was a long drive to Amarillo and eventually he’d get it out of her. Gain her trust. Then you can help and maybe get your job back or some other type of employment.

  “You were flying under the radar by house-sitting. That was a good idea with characters like that searching for you. You’ll need new civvies and a coat before we hit the road.”

  The snowfall was heavy again. He’d listened to the weather off and on today. Dallas wouldn’t see much more, then the temperature would warm up and most of the roads would be clear by late morning.

  “I appreciate everything you’ve done. You’ve saved my life twice today. But after you take these handcuffs off, don’t you think I should leave? You shouldn’t get more involved. It’s already cost you your job and almost your life. Maybe you could exaggerate my escape abilities and let your supervisor think I conked you on the head or something.”

  He rubbed the lump under the bandage on the right side of his head where he’d been “conked” for real that afternoon. He hadn’t meant to draw her attention to it, but her intake of breath and immediate touch proved he had.

  “What happened to your head? Did you hit it on something?”

  “The bullet grazed me. If it hadn’t been for the pup pawing at my ear, I might have completely passed out and drowned.” He watched for a vehicle that might be tailing them. Those two goons might try to follow, but he was determined not to be a step behind this time.

  “You’ve been shot and suspended and it’s all my fault.” She dropped her forehead to the passenger window.

  He could only see her shoulder and matted hair. “I think we need to clean up before we drive five or six hours. Even Dallas is smelling like a sewer.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea? They could be right behind us.”

  “I’ve been driving in circles to make sure we weren’t followed. We’re clear. My apartment is just around the corner.” He wouldn’t gain her trust if she knew he’d been close to taking her to the police station. Dang if he knew why he’d changed direction. “Tell me about Dallas. Why would anyone adopt a half-blind dog?”

  “You’ve met her.” She raised the head of the pup and kissed her fur. “First, she’s absolutely adorable and doesn’t let the blindness slow her down at all. I volunteered at the shelter and introduced Brenda Ellen to her after she lost her first dog. She brought her home the next day.”

  “So you really like dogs.” He slowed the truck for the last stop light before his complex.

  Bree didn’t allow the handcuffs to encumber her. He watched her stroke the black fur, keeping Dallas calm and silent. His dad always said you could tell a man’s true character by how he treated his animals. If that were true about this woman...maybe it was the reason he’d sided with her.

  “I’m glad you kept her,” she said softly.

  He parked at the rear of his lot with easy access to leave in a hurry. He’d half expected that his fellow officers would have the place surrounded. He’d stolen evidence in order to save this woman’s life.

  “Listen.” He held her arm through his jacket and she raised those violet eyes questioningly at him. “Stealing evidence isn’t the most honorable thing I’ve done. Probably not the most dishonorable, either.”

  “You’re saving my family. What could be dishonorable about that?”

  His mind was made up and he needed to be honest. “You’ve got two choices. Either go to jail now. Or turn the rest of the money and evidence over to me and go to jail in Amarillo.”

  She sat straighter, stiff, looking petrified. “I see.”

  “I’m a cop. What did you really expect?”

  Almost spilling Carl’s coffee and the woman who had shyly giggled at his awkwardness seemed like a distant memory. Be honest. Okay, his physical attraction to Bree had influenced his decisions earlier in the day. But he couldn’t admit that to her. He could barely admit it to himself.

  “I’m not certain,” she whispered. “A lot’s happened today that I was unprepared for and I’m so tired it’s hard to think straight. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

  “We’ll make certain your family’s safe. It’ll work out, Bree.”

  “I’m sure you think so.”

  “I’ll be with you the entire time. Nothing will happen to you, but I need to know everything.”

  “I understand. Now? Or can we go inside first?”

  They got out of the truck. Dallas was in Bree’s arms and he wrapped his jacket around her. She shrugged it away, along with his arm as he tried to take the forty pounds of Lab to his door.

  Inside, she set Dallas on the floor, untied the makeshift silver leash and held her hands out for him to remove the cuffs. He reached into his pocket for the key and a sound of disgust escaped her lips.

  “I could have lied to you about why I’m taking you to Amarillo,” he said as he pocketed the cuffs again.

  “Thanks for reminding me that I’m a fugitive. I know what to expect now.” She rubbed her wrists and then pointed down the hall. “Is the bathroom this way?” He nodded and she ran the short distance. Hand on the knob, she hesitated. “Do you need to come in with me?”

  “It has to be this way, Bree. I promised to uphold the law.” He’d sworn several oaths over his lifetime. Did he still believe he could keep all of them?

  Her hands dropped against her sides as she faced him, visibly defeated. He hated what he had to do, what she must think of him. He admitted, “I don’t have a choice.”

  “Neither do I. No one ever asked me if destroying my life was okay. They didn’t ask if I wanted to give up everything I’d ever known. Or if I wanted to lose my family and have them think I was dead. And they didn’t ask if it was okay to blow up my business and destroy everything I’d worked for since high school. I’m hiding from men who want to kill me for the reason that I was a convenient scapegoat. I completely understand about not having a choice.”

  He could argue with her, but why? Because he’d wanted her phone number that morning? That path was off-limits now. Why? Maybe she was the first woman inside his apartment since the divorce. So what? Maybe he’d brought her here because he couldn’t let her out of his sight.

  Again, so what? She was an attractive woman who he happened to be helping with a problem.

  Stop lying. She’s a suspect who might be as guilty as those men who’d abducted her. How was he lying to himself? A victim of circumstances or a lying con artist? Did it matter? No more questions. No more ifs. He’d save the Watkins family or put Bree in jail.

  Across the room, Dallas circled as if she was about to curl up and sleep. “I should probably walk you before you settle down.” The pup squatted instead. Too late again. He was finished being a step behind. Time to act like who he was.

  A marine.

  Chapter Eleven

  “If you’re hungry, I make a mean hot turkey, pastrami and
Swiss sandwich.” Jake had his head in the fridge. There wasn’t much else to offer. A cold beer wasn’t exactly what a freezing woman should drink. He didn’t even have frozen dinners left to heat and serve. He’d been guzzling the coffee swill at the department for a week, avoiding the grocery store, occasionally getting a good cup from a diner.

  Bree’s soggy shoes squeaked on the worn linoleum. “Are you certain staying here long enough to eat is a good idea? They said they’d be watching us until we had the money. I don’t think stopping off for a change of clothes and a hot sandwich is what they had in mind.”

  He checked his watch, eight o’clock. He hoped MacMahan could get the gear together in two hours. He needed a list and a moment alone. That’s all the time they could spare before they should be on the road. “I have to make a quick call.”

  “When can I call my family?”

  “It might not be a brilliant idea, but we both stink to high heaven because of that lake dunking. I don’t plan to ride in that truck with you for five or six hours in these clothes. Now, are you hungry? I happen to be starved.” He pulled the sandwich stuff from the shelf, then pulled the skillet from the dish drain, keeping an eye on his frustrated prisoner.

  Bree Watkins glared at him as she crossed her arms and headed toward a kitchen chair. “Dallas and I don’t have a problem with the smell.”

  Dipping the knife in the butter, he acknowledged that she wouldn’t let the call to her family wait for long. He also realized an exasperated sigh had come from him. Her family could be in danger or they could be the ones behind everything. He had no way of knowing and needed time to weigh his options. Time to think of a plan instead of react to the problem.

  He’d ignore the request for a phone call until he made a decision. Turning from the bread, he pointed the butter tub in Bree’s direction. “I’m in charge and I do have a problem with smell. That’s a brand-new truck sitting out there. And we really do stink. Now strip.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Her shock erupted as a nervous giggle.

  The same cute sound from early that morning that had been so damn attractive. Stow it, marine. One more time, he debated sharing why it was important to wait on the supplies he needed. He’d be prepared this time.

  “I’ll wash your clothes while you shower. How did you think we were going to clean up?”

  “I... That can’t possibly be a good idea. What if they come here and I’m—”

  “Soapy?” He laughed, unable to stop himself. The look on her face was priceless. “We weren’t followed. Promise. If you’re worried about getting on the road, you should probably get moving.”

  She stood and Dallas jumped off the couch to follow. Bree picked her up and Jake held out his hands to take her.

  “I’m serious about the stench. The paramedics warned me about an infection.” He pointed to his bullet graze. “Do it for me. After all, I did save your life.”

  “I can’t believe you’re trying to guilt me into compliance. Oh, my gosh! Hanging around here can’t be a good idea.” His “prisoner” huffed down the short hallway. He and Dallas followed close behind. He got his hand on the door, stopping her from closing it. Guilty conscience or not, it seemed to do the trick.

  “What now?” she asked, facing him, trying to close the door. “You are not coming in this bathroom with me.”

  “I need your clothes and you aren’t locking me out.”

  “In your dreams, Detective. I am not taking my clothes off in front of you.” Her words were commanding, but she took a step in retreat when he cupped his hand around the door.

  “You can hop behind the curtain and hand them to me before you turn the water on. Nothing lecherous about that.”

  “I, um, I’m not sure I trust you that much.”

  He crossed his arms like she had in the kitchen and made himself comfortable leaning against the doorjamb, keeping the door open with his foot. Hoping that he looked innocent, with no ulterior motive. In reality his thoughts were just like any other red-blooded marine when confronted with the possibility of a naked woman. To make the situation worse, he’d been attracted to Bree since the first shy giggle drawing his attention to the corner of the diner.

  If today hadn’t happened, finding her would be a primary objective. But right now, his objective was to get them cleaned up, gather some gear and be gone.

  Bree toed off her wet shoes. Funny, he was supposed to be a detective and hadn’t noticed that she’d been wearing a tight-fitting sweater all day. Purple, close to the color of her eyes. Granted, she’d been in a heavy coat most of the time. But in the bathroom light, her eyes were the deep amethyst he’d admired first thing.

  Dallas sat on the floor between them. He picked her up and took a long sniff of the puppy. “You smell terrible. That lake water left all of us stinky grimy. You have to clean up, too, girl. Now don’t look at me with those sad, puppy-dog eyes. It won’t be so bad.”

  “It’s completely embarrassing and wrong. I haven’t known you twenty-four hours and this is... I’d never do this.”

  “You’re taking a shower and we’re doing nothing improper. I’ll keep my eyes closed. See?” He clamped his eyes shut, concentrating on sounds.

  The shower curtain holders slid opened and closed. Her body shifted. Even if he opened his eyes, he’d only see her silhouette behind his cheap blue curtain. He assumed the wet jean material was being peeled from each slender thigh and tiny foot. Yeah, she had feet the appropriate size for someone of her short height. The plastic shifted again, a plop on the bath mat. Then the purple sweater dropped from over the rod.

  It would be wrong to open his eyes and watch the rest.

  What’s wrong were the images in his head. Actually, there was nothing wrong with the images there. After being loyal to his wife and being stationed overseas for six years, his imagination was pretty darn good. Naked, sleek muscles with water droplets hugging every curve...

  Eyes open, he put the pup on the floor and bent to scoop her clothes into a pile, immediately wishing he could throw them away instead of wasting time in the wash cycle. The shower came on. His body reacted. A woman he was attracted to was on the other side of that curtain.

  She’s my prisoner. Sort of my prisoner. I’m not a cop anymore.

  He couldn’t lie. He wanted Sabrina Watkins with a fierce part of himself he hadn’t dealt with in a very long time.

  The curtain moved again. The pup had nudged it aside. He saw the outline of Bree bend at the waist to help her inside the tub.

  “So you decided on a bath, too? Good girl.”

  “Clean towel is on the hanger.” He pointed to the rod over the toilet. “My robe’s on the back of the door when you’re done.”

  “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Great.”

  There wasn’t a window in the bathroom and probably no way for Bree to escape while his back was turned— especially naked—but he couldn’t risk it. She had managed to get past him twice today, not including the abduction. He marched to the kitchen, dropped the stinky clothes and obtained a screwdriver from under the sink, where he kept a small tool kit.

  Removing the doorknob only took a couple of minutes. He was silent enough that he didn’t think Bree heard him. Bright laughter from the shower in spite of the desperate way she must feel made him wish she really was the first woman in his shower instead of the first prisoner.

  As soon as she finished in the shower, he’d start the washer. He got everything ready, and noticed how tattered the sweater was. Unlike the jeans, which looked barely worn. It didn’t make sense. Dammit. She’d said he’d cut the coat off. He’d sliced her sweater and she hadn’t said a thing.

  Not one word. And he’d forced her into a shower without thinking about any possible trauma she might be suffering from the abduction. He dialed a number he hadn’t been able to dial
in months.

  Mac had been a marine specialist and a good friend who mustered out three months before him. Jake didn’t know if he’d answer with only an exchange of phone numbers over the past two years.

  “Hey, Craig, buddy. Where have you been keeping your lonesome self?”

  “It has been a while, Mac. I’m texting you a shopping list.”

  “For girls? I’ve been waiting for this. I heard you got divorced.” His friend laughed.

  “Afraid you’re going to continue to wait for that party. You still in private security and able to supply friends?” He walked to the bathroom, wanting to push the door open and...and what? The shower was still running. He could hear a few words addressed to the dog.

  “How long do I have to fill the order?” Mac asked.

  Jake pivoted to the kitchen, away from Bree. “ASAP. I’d like wheels up by 2200.”

  “You’ll be limited to what I have on hand and how long it takes me to get to wherever you live. You need a clean vehicle?”

  “I’m good on that front. Something’s better than nothing. I’ll text you the address.”

  “Thought you had a whole police force at your back, man.”

  “Yeah, not so much. The quicker the better.” Bree’s clothes were pretty ruined. His blood boiled. The rips in the back of her sweater were probably from that psycho cutting her coat off. And he’d seen the small wounds on her right arm. Son of a bitch.

  “One more thing, Mac. There are a few items for a friend. No laughing. No questions. Shop anywhere that’s open.”

  “You need any help with this op, Jake?”

  “Not this go-round, man. This is something I have to do on my own.” He couldn’t let anyone else risk anything. He didn’t know why he thought he could trust this woman, but he couldn’t ask anyone else to.

  “Okay, but you’ll owe me a favor sometime and you better plan on departing at 2230.”

  “Not ever a problem. Thanks, Mac.” He disconnected and texted the list he’d been mentally preparing. He also flipped on the Weather Channel, hoping they’d rotate through what the weather was like in the Texas Panhandle. The snow front had come from the northwest all week, but he hadn’t heard anything about the forecast.