by Denise Agnew
“Don’t apologize. I get it. I really do. But this time it’s different.”
Dylan sat up straight, worry spiking. “What’s wrong?”
“Emily and Aimee have a friend who might need help. Her name is Terra Fitzgerald. She works in the counseling office at Aimee’s elementary school.”
Dylan leaned forward. “And?”
“Terra might be in trouble.”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s a long story. The major thing to know is that Terra had a stalker back in Denver. There’s a chance he could’ve followed her here.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly.”
Wariness hit Dylan, but so did a sense of urgency. “Okay, even with that…what does it have to do with me?”
“There’s the possibility Delta could be called out any time for an ongoing situation. If Terra is in danger, we can’t watch her back. At least not if we’re called up. We need you to keep Terra safe.”
Ah, hell. “Look, you know I’d like to help but—”
“Yeah, I understand.”
Dylan tensed as panic mixed with a hint of anger. “I’m not a trained bodyguard.”
Fletch made a sound of disgust. “Dude, don’t give me that shit. You were Delta. You were Pararescue. I know what you went through to get there.”
Were. Were Delta.
The fact stung, even if it shouldn’t.
When Dylan didn’t reply, Fletch said, “You know I don’t take excuses off of anyone, right?”
Dylan snorted. “Damned straight.”
“Then you know I’m not trying to blow smoke up your ass. If I didn’t think you could keep Terra safe I’d never ask. I wouldn’t put a woman in danger like that. Ever.”
Dylan did know…at least that Fletch would never put a woman in danger. That didn’t mean Fletch could save every woman in danger. Or every man for that matter. Getting cocky got people killed. Death could rise up and hit someone in the face no matter what precautions they’d taken. Dylan knew this with absolute fact.
“I’m not reliable for this sort of thing. You know that,” Dylan said.
Fletch’s sigh came over the line. “That’s an old record. Don’t play it.”
Dylan’s jaw clenched. “Well, I’m stuck in that groove. For the long term.”
“You need to get back on the horse. You said so yourself not that long ago. You’re not going to leave a woman unprotected.”
Dylan winced. “I already have. I can’t do it.”
Fletch’s long-suffering sigh came over the phone. “So that’s it? You’re just going to turn your back on a friend of Emily’s? I never would’ve expected that of you.”
Dylan closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m no hero.”
“The only one shoveling that crap is you. We trust you. Emily trusts you.”
“Why?”
“She understands the kind of man you are. I asked her if she would trust you with her life. She said yes. That says a lot.”
“She shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.” Quiet over the line made Dylan uncomfortable, and he stood. He paced the apartment. “I’m not the man for this job.”
“All right. Maybe you aren’t.”
Ouch. Just because Dylan believed it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear the truth. Dylan drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Good. Glad that’s settled.”
“It’s settled. For now.” Fletch grunted. “I should come over and kick your ass.”
The touch of humor in Fletch’s voice made Dylan smile. “You couldn’t do it, old man.”
“Old man? I’m three years older than you.”
“So what? You still couldn’t kick my ass.”
Fletch laughed. “Maybe. Even if you’re being a peckerhead, you’re still invited to Thanksgiving dinner.”
“I dunno. I’ll—”
“You’ve gotta eat. Just come over for a couple of hours and if you want to leave after that, everyone will understand.”
Everyone will understand that you’re a washed up military vet. Everyone will get that you don’t have what it takes.
Fletch’s determination to make him engage with the world had been driving Dylan crazy the last nine months. Fletch and Emily had treated him like gold, and he didn’t understand why.
“Yeah. All right. I’ll be there,” Dylan said.
“Nine am.”
“Right.”
Fletch hung up, and Dylan sank back onto the couch. He placed his phone on the coffee table and looked around in disgust at his apartment. A newspaper lay sprawled on one side of the table, an empty plate with a bit of bread crust from his lunch today. An empty soda can. His floor needed vacuuming, and he knew the bathroom needed cleaning. His kitchen counter hadn’t seen a wipe down for two days. The apartment didn’t have much personality, but then he’d never injected his personality into living quarters before. When he’d been in the military he hadn’t seen the point. Nine months of living here hadn’t changed his attitude when he didn’t feel as if he’d settled anywhere. Not really.
Still, he’d never been one of those guys who left his underwear on the floor and dishes lying around. As the holidays approached, he found his desire to do a damned thing sailing right out of the harbor. His innate tendency toward neatness had never turned into an obsession, but neither was he a slob.
As he started to gather up the items on the coffee table, he pondered the conversation with Fletch. Cormac Fletcher and the rest of his Delta team had always treated him like a brother. Not that he hadn’t seen the uncertainty in a couple of team members eyes. He felt the doubt in his bones and understood why they might feel that way. He didn’t blame them.
He tossed the bread crust in the trash, placed the plate in the dishwasher and the newspaper in the recycle bin.
Why had Fletch asked him to protect this woman? Didn’t he understand that he couldn’t do it? That he didn’t have the stomach or the strength to protect anyone or anything? Just the thought of it made his blood rush faster, and his heart spun out of control. He sank down on the couch again and buried his face in his hands for a moment. Breathing deeply, he sucked in one breath after another until the weird panic subsided.
Damn. That hadn’t happened in a long time. Breathe. Breathe damn it. He recalled his therapist’s words. The training he’d taken for calming his mind whenever one of these panics started worked every time. Thank God. He refused to take drugs for it, and the panic had never been so bad he’d resorted to a therapy dog. Still, this illustrated one of the many reasons he couldn’t help anyone. Freezing up during an emergency could get someone killed.
He wouldn’t feel a sense of helplessness, which threatened to attack him on a regular basis if he allowed it. He refused.
Because he didn’t really feel these days, did he? Other than panic, that is. That came and went until he thought maybe it was the only emotional reaction he’d have for the rest of his life.
A woman couldn’t rely on his protection with panic his only friend.
Terra Fitzgerald. He rolled the name around in his head. Friend of Emily’s or not, Terra needed a man who could keep her safe, not a guy with PTSD and a propensity to hibernate.
Nope. No matter how much Fletch pushed or tried to make him feel guilty, he wouldn’t take the challenge. Terra would be safer with another man guarding her six.
Yeah, that was it.
He knew another thing he needed to do to help his screwed up frame of mind. He pulled out his leather bound, acid-free paper journal. Time to write.
Chapter Two
Terra left her apartment the next morning ready to take on the world. She’d convinced herself that she couldn’t sit around all day reading. Sure, she could have. After all, she had a big, thick book sitting on her nightstand that she’d been trying to read for a week. Now that she had a break while school was out for the holidays, she could indulge in me time.
Regardless of that, she really, really needed groceries and had to pi
ck up that bottle of wine she’d promised Emily. Besides, if she chickened out and didn’t head to Emily and Fletch’s for Thanksgiving, she’d have a lonely peanut butter sandwich waiting for her in the refrigerator. That didn’t sound appetizing.
Determined, she headed down the sidewalk and to her small green sedan. Out of habit, she took note of her surroundings and held her keys as a weapon. The back of her neck tingled, and she stopped on the sidewalk and assessed the area. Not a soul was in the parking lot. The apartment complex sat in a relatively older part of town. Twenty-year old houses lined the quiet residential area across the street.
While her apartment complex looked a little run down, it wasn’t a dump. Most of the people seemed nice or they kept to themselves. Nothing stirred. She shivered as a cold breeze ruffled her hair, and she hurried the rest of the way down the sidewalk to her car.
Once more she glanced at the apartments and up at the second story windows. No one watching her or wandering the property that she could see. A new shiver wracked her body. For one moment she contemplated running back to the apartment and locking herself inside. But what good would it do? She had to stop expecting to see him everywhere she looked. Frustration with herself piled on top of apprehension.
She jumped in the vehicle, locked the doors and started the engine. When her cell phone rang, she didn’t try to dig it out of her purse while driving. It would keep until she made it to the store. All the way there, she paid special attention to her surroundings. She glanced in the rear view mirror but didn’t see an old Toyota Forerunner on her tail.
Stop it Terra. Just stop it.
She reached the grocery store in no time—it wasn’t more than a few blocks away. She pulled into a parking spot fairly close to the front of the store. Not because she didn’t like walking, but she didn’t like to be far away from other people when she hauled groceries to her car. If felt safer that way.
She dug into her hobo bag and grabbed her cell. She’d missed a call from her mother and could call her back later. She hesitated. It was a bit strange Mom had called the cell rather than her land line phone. Worry made Terra return the call.
“Darlin’,” her mother’s Irish lilt came over the line after only one ring. “How are you?”
“I’m good, Mom. Is everything all right? You don’t usually call my cell phone.”
“Oh, everything is fine. I just mixed up your phone numbers.”
Her mother was hopelessly tech adverse and in some ways old fashioned. A charm most people found endearing, including Terra’s father.
“I thought I’d check on you. What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Mom asked.
“Heading over to Emily and Cormac Fletcher’s.”
“Oh, that’s so wonderful. I’m glad you have somewhere to go, darlin’. Being alone on a holiday is terrible.”
Terra didn’t mention the scratch on her car door, or that she’d been paranoid and Allan Rivers still haunted her mind.
“Darlin’,” her mother continued. “Your father and I have some news. We’ve been giving it some thought, and we think we’ll stay in Ireland six months out of the year. A sort of back and forth thing. Ireland in the winter, Denver in the summer.”
Surprised, Terra didn’t speak for a moment but then managed a, “That’s sudden. When did you decide this?”
“Yesterday. Being back in Ireland has been so good for us. We do miss it here, you know. I wish you’d come with us.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Mom, not that again. Ireland is beautiful, and I do love it. But I’ve got a job here and America is my home. I’m not running to Ireland just because…” She shrugged even though her mother couldn’t see her. “I’m not running.”
“Okay, I know when I’m beat.”
“Oh? This is the third time in a month you’ve called trying to entice me to Ireland.”
“A woman’s got to try. I’m just worried about you, Terra.”
“There’s nothing to worry about.”
I hope.
Her mother’s sigh said she didn’t like Terra’s casual brush off. “I’m your mother. Of course I worry.”
“You’re coming back to pack up some things?” Terra asked, deciding the best way to end this conversation was to take a detour.
“We’ve got tickets to return to Denver before Christmas. We can spend it with you before we go back in the New Year. That is if you can get time off to come up to Denver.”
“I’ll certainly try.”
“Well, dear, I’d better go. I’ve got some things to do around the house. Ring me soon.”
“I will.”
After they ended the call, Terra sat in the car a moment and gathered her thoughts. She looked in the rear view mirror and saw a man’s leather-jacket clad torso walk passed the back of her car toward the store entrance. She jerked in surprise and sudden fear. She looked to the left as the man continued walking, his short red hair, the set of his big shoulders straight, his stride almost familiar. He’d moved far enough away she couldn’t see his face—the angle just wasn’t right. The walk, though…it looked so much like Allan’s.
Her heart pounded as her mind roiled in turmoil. He disappeared into the grocery crowd at the front the store. A fine trembling skittered over her body. No. It couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t be. Fear rose up like a wave. God, what if it was him?
“No. It can’t be.”
She started the car, fumbling with the keys. Shame mixed with anxiety as she backed the car out and left. She didn’t even take time to see if a white Forerunner was in the parking lot. She drove home, checking the rear view mirror from time to time. Although she never saw anyone suspicious behind her, when she returned to her apartment complex, she hurried into her apartment. She locked the door quickly and leaned against it, unsure what she wanted to do next.
Terra sat on her couch and contemplated her next move. Twenty minutes later when a text lit up her phone. She grabbed her phone. It was Emily.
Are you home?
She texted back and affirmative.
Emily replied. Fletch and I are nearby. Okay if we pop in a moment?
She hesitated, but relief hit her at the same time. She could use the company right now.
She texted back. Of course.
Emily’s text came back fast. Be right there.
Less then ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. She started even though she knew it was probably them. She checked the peephole and smiled. When she opened the door to them, there were instant hugs all around. She stretched up a bit to embrace them, because Emily was a little taller than her and Cormac “Fletch” Fletcher was over six feet tall. No doubt about it, a woman would either feel tremendously safe with him around or terrified.
“Have a seat,” Terra said. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Not for me,” Fletch said.
Emily shook her head. “Nothing for me, thanks. We can’t stay too long. We’re picking Annie up from a friend’s house. She had a sleep over last night.”
Terra sat in the chair across from them, taking note of their expressions, which had turned serious.
“Seems like forever since we’ve seen you,” Emily said.
Terra shrugged. “Well, you know me. Hermit.” She smiled and leaned her elbows on her knees. “Let me guess. You’re here to twist my arm again about Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah,” Fletch said with a smile. “And no. Emily already said you planned to come.”
“You guys are relentless.” Terra shook her head. “But I love you both anyway.”
Emily grinned. “Really, we want you there. We’ll have a full house.”
“How much of a full house?” Terra asked. “The whole team will be there, I suppose?”
“Most of the Delta guys won’t be with us. They’re off with family out of town,” Fletch said.
Emily’s eyes sparkled as she said,“But there will be three soldiers from the fort coming over for dinner. Last minute sponsorship.”
Terra d
id a mental eye roll. “I see.”
Emily’s grin was teasing. “Don’t worry. We aren’t trying to set you up with anyone.”
Fletch’s expression turned skeptical. “Don’t believe a word she says. If she likes the guys, and if I think they’re okay…she’s definitely going to try and set you up.”
Terra couldn’t help but laugh with them. The levity almost made her forget her fear, and the belief that she’d seen Allan at the grocery store. Yet she knew what would happen if she said something to her friends. They’d insist she come stay with them. Fletch had his entire place wired up for security, including a separate apartment and living space where Emily had once lived. No, she couldn’t do that. They’d faced too much danger and too many challenges in their lives over the years. She simply wouldn’t give into paranoia and allow apprehension to rule her life.
After she made yet another promise to join them for Thanksgiving, they seemed happy and departed. All that night, though, she couldn’t shrug off the feeling that maybe, just maybe trouble had found her again and that Allan might be out there.
Terra arrived at Fletch and Emily’s house Thanksgiving Day with a cabernet sauvignon in hand. Yesterday she’d forced herself to leave the house and returned to the grocery store. She accomplished the entire adventure without seeing suspicious men with red hair. By the time Terra rang their doorbell, Terra was almost convinced she’d imagined seeing a red-headed man with Allan’s walk.
Emily beamed. “I’m so glad you made it.”
Terra gave her friend a lopsided smile. “I’m sorry I’m a little early.”
Emily shrugged as she brought Terra into the house. “No worries at all. The guys are already here.”
Annie, Emily’s blonde, blue eyed dynamo of a daughter ran toward Terra. “Terra!”
Annie launched at her and Terra grabbed the little girl in a huge hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you. What have you been up to?”
“Building a Millennium Falcon.”
“That sounds awesome,” Terra said. “I can’t wait to see it.”
