Protective Instincts

by Shirlee McCoy

  “No?” Kent’s gaze jumped to Jackson, and he frowned. “I didn’t realize you had a guest. I guess that’s his SUV parked in your driveway?”

  “I have guests. This is Jackson Miller from HEART. He and his coworker brought Samuel here. The ice storm delayed the flight, so they drove,” Raina offered. If she felt uncomfortable, it didn’t show.

  The doctor, on the other hand, looked fit to be tied, his dark eyes flashing with what could have been irritation, judgment or both.

  “I see,” Kent said. “I wish I would have known that. I’d have come by earlier.”

  “It’s already pretty early,” Jackson pointed out.

  Kent eyed him for a moment, his gaze hard. Jackson thought he’d say something sarcastic. Instead, his expression changed, the irritation in his eyes fading away.

  “True.” He smiled. “I was on my way to work. Sometimes I forget the rest of the world isn’t filled with morning people. I’m Dr. Kent Moreland.”

  He offered a hand, and Jackson clasped it, not convinced that the change in attitude was sincere. “I remember. We met on a helicopter about six months ago.”

  Kent stilled, his dark brown eyes settling more intently on Jackson’s face. “You were in Africa?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wish I could say I remember you. When it comes to my time in Africa, things are a little fuzzy around the edges.” He sat on the couch, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, his muscles relaxed. From the look of things, he’d been there dozens of times before. Something about that bothered Jackson, but he refused to acknowledge the reason.

  “I’m not surprised. You were out of it when we found you,” he offered, and Kent nodded.

  “I’d say I was within twenty-four hours of dying when your team arrived. I owe you guys a lot.”

  “We were paid for what we did,” he responded. It sounded cold. He didn’t mean it to.

  The fact was, HEART took on clients who could pay and those who could not. Cases were decided on an individual basis, discussed as a team and agreed on as a team. Money was never the biggest factor to consider. Family was. If HEART could bring someone home, reunite loved ones, make one less person suffer loss...they’d do it. No matter what the cost.

  “I know, but I’m still grateful. If not for HEART, Raina and I would have ended up like the rest of the mission team.”

  Dead, you mean? Jackson wanted to ask, because Kent seemed almost too nonchalant about what had happened to the other doctors and nurses.

  Eight people gone, their lives ended by men who valued nothing but their own agenda. Did the doctor feel any sorrow over that or was he just relieved to be one of the survivors?

  That was a question Jackson would never ask, but he was thinking it as Raina settled onto the edge of the love seat and smiled in his direction.

  That smile did something to him. Made his heart jerk to attention, reminded him that being a bachelor hadn’t always been part of his life plan.

  “Kent is right. I think with all the excitement of last night, I forgot to tell you and Stella how thankful I am for what HEART did,” she said quietly. There was no mistaking the sincerity in her voice or the sorrow in her eyes. She felt the loss. Even if Kent didn’t.

  Jackson felt it, too. HEART had hoped to bring everyone out of the insurgent camp alive. They hadn’t been able to, but at least the families who’d been waiting and praying and hoping had closure. He tried to take comfort in that.

  “I wish we could have done more,” he responded honestly.

  “From the reports I’ve read, everyone else on the team had been dead for at least twenty-four hours before you arrived. There was nothing you could have done for them,” Kent said, his eyes on Raina, a frown line carved deep between his brows. “What kind of excitement did you have last night?”

  “Excitement might have been an overstatement. It was just a little...drama.”

  “With Samuel? I was worried that would happen. He lived most of his life as a child soldier, and there’s no way—”

  “No, not with Samuel,” Raina cut him off. “Someone was hanging around outside my house before Samuel got here. I had to call the police.”

  She didn’t mention her run through the woods or the shots that had been fired at her.

  “Who was it?” Kent demanded.

  “I don’t know, but the police are going to try to find out.”

  “They better find out soon,” Kent muttered. “I’ve never liked the idea of you being out here alone. Now I like it even less. Maybe you should move into town. I have that rental property on Main Street. You and Samuel could stay there.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Kent, but I’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not just you anymore, Raina. It’s a ten-year-old boy who’s been through the wringer. He needs stability and security. Not excitement and danger.”

  “He needs to get well, and he will,” Raina responded.

  “Not if some creep breaks into your place and—”

  “No one is going to break in,” Raina assured him. “The police have a witness and they should be able to find the guy quickly. In the meantime, I’ll keep the windows locked and the door bolted.”

  “A witness? Your neighbor, you mean? Because you said Luke’s memory seems to be going. I doubt he’ll be able to give the police many details.”

  “His name is Larry. Not Luke,” Raina said. “And he’s not the witness. Bu—”

  “Raina.” Jackson put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m not sure the police would want that information to be public.”

  Kent frowned. “No worries, Jackson. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

  “I’m sure you won’t, but I think we should let the police decide whether or not the information should be given out.” Besides, he was getting a little tired of the doctor, and he was ready to send him on his way.

  “I can probably guess,” Kent persisted. “There’s only one person I know of who wanders around near here. Butch Hendricks? Seeing as how he’s usually drunk as a skunk, I don’t think his testimony will hold much weight.”

  ”Maybe not. You can ask Andrew Wallace about it, if you want to. He was the responding officer.”

  “I think I will. I saw him on my way here. He and a couple of other officers were taking photos of an old Jeep that was stuck on the side of the road.”

  Jackson’s pulse leaped at the words. “What color was the Jeep?”

  “Blue? Black? I think it had been in an accident. One of the tires was flat as a pancake and the front was dented.”

  “Where did you see them?” Raina asked, her gaze on Jackson. He could see hope blazing from the depth of her gaze, and he wanted to tell her not to get too excited. Finding the Jeep didn’t mean finding the perpetrator. It was a start, though, and that was something to be thankful for.

  “Three miles away from here. On Highway 6.”

  “That’s the local road that runs between here and town,” Raina explained, and Jackson nodded.

  “What?” Kent glanced from one to the other, his gaze settling on Jackson. “Is there something I should know?”

  “Ask Officer Wallace. He’ll give you whatever information he thinks is necessary.” From Jackson’s past experience dealing with law enforcement, he’d guess that would be next to nothing.

  He kept that thought to himself as Raina stood, smoothing her T-shirt. “You’d probably better do that after your workday ends, Kent. Speaking of which, if you don’t leave now, you’ll be late.”

  “Are you kicking me out, Raina?” Kent teased. “Because something like that could really hurt a guy’s feelings.”

  “I’m not kicking you out. I’m kicking you to your office, because I have to get some rest before I bring Samuel to see you,” she responded lightly, pulling the door open and usher
ing Kent outside.

  Jackson followed. Mostly because he was curious about the two of them. Were they a couple? Raina didn’t seem to think so, but Jackson had the distinct impression that the doctor felt differently.

  “My schedule is full, but I’ll clear a spot for him. Just call when you’re on your way.”

  “I appreciate it, Kent.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” He dropped a hand to her shoulder and smiled. “We made it through worse together. We’ll make it through this.”

  Together?

  Obviously, the doctor had a major thing for Raina.

  Did she know it?

  Jackson watched as she slid away from Kent’s hand, crossed her arms over her chest. Not the body language of someone who felt comfortable and at ease with a situation. “Samuel will be fine. Thanks for stopping by, Kent. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  “See you in a few hours,” Kent called as he walked down the porch steps.

  Raina wanted to walk back inside and close the door, but she didn’t want to be rude. Good manners had been bred into her, and she waited on the porch, waving as Kent got into his Corvette.

  Jackson stood beside her, and she tried not to notice the warmth of his arm pressed close to hers or the way the sunlight added fiery strands to his dark hair. She tried not to think about the question he’d asked or about the way he’d looked when he’d said he wanted to know if she was still in love with Matt.

  “So,” he asked as Kent pulled away, “want to tell me about you and the good doctor?”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” she responded truthfully.

  “Does he know that?” Jackson slid an arm around her waist and led her back into the house.

  “Of course he does,” she responded, stepping away from his warmth and almost wishing that she didn’t have to. It had been a long time since a man had put his arm around her waist. A long time since she’d wanted one to.

  She wasn’t sure what to think about that, and she was too tired to figure it out.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I work for him, Jackson. There’s no way we could have a relationship. Even if one of us wanted to. Which we don’t.”

  “You don’t.”

  “Neither of us do,” she reiterated. Although, she wasn’t quite sure that was true. The fact was, Kent had asked her out a couple of times in the past few years. She’d figured that he was bored and that he’d thought she was, too. She’d said no every time, and he hadn’t seemed at all heartbroken.

  “I think he might say something different, if I asked him,” Jackson commented casually, but there was nothing casual about the look in his eyes.

  “Why would you?”

  “Because someone is stalking you, and stalkers are generally not strangers. If he has a thing for you, maybe he’s not willing to accept that you don’t return his feelings.”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it.

  Kent? A stalker?

  He had dozens of women begging for his time and attention. He certainly didn’t need her.

  “What’s so funny?” Jackson asked, crossing his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging beneath the sleeves of his dark T-shirt.

  Was it her fault if she noticed?

  She glanced away, surprised and a little appalled by just how attracted she was to him.

  “The idea that Kent would be desperate enough to stalk someone,” she mumbled, hoping Jackson didn’t notice how red her cheeks had gotten. “He’s out with a different woman every weekend.”

  “That means just about nothing, Raina. Stalkers are mentally ill. They don’t act like typical, healthy individuals.”

  He had a point. A good one.

  “Kent is a doctor.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He’s not mentally ill.”

  “One thing does not preclude the other, Raina.”

  “You’re right, but I’m too tired to discuss it, so I think I’ll go tuck myself into bed for a couple of hours. You should probably do the same.”

  She took a step away, but he snagged her hand. “You forgot something.”

  “I did?” Her heart thundered, her mouth went dry and every thought in her head flitted away. Because he was there, so close she could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the ridged edges of the scar on his temple.

  “The door?” He gestured to it, turning the lock and then the bolt. “You did tell Kent you were going to keep things locked up tight.”

  “Right. I forgot.”

  “Forgetting isn’t an option, Raina. Not until the police have a suspect in custody.”

  She nodded, because a hard lump had formed in her throat, and she couldn’t speak past it.

  Matt had never bothered with locks.

  But, then, Matt had never worried that things would go wrong. He’d had the kind of trust in God that Raina had never quite been able to achieve—an all-encompassing belief that God was in control and that He would make things work out the way they should. Raina had been a Christian for so many years she didn’t remember what it felt like to not be one, but compared to the deep, rich hues of Matt’s faith, hers was a pencil drawing—all soft lines and gray tones.

  Maybe she hadn’t needed it to be more.

  Until the accident, she’d been able to tackle just about any problem, handle just about any trouble. Matt had been a wonderful husband, but he’d spent a lot of time with his head bent over books and commentaries. He’d had more scripture memorized than any person Raina had ever known, but he could never seem to remember what day the car payment was due.

  She’d loved him despite those things and probably because of them, but she’d been the one to hold down the fort, take care of the problems, put out the fires.

  “Raina.” Jackson touched her wrist, his fingers warm and just a little rough. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. Great,” she lied, because she wasn’t going to tell him that having him in her living room was reminding her of all the things she used to have, all the things she’d dreamed of when she’d been young and sure that she could make life work out just the way she wanted it to.

  He eyed her for a moment and shook his head. “You don’t look fine. As a matter of fact, you look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet.”

  The comment surprised a laugh out of her. “I look like a tired horse?”

  “You look like a beautiful woman who may need to be taken care of a little better,” he responded, so sincerely her heart jerked. The hard, quick beat reminded her of shy first glances and giddy first words, of nerve-racking first dates and tender first kisses. It reminded her of dreams and hopes and yearnings.

  “I take good care of myself, Jackson.” She moved past him, walking to the fireplace and the oversize flower painting that Matt had hung there the first night they’d slept in the house.

  “I’m sure you do,” he said quietly. “Sometimes I open my mouth before I use my brain. Sorry if I offended you.”

  “Since when is calling a woman beautiful offensive?” She turned around, and he was still standing near the door, his arms relaxed, his expression open. She’d seen more than one side of Jackson. The tough protector, and now the easygoing boy next door. She wondered which one was really him. Wondered if maybe they both were.

  He studied her for a moment, his gaze touching her hair, her cheeks, her lips.

  “Never,” he finally said. “But from the look on your face, I’d say I stuck my foot in something, and it wasn’t anything pleasant.”

  That made her smile. “Not really. I’m just tired. Like I said, I need to tuck myself into bed and get some sleep. See you in a few hours, Jackson.”

  She walked out of the room even though she wanted to run. Walked to her bedroom even though she wanted to race there. />
  She closed the door quietly, her hands shaking. She didn’t turn the lock. Jackson wouldn’t open the door. He wouldn’t even knock on it unless there was an emergency. She should have found that comforting, but she felt empty and old as she lay down on the bed.

  Above her head, floorboards creaked as Jackson returned to his room. She tried not to think about him up there as she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

  SEVEN

  “Mommy? Where are you? Mommy!”

  Joseph called to her from the darkness, and Raina tried to run toward him, but thick trees surrounded her, the branches catching at her clothes. She couldn’t move, couldn’t free herself.

  “I’m coming!” she tried to yell, but the words came out a whisper, the sound fading away before it even had time to form.

  “Mommy!” he called again, and she jerked against the tree branches, realized they weren’t branches at all.

  A man held her, his arms viselike and hard, his grip unyielding. She struggled against his hold, twisting until she could see a featureless face and deep holes where eyes should be.

  Raina woke with a start, a scream dying on her lips.

  She shoved the comforter from the bed and stood on shaky legs, her heart still thudding loudly in her ears. She thought about Joseph every day, but she hadn’t had a nightmare about him in months. Now she’d woken to the sound of his voice twice in—she glanced at the clock—less than twenty-four hours.

  She walked to the window, cracking it open and taking a few deep breaths of cold air.

  “Just a nightmare. That’s all it was,” she murmured, willing her frantic heartbeat to quiet. Her words scared a couple of birds from the trees, and she watched them fly to the fence and land on one of the posts. They sat in the sunlight, enjoying the afternoon warmth. She wanted to shut the window, close the curtains and go back to bed, but Samuel was sick, and she had to get him in to see Kent. Otherwise, she might end up making a trip to the emergency room with him.

  She changed quickly, sliding into jeans that were a little loose and a warm sweater that was more cozy than stylish. She wasn’t out to impress anyone, but she ran a brush through her hair, applied a little blush and mascara. She didn’t bother with foundation. It would take a boatload to cover the circles under her eyes or to give her complexion a healthy glow.