by Janet Dailey
Her gaze moved over him. He patted the left side of his shirt. Fall weather and flannel shirts made concealed carry easier.
“First things first,” he said. “Maybe we can set a trap for him, lure him into showing his face again. Getting a visual on the guy is key.”
“Well—yes.”
Linc pointed a warning finger at her. “That’s going to be my job.”
“Be my guest,” she said with feeling.
“Your job is to be extra careful from now on. He definitely knows how to stay out of sight, Kenz. And he may have been following Christine around for a while.”
Linc didn’t want to get into the possibilities as far as her best friend was concerned. Around meant everywhere. All over town. Lurking online when Christine was, trolling sites she visited.
The guy could be someone who no one noticed much. Crazy in a quiet, unassuming, lethal way. But most stalkers got bolder over time. Linc kept the thought to himself.
“Why didn’t either one of us notice?”
“Because you didn’t, that’s all. Look, Kenz, my dad was a cop. He used to say that stalking cases were one long nightmare. And it was tough as hell to bring charges unless the guy made contact, and even then you couldn’t get them behind bars for long enough.”
She bit her lip, struggling for self-control. “I would have remembered those eyes if I’d ever seen them before,” she said softly. “He’s a killer. I know it.”
Linc let her talk.
Her fear, her anger, her desire to get even—it all tumbled out in a rush. He couldn’t argue with any of it or discuss it rationally. So he listened. It was one thing he could do. His first concern was to guard her tonight and get her out of here tomorrow. If she’d let him help.
Kenzie rested her head against the back cushions of the couch, seeming overwhelmed by sudden exhaustion. He didn’t say anything, just watched her. She let her eyes drift shut as she fell silent, forcing herself to breathe slowly.
“Feel better?” he asked after a while.
“A little. Sorry.” She sounded embarrassed.
“For what?”
“Being scared. Giving you hell for it.”
Linc shook his head. “It’s okay. Don’t apologize.”
She rubbed her forehead. “I should get to bed. What are you going to do?”
“Sit up. Stay awake.”
“Oh,” she said faintly. “And watch over me?”
“Yeah. You mind?”
“I’m beginning to think it’s a good idea. Temporarily, anyway.” Kenzie eased forward to a straighter sitting position. “I have to work tomorrow.” She stood up, lithe in jeans and sweater. “But I want to ask for time off.”
“You going to tell your boss what happened?” Linc asked.
“Some of it. Not everything. Jim can be kind of overprotective. They don’t call him Big Dawg for nothing.”
Linc shrugged at the comment. He’d judge for himself if the guy deserved the nickname when he met him. Right now every male in Kenzie’s life and Christine’s was on the suspect list.
“Whatever. So where do you want me tonight?”
The remark got him a quelling look from dark green eyes. “Stay right where you are. I’ll be in the bedroom.”
Thanks for the hospitality, beautiful, he wanted to say. He hadn’t meant the question the way she seemed to be interpreting it. Linc settled down and watched her go into her bedroom without another word.
Kenzie slept only fitfully. Around four A.M., she gave up trying, too restless to stay in bed. Maybe a cup of something hot and herbal would help. She threw back the covers and stood up, pulling down her tank top over the knit short-shorts she wore to bed.
She peered around the open door of her bedroom, trying to catch a glimpse of Linc. He wasn’t sitting up. That left the couch or the floor. Kenzie craned her neck to see better and realized he was curled up on the couch when she spotted a large, sock-clad foot extended over the arm. She stood still, listening to his deep, regular breathing.
Out cold.
She wished she could say the same. Kenzie stepped quietly into the living room, looking sideways at him as she made her way to the kitchen. He’d folded a fancy pillow in half and tucked it under his head.
Some hostess she was. Kenzie hadn’t even thought to give him bedding for the night. But he had given her the impression he wouldn’t shut his eyes.
Nice to know he was human. And, she reminded herself, it was very nice of him to stay when she’d been so irrational at first. Linc Bannon was a good guy.
The dim glow of the night-light was enough to see by. She wasn’t going to wake him up with a blast of white from the overheads. Kenzie put a cup of water in the microwave and took it out a second or two before the loud beep went off. There was a box of herbal tea bags in the cabinet and she tossed one into the cup, watching delicate spirals of color appear.
Her hands curled around the smooth porcelain as she waited for it to brew, letting herself be soothed by the heat.
She didn’t usually slow down this much. Christine used to tell her to often enough. Just be. Just breathe.
Not her thing.
Linc was doing a good job of it. His solid chest rose and fell under the strong arms crossed over it. Unbuttoned, his shirt revealed a blue tee underneath.
She took a sip of tea, studying him. Nothing would feel better right now than to curl up against the warm softness of flannel and knit material over all that hard muscle beneath. The body heat of a sleeping man beat the hell out of herbal tea, that was for sure. Given what had happened, the urge she felt to join him there surprised her.
He seemed comfortable. At home, even. Well, he was the first. The apartment, her sanctuary, hadn’t had a man in it since she’d moved in and done the decorating exactly the way she liked it.
Linc didn’t stir. She drank most of the tea and set the cup on a side table, then went back into her bedroom for a light blanket, throwing it over him as gently as she could, only half-hoping she wouldn’t awaken him.
It settled over his body in soft folds and she glanced down, wondering if she saw a faint smile appear on his drowsy mouth. She had. It touched the scar on his cheek, an old one. She never had asked him where he got that. Kenzie shifted position a bit—then stiffened when his hand brushed against her bare leg.
He hadn’t done it. Her movement had brought her into accidental contact with his hand. But the brief, inadvertent touch caused a sensation to race through her that could only be described as erotic.
She stepped back and stumbled, banging her heel painfully. Linc half opened his eyes.
“What time is it?”
Flustered, Kenzie glanced over her shoulder at the clock and told him. Did he take the chance to look her up and down in the abbreviated sleep shorts and tank? She couldn’t tell when she turned back to him.
“Too early. Mind if I go back to sleep?” he asked a little groggily.
“No. That’s fine. I got up to make myself some tea, that’s all.” She picked up her cup from the side table and headed to her bedroom. She could have sworn she felt his eyes on her. If he’d been asleep, he was awake now. But she didn’t look back.
Kenzie rested a hand on the steering wheel as she waited for the traffic light to change. She barely saw the fall glory of the trees blazing scarlet and gold all around her. The drive to work was something she could have done in her sleep anyway. The man in the car in her rearview mirror was very much on her mind. Through the tinted lenses of her sunglasses, she saw Linc nod to her and smiled to herself.
The green light appeared and she went a few more blocks, feeling a pang when Linc turned off on the street that would take him back to the motel.
Although they hadn’t discussed it, it was probably best that he keep the anonymous room if he was going to stay in Ridgewood. Just that one accidental touch made her very sure of that. Her reaction to him was a little too physical for her peace of mind.
She was still racking her brains for o
ther places to bunk down temporarily and she didn’t need that kind of distraction, not with the danger she was now in.
Linc had helped her store some valuables and lock up, telling her to make the place look like she hadn’t left for good. Apparently that meant leaving a few dishes in the sink, the bed unmade, and an open magazine on a side table, all of which bugged her but were not worth arguing about. She’d made the bed anyway. Fast.
He seemed to think he knew what he was doing and was willing to stick around to protect her. But when she put in her two cents, he had to agree that neither of them should stay in her apartment.
Which opened up the big question of where she would go and for how long. Good thing she didn’t have a dog to worry about—she hadn’t gotten another since fostering Tex for intensive training and deployment in Afghanistan.
Six weeks in country and Tex had been killed by a grenade thrown in among the sleeping soldiers he guarded, with only a few seconds to alert the men he saved. One of the great dogs, bar none.
She hadn’t wanted another.
Her apartment had become her retreat once she’d returned stateside. She’d felt safe enough there. Not anymore. Right now, she had to focus on protecting Christine and herself, and get the hell out of harm’s way.
No way would she risk anyone else’s safety and ask a girlfriend if she could stay for a while.
At some point she would have to be a good little girl and tell her parents what was going on. Not today, though. If they happened to call from Germany, no problem—they’d reach her cell. She didn’t have a landline anyway. Besides, she wasn’t ready to tell them everything when she really didn’t know much herself.
Something would turn up. She was somewhat less nervous today, in part because she’d forced herself not to obsess.
And as for Linc, when he was wide awake and buttoning up his shirt, he didn’t unsettle her the way he did when he was half-asleep and stretched out full-length on her couch. Although he was incredibly sexy with his hair messed up and that twinkle in his dark eyes. He looked rumpled but well-rested.
She wasn’t. But the morning sunshine worked to dispel the last trace of the sensations he’d accidentally aroused. Sticking to the practical task of making breakfast had helped too.
They’d shared a platter of eggs and toast. He’d done the cooking, she’d washed the dishes and cups. They hadn’t rehashed last night’s discussion, just agreed to talk later. He seemed to understand that she needed time and they both had a lot to do.
She turned off onto a road that brought her into a more rural part of the county, and soon was driving through the gates of the JB dog-training operation. Kenzie pulled up next to a white van painted with the company logo, and gave herself the luxury of a few minutes to think. She didn’t see Jim Biggers’s car in the parking lot, but there were several others. The employees who cared for the dogs and maintained the kennels came in early.
Breakfast over, the dogs were revving up. Their yelps and barks reached her even with the car windows rolled up.
A rubber toy bounced off her windshield and a dog’s eager face popped up next to her. It had wide pricked ears brushed with black and a black muzzle, with golden brown everywhere else.
“Hello, Bogie.”
Before she could roll down her window to pet him, a distant whistle summoned him and the dog ran off, its tail high, a flash of enthusiasm against the dull asphalt of the parking lot.
Kenzie’s spirits lifted a little. She opened the door and got out, breathing the country air. The nip to it invigorated her—and took her back. She leaned against the car, remembering the day she’d started working here.
Jim Biggers had hired her sight unseen, on the basis of a recommendation from the kennel master of a military police detachment based at Darmstadt in Germany, where she’d been a Specialist 1st Class.
With an active social life at first, she thought wistfully. Unlike now. Back then she hadn’t wanted to bother with a serious relationship, and most of the men she’d met were raw recruits or career army.
She honestly hadn’t wanted to get involved with someone likely to deploy at any time. Her parents had lived with that worry hanging over them from the day they’d married, and Kenzie knew how glad both of them were when that stage of her father’s career was over.
But there had been that one soldier. Dan Fuller.
Dan fully expected to be tapped for a Special Ops team. There seemed to be no fighting skill he couldn’t master. He was smart and rugged and too brave for his own good. Her kind of man. She’d known that right away. Hadn’t told anyone but him, though.
And then—only five weeks after she’d met him—Dan had died in combat, unable to escape the cab of an up-armored vehicle when it had rolled over a roadside bomb.
She’d kept her feelings for him private in the first place and skipped the sympathy, counting the days until she was sent home.
The Darmstadt base had been on the verge of closing, per government orders, after going strong for something like sixty years. She’d only been there for two. The last two, as it turned out. Her friends there had begun to scatter to other postings and new lives all over the world, but she’d hung on to the end.
Burying herself in work was as good a way as any to forget. Kenzie had taken on the complex training of bomb-sniffing dogs and guard animals. Their unique abilities could never be equaled by machines. War dogs were increasingly important in Afghanistan and elsewhere.
Not every dog completed the rigorous program. But they could move on to other responsibilities if they didn’t.
She’d also served as liaison to stateside kennel masters who came through Darmstadt on occasion, looking for high-quality animals for specialized army missions. There simply weren’t enough to go everywhere they were needed. She had learned not to get too attached to the dogs she worked with. Or to anyone else.
Losing Dan had underscored that.
Once she was stateside again, she’d done the same thing, kept a protective distance from just about everyone. And then she’d met Linc. A true-blue guy who made her want to change her mind.
She reminded herself that he wasn’t likely to be deployed. Not if he was needed at Fort Meade and Langley.
But ... one thing she’d learned was that there were no guarantees. She straightened away from the car with a sigh. Kenzie headed through the parking lot and past the kennels, empty for the moment. The dogs wouldn’t return to them until around noon, exhausted in a good way from their play and training sessions. She looked around for Truck, who had the run of the place.
So named because Jim had found him chained to an abandoned pickup as a half-starved puppy, Truck was huge now, a shaggy black-and-white ball of energy and canine smarts. Jim Biggers insisted Truck was the best damn dog he’d ever had.
The mutt was nowhere to be seen, but she knew he’d show up soon.
Sometimes he trotted over to the kennels by himself from the Biggers farm a mile away, going through the woods on a trail only he could follow. Suddenly she heard a noise behind her and turned to see the big dog emerging from the underbrush. He bounded over to greet her, metal tags jingling loudly.
While she and Truck were saying good morning, Jim swung into the parking lot, calling to her through the open window of his jeep. “Kenzie, what a surprise. You’re here on time for once.”
“Yes,” she called back. “It’s payday, right?”
Jim laughed and pulled into his slot. He gathered up an armful of file folders and paperwork from the front seat and got out, heading for his office. “Dogs out?”
“All the kennels were empty when I got here.”
“Good. First drills start at nine sharp.”
She found a tennis ball to toss for Truck for a while, giving Jim time to get inside, drink a cup of coffee, and plan the day’s training schedule at his computer.
Over and over, Truck dropped the grubby ball carefully into her palm as if entrusting her with a priceless treasure. After twenty minutes o
r so, she threw it for the last time, hard and far, giving him a good run. Then Kenzie gave the big dog a farewell pat, sending him off on his customary patrol of the perimeter. He jingled away, eager to get to work.
She opened the steel doors of the low building and walked through the cinder-block corridor that led to Jim’s office.
He believed in order. There wasn’t a speck of dust or scrap of paper on the floor. Heavily padded bite sleeves hung from a rack on the wall and other training equipment was stored in lockers. Each trainer had their own—Jim allowed a certain amount of leeway for individual approaches. Training combat dogs was part science and part instinct.
Playing with Truck in the fresh air had cleared her mind and helped her think of a tentative plan. She was going to ask for unpaid time off and limit the explanations to a short version of Christine’s accident.
She memorized her talking points. Best friend. Bad accident. Seriously injured. Facing a long recovery. Naturally, Kenzie wanted to help however she could. That was enough.
She peeked through the open door of her boss’s office. Jim Biggers glanced up at her over the half-glasses perched on the end of his nose. They didn’t go with his military-style haircut, but he was of the age where they were necessary.
“What do you want? I don’t sign payroll checks until the afternoon,” he said sternly.
She knew he was teasing, though not about when he did the signing. But Jim, a former supply sergeant, was a stickler for routine. He believed fervently that time was money, and he valued both equally.
“I know,” she replied, glancing at the framed diplomas and citations hung on the wall behind him. After many months of employment, they still impressed her. Jim Biggers, a decorated Gulf War veteran, was a bona fide good ol’ boy, but he had a doctorate in biochemistry.
He’d founded the kennel operation in between that war and the next, in Iraq. As Linc had said, the world was a lot more complicated than it had been back then.
JB Kennels was a thriving business. He insisted on giving her credit for the recent uptick in profits whenever he had the opportunity.
