by Jodie Bailey
For the smallest of seconds, she wanted to unload everything on him, to pour out how angry, how hurt, the conversation with her father had left her. But no. Never. Like her father, he probably thought she was weak, too. He’d proven it when he told her to stay back while he took care of the problem.
She shouldn’t have. She should have followed him up the hallway and been right there with him to take down the intruder in her house. It was her home, her sanctuary to protect, after all. Not his.
“Dylan, are you okay?” He’d straightened, arms at his sides as if he was ready to take on another attacker for her, as if she needed his protection.
Well, she needed no such thing. “Everything’s fine. That was my father. The neighbor down the street called and told him the police were here and he wanted to see why.”
“Your neighbor. Major White?”
“You met him?” It figured the man wouldn’t be content with simply tattling to her father. He’d have to come down to make sure he had the full story and to see the damage for himself.
“Gave him my number to call in case he sees anything suspicious.”
Jessica groaned. Really? “Great. The major knows there’s a man at my house now. I’ll get another phone call from my father any second.”
“That’s a bad thing?”
“Let’s just say one more call from the colonel will make too many for one day.”
“He just wanted to make sure you were okay, right?”
Why would Sean ask that question? Maybe he somehow knew what had pounded her ears from the other end of the phone line. Maybe he agreed with her father and thought she needed supervision. Well, she wouldn’t dignify that with a response. “Are the police done? Do they need another statement from me?”
“The police just left.” Sean eyed her, eyebrows drawn together as though he was trying to read her expression, but then his face relaxed in a way that suggested he was settling in for a friendly chat. “Dads can be funny about their daughters. Believe me. I’ve seen it. Ashley’s dad could be a beast.”
Yeah, dads could be funny, but definitely not in the way Sean was thinking. She smoothed an imaginary wrinkle out of the bedspread, suddenly aware that she was standing in her bedroom talking to this virtual stranger. Had she thrown all of her dirty clothes into the hamper? It took all of her willpower not to turn and make sure. “Did you need something?”
“You disappeared. I wanted to make sure you were okay. It’s been a rough couple of days, and I just dumped more on you downstairs.”
That was an understatement. Jessica traced a scratch in the bedpost. It was easier to focus on the scar in the wood than the man standing in her doorway. “I’m fine.”
“Okay, then. I’m going to go dig through the information I downloaded from Channing’s cell phone.” He stepped back from the door, then rocked forward again. “And if you see a strange man lurking around tonight, I’ve got backup coming in. His name’s Tate.”
Great. All she needed was more strange men for her father to get wind of. “Anyone else I should know about?”
“No, but you might want to warn your roommate that Tate and I will be around.”
Jessica sank to the edge of the bed, the weight of everything making the air in the room heavier. She hadn’t even thought about filling Angie in on the fact there would be a man sleeping on her couch, hadn’t really made the decision to let him stay in the house until two minutes ago. After what just happened, there was no reason to argue. “I’ll go tell her. And if your friend needs a place to sleep, put him in the office downstairs. There’s a daybed in there.”
“Thanks.” Sean smiled and tipped his head forward. “I’ll see you in the morning. And hopefully I’ll have some answers for you from Channing’s data by then.” He started to walk away again.
But something in Jessica wasn’t quite ready for him to leave. She needed one more minute of inane small talk in order to acclimate to whatever this new normal was. “You spend all day following me around and all night working going over evidence? You have to sleep sometime, don’t you?”
His features darkened, but he quickly reset his bland expression. “Are you an only child?”
Well, that was abrupt, especially considering her father’s behavior two minutes ago. She didn’t want to talk about it, but politeness kicked in anyway. She brushed imaginary lint off her sleeve. “I have an older brother. A ranger stationed at Fort Benning. The pride and joy of the family.” Now why had she said that? It was sure to throw wide-open the door to more questions.
Sean’s demeanor didn’t change. “I’m an only child, but I grew up close to another family whose daughter was like my sister.” Something flashed in his eyes, but then he looked right back at her with that same benign expression. “I’ll be downstairs on the couch if you need me. Better warn your roommate.” He started to back away and then stopped as though he had an afterthought. “You’re a good soldier, Dylan. Very good. I’ve seen your file, talked to your previous chains of command. I know the awards you’ve won. You were born to be a leader. Your record said that over and over. Don’t let anyone ever tell you different.” Without waiting for a response, he disappeared, his heavy footfalls echoing in the hallway.
She’d only known Sean Turner for two days. If he could see that, why couldn’t her father?
EIGHT
The light from his laptop glowed soft in the darkened living room. Sean glanced at the corner of the screen. Straight up two o’clock. Dropping his head onto the back of the couch, he stared up at the ceiling, where shadows danced in the dim light. He’d sorted the data from the cell phone and sent it off to Ashley to analyze. Too brain scrambled to do more than give the photos a cursory check, he’d set the laptop to the side, where it mocked him for being too worn-out to do his job.
Once his mind got used to the creaks and pops of the older house, the place was almost too quiet, off the main drag near the river. On the one hand, he’d be able to hear any little noise out of place. On the other, he couldn’t stop straining to hear sounds in the silence.
Tate had arrived around midnight and, after a brief rundown from Sean, had taken up a position outside. The mere fact he was out there keeping watch dropped Sean’s blood pressure and eased the tension in his neck muscles. He hadn’t even realized how much burden he was hauling around until help showed up.
The creaks from upstairs had stopped about an hour ago, and Sean hoped yet again that Jessica would be able to get some rest, even if he couldn’t. Her roommate had come home to the swirl of a police swarm. The woman had said very little, just hustled upstairs with Jessica while casting curious glances at Sean. That was fine. He was out of words for the day. He’d spent all of them on Jessica Dylan.
He’d never opened up about his parents to anyone before, not in the detail he had to Jessica. To be honest, the only person he ever talked to at all was Ashley, and now that she was happily married to Ethan, those conversations had all but halted. His two closest friends had paired off with each other and, while he was happy for them, it left him with nowhere to turn.
That was fine, particularly as Sean tried to regain his center. He kept mostly to himself, all business, especially now with the hot breath of the past singeing his neck. But there was something about Jessica that made her feel familiar and safe, even though they’d only known each other a short time.
And that something meant he’d have to be careful. He had an investigation to conduct, and she was in need of his protection because of that.
Besides, his life was too intense to ask anyone else to join him in it.
Sean fought the drowsiness. He’d passed exhausted hours ago, when the adrenaline crash nearly pulled him to his knees, but every single time his brain let down its guard, the memories leaped up. The scars on the tender flesh inside his arms seared. The skin in his shoulder burned at the e
ntry and the exit wound.
He woke up sweating, shaking off the certainty that when he came to full consciousness he’d still be in the captivity of men with hate in their eyes.
Certain that Ashley would be dead and it would be all his fault.
The same thing happened every time, so his body had started rejecting that moment. His mind was always on guard, unwilling to relax. Always listening. Always cataloging his environment, protecting him from the changes he should have seen that day, from the attack he should have anticipated.
The one he could have stopped if he hadn’t let his confidence swell into arrogance.
How long could a man live on power naps before his body gave up on him, too?
He’d just forced himself awake again when two quick, light raps sounded at the door. A pause, then four more.
Sean sat up and stared at the small, arched entryway to the house. Surely he’d heard that wrong, but then it came again, only slightly louder this time. Two. A pause. Four.
Tate.
Grabbing his gun from the coffee table beside his computer, Sean crept toward the door and peeked out the small window at the side.
Tate Walker stood silhouetted in the light from the porch across the street.
Sean pulled the door open, then stood aside to make room for Tate to enter. “What brings you inside? Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I’ve walked the whole yard for the past two hours.” Tate smiled the lazy grin he was famous for and slipped in past Sean. “What are you doing awake? I told myself I’d knock twice, then go on my way. You ought to be getting your beauty sleep, Turner. You could use as much as you can get.”
Sean fought the urge to slug Tate in the arm, but the good-natured ribbing lightened the load that had been sitting on his chest for most of the night. With another person to talk to, the memories tended to recede, hiding out in the dark until Sean was alone again. “Speak for yourself.” He flipped on the small tableside lamp, knowing from the layout of the house that the light would never reach upstairs. Still, he kept his voice low, unwilling to risk frightening either of the women he hoped were getting some much-needed rest.
Tate dropped onto the couch and dragged a hand back through his dark hair, already salted, though he was only a handful of years older than Sean. “I honestly thought you’d be sleeping.”
“Had a few things I had to get done.” He didn’t confess the insomnia to anybody. They’d question his mission readiness, and he wasn’t ready to defend himself. He was fine. Most of the time. “Thought you were watching the perimeter.”
“It’s dead quiet out there.” Tate stretched his legs out under the table. “I’ve been all over the yard, saw that spot where you fixed the fence after the cops left. Nobody’s coming through there again.” He yawned. “My guess is, with the police swarming the house earlier tonight and both of our cars sitting in the driveway, nobody’s going to touch this place for the near future.”
That was probably true, but it didn’t help Sean relax. Sometimes, it was in the quiet that the worst danger lurked.
Tate tipped his head toward the laptop on the coffee table. “Find anything interesting?”
Sean stopped at the end of the couch and surveyed the room, a small space holding a leather couch and a matching recliner that faced a TV mounted on the wall. He wished he dared turn it on for company but hated to risk waking Jessica. “Trying. Jessica Dylan had a cell phone belonging to one of our suspects. I sent the contents to Ashley, though I’d imagine she’s racked out for the night by now. I peeked through it, but so far all I’ve found on it are Department of Defense photos of a few dozen soldiers and some encrypted texts. They make no sense. Either that or I’m too tired to function.”
Tate pulled the laptop closer and flicked the touch pad to wake the screen, making a search of the files himself. “So you’re still not sleeping?”
The question iced Sean’s veins. How did he know? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tate slid the computer onto the table and sat back again, stretching his feet out and settling in.
He kept his mouth shut until Sean stepped around and looked him square in the eye. “What exactly does that mean, Walker?”
“Snippy much?” The levity of Tate’s tone didn’t match the question. He tapped a palm against his chest. “Remember who you’re talking to, buddy. I didn’t sleep the first six months either, and my ordeal was over a whole lot faster than yours.”
“Depends on how you define over.” Sean sank to the edge of the recliner at an angle to Tate. He couldn’t lie to the man who’d suffered as much as he had. It would be the height of disrespect. Sean’s captivity was longer than Tate’s attack, but the repercussions for Tate had been much worse. Sean hadn’t lost his entire career. Yet. “Every time I close my eyes, man...”
“You see it all again.”
“And feel it.” Even saying the words made the scars burn.
“No shame there.” Tate stretched and settled deeper into the chair. “I was just getting my head on straight when Stephanie took off and decided she wanted a divorce. Something about that empty bed made everything a thousand times worse. I could actually feel the hollow space in my chest.”
Sean winced. During a takedown of a drug smuggling operation at the New Cumberland Army Depot, Tate’s cover had been compromised. A suspect with a knife had nearly ended Tate’s life, and the ensuing recovery robbed him of his career and his marriage.
Sean had endured a lot, but his struggle was nothing compared to Tate’s. He fought the urge to bury his head in his hands and hide from his friend’s words. He ought to be over this by now, plain and simple, yet it was seven months later and the night still found him fighting for equilibrium, feeling as if his sanity was a thinly stretched wire.
I’m so weak. Tate managed to get over it. Even Ashley’s doing better. Am I going to live through this only to lose everything in the aftermath?
* * *
Jessica pushed open the door to her office and refused to admit to herself she let out a sigh of relief when everything seemed to be where she’d left it yesterday. The neat stacks of files still sat at right angles on her desk. Her black fleece jacket still hung on the back of her chair. Her computer still sat in its spot. Tension flowed out of her too-tight muscles as she acknowledged the small part of her that was terrified her office had been violated along with her home.
Or that someone would pop out of a hiding place to grab her. She resisted the urge to look around the door when she opened it, not wanting to give Sean the satisfaction of knowing she was even the least bit afraid. She’d already had to physically stand between him and the door to keep him from entering before her. Jessica wasn’t in the market for a bodyguard. She could take care of herself, but she was rapidly running out of safe havens.
Sean, however, had no problem peeking at the space behind the door as he stepped into the room. “I still don’t like this.” Making his opinion known wasn’t something he had a problem with, either. He’d told her multiple times over breakfast how much he didn’t like the fact she was putting herself out in the world for everyone to see.
While the two of them bickered, Angie had finally left the table with her bowl of cereal and disappeared upstairs to her room, griping about “mom and dad” fighting.
Even that hadn’t stopped Sean. He had only dialed it back when Jessica agreed to let him do the driving.
“I’m just as safe here as I am in my house. I think we proved that last night.” Jessica slung her backpack to the floor beside her desk chair and braced her hands on the back of the chair, unwilling to admit the idea left her a little bit rattled. If she wasn’t safe at home, she really wasn’t safe anywhere. “Staff duty is right next door in the headquarters building. The commander is in his office over there, too. If you have better things to do, I’ll b
e fine by myself here. Doing my job. You know, that thing the Army pays me to do.”
“Yeah. The guys on staff duty did a fine job of keeping Specialist Channing in line on Monday.” Sean wasn’t even fazed by her heavy dose of sarcasm, returning it bite for bite. Instead of dignifying her nasty attitude with any further response, he gestured toward the wall-to-wall windows to his left. “You’re a sitting duck in here.”
“So close the blinds.” She bit the words off. “Whoever these people are, they haven’t shown any proclivity for using snipers. Seems their weapon of choice is an eight-inch blade.” Jessica dug her fingernails into the black cloth of her chair, willing a shudder away. Somehow, a bullet she never heard coming seemed preferable to a knife to the neck.
Maybe having Sean follow her everywhere wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “When will you get to question the man from my house?”
“As soon as the police are done with him and I get clearance. You can’t just waltz in and talk to a suspect without authorization, especially in my line of work. There’s only so much I can say without tipping my hand. If we don’t know how deep this goes, we don’t know who to trust. Even your chain of command only knows the bare bones.”
Made sense, but it sure did slow down the answers they needed, answers that could put her life back to rights and send Sean Turner off on his next mission before he scrambled her brain any more than he already had.
Jessica dropped into her chair and shuffled a few papers on the scratched wooden desktop, picking up a note that the commander must have dropped off after Jessica left for the ID card facility yesterday. “Specialist Murphy’s memorial service is going to be in Iowa. The casualty assistance officer is already on point for his great-aunt. She’s the only family he had.”
“You had a casualty?”
“Found out about it Monday morning. I was coming back from the notification brief when I walked in on Channing. Monday wasn’t the greatest day in the world.”
Sean winced. “Sorry.”
