by Terri Reed
“Better?”
“Much.” She tried not to wince. Talking stung her lips and her jaw was sore. She ran her tongue around her mouth, noting thankfully that she wasn’t missing any teeth. “How did I get here?”
“I found you unconscious on the beach.”
He definitely was sent by God. “You saved my life. Thank you.”
“If I’d have been doing my job better, you wouldn’t have been in that situation.”
His tone of self-recrimination pulled at her heart. She reached for his hand. He enfolded hers in his capable fingers, the pressure reassuring and thrilling. “You couldn’t have known they’d be so bold as to take me from Myrtle’s deck.”
“What happened?”
She took a deep breath and strove for logical, unemotional. “I was grabbed from behind and dragged down the beach. I struggled, one of them hit me. I went down hard. I managed to grab a piece of driftwood. I got a few good hits in. They must have heard you coming because all of a sudden they left.” She ran her tongue over the tender lump in her lip.
“Did they say anything?”
Gaining his trust needed to start now. It was her move. If she expected him to continue to help her and protect her, she need to be honest with him and put some trust in him, as well. “They kept asking me where the disk was.”
Two little grooves appeared between his eyes as his brows lowered. “A disk?” His demeanor shifted, becoming remote, distant. Coplike. “Tell me about the disk.”
She swallowed, hating the suspicion in his dark gaze. “I don’t know anything.”
“Where’s the disk, Kate?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why do they think you have it?”
“I…When I found Paul, he was still alive. He asked for Gordon, our lawyer and then he…before he died in my arms, he said, ‘I told them you have it.’ He didn’t tell me what ‘it’ was.”
Brody stared at her for a long, taut moment. His eyes searched her face, peeling away the layers of her heart, looking for hidden secrets. She wanted to lift her chin and dare him to disbelieve her.
Instead she allowed herself to be laid bare and vulnerable beneath his steel-eyed gaze. She didn’t have any secrets. Not now. What he saw was what he got.
“Will you help me find that disk, Brody?” she asked, her voice a notch above a whisper. It was so hard to ask for help. But she needed it. She needed him. She tensed, waiting, hoping for his answer of yes.
His gaze came to rest on her battered lip, his expression softened ever so slightly before he spoke. “Yes, I’ll help you.”
A stone of worry lifted from around her neck. Fatigue overwhelmed her. She sank back and melted into the bed.
“But I need a promise from you, Kate.”
She stiffened, wary. “What?”
“From now on you have to be completely honest with me.”
“Of course,” she answered quickly and a bit sheepishly. “Before, I…I didn’t know if I could trust you.”
“And now?”
She swallowed. For all his gruff and bluster, she sensed a good man lurked deep inside. She jumped in with both feet and prayed for a soft landing. “I trust you. God sent me the guardian angel I prayed for and you’re it.”
NINE
“I’m no angel,” Brody scoffed.
“I said you’re my guardian angel, as in protector. Not that you’re angelic.”
Her humor sliced through him. She still had spunk. He liked that. Admired it, too. “There’s a difference?”
“Hmmm, angelic equals perfect and heavenly.”
His mouth quirked to one side. “Perfect, I’m not.”
“No, you’re very human,” she agreed, with a smile in her voice. “The only real angels I know of are in the Bible.” Her eyelids fluttered. She was losing it, but trying so hard not to give in.
Then she focused her gaze and the undisguised trust in her eyes caught him off guard. No one but his sister had ever looked at him like that.
But his reaction to Kate was far from brotherly.
He wanted to take her into his arms and soothe away the hurt she’d suffered. He wanted to run his fingers through her red curls and feel the texture slide against his skin, he wanted to fill his lungs with her sweet scent and lose himself in her embrace. He wanted to shield her from the world.
But none of those things were possible.
Instead, he focused on her battered face, on the bandage over the gash at her temple. He hated seeing her so bruised and vulnerable. He wanted to beat something, someone to a pulp. He’d failed to protect her. It wouldn’t happen again.
“You’re flawed in a good way,” she said.
Her words stung. How could Kate see his flaws as good? With Elise, he’d had a major lapse in judgment, had allowed his emotions to rule his actions. And he’d paid the price. His career effectively snuffed out, his ego shredded and his body left damaged. There was nothing good about any of his past.
“Kate, I don’t know what you think you know…” he trailed off as her eyes closed and she sighed.
“I know you’re here and that’s all that matters.” Her words were slurred as the fatigue she’d been fighting overcame her.
His heart twisted in his chest. He didn’t deserve her trust. He couldn’t live up to her expectations. He should call the Feds and let them deal with the situation.
Her eyes opened, panic shining in the emerald depths. “No. You promised you’d help me.”
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken his last thought out loud. “Kate, the Feds are better equipped to protect you.”
“Please, no one else.”
Her plea was an arrow to his heart. And a reminder of what happened before. “Rest, Kate. We’ll talk about this when you’re stronger.”
“The letters?”
“Safe. I’ll ask Mr. Waskasky to come here to translate them tomorrow.”
She relaxed. “Thank you.”
“Did Paul give you any strange keys or anything out of the ordinary?”
She thought for a moment. “No. The last thing he’d given me was a birthday present a year and half ago.”
“And that was?”
She gave a small wry laugh. “My very practical, very useful purse.” She glanced around. “I suppose it’s still at Myrtle’s.”
“I’ll have it brought over.”
“I’d appreciate it. A lady feels naked without her purse.”
Brody blinked and tried to banish the image her words conjured up. He smoothed a curl behind her ear, his knuckle grazed her cheek. Her skin was soft, her hair silky. His stomach muscles clenched. She didn’t deserve this pain. “Rest now, okay?”
“Hmmm.” Her eyes closed as she nuzzled against his hand. “You’ll stay?”
Tenderness bloomed, tightening his chest. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Yes, I’ll stay.”
Saying those words were like hitting the rewind button on his life. He’d promised Elise he’d help her, too. And the result had been disastrous.
Kate made a soft little sound deep in her throat. Then her breathing became even and rhythmic. Watching her sleep, Brody released the tension he’d held since he’d found her on the beach.
His gut-level instincts told him she was telling the truth when she said she didn’t know anything about the disk. Which left them with another uncovered piece of the puzzle as to why she was in danger.
The situation was becoming more complicated by the minute. And his attraction to Kate was only making matters worse. He had to get a grip. He knew from experience he couldn’t protect Kate and care about her at the same time. In doing so he compromised his judgment and jeopardized his focus.
Keep your mind on the job.
His father’s motto slapped him upside the head. He wished he’d listened last time. This time he would.
He had a tough decision to make. Helping Kate meant leaving the town unprotected. That was unacceptable. He didn’t take his pledge to protect and serve
the community of Havensport lightly. He knew what he had to do—call old Sheriff Talbot. The one person in Havensport who knew the truth. The one person who would demand to know why Brody needed to do this.
And the answer had Brody tied up in knots.
Kate awoke to voices in her head.
She had no way to distinguish time, no way to know if she’d slept for a moment or for hours. Turning her head, she listened. Brody’s distinct, velvet-coated tones sent waves of comfort over her, and then another voice. A burly, masculine sound that stole her calmness away. She lay still, tense. The two men spoke at a hushed level, but she made out the words. Was the other man Brody’s father?
“How long do you need?”
“Don’t know.” Brody’s voice suggested the shrug Kate could envision.
“This is way too risky. Let the Feds handle her.”
Kate nearly bolted upright in protest, but Brody’s quick response soothed her panic.
“I gave her my word.”
“Why are you doing this to yourself again?”
“Look, Sheriff—”
“No, you look, Sheriff. I’m no longer sheriff here, you are. You have a responsibility to this town.”
Kate stifled a groan. She hadn’t realized she was jeopardizing Brody’s job by asking for his help. But what was she to do? She wished she had the courage to handle this alone. But she didn’t. She needed Brody. Needed his protection.
“I’m entitled to a vacation after three years without.”
A long silent moment stretched taut through the hospital room.
Kate wanted to open her eyes. She wanted to see the two men, but they might notice she was awake and halt their conversation. She had to know what helping her would cost Brody. Though how she’d ever repay him, she didn’t know.
“A vacation then,” the other man said with grudging reluctance.
“Effective immediately.”
“Son, I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”
Kate noted the paternal caring to the other man’s tone and wondered what he meant by his words. How had Brody been hurt? She realized she knew very little about Brody yet she was putting her life in his hands.
Brody cleared his throat. “I won’t.”
The swooshing sound of the door opening stopped the conversation.
“Gentlemen. How is our patient?” asked a deep, kindly voice.
Kate took that as her cue to “awaken.” She deliberately stirred and slowly opened her eyes. Brody sat beside her bed, his handsome face a welcoming sight, though the strained grooves outlining his smile gave away his tension. Guilt pricked at her conscience. She was using Brody for her own gain.
The doctor stepped forward. Midforties, brown hair, hazel eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses. His expression was friendly yet professional.
A few steps back stood an imposing figure with thick, salt-and-pepper hair, chiseled features and a grim set to his square jaw. She swallowed as the disapproval in his blue eyes crashed over her like the surf at high tide. She saw little resemblance between Brody and this man. Who was he?
“Kate, the doc wants to examine you and then we can find out how soon you’ll be released,” Brody said.
She nodded.
“I’ll be back in a while. I have some things I must take care of.” He covered her fisted hand, his touch reassuring and agonizing.
He’d be back, wouldn’t he? She had no choice but to trust in that. She turned her hand in his and gripped his fingers, giving him the reassurance that she’d be okay. With one last squeeze he left, taking her trust and leaving her with hope that he’d keep her safe.
But at what cost?
Later, Kate awoke with a start as the shadows deepened from the afternoon sun spilling through the little rectangular window. There were no voices this time. She was alone.
She found the controls to the bed and raised the back to a sitting position. For a moment the room spun before landing in perfect alignment. She tested her lip. Still painful, less swollen. The doctor had said he wanted to keep her for a few more hours for observation because of her head injury. She had a nasty bump and a slight concussion.
In the quiet of the room she took the opportunity to spend a peaceful moment with God, thanking Him for her rescue, thanking Him for Brody.
The familiar swoosh of the door sounded, then immediately she felt the energy in the room crackle to life as Brody strode in followed by a short, silver-haired man with thick bifocals.
Brody’s gaze skimmed over her. “You look good.”
Heat flushed her face at his compliment. “Thanks.”
She eyed the stranger with curiosity. He was small and round in his brown slacks and tweed coat. His countenance was unassuming and kind.
Brody introduced her visitor. “This is Mr. Waskasky. Do you feel up to listening to the letters?”
The letters. Her heart rate picked up. “Yes.”
She steeled herself for the inevitable, for more distressing knowledge about her husband the letters were sure to reveal. For how could perfumed letters, hidden away like love letters, be anything but bad news for the stable, secure life Kate had once thought she had?
She extended her hand. “Hello. Thank you for coming.”
The man bustled forward and kissed the back of her hand, his bushy mustache tickling. “My pleasure,” he intoned in a heavy accent.
Brody pulled the letters from his pocket. “I waited to have these read until you could hear them.”
“I appreciate that,” she said. His thoughtfulness and integrity touched her deeply, giving her the courage to hear whatever the letters revealed.
Mr. Waskasky took the envelope and extracted the folded sheets of paper. He cleared his throat. Kate tensed.
“‘Petrov, my love, the waiting is killing me. I miss you and can’t wait to be with you again. Please, tell me you will come to me before the new year.’”
Each word cut deeper and deeper still. Kate focused her gaze on the textured blanket covering her legs. She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to hold in the pain, because deep in her gut she knew that Paul was also Petrov.
Page after page of love letters written by a woman named Olga shattered what little remained of Kate’s world. Her heart bled until she thought she’d never feel again.
Any love, even the tiniest speck, that she’d held for her dead husband disintegrated. She’d been so blind. Her husband had not one, but two other identities.
Why had he married her if he had this other woman waiting for him? Who was he really, and what plans had he had for Kate? She felt used, yes, but to what end? Why? Why? The questions spun around her head until she wanted to scream.
Her fingers curled into tight balls. She had to know the answer or she’d never find any peace, never be able to move on with her life.
Brody’s big hand closed over her fist. Seeking his steady comfort, she turned her hand until their fingers were entwined. She lifted her gaze to meet his. The compassion evident in his ebony eyes tore at her heart.
Brody’s gaze sharply shifted back to Mr. Waskasky. “Read that last part again.”
“‘You’re too naughty, not letting me open the package you sent. Must I wait? My curiosity grows.’”
Kate squeezed Brody’s hand. This package could be something. Finally, they had a clue. Brody nodded to her as if he’d heard her thoughts and then quickly thanked Mr. Waskasky before ushering him out.
Brody returned, his expression grim and thoughtful.
She couldn’t contain the excitement building inside. “We have to go to New York.”
“Yes,” he said, his tone distant.
“Brody?”
“Hmmm?”
“Something’s bothering you. I can tell.”
He rubbed his chin, his fingers rasping against the dark stubble growing along his strong jawline. Kate’s gaze followed the movement. She realized with a little start that she was beginning to learn his mannerisms and could sense the shifts in hi
s mood. Their growing closeness was another worry she wasn’t sure how to handle.
Finally, he spoke. “Why were the letters left behind?”
She blinked. “What?”
“The letters. We found them pretty easily. If the men who’d broken into the house had found them and could read Cyrillic, they’d know that Pete had sent a package to this woman. Yet, they came after you a second time. If they couldn’t read Cyrillic, why’d they leave the letters? This doesn’t add up.”
Kate gestured wildly with her hands. “None of this makes sense. But we can’t let this opportunity to find out more go by. We have to leave now.”
Brody checked his black-leather-banded watch. “I’ll speak with the doc.” He strode from the room, his broad shoulders and slim hips moving with a masculine grace that never ceased to impress her.
She picked at the polyester fabric of the blanket as the questions about Paul/Pete/Petrov surfaced again, swirling faster and faster like a whirlpool pulling her under.
“Stop it!” Her voice bounced off the walls and echoed in the sterile room, effectively smoothing out her agitation. She had a goal now. Something to focus her energies toward. Her life depended on finding this woman and the package.
But she had two calls to make.
The first to her boss at the bank, who was more than willing to extend her leave of absence after hearing about her assault. Kate was thankful she hadn’t had to reveal the true reason for wanting the extended leave—to unravel the mystery of her husband’s death.
The second call was to her lawyer.
“Gordon, it’s Kate.”
“Kate! I’ve been calling the house. Where are you?” Gordon Thomas’s concerned voice boomed over the telephone wire.
“I’m in the hospital, but I’ll be leaving soon.”
“Hospital? Are you all right?”
“A little black and blue, but nothing that won’t heal.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“Paul’s killers came after me.”
“Came after you? How did you know it was them? What did they hope to accomplish?”
“They wanted something I don’t have, but I think I know where it is.”
