“How long have you lived here?”
“Three years. Came down from Ohio on a vacation and stayed. There’s something about this place . . . once it becomes a part of you, you never want to leave.”
Braden chuckled—one quick burst tinged with skepticism. “I’m not sure about that. I can’t see a small town like this ever being appealing.”
No, people liked to be in his business too much. He preferred to remain private, and small towns were no place for privacy. People there had nothing better to do than to talk.
“Anyway, I figure life is too short to live an existence that you don’t love,” Lisa continued.
Her words were absolutely true. He knew firsthand just how easily life could change. Anyone who’d been in the battlefield did. “I like that answer. Why’d you open this place?”
“Because I love combining food with science. It . . .” Lisa paused with the broom in her hands and looked off into the distance. “I used to work in a lab.”
“Did you?”
“I did. Just call me your typical science geek. But coming here and doing this . . .” She shrugged. “I don’t know. It brings me fulfillment. I had a job that paid great money but that left me feeling empty. It wasn’t worth it.”
“Kudos to you for making a positive life change.”
She began sweeping beneath the booths again. “My turn to ask you more questions?”
Braden didn’t have a warm and fuzzy story like Lisa did. And he wasn’t able to give a straight answer about his career. There were so many mental holes everywhere else.
Still, he found himself saying, “Shoot.”
“Why do your hands tremble sometimes?”
He sucked in a quick breath, tempted to blow her question off. But Lisa had been too kind to him to do that. “It’s from a head injury.”
Her motions slowed. “A head injury?”
“On the battlefield. It’s . . . uh, well . . . it’s caused some memory issues also, as you saw last night.”
“Memories and trembles?”
He put the last chair up onto a table and leaned against the door frame. “Yeah, the doctors and my therapist don’t quite know what to do with me. I’m a bit of an anomaly.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. When Ty said you had a disability, I thought . . . well, I didn’t think that.” Her cheeks reddened ever so slightly.
“Don’t be embarrassed. Most people look at me and think I’m fine. And that’s part of my problem.”
Silence stretched between them until finally Lisa said, “Thanks for sharing that, by the way. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“It’s really not a problem. I’m just starting to learn that it’s okay to talk about it and not be ashamed.”
Lisa swept the last of the crumbs into a dustpan and put the broom away. “I’ll drive you back now. I have a few other things to do, but I can do them in the morning. I think we’re both pretty tired.”
“It’s the good tired you feel after working hard.” It certainly beat being alone and wrestling with his thoughts all day.
“Exactly. Let me grab my keys.”
As Braden waited, he paced over to a framed article on the wall and read it. He smiled at the words there. The restaurant had been named one of the ten best in the state, with the reviewer calling the Crazy Chefette fun, innovative, and memorable, with tasty food and a warm staff.
He turned as Lisa joined him. “Nice write-up.”
She smiled, though barely, almost like the article made her sad. “Thanks. I was excited when I read it, and it brought a slew of customers this summer.”
“You don’t look very excited now.”
She shrugged, still staring at the framed article. “I suppose it’s just growing pains. There’s one person in particular in town who doesn’t like my place, and he’s sure to let everyone know. It’s become his personal mission to belittle me. I’m okay with the fact that not everyone will like me. But this goes beyond that. It’s almost like the man has a vendetta against me.”
“You can’t let one person ruin your fun,” Braden said.
As they walked outside, a brisk wind blew over them. Braden wished he’d brought a heavier coat with him. But he’d be fine.
He climbed into her sedan, feeling like a giant inside.
As Lisa glanced over at him, her eyes sparkled as if she could read his thoughts and agreed. “I guess cars like these weren’t meant for men your size.”
“My life feels like a circus, so maybe this is my clown-car moment.”
She chuckled and took off into the dark night.
This was such a change of pace from Virginia Beach, where he had been stationed. The roads there always seemed busy. On the other hand, the silence here on Lantern Beach was almost unnerving. Yet Braden wanted to be comfortable with the quiet. That was his goal. He needed the stillness to hear himself. To hear God. To heal.
At least, that had been his plan. Now, his survival instincts had kicked in as well. He had to be on guard. He would figure out who was trying to harm him, if it was the last thing he did.
A few minutes later, Lisa pulled to a stop at his temporary place.
“Thanks again, Lisa,” he said.
It had been refreshing being around her today. Her world was totally different from his. Hers was filled with sugar and spice and everything nice. Filled with mentions in esteemed magazines. Filled with happy pumpkins placed strategically around her space, making everything festive and fun. His was filled with war and being forgotten by the very people he’d fought for.
“No, thank you,” she said. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Braden wanted to say more, but there was nothing else to say. Instead he nodded and climbed out.
But when he got to the top of the stairs, he froze. His front door was open.
Who had been here? Had it been the person trying to kill him?
And, if it was, where was this person now?
Chapter Seven
Lisa had a surprisingly refreshing time with Braden today. He’d been a good worker. He had a nice smile—when he bothered to show it. And his massive presence made her feel surprisingly safe, which was most shocking when she considered their encounter the night before.
As she glanced at the passenger seat of her car, something caught her eye. Braden’s phone. He must have accidentally left it when he got out.
Lisa grabbed the device and darted upstairs, hoping to catch him before he went inside.
She nearly collided with Braden at the top of the landing. He stood just inside the screened-in porch, staring at something in the distance.
Lisa peered beyond him and saw the front door was open.
“Braden?” she muttered, unable to figure out what was going on.
He stretched out his hand to stop her from getting closer.
“Stay here,” he whispered.
Lisa took a step back, fear tightening her spine. No problem. She didn’t want to go any farther. Especially not based on Braden’s body language.
Was he just being paranoid again? Had his memory slipped, causing him to forget and leave the door open? It seemed like a possibility.
But what if that wasn’t what happened and someone was inside?
Maybe she should call Austin or Wes for back up.
Or Mac.
Or . . .
Maybe Lisa should just pray.
Yes, pray.
That’s what Lisa would do.
Dear Lord, I don’t know what’s going on here. But please keep Braden safe. And me too, for that matter.
She braced herself for whatever might happen next. Was someone inside waiting? Would the intruder attack?
Or was this nothing? Another overreaction on Braden’s part?
The questions pummeled her as time seemed to stand still around her. As Braden’s phone buzzed in her hands, Lisa glanced at it. Without realizing what she was doing, Lisa read the text message that scrolled across his lock screen.
<
br /> Do I need to warn you again?
Lisa sucked in a breath.
Do I need to warn you again? What did that mean? Was it a playful jab from a friend? Or was it ominous? A threat?
The words wouldn’t leave her mind.
Braden was dangerous.
Or he’d brought danger with him.
Or . . .
She didn’t know. But she didn’t like this.
Finally, Braden lumbered out the front door, his gaze laser-focused on everything around him as he scanned the deck.
“Well?” Lisa asked, hugging her arms around her.
“Someone was inside.” Braden’s voice sounded low and rumbling, easily matching his demeanor as he continued to scan his surroundings.
Inside? As in, someone had broken in? Any peace of mind drained from Lisa. “How do you know?”
He finally looked at her, all soldier and less disabled, yet still apologetic. “You’ll see. And I don’t know who. But no one is there now.”
“Can I . . . can I look?” It was curiosity, Lisa supposed. The need to see what had happened. To see if Braden was exaggerating. But she had to know.
Braden nodded for her to go past. But Lisa only took one step through the doorway when she paused. Her eyes widened when she saw the mess inside. Someone had unmistakably been here.
Cushions were out of the couch. Cabinets were open. Chairs had been knocked over.
Nothing appeared destroyed. But still . . .
“We should call the police and report this,” she muttered. “Just to cover all the bases.”
Braden glanced around again and frowned, his hands going to his hips and reminding her a bit of a GI Joe figure with his strong jaw and steely gaze.
“Yeah, we probably should.”
This had shaken Braden up. It was surprising, considering Braden’s size and background. He’d no doubt taken on terrorists, so he could definitely handle some mischievous kids who’d gotten bored.
Because that was most likely what had happened. In Lisa’s estimation, at least.
Lisa pulled out her phone, hoping Mac might have some answers. But she had a feeling answers weren’t going to be easy to find.
She only knew that someone was trying to send a message . . . a message she had no interest in hearing.
The police chief—Mac, Lisa had told him—drove up a few minutes later, his competent gaze showing years of experience.
“Thanks for coming,” Braden said. “I’m Braden Dillinger.”
Mac rubbed his snow-white goatee, looked around the great room, and shook his head with disgust. “No idea who did this?”
“No idea,” Braden stood stoically beside Lisa.
“I’ll take some fingerprints, but I doubt we’ll find anything,” Mac said. “It’s confounding that nothing was taken. It’s almost like someone was trying to send a message.”
“I know it’s probably a long shot, but since this is Ty’s place, I thought we should report it,” Braden said.
“It’s a good idea,” Mac said, turning toward Lisa. “After the incident at your place last night, I actually went to a break-in at a house not too far from here. One of the vacation rentals.”
Braden stole a curious glance at Lisa. She hadn’t told him about the incident at her place, and Braden wondered what that was about.
“Was anything taken?” Lisa asked Mac.
“The place was torn up and the copper wire was taken from the AC. But things like that happen around here at this time of the year. All of these deserted homes . . . petty thieves see a way to make some easy money.”
“It’s a shame,” Braden said. “I guess I should check the outside unit?”
“I already did on my way up,” Mac said. “It’s fine.”
“Why did someone go through the trouble of breaking into a home only to steal copper wire outside?” Braden asked.
It made no sense.
But there were other things that also didn’t make any sense. Like the fact that someone was trying to kill Braden. Yet, for some reason, this person was drawing everything out. The person pursuing him already had the opportunity to kill Braden, yet he hadn’t. Why not?
Were members of The Revolt trying to make their threats akin to water torture—slow and steady misery? If Braden’s pursuer had found him, why not end it all and move on?
No, instead there had been the texts. The firecrackers. This break-in.
It didn’t make sense.
“It’s a good question,” Mac said. “I suspect someone broke in looking for any valuables inside. When they couldn’t find any, they went with Plan B.”
“Well, I hope you find the person or people behind this,” Lisa said. “People need some better hobbies when they get bored.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Mac cast a glance at her, a fatherly look about him. “Keep me updated if anything else happens. And, in the meantime, keep your doors locked.”
Braden shifted, heaviness still pressing on him. “I locked my door, Mac.”
Mac paused. “Well, who has a key?”
“That’s a question for Ty,” Braden said.
“As far as I know, no one else besides me and Ty and Cassidy,” Lisa said. “You know how protective Ty is of Cassidy. He’s very careful.”
Mac grunted again, his gaze far-off in thought. “I’d suggest changing the locks. And being very, very careful.”
Braden intended on being just that. But he was also going to be proactive and find some answers.
Chapter Eight
When Mac left a few minutes later, Lisa turned to Braden. She knew she should go. She could sense the air of danger around Braden. Around his presence here on the island.
If she was smart, she would leave and never talk to him again.
Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to do that. Perhaps she was too nurturing for her own good. She didn’t know.
But she did find herself saying, “Let me help you clean up.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Braden waved a hand at her. Was he anxious for her to get away also? Was that because he was hiding things from her—things that she didn’t need to know because they weren’t her business?
But ever since he’d arrived in town, nothing had been the same.
She took a step back, considering the wisdom of her actions. Just leave, Lisa.
But as Braden swooped down to pick up a dish, she saw his arms trembling again. The bowl clattered on the table as he placed it there.
Her heart softened, and her doubts seemed to melt away. “Don’t be ridiculous. Two people will make half the work.”
Before Braden could object again, she began putting the cushions back and picking up miscellaneous things around her. It didn’t take long to put the house back together—less than twenty minutes.
When she put the last pillow in place, she turned to Braden, unable to ignore the questions that battered her. “You really have no idea who might have done this, Braden?”
He pressed his lips together for a moment and leaned against the breakfast bar. He stretched his arm out, balled his hands into fist, and frowned.
The tremors were worse than ever.
His shoulders seemed to slump. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
Lisa wanted to believe him. She really did. Yet she couldn’t help but feel like there was more to this story. That there was a reason he’d put her in that chokehold. And that this place had been ransacked. And for that far-off, troubled look in his eyes.
She tilted her head and softened her voice before asking, “Why do I feel as if there’s something you’re not telling me.”
Braden ran a hand over his face and stared into the distance. Finally, he looked at Lisa, a decision in his gaze. “Do you want to sit down?”
Lisa’s curiosity flared to life. Would she finally get an explanation? Because the man had her full of questions. “Sure.”
She lowered herself onto the couch, and Braden sat on the other end, a comfortable distance away.
>
He shifted uncomfortably as he seemed to wrestle with his thoughts. “I told you I have memory issues.”
“You did.”
He dragged his gaze up, a heaviness larger than Mt. Everest in his eyes. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but someone is trying to kill me.”
Lisa blinked, certain she hadn’t heard Braden correctly. Normal people didn’t say things like that. Then again, nothing about Braden seemed normal. “What? Who?”
“That’s the problem.” His jaw tightened. “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
Her thoughts raced ahead of her, trying to make sense of things. “You mean, like, a serial killer? Someone you made angry? Who would want to kill you?”
Braden’s expression remained stoic—maybe even a little shocked or placid. “It’s complicated, and the truth is, I just don’t know. I only have my gut instinct.”
Lisa shook her head, trying to comprehend that. “I . . . don’t understand.”
“In my job—”
“With Special Forces?”
“Yes. In my job with Special Forces, I made a lot of enemies. A lot of people have threatened to kill me. They’ve vowed revenge.” He paused and shook his head.
“I see.”
“Someone has been making threats. Watching me. Warning that they’re going to strike soon. The problem is, I have no idea who is behind it. This person is faceless to me, which only makes them more dangerous.”
Lisa’s eyes widened. “I can’t imagine.”
“I’m not crazy.”
“I didn’t say you were.” That explained why he’d put her in that chokehold. “Did you tell the police?”
“They can’t do anything. I’m on my own. I hoped when I came here, I’d lose whoever is shadowing me. Apparently, that’s not the case.”
As she tried to process that, another question begged for her attention. “Braden, I know this is none of my business. But what happened to you? What caused your injuries?”
He glanced down, the past washing over him like a shadow.
Lisa slipped closer and placed her hand on Braden’s arm. She felt the trembles beneath her fingers. But nearly as soon as she felt them, they were gone. They disappeared, almost like his muscles had flatlined.
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