Shadow of Intrigue

by Christy Barritt

  Braden sucked in a breath. He’d noticed too.

  Lisa pulled away, wondering if she’d overstepped her boundaries. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done that before—usually in the name of trying to help someone. Still, she’d be wise to keep her hands to herself right now.

  “Listen, I don’t know what happened,” Lisa continued, sitting on her hands. “And I don’t know what you’re going through. But I just wanted to say thank you for your service to the country. I’m sorry that this is what it did to you.”

  Braden’s eyes caught hers, and something silent passed between them.

  He stared at her, not saying a word for what felt like hours—hours that were probably only mere seconds. And then he looked away and drew in a deep breath.

  “Thank you.”

  Lisa stood. She probably shouldn’t have gone there. Shouldn’t have touched him or asked so many questions.

  She’d obviously made him uncomfortable. But, in a strange way, she’d seemed to calm him as well.

  She cleared her throat, hating the tension tugging at her. “Okay, I’m going to go. I hope you get some sleep.”

  “I’ll try.” He stood also. “Oh, and Lisa?”

  She paused halfway to the door.

  “Why did you come back up here?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “How could I have forgotten? You left your phone in my car.”

  She reached into her back pocket and pulled it out. As she did, she remembered that text message she’d read there. Do I need to warn you again?

  What had that meant?

  It didn’t matter.

  It was none of her business.

  Yet her gut told her there was more going on here than she could put her finger on.

  Braden stared at his arms after Lisa left.

  How had her touch managed to make his trembling stop? No one had ever managed that before. Nothing had.

  The reaction was probably a fluke. And it didn’t really matter. He most likely wouldn’t see Lisa again, and there was even a less likely chance that she’d be touching his arm again—not after her knee-jerk reaction. She looked like she’d been burned.

  The woman was fascinating to him. On one hand, she was cute and perky and passionate about her job.

  On the other hand, she had a fire in her eyes and something a little broken about herself also.

  He recognized it only because he felt it in himself so much.

  There was something missing in her life as well. But what?

  It didn’t matter. Braden was only here for a week or two. He needed to find whoever was responsible for these threats on his life and move on. Even if he couldn’t discover who the person was, he needed to remember that he would be moving on.

  Island life was idyllic for many people. But not him.

  He sighed and stood.

  With Lisa’s help, they’d tidied up the place. But he still needed to take out his trash. He gathered up the bag and took it downstairs to where a big black trashcan on wheels waited. He flipped on the overhead light and opened the top.

  As he did, he paused.

  What was that inside?

  He reached into the depths of the canister and pulled something out. It was copper wiring.

  What?

  He remembered Mac’s update on how someone had broken into a home last night and stolen this very thing.

  But . . .

  No, Braden had blacked out last night.

  He hadn’t broken into a house in the process.

  An image of Ty’s place hit him.

  What if Braden was the one who’d ransacked it before leaving this morning?

  No. He squeezed his eyes shut. Braden would remember something like that. He hadn’t blacked out today . . . had he? He had drifted off to sleep on the couch this morning, but just for a few minutes, before he’d walked to the Crazy Chefette.

  But that wouldn’t make sense.

  Braden rubbed his temples, feeling the start of a headache.

  What was he supposed to do? Tell the police chief that he’d found this in his trashcan? Then the whole town would cast Braden in a suspicious light. He knew how small towns worked. And that would prove to be the opposite of what he wanted for this trip. He needed to relax, not be the object of scrutiny.

  Whoever those thieves were, they must have disposed of the evidence here at his place. And maybe they’d set off those fireworks afterward. It was the only thing that made sense.

  The only thing Braden didn’t know was why. Why someone would do such a thing. Unless they were trying to set him up. But what sense would that make? He had far bigger issues in his life.

  He’d have to think about that a little more. For now, Braden wanted to get back inside before he had any more episodes.

  And there was one more thing he needed to do.

  He went to his suitcase and opened it, reaching into a pocket for the gun he’d brought with him. It couldn’t hurt to have it nearby, just in case trouble came this way.

  But the compartment was empty.

  What?

  That couldn’t be right.

  He dug deeper.

  No, his gun was definitely gone.

  Wait. He’d taken it outside with him last night. And this morning, he’d awoken on the screened-in porch. He’d passed out.

  But his gun hadn’t been with him.

  It didn’t make sense. Where would it have gone? Had Braden done something with it? Or had someone stolen it?

  He knew what the most likely answer was.

  The bad feeling in his gut churned even harder.

  Just what was someone planning for his future?

  Chapter Nine

  Lisa rushed up the steps to her place, showered to get the scent of the restaurant off her, and then paused. Tea and a book might be calling, but she felt restless.

  She couldn’t bring herself to try and unwind. Not yet.

  And she wasn’t sure why.

  Because of the scare at Ty’s place? Because of being around Braden?

  No, that wouldn’t make sense.

  Braden was . . . well, he was an enigma. Scary. Kind. Tough. Gentle.

  She just wasn’t sure yet which was the real Braden or if all those things could comprise a man.

  Out of curiosity, she grabbed her laptop, sat on the couch, and pulled up a search engine. She typed in “Brain Injury Tremors Memory Loss.”

  Numerous results came up.

  Based on what she read, it appeared Braden had something called post-concussive syndrome. The symptoms included headaches, dizziness, mood swings, and difficulty remembering. Doctors generally treated the symptoms instead of the cause.

  What about the tremors?

  Nibbling on her bottom lip, Lisa kept reading. That could also be another symptom of brain injury.

  Maybe that was why Braden’s doctors and therapist said he was a unique case—or an anomaly as Braden had said.

  She leaned back and processed that for a moment.

  So Braden had gone off to war. Something had happened causing this head injury. He’d left his military career behind in order to heal. No doubt he’d been through therapy and counseling.

  Had those things not worked?

  That had left Braden coming here to Lantern Beach with hopes that the change in scenery could help.

  Just then, a smattering of wind and rain hit the window, and Lisa startled.

  It’s just the weather, she told herself.

  Still, she found herself replaying the window shattering last night. She wanted to believe it was just a bored teen playing a prank, but she knew that wasn’t true. Someone had been trying to send her a message. They’d used a gun.

  Perhaps that message had been deadly.

  Shoving aside those thoughts, she continued with her online search. According to what she was reading, Braden’s condition could last for days or weeks or months or, in some cases, even years.

  A rock settled in her stomach at the thought.

  It must be
horrible living with that. Forgetting things.

  Or would forgetting traumatic situations be a gift?

  Lisa wasn’t sure.

  It was out of the tragedies that people learned. The hard parts of life strengthened a person’s character. It taught people to appreciate the good and to be compassionate for others when they suffered.

  Plus . . . not knowing was sometimes the hardest thing. It was better to face reality than to avoid it.

  She closed the laptop and leaned back into her soft cushions.

  None of this mattered. Braden would be here for a week or two. Then he’d be gone, and Lisa’s life would resume.

  It was best if she kept her distance, especially until she got a better feel for the man.

  She only wished her brain got that message because she couldn’t stop thinking about Braden.

  She stood and paced toward the window, deciding she needed to stretch her muscles. As she glanced outside, she saw a shadowy figure standing there.

  Her breath caught.

  It was just a passerby who’d stopped on the sidewalk. Nothing to worry about.

  But the man didn’t leave.

  The darkness made it hard to make out any details. Maybe the man wore a thick coat. He stood in the street, directly in front of her place.

  And it almost appeared . . . like he was looking right at her.

  Lisa stepped back, suddenly feeling like she was in a fishbowl. She was overreacting here. Too much had happened. It had her on edge.

  But as she stole one more glance outside, she saw a flash.

  Someone had taken a picture of her, she realized.

  She slunk against the wall, hardly able to breath.

  Who could it be? John Linksi? Braden? Or someone else entirely?

  Wes, Austin, and Skye came into the Crazy Chefette the next morning after church, before the restaurant even opened. The gang tried to catch up with each other as much as possible, and lunch after church had become a tradition—for now. They also met on Thursday evenings for Bible study.

  Lisa had fixed a bacon-and-egg lasagna, and everyone chowed down. The aroma of bacon and vanilla floated in the air, and the surprisingly sunny day made the moment feel nearly idyllic.

  As they sat there, she glanced across the table at Skye and Austin and smiled.

  Her friends, who’d just started officially dating about a month ago, looked oblivious to everything else around them. Austin took his napkin and dabbed the corner of Skye’s mouth. She giggled and leaned close to say something.

  Lisa looked away, her heart letting out a surprising ache at the sight.

  “It’s enough to make you sick, isn’t it?” Wes mumbled beside her, nodding across the table toward their friends. “In a good way.”

  “Yeah, it is. First Ty and Cassidy, now Austin and Skye.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be single for a while.”

  “You’re in no hurry, are you?”

  He twisted his head in a quick no. “Not at all. I personally think the single life is the good life.”

  Lisa nibbled on her bottom lip, wishing she shared the sentiment. It would make her life so much less complicated. She shifted as she turned her thoughts away from her love life. “By the way, how’s Kujo making out with Ty gone?”

  Wes was taking care of the golden retriever while Ty was away.

  “He keeps me on my toes. I’ve been taking lots of walks at the beach.”

  “Sounds romantic.” Lisa smiled.

  “Yeah, just what I always dreamed about.” He rolled his eyes in a good-natured manner.

  Austin turned away from Skye and back to the group discussion. “Speaking of Ty and Cassidy’s absence . . . How’s that guy who’s staying at Hope House?”

  Lisa drew in a deep breath, trying to figure out how to answer that. “Braden? He’s . . . well, he’s interesting.”

  “Interesting good or interesting bad?” Wes took a sip of his orange juice and waited.

  “Well, he thought I was breaking in on the first night he got there, and I was afraid for a minute that he was going to kill me. That was fun.” Lisa still shivered at the memory.

  “Wow. That doesn’t sound good.” A knot formed on Wes’s forehead.

  “Nope, it wasn’t. And I was ready to write him off. But then he came into the restaurant yesterday and gave me a token of apology. He also gave me a hand here, and he was different. I think he has some PTSD.”

  “Is it safe to be around him?” Austin asked, concern stretching through his voice. “You said you thought he was going to kill you. That’s no joke. Is he unstable?”

  “I guess as long as I don’t surprise him it’s okay.” Lisa shrugged, wondering about the wisdom in her casual words. “I really don’t know much about this. But I’m being careful. And I’ve already talked to Ty.”

  “Just be smart,” Wes said. “And call us if you need anything. PTSD is nothing to play with.”

  Lisa glanced at the door and saw a figure there, peering inside. It was . . . Braden? Again?

  “Speak of the devil,” Lisa muttered. “I guess you’ll all get the chance to meet him.”

  She unlocked the door, let him inside, and then locked it again. Braden looked a little better today, not quite as pale or disheveled as he had over the past couple of days. But his massive, overpowering frame still took her breath away at the sheer thought of what he was capable of.

  No one in their right mind would want to be on the wrong side of this man.

  “I wondered if you needed help again today.” Braden looked beyond her and nodded at her friends. “But maybe you already have backup.”

  “These are my friends. We’re just catching up before I open.” Lisa shifted, pondering his words. Wondering about the wisdom of her choices. Questioning whether she was thinking with her heart more than her brain—something she’d been accused of more than once. “But you’re here to relax. Coming to work here isn’t exactly relaxing.”

  “I know. But I don’t mind. In fact, yesterday was kind of fun.”

  Lisa stared at Braden, trying to gauge his sincerity. He definitely seemed serious. He wanted to help.

  And he had done a decent job yesterday.

  Her mind flashed through everything that had happened. A bullet shattering her window. A figure standing outside her house.

  Braden wasn’t responsible for any of those things. No, she’d seen his eyes. He wouldn’t do that.

  That first night they’d met, it had just been a misunderstanding.

  “Okay, if you want to help, then I won’t stop you. But the no chokehold rule still applies.” She nodded across the restaurant. “Now, let me introduce you to my friends.”

  Chapter Ten

  Working at the Crazy Chefette definitely beat spending the day alone at Ty’s house. If Braden was going to find answers then he needed to get out and begin looking. A restaurant like this was one of the best places he could do that. Besides, maybe he could keep an eye on Lisa as well.

  Braden hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. No, he had too much to think about.

  Mostly, he thought about that copper wire, and he wondered where it had come from. He thought about the house being broken into and wondered who was behind it. He thought about the strange texts and tried to figure out who might want to kill him. He wondered about what happened to his gun, and questioned if he should report it to the authorities. Probably.

  Not being able to remember passages of time was such a curse. He hated questioning himself.

  How much longer do I have to suffer with this, Father? I thought you would have delivered me by now.

  “Order up!” Lisa yelled from the kitchen.

  Braden walked to the window to grab the food. Some—involving soups or drinks or anything he could spill—Lisa had taken to delivering herself. But the plates and platters he could usually handle, though he did get some strange looks from a few patrons as his hands trembled.

  He delivered the new batch of
food, marveling again the combinations Lisa had come up with. She was brilliant and creative and warm—unlike anyone else he’d ever met, really. Who else would think to put together a hamburger with peanut butter? Or Rueben casserole? Or lemonade with jalapenos?

  “You must be Braden.”

  Braden pivoted, ready to go on the offensive. He jerked his gaze toward the man sitting alone in a booth. Did he know this guy? He didn’t think so.

  Was he a member of The Revolt?

  His gut told him no. But he had to be cautious.

  The man seemed to read his tense reaction. “I’m Jack Wilson, the pastor at Ty’s church. Former Navy chaplain.”

  Braden remembered that Ty had mentioned him. He stared at the man now, realizing that he’d envisioned a short, pudgy man. Instead, the pastor was probably his age—maybe a couple years older. He had curly blond hair that was messy but relatively short, and he wore a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

  Nope, he definitely wasn’t who Braden had pictured.

  “That’s right,” Braden said. “Good to meet you.”

  Jack leaned back and picked up his coffee. “How’s everything going for you here?”

  Braden glanced around, saw no one was flagging him down or appeared to need any help, and turned back to Jack. “I’m getting through.”

  Jack’s gaze scanned the restaurant. “By working here?”

  “Work is good for the body and soul. That’s what my dad always said.”

  “Sounds like a smart man.” Jack leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Look, if you need anything while you’re in town, let me know. My place is right beside the church—the only one on the island. I’d be happy to offer a hand or a listening ear.”

  Braden remembered the copper wire again and felt like confessing. Not that Jack was a priest with a confessional or anything. But still, there was some kind of privacy that had to be adhered to as a pastor, right?

  “I appreciate that. And I might take you up on the offer.”

  As Braden stepped away, his phone buzzed again. He took it out of his pocket and looked at the screen.