Canyon Standoff
Page 19
“Sorry.” West rolled his shoulders in a tense shrug. “Everything appears locked up tight and in order.” It was beyond frustrating that they hadn’t been able to discover the way the attacker got in or the method he used to slip away.
“There’s no sign of forced entry anywhere, ma’am,” Officer Harmon added.
Cady appeared to wilt. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
West stepped up to her and placed a hand on her arm. She lifted those expressive amber eyes to his.
He offered a small smile. “Let me make you a cup of tea while law enforcement finishes up here.”
“Tea sounds wonderful,” Cady answered with a hint of enthusiasm.
Harmon nodded toward them and vacated the room.
“Pick a seat and I’ll wait on you.” West motioned toward the chairs around the kitchen table. “No argument.” He forestalled her objection with a wagging finger, then turned toward the stove and flicked on the gas flame under the traditional kettle Cady always kept on the burner ready to heat.
“Now, let me see where this creep hit you.” He stepped around behind her, and Cady sat still while he gently parted her hair. The light-colored strands were soft between his fingers, and the pleasant scent of her fruity shampoo wafted up to him. “There’s a red mark, but not much swelling.”
“Yes, the medical personnel told me I should be examined by a doctor once the clinic opens, just to be safe, but they doubt I have a concussion.”
“That’s one good thing.” He moved in front of her. “Did you get any kind of a look at your attacker?”
“Not a thing. The person was behind me or sitting on me the whole time. The detective asked me the same thing, but the best description I could give was that, judging by weight, the intruder could have been a small man or a large woman.”
“A woman?” West let out a soft growl. “I hope they can find some sort of forensic evidence in the bedroom or somewhere in the house to give us a clue who did this.”
“You and me both. Frankly...” She stopped speaking and tucked her lower lip between her teeth.
“What is it?”
“The detective seemed a little skeptical about my story.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He kept asking me if I was sure about the details I was reporting, and he was really bothered about the fact that the intruder didn’t set off the house alarm. Then when they found a couple strands of my hair in the carved woodwork of my bed’s headboard, he asked if I might have hit my head on it.”
West huffed. “Implication being that you caused your own head injury? How ridiculous.”
“I’m not sure what he was implying, but he seemed to take everything I said with a grain of skepticism.”
“Maybe it’s just his way of being thorough.” West went to the cupboards to hide his scowl from her. He didn’t need to upset her further with an anger spike, but maybe he needed to have a personal talk with that detective about his crime-side manner.
He pulled out a pair of mugs, equipped with infusers, from the cupboard where he’d seen her store them last week when he’d been here fixing a leaky faucet. A tea canister sat next to the mugs, still with its plastic shrink-wrap seal. West broke the wrap, opened the lid and took a whiff of the dried roots and leaves inside.
“New flavor,” he said. “Unusual. Smells faintly of celery.”
“When it comes to tea, the odor and the flavor can be quite different. The canister came in the gift basket I received from the neighborhood watch committee when I moved in, but I wanted to finish my Tuscan herbal lemon variety before I opened the new container.”
The kettle whistled and West turned off the heat. The shrill noise faded while he added several scoops of the new tea into the infuser baskets. He poured the steaming water over the exotic-looking dried herbs, then set a cup in front of Cady.
With his own mug he took a seat at the table opposite her. “I’m glad you called me at the same time you called the cops. Your trust means a lot to me.”
Probably too much. His growing attraction to the widow of one of his squad members made him more than uncomfortable. What was he to do with feelings that seemed disloyal to his courageous buddy and were certainly too soon for him to look for reciprocation from his widow? West shook off the internal dilemma and gave his full attention to the woman across the table from him.
“I’m ashamed of the way I depend on you and the guys.” Cady wrapped her hands around her mug, as if her fingers were cold, and stared at the brew inside.
“Are you kidding me? It’s our duty and honor to watch over you and Baby-bug.”
She glanced up at him, those wonderful eyes moist. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. The three of you even moved to Pennsylvania because I decided to come here and live in this place that I inherited. I know Griff would want you to keep an eye on me, but I almost feel like my choices are dictating your choices. You have your own lives to figure out now that you are civilians again, especially when you’re gearing up to start your own business together.”
“You think we’re too busy for you?”
“Not exactly.” She lifted her mug and started to bring it toward her mouth, but then set it down again. “I mean I don’t want to be a burden. I want—no, need—to stand on my own two feet. Eventually.”
West studied her as he took a sip from his mug. Pleasantly sweet, not vegetable-flavored in the least. Cady was right about the taste being different from the smell.
“Independence is one thing,” he said. “We understand and respect your boundaries, but things changed radically tonight.”
Cady visibly shuddered. “I’ll tell you something I didn’t tell the cops because it makes me sound off-my-rocker paranoid. Over the past six weeks or so, I keep getting this creepy sensation at odd moments—like something slithering up my backbone—as if I’m being watched.”
West’s nostrils flared. He’d experienced the sensation on many missions and learned to listen to it. Someone was spying on Cady? The same person who’d tried to kill her? A logical deduction.
If he gripped the tea mug any tighter, he’d break it. “Consider yourself the Triple Threat Personal Protection Service’s first client. Pro bono.”
Cady lifted a hand, palm out. “I couldn’t take advantage of your new company like that. I need your services, but I need to pay like any other client.” A distinctive baby howl blasted through the monitor on the kitchen counter. “Excuse me.” A soft smile spreading her lips, she rose gracefully. “Her highness has awakened quite ravenous.”
She left the room, and West sat nursing his tea and brooding. In the middle of a sip from his mug, he winced at a tearing sensation in his gut. The room began to waver and wobble as if the walls were breathing. West gripped his head and attempted to stand up, but another abdominal pain—like a KA-BAR knife twisting in his stomach—bent him double.
The strange tea!
Did Cady drink any of it? He didn’t think so, but his mind was spinning. He couldn’t remember for sure.
Please, God!
The world dissolved around him.
Copyright © 2020 by Jill Elizabeth Nelson
Return to River Haven where a mysterious stranger will bring two lonely hearts together...
Amish quilt shop owner Joanna Kohler treasures her independence. But, when she finds an injured woman on her property, she is grateful for the help of fellow store owner Noah Troyer, who feels it’s his duty to aid, especially when dangers draws close.
Read on for a sneak peek of
Amish Protector
by Marta Perry
Home again. Joanna Kohler moved to the door as the small bus that connected the isolated Pennsylvania valley towns drew up to the stop at River Haven.
Another few steps brought her to the quilt shop where she paused, gazing with plea
sure at the window display she’d put up over the weekend. Smiling at her own enthusiasm for the shop she and her aunt ran, she rounded the corner and headed back the alley toward the enclosed stairway that lead to their apartment above the shop.
A glow of lamplight from the back of the hardware store next door allowed her to cross to the yard to her door without her flashlight. Noah Troyer, her neighbor, must be working late. Her side of the building was in darkness, since Aunt Jessie was away.
Joanna fitted her key into the lock, and the door swung open almost before she’d turned it. Collecting her packages, she started up the steps, not bothering to switch on her penlight. The stairway familiar enough, and she didn’t need—
Her foot hit something. Joanna stumbled forward, grabbing at the railing to keep herself from falling. What in the world...? Reaching out, her hand touched something soft, warm, something that felt like human flesh. She gasped, pulling back.
Clutching her self-control with all her might, Joanna grasped the penlight, aimed it, and switched it on.
A woman lay sprawled on the stairs. The beam touched high-heeled boots, jeans, a suede jacket. Stiffening her courage, she aimed the light higher. The woman was young, Englisch, with brown hair that hung to her shoulders. It might have been soft and shining if not for the bright blood that matted it.
Panic sent her pulses racing, and she uttered a silent prayer, reaching tentatively to touch the face. Warm...thank the gut Lord. She...whoever she was...was breathing. Now Joanna must get her the help she needed.
Hurrying, fighting for control, Joanna scrambled back down the steps. She burst out into the quiet yard. Even as she stepped outside, she realized it would be faster to go to Noah’s back door than around the building.
Running now, she reached the door in less than a minute and pounded on it, calling his name. “Noah!”
After a moment that felt like an hour, light spilled out. Noah Troyer filled the doorway, staring at her, his usually stoic face startled. “Joanna, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
A shudder went through her. “Not me, no. There’s a woman...” She pointed toward her door, explanations deserting her. “Komm, schnell.” Grabbing his arm, she tugged him along.
By the time they reached her door, Noah was ahead of her. “We’ll need a light.”
“Here.” She pressed the penlight into his hand, feeling her control seeping back. Knowing she wasn’t alone had a steadying effect, and Noah’s staid calm was infectious. “I was just coming in. I started up the steps and found her.” She couldn’t keep her voice from shaking a little.
The penlight’s beam picked out the woman’s figure. It wasn’t just a nightmare, then.
Noah bent over the woman, touching her face as Joanna had done. Then he turned back, his strong body a featureless silhouette.
“Who is she?”
The question startled her. “I don’t know. I didn’t even think about it—I just wanted to get help. We must call the police and tell them to send paramedics, too.”
Not wasting time, Noah was already half-way out. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve called. Yell if...” He let that trail off, but she understood. He’d be there if she needed him.
But she’d be fine. She was a grown woman, a businesswoman, not a skittish girl. Given all it had taken her to reach this point, she had to act the part.
Joanna settled as close to the woman as she could get on the narrow stairway. After a moment’s hesitation, she put her hand gently on the woman’s wrist. The pulse beat steadily under her touch, and Joanna’s fear subsided slightly. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
The darkness and the silence grew oppressive, and she shivered. If only she had a blanket...she heard the thud of Noah’s hurrying footsteps. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
“They’re on their way. I’d best stay by the door so I can flag them down when they come. How is she?”
“No change.” Worry broke through the careful guard she’d been keeping. “What if she’s seriously injured? What if I’m to blame? She fell on my steps, after all.”
“Ach, Joanna, that’s foolishness.” Noah’s deep voice sounded firmly from the darkness. “It can’t be your fault, and most likely she’ll be fine in a day or two.”
Noah’s calm, steady voice was reassuring, and she didn’t need more light to know that his expression was as steady and calm as always.
“Does anything get under your guard?” she said, slightly annoyed that he could take the accident without apparent stress.
“Not if I can help it.” There might have been a thread of amusement in his voice. “It’s enough to worry about the poor woman’s recovery without imagining worse, ain’t so?”
“I suppose.” She straightened her back against the wall, reminding herself again that she was a grown woman, owner of her own business, able to cope with anything that came along.
But she didn’t feel all that confident right now. She felt worried. Whatever Noah might say, her instinct was telling her that this situation meant trouble. How and why she didn’t know, but trouble, nonetheless.
Don’t miss what happens next in...
Amish Protector
by Marta Perry!
Available April 2020 wherever HQN books and ebooks are sold.
www.Harlequin.com
Copyright © 2020 by Martha P. Johnson
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ISBN: 9781488061059
Canyon Standoff
Copyright © 2020 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Canyon Under Siege
Copyright © 2020 by Valerie Whisenand
Missing in the Wilderness
Copyright © 2020 by Jodie Bailey
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