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Protector's Honor
Kit Wilkinson
It's instinct. When NCIS agent Rory Farrell hears a woman scream, he reacts.But even after he saves her from abduction, Rory can't get the beautiful and fragile Tabitha Beaumont out of his mind. Especially when he finds a connection between Tabitha and his latest murder investigation. She needs protection–Rory's protection–while Rory needs answers Tabitha doesn't even realize she holds. Yet how can he find the truth without betraying Tabitha's trust? Soon, Rory must decide what matters most–keeping his objective distance, or keeping Tabitha, in his arms and under his protection, forever.



“You still believe my brother was in on this?
“Every time I think I can trust you, you remind me why I shouldn’t. We’re not on the same side.” Tabitha stood abruptly and started for the door.
Rory grabbed her hand. “We are absolutely on the same side,” he whispered. “Tabitha, face the facts. Somehow, you and your brother are involved in this mess. Only your brother can tell us if he was a willing participant or not. I know that you are not. I want to find your brother and make sure he has the chance to tell us his side of things.”
Her anger abated somewhat. “So what do we do now?” she asked.
“We need to go back to the safe house. Let me see what I can dig up. All you have to do is follow my lead.”
“What else is new?”
KIT WILKINSON
is a Phi Kappa Phi graduate, holding multiple degrees from the University of Virginia, the University of Tennessee and the University of Lausanne, Switzerland. After teaching for many years, she became a stay-home mom and started writing romantic fiction while her kids were napping. Besides writing, Kit loves hanging out with friends and family, cooking for lots of people and participating in almost any sport. She and her wonderful husband reside in Virginia with their two young children and one extremely large Labrador named Ernie.

Protector’s Honor
Kit Wilkinson

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
In this world you will have trouble.
But take heart! I have overcome the world.
—John 16:33
To David, for loving me always, in sickness
and in health. I love you this much.
And to my mother, for all her gifts,
guidance and graciousness.

Acknowledgments
Thanks to my fabulous editor for shaping this story into its current state. Thanks to Donna, Ron and Charlotte for their many hours of help. Thanks also to Darin Riedlinger for technical support, to Steve Bracciodieta of the Chesterfield County Police Department for his savvy on procedure, to Brendan Conroy for his Navy knowhow, and to the art department for the perfectly fitting cover design.

CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE
Just three more miles.
Tabitha Beaumont struggled with each new step. After swimming one mile through a cold mountain lake then biking twenty-six through the Carolina Blue Ridge, her legs felt more like weighted anchors than lean stretches of muscle. Still, she trudged on.
For over three miles, she’d emulated the long, steady strides of the two seasoned competitors beside her—just as her brother, Max, had coached her. But when passing the little crowd on Hendersonville’s Main Street, she hit “the wall.” Her body could no longer maintain the unvarying clip of the other runners. When they started up the final mountain trail to the finish, she slowed and watched as the two runners pulled farther and farther ahead, leaving her to battle the mountain alone.
Just three more miles.
She needed to focus. But her mind refused. Every muscle in her body screamed to stop. Her lungs ached for air. Her heart pounded against her chest. Her legs felt limp and numb. The dark, steep path loomed ahead invincibly.
Come on, Tabby. You can do this.
Following a sharp rise in the path as it curved around patches of evergreens, she continued to grind her way upward. The August air lay dense under the canopy of foliage. Sweat dripped from every strand of her hair, down into her eyes, the back of her neck and the front of her chest. Slowly, she progressed.
“Beaumont.”
The whisper jump-started her tired senses. She looked around, but there was no one in sight. She must have imagined her name being called. Her eyes sifted nervously through the thick forest. Her legs continued to churn over the mulched trail.
“Ms. Beaumont!”
A gruff male voice sent a chill through her body. She could not have imagined that. Crunching leaves and snapping twigs confirmed someone was near.
Again, she glanced back. Two men dressed in camouflage ran less than ten feet behind her. Where they’d come from or how they knew her name, she had no idea. But they didn’t belong on this mountain. Only competitors were allowed on the trails. Today, all the entrances had been roped off and guarded by event officials. And who in their right mind would run a triathlon in full fatigues?
Fear zipped through Tabitha’s tired body. Her overworked adrenal glands fired up and she doubled her speed, trying desperately to outrun them. But the men were not shaken. They stayed close, nearly flanking her and mumbling to one another.
“Number forty-seven,” one of them said.
Tabitha glanced down at the black writing on her left arm. Her entry number. Forty-seven. Why did they know that? She didn’t want to imagine. Instead, she ground her heels into the mountain path with what little energy remained and pressed on.
The men continued to close in. One of them reached for her elbow. As his fingers grazed her arm, her fear transformed to utter panic. Her mouth opened. She tried to scream. But only a tiny gasp escaped. Still, she jerked forward, slipping from the man’s loose grasp as his giant paw fell away from her sweaty arm.
Nothing less than blind terror moved Tabitha now. She bounded into a full sprint. Her head spun from the forced exertion. Her breathing fell short and shallow.
“Come on, lady. Stop. You know what we need.” The evil in his voice churned Tabitha’s stomach.
“Yeah,” the other man echoed. “Hand it over.”
Hand what over? Her mind clouded at their words. What were they talking about?
Forget it. She needed help. Frantically, she searched for other competitors, but she’d lost the two runners ahead and there seemed to be no one behind. How in a race with over one hundred participants had she found a gap? How could she have put herself in this position?
Foolish Tabitha.
All she could do now was pray and run. As fast as possible, she propelled herself onward. The thud of her pulse drummed in her ears. She had to get away. And still, they closed in.
“Come on, lady! What Max gave you…we need it.”
Max? Did they say Max? They knew her brother?
Tabitha pushed on. Every step more painful than the last. In her fear and exhaustion the trail began to blur beneath her. A protruding root caught her heel. Her ankle twisted and she went down on hands and knees. Rolling to her back, she kicked out blindly, sending one of the men back a few feet. The other grabbed her by the wrists.
Oh, Lord, please help me.

Battling some kind of flu or major dehydration, Rory Farrell was having the worst race of his life. Bent over at the waist, he veered off the path to wait for the cramps and nausea to die away. A few racers passed. If he weren’t so spent, he might have cared that this would be the first time in five years he wouldn’t win the Hendersonville Triathlon.
Instead, he collapsed his large figure down the side of a birch tree and tried to relax his aching body. He focused on steady breathing, taking a moment to soak in the beauty of his native Smoky Mountains. His gaze floated lazily down the steep bank of the mountainside, until it stopped at a most bizarre sight.
Two hunters carried a racer toward the foot of the mountain. A woman. Was she injured? It seemed unlikely considering the way she flailed around between them.
Rory stood then launched himself down the rocky incline to investigate. Something strange was happening and he had a gut feeling that he needed to interfere.
“Hey! What’s going on?” he shouted.
The men paused to locate his position. The larger of the two turned, revealing a nice shiny handgun. A shot rang out and Rory’s trained responses kicked in. He dashed for cover behind a tree. The bullet whizzed by, striking a nearby leaf as it passed.
Well, no doubt about it now. He was definitely going to interfere.
In fact, Rory no longer felt sick. Other, stronger emotions had driven that from his system. His veins pulsed with heated energy and his own innate sense of justice.
The men descended swiftly, dragging the female racer between them. She struggled violently. Another shot echoed across the mountain.
Rory continued to slide closer. Steadily, he gained on them, now close enough to hear her muffled cries and catch a glimpse of her frightened face. A face he recognized. It was the racer he’d noticed at the start—the one with the big brown eyes and great smile. The men had gagged her, further fueling his anger. He pressed on, forgetting the dangers he faced as he drew near.
Rory crept as close as he could, using large trees for cover. Then, he charged at the armed man, yelling at the top of his lungs. A rebel-yell attack. It worked, too. They dropped the girl and stood still for a full second before taking action. Rory moved in and grabbed the armed man’s wrist. Rory pointed the 9 mm down. With his other hand, he struck hard below the ribs. The big guy went down and so did his weapon.
Rory kicked the gun out of reach and spun around as the second man took a swing. Pain riveted through his body as the man’s knuckles made contact with his face. Rory took repeated blows before landing a right hook. The little guy stumbled to the side. Rory retrieved the gun from under the brush. He aimed fast, but the men had already fled. Rory started to follow but hearing the woman moan stopped him in his tracks.
In a thick patch of fern, she lay trembling on her back. She had removed the gag but made no attempt to sit up.
He knelt beside her. “Ma’am, are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
Instead of answering, she closed her eyes while her body shuddered through another violent tremor. He reached a hand to her forearm to steady her, but she tucked away, every muscle tensed and rigid.
“It’s okay.” He softened his tone. “They’re gone. They’re not coming back. I got their gun. See?” She looked up, with large, unfocused eyes. Her face was so pale he feared she would pass out. “Really, ma’am. You’re safe now. But…you’re kind of scaring me. Can you talk? Can you hear me?”
With a sudden jerk, she spun around on all fours and was sick. The sight brought Rory a renewed wave of his own gastric unease. A discomfort he squashed with a quick exhale.
“Feel better?” he asked her.
She turned back and nodded slowly. “I—I didn’t…” Her eyes lifted to his face and widened. “Your nose!”
Rory wiped his face with his forearm and glanced down at the blood. “Oh. That’s nothing,” he said. Although judging from the pain when he moved his head, it was probably broken. That little guy had given it to him good. “Don’t worry about me. What about you? What happened?”
“Those men…They—they said I…” She shook her head and shifted her eyes away. Her lips pressed together tight and flat.
Rory let the questions go. They needed to move. Her story could come later. “You think you can get up?”
She stared back at him and shrugged.
Rory straightened, offering a hand to her. As her palm settled into his, a warm sensation rippled through him—not unlike the pleasant jolt he suffered when he’d spotted her on the lakeshore earlier that morning.
She pulled up and applied weight to both feet then collapsed. Rory shot his arms out and pulled her to his chest. No jolt this time, but he couldn’t pretend he didn’t notice her soft curves brushing against him.
“Okay. Take it easy. Where’s the damage?”
“Right ankle. I turned it. That’s how they got me.”
Already she seemed calmer, her speech more steady. She hobbled back and pushed his hand away as if she didn’t need his help.
He grinned at her determined efforts. “Ms.—”
“Tabitha Beaumont,” she said softly. “And thank you. Thank you for helping me.”
“Tabitha.” He grinned. “I like that. A good strong name.” He put his hand on her elbow, again offering his support. “Rory Farrell and it’s my pleasure. Now, the closest place for us to get help is at the inn, just up the hill here. I’ll piggyback you.”
“Piggyback? No. I’m all right.” She stared up the steep slope and again slid her elbow from his grasp.
“Look, ma’am, I’m a marine. Trust me. I won’t drop you. I’ve done this sort of thing plenty of times.”
She gave him a funny look then began scanning the area below. “You know, there’s another path down there. We could go down instead of up.”
Rory narrowed his eyes and flattened his lips. He wasn’t used to people questioning his authority, especially in this kind of situation. “That trail leads to the falls. We need to go up.”
Tabitha folded her arms across her chest—a stance which he supposed was meant to look defiant. The movement threw her off balance. Rory had to grab her arms again to keep her from toppling over.
“I promise it’s better to go up.” He pulled her close, forcing her weight into his arms, taking the pressure off her bad ankle. Her face scrunched up with disapproval, but he didn’t release her. “Trust me. Let me help you.”
For one moment, she quit struggling and steadied her eyes into his. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous. I know I need your help.”
A little too quickly, Rory lost himself in her large chocolate eyes. The urge to brush his knuckles across her cheek where some errant curls stuck to her smooth olive skin overwhelmed him and he shook his head to clear his mind. He should have been too focused for such a senseless thought.
“You’re sure there’s not another way?” she asked.
“Positive.” He released her long enough to reclaim the 9 mm Beretta from the ground and engaged its safety. “We’ll need to give this to the police.”
“Police?” She blinked.
“Of course. As soon as we get back, we have to report this.”
“Yes. Right. I’m not thinking clearly. Sorry.”
“Understandable.” He looked at the gun and then down at his flimsy bike shorts. “Could you—”
She turned a shoulder. “Here?”
He tucked the gun snugly into the back of her jogging top. Then he squatted for her to climb aboard. Her hand tentatively came down to his right shoulder blade. It retreated just as quickly.
“No time to be shy.” Urging her bad leg forward, Rory knocked her weight onto his back and felt her slide into position. Two long legs wrapped around his torso. Her hands went to his shoulders. She left as much space as possible between their bodies.
The balance wasn’t ideal but he lifted her easily enough and started up the mountain. Planting each foot securely, banking every step, he clung to tree trunks and slowly advanced.
“You okay?” he grunted, feeling the lactic acid burn in his thighs.
“Peachy,” she answered.
“Well, I’ve got you. Just relax.”
“Relax? You’re kidding?”
“Your hands. Relax your hands.”
To his relief, she extracted her nails from his flesh. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. You must regret—”
He heard that familiar hitch in a voice trying to fight off a good cry.
“I don’t regret a thing,” he said between exerted breaths. “Now, put your arms across my chest and pull closer.”
Tabitha didn’t budge. But she didn’t cry. Strong, stubborn, shy. He respected her responses, although the timidity surprised him.
“Don’t think about it. Do it.”
Once she did, Rory decided that despite his own exhaustion, he could have carried her all day. She felt light and for the first time in months, so did he.

The marine moved with amazing agility even with her hanging on to his back like a frightened kitten. When he’d come out of the woods screaming like a wild man, she’d thanked God that very instant for sending him. What would have happened if he hadn’t come?
Getting up the last part of the slope proved tricky, but Rory managed until they reached the runner’s trail. He put her down nice and easy then folded over at the waist struggling for his breath. The way he pinched at his side, she could only imagine the cramping he had suffered.
In less than a minute, a small group of racers passed. Rory stood and joined them.
“Got an injured runner here,” he announced. “Could one of you send a golf cart for us?”
“Sure,” one of them answered. A couple of them looked at her.
Tabitha glanced at Rory. “Go on,” she said. “I’ll be fine. You should finish the race.”
He ignored her and whispered something else to the others. Again, they glanced back then moved on.
“Really. Go on. I’ll be fine,” she repeated, as he walked toward the tree that she leaned against.
“Are you kidding?” He smirked, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. “I’m done. I seriously doubt I could make it to the finish. Anyway, I’d be one lousy rescuer if I upped and left you here.”
Tabitha frowned, but truly she was relieved. She didn’t want to be alone. Even though he was a stranger and she hated needing so much help, the fact that he’d risked his own life for her made her feel safe and connected to him.
“Did you tell them about the attack?”
“Not in so many words. But I wanted them to get some policemen looking around. Those men could still be on the mountain.”
Rory turned and stretched his back with a few twists. He dripped with sweat and his nose trickled a bit of blood. Regardless, Tabitha could see that he was an attractive man. The blue of his eyes reminded her of the ocean, deep and expressive. She saw something in them, in him, which gave her a warm, peaceful feeling she’d not sensed from many men.
“You should sit.” He came to her. Putting an arm around her shoulder, he led her to a smooth boulder near the trail’s edge.
She tried not to, but her back went rigid at his touch.
“Are you in pain?” he asked.
She shook her head then scooted back on the large rock. He moved in beside her, so close she could feel strength and heat coursing through him. She wanted to relax enough to lean on him and borrow some of that power. Instead, she trembled and blinked back the stinging tears that formed in her eyes.
A strong arm wrapped around her and pulled her into a cozy hug. Tabitha wished she weren’t so stiff and unnatural because it felt wonderful—like a life force surrounding and filling her with energy and hope.
“Tabitha Beaumont.” His slow Southern drawl, full of confidence and warmth, spread her name over an extra syllable or two. “You just rest easy. You’ve had quite a morning.”
She nodded, barely able to keep back the tears. “What should I do when we get back? You said something about the police.” Tabitha wanted to do this right. This time, she would report the crime.
“You see that cart coming?” he indicated softly.
She looked far up the mountain trail and nodded again.
“Well, we’re going to ride to the inn in it. Then we’ll call a detective and when he arrives, you’ll tell him what happened. While we wait, there’ll be lots for you to eat and drink. And I’m sure you’d like to call your family. Husband, maybe? How does that sound?”
“Too easy.” She tried hard to conceal the fear from her voice. But the sympathetic look he gave her showed she hadn’t.
“I’m going to help you. I’ll be right there.”
“Thank you.” She forced a smile. “I appreciate it.”
He smiled and started to help her up.
“You know,” Tabitha added, “we can probably scratch eating and calling a husband from that list.”
“Not hungry?”
“Not married, either.”
Tabitha suspected a smile hid in those mysterious blue eyes.

TWO
On the lawn of the Birchwood Inn, Tabitha sat under a grand white tent and picked at a barbecue sandwich. She knew she should eat, but each time she considered taking a bite, her stomach gurgled in protest.
Athletes continued to trickle through the finish line. The summer sun gleamed high above. Tabitha gazed over the opposing mountain ridge but had trouble admiring the natural verdure and its famous blue-green haze. Her nerves were shot and her head throbbing. She felt capable of little besides sipping water.
She did watch her rescuer with a curious eye, but that could not be helped. The poor man could hardly move through the tent. As soon as he’d walked away from her, event officials, commercial sponsors, a television crew and even some of the hotel personnel had stopped him. It seemed everyone wanted a piece of Rory Farrell.
Tabitha learned from bits of conversations around her the reason for his popularity. To her personal relief, it had nothing to do with what had happened on the mountain. Apparently, Rory was a native son of Hendersonville, and part of one of its most prominent families.
For a few minutes, she lost sight of him and turned her attention to the other competitors who’d joined her table for lunch. When she next spotted Rory, his eyes were on her. Drawing near, he held homemade oatmeal cookies in one hand and an ice pack and aspirin in the other. He’d cleaned his face and changed his clothes. Tabitha welcomed him with a smile despite her edgy nerves.
“That’s not fair,” she said, pointing at his clean clothes as he emptied the contents of his hands onto the table. “I’d really like to change.”
A few more fans passed, shaking Rory’s hand and patting his back. When they left, he took the seat next to her.
“Sorry about all that. You’d never know I was just home three months ago.” He passed her the cookie then the aspirin and ice pack. “This is for your ankle. I noticed it’s swelling. The paramedics said to ice it thirty minutes, then off thirty minutes and repeat. And drink lots of water. That fixed me right up.”
“I’m trying. And thanks.” Tabitha leaned forward reaching for the aspirin. And despite his chipper speech, she could see that his attitude had changed since their return to the inn. He looked tired and worn down. And he most definitely did not enjoy all the attention he was getting.
“You look better,” he remarked, his smile strained.
“Yes. I’m starting to calm down.” She swallowed the aspirin with a quick gulp of ice water then pushed the glass back to its position on the table. “Rory, I know it’s none of my business but…” She hesitated, not sure if she should mention anything so personal. After all he’d done for her, she felt she had to say something. “Well, I heard about your father. I’m so sorry.”
His eyes connected fast with hers. A little moisture appeared in them as he nodded. “Yep. It was a tough battle with cancer. That’s what all the fuss is about. Everyone loved my pop.” He turned away and looked out over the mountains.
“You must miss him.”
“Terribly. This has been a hard week, coming home again.”
“So, you don’t live here anymore? You live in Arlington?”
“Alexandria.” He looked back with a big grin, pleased at the subtle change in subjects. “Obviously, you heard all sorts of things sitting here.”
“I did.” She returned the smile.
He leaned close and whispered, “Well, just a warning. Things have a way of getting exaggerated around here.”
“Exaggerated? You mean your grandmother doesn’t run Hendersonville? And you’re not the town’s greatest athlete?”
Rory laughed heartily. The wide smile and the deep rich sounds of his voice warmed her. “You know, Gram may actually run the town. At least, she thinks she does. But the other? That’s a new one.”
“Hmm. I also heard that you’re some kind of special cop which confused me since you told me you were a marine.”
“Former marine. Now, I’m a federal agent. I work for NCIS.”
“N-C-I—what?” Apparently, she was supposed to recognize the acronym.
“Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Like the TV show?”
She shrugged and turned her palms up.
“We’re an organization like the FBI but run by the navy. My unit conducts terrorist-related investigations. We also investigate serious crimes committed by or against navy personnel.”
“So I guess what happened today was nothing for you?”
“I don’t know about that. I don’t usually run unarmed in front of a man with a gun pointed at me.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” she commented.
“Me, too.”
Tabitha locked eyes with him and felt her heart rate increase to some anaerobic rhythm. Oh, dear. Was she blushing? She fumbled for something to say. Anything. “So, if you’re not a marine anymore, why the haircut?”
“Oh.” He chuckled then leaned forward running a hand across the fresh buzz. “I don’t usually—my grandmother likes it like this.”
“Nice.” Tabitha didn’t stop her grin. It wasn’t every day she met a bona fide tough guy willing to shave his head for his grandmother. “So, did the cops find those men on the mountain?”
“No. They’re probably long gone. But the detectives will be here any minute and we can give them good descriptions.”
She pressed away from the table. “In that case, I’m going to change.”
“I don’t think so.” He grabbed her wrist. His eyes shifted toward the colonial-style inn with its multistepped entrance then looked at her bad ankle. “I’ll go. Tell me what to get.”
Tabitha took in a sharp breath, acutely aware of his touch. And it annoyed her that he was right about the ankle. She was in no shape to hop all the way to her room. She exhaled, showing her agitation.
“I’m just trying to help,” Rory explained.
“I know.” She dropped her head, pushed the loose wisps of hair from her face and smiled. “I left the key at the front desk. Will they give it to you?”
“Yep. I know the manager.” He winked.
“You know everyone,” she teased.
“The benefit of growing up in a small town. So, tell me what you need.”
Tabitha sighed and gave into his offer. “Well, on the bed you’ll find my warm-up pants and a pink Nike T-shirt. And if you could, grab my cell phone, too. It’s on the dresser.”
“Pants, shirt, phone. Got it.” Rory’s kind smile flooded her with an unexpected rush. He moved beside her, his eyes fixed on her bad ankle which he lifted and placed on the chair where he’d been sitting. He put the ice pack over the sore joint and gave her hand a little squeeze. “Be right back.”
As he disappeared into the inn, she stared after him wondering what had just happened. Her fingers tingled where he’d touched them and her heart fluttered in an unsteady pattern. She hadn’t had that reaction to a man in years. Had to be her overwrought nerves. Prayer could fix that.
Lord, my head is clouded. Please be with me. The Lord is my rock, in whom I take refuge…
The psalm brought Tabitha some comfort until she noticed two men in suits talking to one of the police officers assigned to the event. The detectives. She drew in a sharp breath as her thoughts went back to the attack.
She shut her eyes and tried to remember the details of the morning. What had the men looked like? What had they said to her? They had wanted something. Something Max had given her? But what could her brother have given her that these men would be willing to kill for?

Rory funneled his way through the hordes of people between the lunch tent and the inn. His mind swirled in a confusion of excitement and concern. Nothing like this had ever happened at a triathlon. Even as a federal agent, he’d only dealt with one case of abduction—enough to know they didn’t always end well.
God, thank You for using me to help Tabitha.
A prayer?
Yep. He’d said a prayer and it had flowed out of him quite naturally.
Was anyone listening?
That he didn’t know anymore. No one had listened when he’d begged for his father’s recovery.
Lifting a hand to his temple, he mounted the narrow set of whitewashed stairs. His headache had returned with the bitter emotions. The happiness he’d experienced helping Tabitha over the past hour slipped away with each step.
He entered the small lobby of the old B and B–style hotel, passing several antique hutches and tables, all loaded with country knickknacks and crockery. Crossing the wide-plank floor, he headed straight to the check-in. The manager, a petite blonde dressed in a simple white linen outfit, gave him a wide smile from behind the front counter.
He returned his cousin’s smile despite his heavy heart. “How are you, Terri?”
“Busy. But glad you came in,” she confessed. “You’ve been mighty scarce this week.”
“Yeah, well, you know…” Rory’s jaw clenched at the truth in her words. Hanging out with family only emphasized the absence of his father. It had been easier to be alone. “So, I guess you heard a racer was injured?”
“I heard you rescued someone.”
“Tabitha Beaumont, one of your guests.”
A look of concern fell over Terri’s face. “Ms. Beaumont? She’s hurt?”
“Sprained ankle. Nothing serious. But that’s only part of the story.” Rory shifted his weight back.
Terri folded her arms across her chest. “Well? What happened?”
“Two men, one armed, attempted to abduct her.”
“What?” The petite woman’s gray eyes grew large and a worried look settled across her face. “I didn’t know. I just heard someone needed a ride back from the trail. Where did this happen?”
“About halfway down. I know the whole mountain belongs to the resort so I wanted to tell you that I’ve called some detectives in. They’ll want to talk to you.”
“Certainly. This is terrible. I can’t believe it. Ms. Beaumont seems so sweet. I had tea with her when she arrived yesterday. I enjoyed chatting with her. Do you think she’s in some kind of trouble? You know, she’s a lawyer in Charlotte.”
“A lawyer? Really?” He’d not even asked. Come to think of it, he hadn’t asked her anything. He’d been talking about himself. How had that happened? “What else did she tell you? Did she seem upset about anything?”
“No. Not that I could tell. A little nervous about the race. She said her older brother’s into triathlons and talked her into trying one.”
“This was her first race?” His eyebrows lifted.
Terri nodded. “That’s what she said. Why?”
He chuckled. “She did well. She’d been moving along for a first timer…” Rory stopped his pointless comment. Where was his focus? “I—I doubt it’s important. Anything else you remember? Was anyone meeting her or assisting her at the bike drop-off or the finish?”
“Now that you mention it, I recall her booking two rooms.” Terri took a moment to pull up some records on her computer. “The other room was registered under the name Bristow. She canceled it a few days ago.”
Bristow. Probably not her brother. Different last name. Boyfriend? Could this person be connected to what had happened? Rory pressed his fingers to the bridge of his aching nose, wishing he’d taken some aspirin for himself. “Did she say why?”
Terri shook her head. “No. Is it important? Is this what the police will ask me?”
“Maybe, but they’ll also want to know about the grounds and security. How you handle the event. Stuff like that.”
“Okay.” Terri rubbed her hands together nervously.
“I’ll go see if they’ve arrived, but first, Ms. Beaumont needs a favor. A few things from her room. Could you let me in since she can’t get up here with her bad ankle?”
She rolled her eyes. “Always ready to help a damsel in distress, huh? Especially if she’s beautiful?”
“Do you really think I’m that shallow?” Rory held his hands in the air, feigning innocence.
“No. But you have other issues.” Terri reached under the desk and pulled out an electronic key card. Then she called another clerk to cover the front. “Come on. I’ll walk you up,” she said to Rory.
Together, they headed up the wooden staircase to the second floor.
“What issues?” he asked. “I don’t have any issues.”
Terri pursed her lips together. “Uh…you haven’t been in a serious relationship in years.”
“I don’t have time to date. That doesn’t mean I have issues.”
“Whatever you say.” Terri was shaking her head. Rory bit back a reply. Why did he care what she thought anyway?
They passed several numbered doors continuing down a somber, narrow hallway with a few sharp turns. Terri stopped abruptly a few feet from an open door. Golden streams of sunlight spilled across the corridor. Speckles of dust hung lifeless in the downward rays. The quiet air seemed eerie, far removed from the cheerful whir of activity outside the inn.
Terri frowned. “I can’t imagine the staff leaving her door wide-open like that.”
Rory moved Terri against the wall. “Stay here.”
He reached under his arm where a holster would have normally held his automatic Glock. It wasn’t there, of course. He shook his head and entered.
The room was small—just enough space for the mission-style bed, a small upholstered chair and a three-drawer dresser. The bed’s white quilt had been thrown to the floor and the rest of the linens peeled from the mattress. A few articles of clothing lay willy-nilly across the floor and dresser. He found no cell phone, no purse, no suitcase. He moved over the hardwood floors and opened the door to the bath. There were no toiletries, not even a toothbrush or bottle of shampoo.
“Clear. Come in, Terri. Are you sure this is Ms. Beaumont’s room?” He examined a rumpled T-shirt that had been tossed recklessly into the corner.
“Oh, my!” Terri’s mouth dropped open as she entered the chaotic room. “Yes. It’s definitely her room. I brought her up myself.”
Rory looked under the bed. Clean and empty. He opened the dresser drawers. Empty. “There’s nothing in here but some dirty clothes.”
“She’s been robbed? Let me call my staff and see if anyone knows what’s happened.”
“No. Wait here. In fact, call someone to stay with you. I’m going to find the detectives and send them up.”
She nodded.
A new wave of anxiety washed over Rory. He didn’t need to be a cop to guess that the burgled room and the attack were connected. Maybe the men after Tabitha didn’t want her, but something she had? Maybe they wanted both?
At that, Rory flew down the stairs. He hoped leaving Tabitha alone hadn’t been a huge mistake.

THREE
“One man was tall, thin…blondish. The other heavyset. No taller than me,” Tabitha said to the policemen.
Detective Jon Greenwood sat across from her, rubbing his gray beard. His partner, Hines, stood nearby taking copious notes. They had joined her just minutes after Rory’s departure, exhausting her with their detailed questions. If the day had ended right then, it wouldn’t have been soon enough.
“And how tall is that?” Hines asked.
“I’m five-seven,” she said.
The taller detective looked up from his little white pad as if to check her measurements. “Five-seven. Good. Keep going.” He returned to his note-taking.
Tabitha sighed. “The shorter man was bald. Or maybe his head was shaved, and I think he had a scar on his face.” She paused and looked at the deep red marks on her wrists where he’d held her. Her mind flooded with old images—images of another man, one she’d known most of her life. He, too, had held her arms and made them raw. The memory unsettled her. “I’m sorry—I can’t remember any more.”
Tabitha banked her hands in her lap to control the trembling. She closed her eyes tight as if to squeeze out the unwelcome thoughts, but her focus was gone. The only idea she could hold on to was getting home.
Detective Hines stuck his pen behind his ear and took the seat next to her. “Try to relax, Ms. Beaumont. The details will come back to you.” He laid the pad aside and removed his jacket. “You’re shivering. Here. Take this.”
“Thank you.” She placed the tan sport coat across her chest and tucked her arms underneath.
“You mentioned the men wanted something from you,” Hines said. “Any idea what?”
“I don’t—” She shook her head. “I don’t think they said exactly.”
“But they named your brother?” Greenwood asked.
“I thought so. But my mind was on Max anyway since he’s been coaching me for the race.”
“And your brother’s a dentist?”
She nodded. “Yes. In Richmond.”
“We’ll need his number and address.”
“Sure. He’ll get a kick out it if you call him.” She rattled off the numbers while Hines recorded them in his notebook.
“Hope I didn’t miss much.” Rory appeared at the table. Greenwood and Hines gave him hearty handshakes.
“We miss your pop,” Greenwood relayed. “The new chief is good, but he’s no James Farrell.” Hines nodded in agreement.
Tabitha’s heart sank as she watched Rory’s jaw tighten. His dad had been chief of police. No wonder everyone fussed over his absence.
Stepping around the detectives, he pushed toward her.
She returned Hines’s coat and checked Rory’s arms for her clothing. But his hands were empty. “You couldn’t get into my room, could you?”
“No. I got in.” Rory turned his head so that the detectives could hear. “I went up with Terri Patton, the manager. When we got there, the door was already open and most of your things were—I’m sorry, Tabitha—they were missing.”
Tabitha’s sick stomach and throbbing head intensified. She could barely swallow. “Room two-zero-seven? Are you sure?”
Rory nodded. “The room was ransacked. Basically cleaned out.” He turned back to the detectives. “Terri’s waiting for you to take a look.”
“Sure. I think Ms. Beaumont could use a break now, anyway. You two stay here,” Greenwood instructed, as he turned for the inn. Hines followed.
“My car,” Tabitha whispered as she leaped from her seat.
The ice pack tumbled to the ground and she hopped on her good leg toward the edge of the tent. The idea of being trapped on that mountain, not able to get home, suffocated her.
“Ms. Beaumont, don’t trouble yourself. We’ll check it out,” Greenwood called after her.
Tabitha didn’t stop. She slipped past Rory’s grasp and continued until she reached the grassy area in front of the parking. If someone had taken almost everything from her room, then they could have the keys to her car. She searched through the hubbub of activity, scanning the small gravel lot.
“Is it there?” Rory’s voice sounded behind her low and stern.
She shook her head then turned to face the three men who had moved in behind her. Biting her lower lip to hold her tears at bay, she hobbled to the nearest table for support.
“A blue Toyota 4Runner. North Carolina plates.” She took in a ragged breath. Then to Hines, she gave a full description of her SUV. Afterward, she glanced across the lot again, but the car was gone. She had nothing—no money, no phone, no car. She could feel what little bit of inner strength she still possessed fading away.
Oh, Lord, why is this happening? Please give me Your strength.
As the detectives headed up the stairs to the inn, Tabitha hopped back to her table still trying desperately not to cry. Rory moved beside her but didn’t offer his help. She propped her foot up and replaced the ice pack, wishing he’d leave her alone. She felt too aware of him.
“Shouldn’t you go with them?” she asked. “Since you’re an agent and all that.” Please go, so I can think and not cry in front of you.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. His frown deepened as he took the seat beside her. His eyes, the ones that had warmed her a few minutes earlier, had turned cold.
He leaned back in the chair. With a slow deliberate move, he folded his arms across his broad chest. “So, Ms. Beaumont, it seems some pretty serious people are after you. I think you should tell me why. I mean, up until now you’ve been fairly calm, but you find out your car’s gone and you kind of lose it. Why is that? Why don’t you tell me what’s in your car that those men want so badly? After all, I have a right to know what I risked my life for this morning. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“My car? I don’t have anything in my car. I just—” Tabitha stopped midsentence. Why was she explaining herself? Just because he helped her didn’t mean she had to share her deepest fears with him. They had nothing to do with what had happened today. She took in a deep breath. “Are you interrogating me?”
Rory stretched his neck and glared at the roof of the tent. “Of course not.” His voice came out in a growl. “I don’t interrogate victims.”
“What a relief.” She attempted a smile, but it was pointless. The man had transformed into cop mode and apparently wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d probed her for answers. Too bad she had none. She chewed on her bottom lip.
Rory rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Tabitha, I know you’re frightened. More so than you’re letting on and I want to help you. Really, I do. But I can’t if you don’t tell me what you know.”
Pressing her lips together, Tabitha inhaled slowly, determined to answer him with a steady voice. “I promise you I don’t know what’s going on. I have no idea what those men are after. If I did, I would tell you. I’m just praying my way through this. Otherwise I’m sure I’d be completely hysterical by now.”
His brow lifted. “I saw Hines’s note about someone named Max. Is he involved in this?”
Tabitha frowned. She didn’t like the hint of suspicion in his tone. Did he really think she had something to hide? “Is this what you do as a federal officer? Intimidate people who are scared? I’m not impressed.”
Tears continued to press at the corner of her eyes. She lifted her hand to her forehead to scratch an imaginary itch and shield herself from his hard gaze.
“Look,” he said, “I’m trying to help. I’m not intending to upset you. This is what I do. I’m an investigator. Now, tell me about Max B. I read that name in the detective’s notes. Is that Bristow? Is that the person you booked a room for? This could be important.”
Tabitha narrowed her eyes on him. He’d obviously done more than check her room inside the hotel.
“Come on, Tabitha. Talk to me. Let me help.”
“Fine,” she mumbled. “Bristow and Max are two different people.”
“Okay. Let’s start with Max. Who is Max?”
“Max B. is Max Beaumont. My brother.” Tabitha glanced down. She did not want to repeat the entire story. But when she looked back at Rory, it was obvious that small dose of information wouldn’t hold him. “I thought the men who attacked me mentioned him. But I’m not sure. In fact, the more I think about it, the more ridiculous it seems. I think maybe I imagined it.”
Knots tightened in her stomach. Each time she mentioned her brother, she felt more and more like she might be getting him into trouble. But why? No way her brother had anything to do with those thugs on the mountain. That was impossible.
Rory’s look softened a bit. “How did they mention him?”
“I don’t know. They wanted something from me. Something Max gave me…I think that’s what they said.” Tabitha put her quivering hand to her temple. “I’m so tired. I know you’re trying to help but I already went through this with the detectives.”
“I’m sorry.” He slid a glass of water across the table. “Here, drink some water. You look pale again.”
She took a quick drink while he scratched his head and furrowed his brow. She pushed the glass back.
“Better?” he whispered.
She shrugged, noting his expression had lightened. A slight grin curved his lips upward. He reached over the table and touched her hand softly.
Tabitha gaped. How did he do that? Was it part of the interrogation technique? A method to disarm and relax her? Or did he unknowingly morph from tough cop to charmer? Either way, she didn’t like it, especially because it seemed to be working. She pulled her hand away.
“So, Max gave you something?” Rory continued.
“No. That’s just it. He didn’t.”
Rory frowned. “Okay. I know this seems silly, but it might be important. Now Max is your brother so I’m sure he gave you something at some point. How about in the past year? Anything?”
“A root canal,” she said drily, pointing at her back tooth.
“Cute.”
“You said anything. Anyway, it’s true. He’s a dentist. It was a few weeks ago and that’s the last time I saw him.”
“How about Christmas and your birthday? Don’t you exchange presents?”
Tabitha rolled her eyes. “For my birthday, he gave me a gift certificate to a spa. I used it immediately. For Christmas, an ugly sweater which I exchanged for a handbag. Max got married this year. I haven’t really seen much of him lately.”
“When was that?”
“The wedding? Two months ago.” Her mouth twitched.
“You don’t seem happy about that.”
She shrugged. “Max is happy. Karin, his wife, has been hard to get to know. Max and I were really close before. It’s an adjustment for me.”
Rory licked his lower lip and leaned his large body over his knees. “Tabitha, why did you run back to your car like that?”
A tear dropped to her cheek. Her hand moved quickly to brush it aside. “It was nothing. I just want to go home. I wanted my car to be there so I knew I could get home. I don’t like being…trapped.”
“Trapped?” Rory sat up straight in his chair and scratched his ear. “Sounds like a story there.”
“Not one for today,” she said, praying that he’d let it go.
He nodded. His mouth held a gentle smile. “You don’t need to worry. We’ll get you home.”
Tabitha wasn’t sure what he meant by we but it sounded like more help from him and that she did not want. What if he changed back to supercop? Or worse, charmed her again with those electric eyes? “You know, if I had a phone, I could call a friend to pick me up. That is, if you’re finished grilling me.”
A full smile covered his face. “I’m finished. For now.” He felt around his waistline. “I don’t have my phone, either. Here.”
Before she could say anything, he’d scooped her up in his arms and was weaving his way through the tables, heading for the inn.
“You don’t need to carry me! I’m not paraly—” She swallowed the rest of the word, aware of how close she was to his face and neck. Of the strong masculine scent which emanated there.
“Relax,” he said. “You must be the tensest person I’ve ever met.”
Oh, yeah. Relax. Sure. Her breath stuck in her throat, her senses on overload.
“Please, put me down,” she whispered.
“You can’t walk. I’m trying to help.”
I don’t want any more help. I want to go home. Tabitha thought she might burst if she didn’t get away from him. New tears flooded the corners of her eyes.
As he turned up the stairs, her head jostled back to his shoulder. “That’s it. Just relax,” he suggested, his soft breath drifting over her neck. “I’ve got you.”
And with his whisper, her tears won their battle, escaping her eyes, flowing out hard and heavy, in narrow, salty streams all the way to her chin and onto Rory’s shirt.

FOUR
The investigation took up a good part of the afternoon. Detectives Greenwood and Hines agonized over every detail before leaving. Rory appreciated their methodical ways, knowing his father would have been pleased that the department still ran tight.
In the cool air-conditioning of the Birchwood Inn, he sat on one end of a hand-carved bench that he’d pulled near Tabitha. On the other end of the bench, he’d propped her ankle. The flesh around it had turned bluish, but the swelling seemed to have gone down a bit. They sipped cold drinks and ate some of the lemon squares Terri had brought.
Tabitha had long ago arranged her ride home, and the police had no further questions for him. Rory no longer had a reason to stay. Yet he lingered. Nervously, he downed his glass of sweet tea and checked his watch. “I should call Gram.” He stood abruptly.
Terri stood with him. “Oh, yeah, Gram. I’ll need to change your reservation at Nick’s.”
“Reservation? What reservation?” Rory swallowed hard.
“Oh.” Terri pressed her lips together. “I thought you overheard me earlier.”
Rory shrugged, eyes widening.
“Well, Tabitha’s roommate can’t arrive until ten, so I made a dinner reservation for the two of you at Nick’s,” his cousin said. “But I forgot about Gram. Anyway, I’ll just change it from two to three.”
Thanks, Terri. Talk about putting us on the spot. Rory glanced at Tabitha, trying to gauge her reaction.
“Oh, wow. That’s nice but…” Tabitha shook her head from side to side. “I’m so tired and not the least bit hungry. I’ll just rest here and wait for my ride.”
“You can’t sit here all that time. I won’t hear of it,” Terri said. “So get whatever you need from our boutique and have a great dinner, all compliments of the Birchwood Inn. It’s the least we can do.” Terri smiled, turned on her heel and headed to her office without giving either of them a chance to respond.
Tabitha turned to Rory with a sly grin. “She’s hard to argue with.”
“Yep. Can’t get a word in. She’s always been like that.” He scratched his head. “Hey, I didn’t know your ride would take so long. I could have driven you home myself.”
Tabitha stiffened. “No. You’ve already done so much. And forget about dinner. I’m sure you already have plans. So, don’t worry about me.”
“Actually, the plan was dinner with my grandmother. If you don’t join us, I’ll have to cancel.”
She looked up with a suspicious grin. “Now, that’s just silly.”
Rory shook his head. “Tabitha, I can’t leave you here alone. It might not be safe.”
“Nonsense. I’ll be fine.”
“No can do…And Nick’s is a great place. Come on. Have dinner with us.” He lowered her foot to the floor and replaced the bench against the wall. Then he stood over her with his arms folded.
“Oh, be serious,” she argued. “I can’t go. I’m filthy and I don’t have anything to wear.”
Rory was glad that Terri had already taken care of that problem. He would have never thought of the hotel gift shop. “Not a good excuse. You have a new hotel room and the gift shop at your disposal.” He pointed to the boutique that adjoined the front lobby. “I can see a whole wall of women’s clothing from here. Come on. I’ll walk you over.” He offered her an arm.
“I doubt I’ll be good company,” she continued as he pulled her up.
“You’ll be perfect. It will be the best date you’ve ever had.”
“Date? Your grandmother is coming. It’s not a date.”
Rory felt her stiffen beside him. “It’s just a manner of speaking,” he explained, wondering why the reference made her so defensive. Many people would call a lot less than dinner at the town’s fanciest restaurant a date.
In the boutique, Tabitha selected a few garments and a pair of flip-flops, then insisted on hobbling up the stairs alone. A half hour later, she returned wearing a cream-colored blouse and a long flowered skirt. Her dark brown hair, still damp, promised long, twisting curls and tumbled softly around her face and over her shoulders.
Rory drank in her beauty, then hurried to help her down the last few steps. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you.” She pushed back her hair then took his arm. “I wish I felt lovely.”
“You’re just tired.”
“Yes, I am,” she agreed. “I’m sure you are, too.”
“Not really. Just anxious to get a shower.”
Rory helped Tabitha out of the inn and across the lawn to his truck. “Gram’s at the cabin. She can keep you company while I change.”
Tabitha bit her lower lip. “Do you mind if we not talk about what happened today?”
“Sure,” Rory said, giving her a lift into the cab of the truck. They both reached for the safety belt. His hand engulfed hers over the small buckle. Her skin felt warm and smooth under his rough hands.
“I got it,” she said, lifting her eyes to his. Her fingers tensed under his.
Rory ignored her stiffness. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he lifted the belt across her lap and secured it. As he leaned over the seat, the aroma of vanilla filled his senses. His eyes drifted to her soft lips. He swallowed hard and retreated, closing the passenger door with care.
Wow.
Tabitha remained silent as he cranked up the engine and headed down the mountain.
“I’m sorry I grilled you earlier. I get carried away with the cop thing sometimes. And you kind of freaked me out when you ran after your car like that.”
“I kind of freaked myself out. It’s been a bad day. I’m sorry I cried all over your shoulder.”
“Not at all. I hear that’s what they’re for.”
Her lips twitched upward but still no smile.
Rory searched for something to say, but Terri was right—he was completely out of practice conversing with the opposite sex. “I hope you’re not upset about me dragging you to dinner.”
“No. I’m not. I just can’t understand why my brother won’t answer his phone. I tried him again from the room and still no answer.”
“Did you talk to his wife?”
“No. But I spoke with his dental partner. He answered the weekend emergency line.”
“Does his partner know where he is?”
“Not exactly.” She shook her head. “He just said that Max and Karin are having a romantic getaway and that he’d been instructed not to call them. Must have been last second or my brother would have told me.”
Rory could see the disappointment in her face and frowned. He didn’t want this to be an uncomfortable evening full of the day’s fear and bad memories. “You know, I think I’m a little jealous of Max.”
She gave him a strange look.
“I don’t have any siblings,” he explained. And as the simple statement came out, Rory realized how deeply he felt it. Especially now with his father gone.
“I’m lucky. I have a great family.” She smiled.
The brightness of her expression lifted his own spirits. “So it was just the four of you, until your brother married?”
“Yes. My dad’s a professor of medieval studies. He travels to Europe every summer for research. Every fourth year, he stays abroad somewhere as a visiting professor. He’s at Exeter this year. It’s one of the reasons Max and I got to be so close. Every summer we just had each other.”
“Sounds interesting. Living abroad.”
“It was a nice way to grow up.”
“What does your mom do?”
“Mostly keep my dad’s head on straight.” She turned toward him. “What does yours do?”
Rory let out a sigh. “I never knew my mom. She left when I was young.”
Tabitha frowned. “I’m sorry. She must be somewhere regretting that. She missed out on a lot.”
Rory, expecting pity, chuckled at her response. “That’s exactly what my grandmother says. Just between you and me, I don’t think Gram liked my mother too much. Says I was the only thing she ever did right.”
“But your dad loved her?”
“Oh, yeah. I think until his last breath he expected her to come back. I hated that he died like that.”
“Like what? Hopeful?”
“Is that hope or just a waste?”
“Your dad didn’t think his hope was a waste.”
“She didn’t come back.” Rory could hear his own bitterness.
“Doesn’t mean she didn’t love him…and you.”
What else could it mean?
As they pulled in front of his cabin, Rory felt a lump forming in his throat. He still found himself expecting James Farrell to be inside when he entered. His stomach churned as he turned into the gravel drive. He parked the truck and walked around to help Tabitha from the cab.
She smiled wide as he opened the door. “Is this your grandmother’s home? It’s beautiful.”
Rory felt his lips curl upward. “Actually, it’s mine. My dad and I built it.”
Tabitha’s face seemed to light up as she scanned over the property. “It’s gorgeous. Look at that view. It’s better than the inn.” She stepped out of the truck, occupied with the panorama of mountains. Clumsily, she landed on her bad ankle and fell into him. Rory encircled his arms about her and held her up.
She blushed. He noticed that, for the first time, her body wasn’t rigid against him.
Rory looked into her eyes. An awkward smile covered her expression. Her long brown curls blew with the soft breeze and danced around her face. Rory ached to run his hands through them.
“I promise to pay more attention,” she vowed. “I can’t keep falling all over you.”
Had that been his cue to release her? He found himself not able to. He liked the connection—the feeling that she belonged there. At his cabin. In his arms.
She pulled away, her expression dazed. Rory turned her to the front porch. “Come on. Let’s meet Gram. You must be the only person in North Carolina who doesn’t know her.”

“Shame on you, Rory. You didn’t tell me you were bringing a guest to dinner.” In designer jeans and a green silk blouse, Gram stood at the door of the cabin with one hand on her hip and the other pointed at her grandson. Her short gray hair bounced with each syllable. A welcoming smile defied her authoritative stance and scolding words.
Rory lowered Gram’s finger then leaned in and kissed the top of her head. “Gram, this is Tabitha Beaumont. I met her at the triathlon today. She’s coming to dinner with us.”
The older woman took a step forward and extended a hand. “Hello, dear. I’m Lilly. Please come in.”
“Nice to meet you.” Tabitha shook the tall, thin-framed woman’s hand, noting her eyes possessed the same rich, blue shade as Rory’s.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Lilly said. “It’s about time my grandson had a date. I just wish he had told me. Mr. Watson asked me to the movies this evening. I should have said yes. Instead, I’m going to ruin your dinner tagging along.” She passed another scolding glance at Rory. “Now come on in, dear, and tell me what happened to your ankle.”
“Mr. Watson?” Rory interrupted. “That little old man who runs the grocery downtown? You’re dating him?” Rory hid his face from his grandmother and winked at Tabitha.
Lilly looked indignant. “Mr. Watson is a fine man and watch yourself—he’s the same age as I am.” She took Tabitha by the arm and escorted her into the house. “Excuse him. I suppose he’s showing off. I don’t blame him.”
Rory’s face turned the color of a ripe McIntosh and Tabitha wondered what shade of red her own must have been. She could feel the heat pulsing in her cheeks.
Gram led her into the kitchen. “Now sit right here while I fix some tea and call Mr. Watson. I’ll bet he and I can still make that movie.”
“Mrs. Farrell, my being here was completely last second. And I wouldn’t have come if I thought I was interrupting your time with your grandson. It’s not a date. You really should go with us.”
“Not a date?” Lilly repeated and looked with disappointment at Rory.
“I’m not saying another word.” Rory held his palms high in the air. “You two beautiful women can decide how many for dinner.” He glanced nervously at Tabitha. “If you’ll excuse me. My turn to shower.”
In the kitchen, Lilly poured herbal tea for two and entertained Tabitha with stories about Rory’s mischievous youth. Her voice felt like a balm to Tabitha’s tired nerves. For a moment, she forgot the horrors of the day and laughed until her belly ached.
“I can’t believe he did that,” she said. “I just met your grandson but it’s hard to imagine him loading school cubbies with toads. He seems so serious now. So honor bound.”
“That he is.” Lilly frowned a little. “I’m afraid he may come across a little too serious these days. His father’s death has been difficult. He’s very angry over it.”
“Angry? I thought your son died of cancer, not in the line of duty.”
“He did die of cancer. And very quickly. Rory’s angry at God. Angry his prayers weren’t answered.” She patted Tabitha’s hand. “But don’t you worry. He’ll work that out. He’s a good man. And I should know. I helped his father raise him.”
“Well, he adores you. That’s for sure.” Tabitha forced a smile, saddened to learn of Rory’s anger.
“And I adore him, which is why I refuse to go to dinner with you two.” She scooted from the table and snatched the portable phone from the kitchen counter.
“No. Please. You should join us.” Tabitha tried to persuade Lilly. But her mind was made up. She would not be a “third wheel,” as she kept putting it.
While Gram chatted with Mr. Watson, Tabitha thought about spending the evening alone with Rory. Her shoulders tied into knots. You can do this, Tabitha. You can have dinner with the man who rescued you. You can. It’s not a date.
“Let’s go.” Rory’s voice boomed into the kitchen.
Tabitha hadn’t heard him emerge from the back of the cabin. Turning, she followed the deep sound until she found him standing by the front door, adjusting his shirt collar. He looked amazing. She had thought so at the race, but now clean-shaven, dressed in a pair of slacks and a polo shirt, his sculpted features were even more pronounced. His broad shoulders and the strong line of his jaw had definite movie-star quality.
She pulled away her lingering eyes and edged her way to the foyer. Rory helped her to the truck. His strong hand on her elbow sent a tingle to her very core. Gram rode along with them into town, talking all the way. They dropped her at the theater where Mr. Watson waited. And Tabitha feared that what she’d been reluctant to call a date was turning out to be exactly that.
“Your Gram looks happy with Mr. Watson,” she noted.
Rory made a muffled sound and turned the truck into the restaurant parking.
Nick’s was a small, elegant bistro. She and Rory occupied a tiny table for two in the back of the dining room and ate some of the most delicious Italian food Tabitha had tasted in a long time.
“I’m eating like a truck driver,” she claimed. “Sorry. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. It’s delicious.”
“It is. And I’m glad you’re eating. It’s good to see you relax. You didn’t have anything for lunch.”
“Neither did you,” she countered.
He leaned closer to her with a cockeyed grin. “You noticed? I’m flattered.”
“Really? Flattered by that? You should listen to your grandmother and get out more.”
Rory’s deep baritone laughter filled the small room. Those hypnotic eyes twinkled at her in the candlelight. His grin spread wide under that slightly crooked and freckled nose—his only imperfection, if she could even call it that.
She felt her throat constricting. So far, the dinner had been casual, friendly-like, without any flirtations. This change made her uncomfortable. Uncomfortable because the change wasn’t just from him—she felt it in herself, as well.
She looked away as she wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin. She’d be a big fat liar to tell herself she didn’t feel attracted to him. Over the past two years, she’d wondered if she could ever feel like this again. She should have been pleased. Instead, it was completely unnerving. “I like your grandmother,” she said. “She’s spunky.”
“You like my grandmother. Great.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “She didn’t wear you out with all her stories and gossip?”
“You forget. I’m a lawyer. I’m used to lots of talking.” Except for tonight, she thought. She looked down at her watch. “Wow. Look at the time. We should probably get back to the inn.”
“What about dessert?” He looked hopeful.
“No, thank you.”
Rory frowned and placed his napkin beside his plate. He leaned forward with those intense eyes boring into her. “Coffee?”
Tabitha shook her head.
“Are you okay? You look pale again.”
“I’m fine.” But was she? Why did it feel like the walls were closing in? Must have been the mixture of exhaustion, anxiety and emotion catching up with her again. The sooner she was home the better. Away from Hendersonville, that mountain and Rory Farrell.
As they stood, Rory’s phone pulsed at his waist. Tabitha tried to look away as he mumbled in low tones, but her eyes were drawn to him like magnets to steel. He glanced her way as he spoke, his smile fading, and she knew the call was about her. About the attack. The pool of dread began to rise around her again.
Rory snapped his cell shut. “That was Detective Hines on the phone. They found your car.”

FIVE
The police had found her car. Tabitha wondered if it looked like her hotel room. The anxious thought made her body turn rigid. Rory reached for her arm. “I don’t need help. My ankle is better.” The words came out harsher than she’d meant them.
“Your ankle is better because you’ve been staying off it.” With a tug, he forced her to lean on him.
“Where did they find it?” she asked, as he helped her out of the restaurant and toward his truck.
“Abandoned near Interstate 40 not far from Asheville.”
“Well, this is good. Right? That they found it?”
Rory frowned and didn’t look at her as they walked toward the truck. “Maybe. It’s being towed to a lab. They’ll call you about it tomorrow.”
“But…” She paused in front of the passenger door. “Why did the police call you?”
“Well, for one, you don’t have a phone.” He opened the door for her. She took a step into the cab, but Rory held fast to her elbow, turning her to face him. She leaned back against the outside of the truck.
Rory released her arm and gave her a nervous, fleeting smile. “Tabitha, I don’t…You’re very tense again. I hope you’re not angry with me for making you come tonight.”
She smiled. “No. You would know if I was angry.”
“Yes. I bet I would.” His expression lightened. With a hand on the window of the cab, he leaned his weight toward her, lowering his head. “So…you’re okay?”
Tabitha swallowed hard. No, I’m not okay. You make me nervous. She shrugged and slid away toward the open cab.
“One more question,” he stated.
Tabitha glanced back. One look into his piercing eyes and she melted, her breath heavy in her chest. Yes, she was definitely attracted to him.
“I know we just met,” he continued. “But are you…” He paused to clear his throat. “Are you seeing anyone? Would you consider going out with me sometime?”
“I’m not great at math,” she said, climbing into the truck. “But I think that’s two questions.”
“Okay. You’re right.” He leaned against the door. “But maybe you’d be kind enough to answer one of them?”
Tabitha drew in a slow breath. His request was simple and fair. Most women would have been flattered by it. After all, he had no way of knowing her past and the complications it threw into his request. But she did. A date with him meant facing her buried fears. It meant having trust and being honest. And Tabitha didn’t know if she could do it. Not now. Not ever.
“My answer to one of the questions is no.”
Rory’s head titled. “No, you’re not dating anyone? Or no, you won’t go out with me?”
Tabitha turned to him with a grin. “I’m afraid that’s more questions, Agent Farrell.”
“So it is.” He gave a half laugh then closed the door, shaking his head as he walked to the driver’s side.
On the way back to the inn, he let her steer the conversation over a variety of impersonal topics. He couldn’t know how much she appreciated that.

Rory knew better than to press Tabitha about seeing him again. It was obvious she was exhausted and emotionally drained. Perhaps he’d only imagined the connection he’d felt with her. Had he become that clueless with women? Probably.
He parked in front of the inn and led Tabitha up the long staircase and into the lobby.
“Tabitha.” A tall and thin reddish-blonde jumped forward the second they stepped inside. The woman flung her arms around Tabitha, forcing Rory to step back.
Her roommate from Charlotte. Already arrived. The disappointment that Tabitha would be out of his life in less than five minutes hit him like a concrete block in the chest.
“Oh.” The woman made fast, nervous gestures as she spoke. “This must be Agent uh—”
“Rory Farrell.” He extended his hand, which she grasped with tremendous strength.
“Sasha Bristow.”
Bristow. Rory felt his smile return. The other hotel room had been for her roommate. Not a boyfriend. A little of the pressure lifted from his chest. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Bristow.”
“Nice of you to save Tabitha and keep her company until my shift ended.” Sasha grinned. “I would have been here for the race, if I hadn’t had to work.”
There was a particular lilt to her accent. Rory couldn’t quite place it. “You’re a nurse, right?” he asked.
Sasha nodded.
“Well, I don’t have any bags, so let’s go,” Tabitha said quickly.
“Right. I—uh. I need to…” Sasha eyed the interior.
“Ladies’ room is over there.” Tabitha pointed to the doors next to the boutique. Sasha spun away.
“She has an interesting accent,” Rory said.
“Irish, but it’s faded since we met in college.”
“Ah.”
Silence fell between them. But Rory held her gaze, searching for some sign from her. Some indication that he hadn’t imagined what he’d felt earlier. Tabitha gave him nothing but a tired expression.
“I know you have to go. But here.” He pulled out his wallet, grabbed a card and placed it in her hand, letting his fingers linger over her palm a little longer than necessary. “This is my cell number. I want you to call me if you have any more trouble. I hope you don’t, but I’m going to get your address from Terri and have a Charlotte patrol car drive by your home.”
She started to reject his idea.
“Don’t say no. I’m going to do it anyway. Just for the next few days…Tabitha, you need to be careful. This may not be the end of those men.” He brushed a finger down her cheek and lifted her chin. She pulled away and Rory wanted to kick himself for once again making her uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”
“No,” she interrupted. “It’s just…I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done. I’m glad God chose you to help me.”
“God?” He didn’t want to talk about God. He wanted to kiss her. He felt the frown form across his face.
“Yes. God,” she said, scrunching up her nose at his doubtful look. “When those men grabbed me, I prayed for God to send someone. And He did. He sent you. And I’m so glad.”
Rory looked up at the ceiling and remembered his prayer—his own acknowledgment that God had used him. But he couldn’t think on it. Too many unanswered questions, too many doubts, too much pain.
“I’m glad He answered your prayer,” he mumbled, hoping she couldn’t hear the anger laced in his words. He sighed and ran his hand over the top of his head. This was not how he wanted to end the evening. “I’m glad I was there, too. But those men are serious and they might come back. You won’t be alone tonight, will you?”
“No, Sasha will be there,” she answered.
“Good,” he said, but he wanted more. A promise to see her again. But that was something he couldn’t have. Tabitha would forever connect him with this terrible day and that was that. He had to back off and forget his attraction to her.
Sasha returned promptly and the two ladies headed out. He tried to help, but Sasha moved beside her friend and took over.
“I got it,” she said.
Rory followed them out of the inn, feeling lost and alone. His time of helping Tabitha had ended. As the two women drove away into the darkness, he walked to his truck with his head down. The sound of their car faded into the night and the solitude of the mountain overwhelmed him.

SIX
“Goodbye, girls. See you next week.” Tabitha waved as the last two teenage girls from her Sunday-school class headed to their car.
“Goodbye, Miss Beaumont. Thanks for the pizza.” They hopped inside the compact, revved the engine, then wove a bit recklessly through the busy parking lot of Joe’s Pizzeria.
Tabitha held her breath. Lord, please keep them safe.
Earlier that morning, she had been ready to dismiss her usual Sunday-morning routine and stay in bed. But she remembered her promise to take the girls to lunch after the Sunday service. She smiled inwardly, knowing the sacrifice of a few hours’ sleep had been well worth the fellowship. Fellowship she’d needed as well as provided.
But now Tabitha stood alone on the sidewalk. Her intention had not been to be the last one at the restaurant, but the lunch hadn’t taken as long as she’d planned. She had half a notion to run after the girls and ask for a ride. No. She was being silly. She had to get over what had happened on the mountain yesterday. Put it behind her.
Clutching her purse under her arm, she checked her watch. Sasha would be along soon. Still, a feeling of helplessness washed over her. She hated not having a car or a cell phone.
A small green sedan pulled into the parking lot and Tabitha backed away from the curb as it passed. She told herself not to be so edgy, but for the next ten minutes, each time a car passed or pulled in, she flinched. Every time a patron exited the restaurant, she skittered.
She remembered Rory’s warning for her not to be alone. But he’d meant at home. Right?
She checked her watch again. Sasha was late. She pulled nervously at a lock of her hair. Could her friend have forgotten? She didn’t see how. They’d just seen each other at church. Sasha had said she had a few errands to run. Then she was going to join them at the restaurant. So, where was she? Sasha was never late.
Tabitha shook her head at her nervous thoughts. What could happen to her in broad daylight, two feet from the front door of a crowded restaurant?
Nothing.
And still, she couldn’t shake the strong feeling of unease.
After a few minutes, a large black SUV with tinted windows pulled into the parking lot and with it a deeper apprehension consumed her. Again, she backed away from the curb. The car circled the lot and Tabitha was sure she sensed the driver’s eyes on her. Her tired mind was imagining things. She couldn’t see a thing through the dark glass. But no matter the logic she sought, her panic continued to grow.
The vehicle circled the entire building—a strange thing to do, since there were plenty of empty parking spots in front. Again, Tabitha told herself she was overreacting.
Get inside. The command whispered through her mind and Tabitha heeded. She strode back into the restaurant at breakneck speed. From the windows, she watched the SUV pull to where she had stood at the curb.
No one got out. No one got in.
And she still felt that someone inside the vehicle was watching her. This time, she was sure of it. Tabitha began to shake from head to toe.
Several minutes passed and the big black vehicle finally moved on, turning out of the parking lot just as Sasha’s red MINI Cooper pulled into its place. On weak legs, Tabitha hobbled to the car, jumped in and slammed the door.
“Sorry I’m late. The checkout lines at the mart were heinous.” Sasha glanced over. “Japers! You should have stayed in bed, girl. You look worse than me dead uncle.”
“Thanks.”
“No, really. You look terrible bad. Should I fetch you a doctor?”
“No. I ate too much pizza. That’s all.” Tabitha clutched at her purse to steady her quivering fingers.
“Right. What really happened?” Sasha asked.
“I got spooked. That’s all.” Tabitha took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “I hate not having a car or a phone. I hate all of this. It’s like—”
“Now, don’t get started on all that.” Sasha patted her arm as she drove away from the restaurant. “I know just what you need.”
“Really? Enlighten me.”
“You need a rental car. How does that sound?”
“Yes. That is a good idea.” Tabitha nodded.
“We’ll head out right now to pick one up and on the way, you can tell me all about that spicy agent.” Her roommate grinned. “I tried to ask you last night but you fell asleep before we got to the highway.”
Tabitha pretended not to hear. She didn’t want to talk about Rory. It was bad enough she couldn’t stop thinking about him on her own. “You know, I have a big deposition tomorrow. Once we get a car, I’ll have to head home to get prepared. What are you doing this afternoon?”
“Oh. So, it’s like that, is it?” Sasha smirked.
“Like what?”
“If you weren’t interested, you’d say so. You have eyes for him. O’ course, who wouldn’t?”
Tabitha folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sasha raised an eyebrow at her.
Tabitha dropped her arms to her lap. “I don’t have ‘eyes for him,’ as you put it. He just helped me. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh,” Sasha said doubtfully. “Just helped ya.”
“Look. I don’t want to talk about any part of yesterday. Okay?” She sighed. She didn’t like shutting Sasha out. But what good would it do to talk about Rory Farrell? She wasn’t going to see him again. She’d made that decision last night.
Conversation over, Tabitha reached for the air vent, turning it so that the flow blew directly onto her face. The sleeve of her long blouse meant to cover the red marks on her wrists rode up, exposing her battered arms.
“Good gracious!” Sasha gasped. “I was wondering why you were wearing that blouse in this heat.”
Sasha grabbed Tabitha’s other arm and drew back the sleeve. Deep purple bruises and red skin burns encircled her wrist.
“Those men did that to you?” Sasha could barely get the question out. “What else did they do? They didn’t…It wasn’t like last time, was it?”
“No. No.” Tabitha felt her eyes fill with tears. “That’s all they did. Nothing else. Thanks to God.” And Rory.

After preparing her deposition, Tabitha cooked dinner for Sasha and herself. Grilled steaks and veggies. She’d even eaten some. Placing the last of the dishes into the washer, she tried to settle her mind, still buzzing with thoughts of yesterday’s attack. It was late, though. And while she was tired, she knew that sleep would be a long way off. The phone rang as she wiped the countertop. She picked it up and watched her brother’s name roll across the caller ID window. A sudden sense of hope raced through her veins.
“Max! Where have you been all weekend?”
“Karin and I drove to Annapolis,” he said as if repeating himself for the tenth time. “I left you four messages, Tabs. You should check your cell once in a while.”
She sucked in her breath. Of course, her brother had tried to call her. “It’s hard to check something you don’t have.”
“What do you mean?”
“My phone, my car, everything I took to Hendersonville was stolen.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I wish I were.” Without skipping a detail, Tabitha described the attack and events that followed. Afterward, a curious silence followed.
Tabitha held the phone close to her ear and hobbled from the tiny kitchen into the more spacious den, where Sasha sat sprawled over a worn leather chair watching the evening news. Tabitha tucked herself into a corner of the chenille couch. Sasha glanced over, knowing how anxious she’d been to talk to her brother. Max hadn’t spoken so Tabitha merely shrugged, his prolonged silence frustrating her more by the second. “Max, are you there?” she asked impatiently.
“Ye-yeah,” he said. “Of course. Sorry. I was just thinking that I should have gone with you. We could have raced together. And I…” He mumbled more regrets that became less and less audible.
Tabitha dropped her face into the palm of her hand. This was not the response she’d anticipated. In fact, tonight Max’s attitude had none of the usual intensity. He hadn’t even commented about the attackers mentioning his name, nor did he laugh and proclaim that he’d never given her anything. Fear gripped her. The hope she’d held on to, that Max could assuage her anxieties, was slipping away. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” she demanded.
“What? Nothing—” Max cleared his throat. “Nothing’s going on, I was just trying to think it through, you know. Why in the world would they have used my name like that? But really, I have no idea.” He paused again. “Tabitha, you know I had nothing to do with it, right?”
Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. This was not Max. Sure, she heard her brother talking, but this wasn’t the person she knew and loved. Tabitha rubbed her fingers against her temple and fought the urge to scream at the top of her lungs. Had his marriage caused this change? Or was it her imagination that she felt distanced from him?

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