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The Defender's Duty
Shirlee McCoy


All that New York City cop Jude Sinclair wants is to get back on his feet, fighting crime.And as long as he's stuck recuperating in Virginia, he's going to make everyone as miserable as he is. But health aide Lacey Carmichael refuses to run away. Sweet, optimistic and beautiful, she's everything Jude won't allow himself to need.Because danger has followed Jude all the way from New York. And with everyone around him at risk, it'll take everything Jude's got to do his duty, and to keep Lacey safe.









Lacey saw a blur of movement from a figure racing out onto the path. He was masked, featureless. Terrifying.


Lacey screamed, then felt something slam into her. Jude. He was shoving her back the way they’d come, shouting for her to run.

She ran several yards back up the path, her heart beating so hard and so loud that she could hear nothing else. Not her panting breath. Not her feet slamming against the ground. Not Jude running beside her.

Jude.

She skidded to a stop, turning to see him on the ground, struggling with their attacker.

She couldn’t leave him there to fight alone.

She raced back, fishing in her pocket and pulling out her cell phone. She dialed quickly, shouting their location to the 911 operator.

Something flashed in the sunlight that filtered through the trees. A knife.

Lacey’s heart nearly stopped as she lunged forward and grabbed the blade plunging toward Jude’s throat.




SHIRLEE MCCOY


has always loved making up stories. As a child, she daydreamed elaborate tales in which she was the heroine—gutsy, strong and invincible. Though she soon grew out of her superhero fantasies, her love for storytelling never diminished. She knew early that she wanted to write inspirational fiction, and began writing her first novel when she was a teenager. Still, it wasn’t until her third son was born that she truly began pursuing her dream of being published. Three years later she sold her first book. Now a busy mother of four, Shirlee is a homeschool mom by day and an inspirational author by night. She and her husband and children live in Washington and share their house with a dog, two cats and a bird. You can visit her Web site at www.shirleemccoy.com, or e-mail her at shirlee@shirleemccoy.com.




The Defender’s Duty

Shirlee McCoy








Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.

See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the desert

and streams in the wasteland.

—Isaiah 43:18–19


To my family: Rodney, Jude, Caleb, Seth, Emma Grace and the daughter I have yet to meet. Ed and Shirley. Mary Ellen, Eldridge, Skylar and Trey. Beth, Rob, Joshua, Danielle, Kaitlyn and Jeremiah. Jonathan, Valerie, Jake, John, Elijah, Evelyn Grace and my nephew who hasn’t made his appearance. Sara, Nate, Kai and Noah. Kitty. Melissa. Lynde, Brianna, Elijah, Amirah and Olivia. I am so blessed to have you all in my life!

And a special thanks to Elizabeth Mazer who has worked through the three Sinclair brothers books with me and whose keen eye has made each story better. In the words of my thirteen-year-old son—you rock!




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

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION




ONE


The person breaking into Jude Sinclair’s house wasn’t being quiet about it. That suited Jude just fine. He might not be able to move as quickly as he used to, but his NYPD service weapon was in his hand, lightweight, and deadly. An old friend. A comforting one. As far as Jude was concerned that more than evened the odds.

He pressed close to the living-room wall, his view of the front door unobstructed, his heart beating slow and steady as he waited in the darkness. Anticipated. Even prayed. Let it be the guy who’d run him down. The one who had ended his career, taken the life he’d had in New York. Who had stalked him for the past two months, waiting for an opportunity to finish what he’d started—murder.

The doorknob rattled, and a soft thud carried through the thick wood. Jude frowned. The guy might have murder on his mind, but he seemed to be having trouble following through on it. Come on. How hard was it to break into a house?

Pain shot up Jude’s left leg, and he shifted his weight, irritated by his weakness but refusing to be distracted by it. Just another minute and he’d finally be able to put a face to the person who’d almost killed him. He wouldn’t let anything get in the way of that. Not pain or impatience or any of the hot emotions that swelled up and threatened to spill out as he waited.

One minute.

Two.

The doorknob rattled again, the lock slid open and the door creaked. Cold, crisp air blew into the house, filling the darkness with the scent of spring rain and flowers. Definitely not something he should be smelling in the winter. Jude frowned, his hand tightening on the gun as a shadow moved into the foyer. Short. Maybe five foot two.

A woman?

Or a very short man.

The light went on, and Jude lifted the gun, aiming it at the head of a very young, very scrawny woman. Pale-blond hair, creamy skin, delicate features.

A murderer?

Maybe, but she looked like a fairy-tale princess come to life. The kind that danced around forests with singing animals, completely oblivious to danger. The fact that she was humming under her breath and tapping a beat against her thigh while he pointed a gun in her direction only added to the impression.

Could she have cold-bloodedly run him down when he’d stopped to help a stranded motorist two months ago?

Jude wasn’t sure, but he was about to find out. “Next time you decide to break into someone’s house, you might want to be quieter about it.”

She screamed, her eyes going wide and dark with terror as she finally caught sight of Jude. She screamed again when she noticed the gun, jumping back and nearly tumbling out the front door.

Jude raced after her, his left leg howling a protest, his right throbbing with pain. He grimaced, but kept running. Recovering from almost losing his legs stunk. Actually losing them would have been a whole lot worse, so he figured he couldn’t complain. He also figured he wasn’t going to let the blond-haired woman get away before he found out why she’d broken into his house.

She was fast, but even with pins and rods in both legs, Jude was faster. He snagged the back of her coat as she pulled open the door of a beat-up Mustang convertible.

“Let me go.” She rounded on him, slamming her open palm toward his nose.

He just missed getting a face full of pain, and that irritated him. It used to be he could take down a three-hundred-pound man with ease. Now he was barely managing to restrain a hundred-pound woman.

He grabbed the woman’s arm, tugging it behind her back but not exerting pressure. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted answers. “Sorry, lady. You can’t go anywhere until you tell me why you were in my house tonight.”

“Your house? But…” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced over her shoulder, frowning. “You’re Jude Sinclair.”

“Were you expecting someone else?” He kept his grip light as he urged the woman back to the house.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone. I must have mixed up the house numbers somehow. I’m sure the key had my name on it.” She seemed to be talking to herself and used her free arm to reach into her coat pocket. To get keys? Or something a lot more deadly?

Jude pressed his gun lightly into her back. “Don’t.”

She froze. “I heard you were difficult, but nobody told me you were crazy.”

“Not crazy. Cautious. Who are you?”

“Lacey Carmichael.”

“That’s your name. I want to know who you are.” He nudged her up the porch stairs, past a suitcase he hadn’t noticed when he’d run out the door.

A suitcase?

Was the woman planning to kill him and then move in?

“I’m a home-care aide. Your brother hired me—”

“My brother?” He stopped in the brightly lit foyer, lowering his gun and letting the woman turn to face him.

Her features were delicate, her jaw sharply angled, but it was her eyes that held Jude’s attention. Deep-green and flecked with brown and gold, they begged a second look and a third.

He scowled.

The woman could be plotting his death, and he was gazing into her eyes?

Smart. Really smart.

“Grayson Sinclair. He contacted my employer. Helping Hands, Incorporated. They provide full-time caregivers to people who are recovering from trauma or illness. The company was founded twenty years ago by—”

“No need to give me an oral report on the company’s history. Just tell me how you ended up in my house tonight.”

“My company sent me keys to both sides of the duplex when I signed the contract. I’m sure they said I was going to be staying in two-fourteen. Let me just get the case file out of my suitcase and take a look.” She tried to scoot past Jude, but he shifted so that he was blocking her exit.

“Have a seat in the living room. I’m going to call my brother and see if your story checks out.”

“You mean he didn’t tell you I was coming?” She cocked her head to the side, studying him, her gaze touching the scar on his temple and dropping to his bare feet before moving up to his face again.

“No. He didn’t. My brother knows how I feel about having another home-care aide.” But that wouldn’t have stopped Grayson from hiring one. When they were kids, Grayson had always thought he knew best. Time hadn’t changed things.

“He told me you wouldn’t be happy. He just didn’t tell me you wouldn’t know.” She smiled, a dimple in her cheek there and gone so fast Jude almost missed it.

He ground his teeth and raked a hand over his hair, acknowledging a truth that didn’t make him happy—Lacey Carmichael wasn’t the one who’d attacked him, which meant that he was right back where he’d been before she’d walked through his door. Empty-handed and waiting while his would-be murderer walked free. “Now that you know, you can grab your suitcase and head out. Thanks for coming. I’m sure my brother will compensate you for your time.”

“I thought you wanted to call Grayson and check on my story?”

“I’ll do it after you’re gone.”

“Great.” She moved to the door. “It’s been a long drive. I guess I’ll head next door and be over first thing in the morning to work out the details of our business relationship.”

He grabbed her arm before she could slide past. “I don’t think so, lady. You’re going to get your suitcase, get back in your car and go home.”

“This is home for the next thirty days. I’m staying in the rental unit next door while I help you recuperate from your accident. It’s in the contract.” She flashed her dimple again.

“And I guess that was Grayson’s idea, too.”

“He wanted to sweeten the pot. Helping Hands wasn’t eager to send someone out here, seeing as how you’ve been through four home-care aides in the past six weeks.”

“Five if I count you.”

“You can’t. I’m still here.”

“Not for long. Stay put for now. I’m going to see what my brother has to say for himself.” Jude limped into the kitchen, irritated with his brother, with the woman in his living room, but mostly with himself.

He lifted the phone, punching in his brother’s number, his throbbing legs making him more aggravated by the minute. He’d been hoping and praying he would finally have a chance to confront his attacker face-to-face. Instead, he was dealing with another of Grayson’s attempts to take charge. Not to mention the pretty young woman who’d just walked into his life.

How old was Lacey, anyway? Seventeen or eighteen? It wouldn’t surprise him to find out she was still in high school. Way too young to be wandering around by herself in the wee hours of the morning.

“You’d better have a good reason for calling me at two in the morning.” Grayson’s harsh greeting pulled Jude away from thoughts of Lacey Carmichael and back where they should have been—on his brother’s frustrating need to stick his nose in Jude’s life.

“I do. She’s about five-two and a hundred pounds.”

“A hundred and three.” Lacey had the nerve to walk into his kitchen and butt into the conversation, her cheerful announcement doing nothing to ease Jude’s irritation.

He turned to face her, ready to let her know exactly how he felt about the intrusion, but she’d grabbed the coffee grounds he’d left out on the counter and was starting a fresh pot, so he decided it wouldn’t do any harm to let her finish.

“You’ve got woman trouble and you want to talk to me about it? That’s a first.” Grayson still sounded annoyed, but Jude didn’t miss the hint of amusement in his voice.

“I’ve got another home-care aide standing in my kitchen. She says you had something to do with that.”

“She’s there now? She wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow night. I figured I’d ring you in the morning to let you know she was coming.”

Jude tensed at the words, and he studied Lacey more carefully. Arriving a day early was suspicious enough. Add in the way she’d shown up in the middle of the night and gone to hisdoor instead of her own…She didn’t look like a threat, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t one. “What’s her name?”

“The home-care aide?”

“Who else?”

“Lacey Carmichael.”

That matched. “And her description?”

“I’ve never met her in person. I interviewed her over the phone. Why? What’s going on?”

“I’m just wondering why a professional would show up for a job a day early.” His fingers tightened on the gun, and he half expected Lacey to turn, a weapon in her hand. If she even was Lacey Carmichael.

“Because she decided to drive straight through instead of staying in a hotel. Why waste money when there was an empty house waiting for me?” She cut in again, digging through the cupboards until she found two mugs. She filled one and held it out to him, meeting his stare squarely.

He took it, looking into her eyes, looking for a lie, and finding himself caught again in their deep-green depth. If she was lying, she was good at it. Better than some hardened criminals Jude had met.

“Jude? You still there?” Grayson pulled Jude’s attention back where it needed to be.

“Yeah. And I’m still teed off. I told you no more home-care aides after the last one left. I don’t need one.”

“Tell that to the dirty laundry piled up on your bedroom floor and the dishes that are stacked ten high in your sink.”

“There’s nothing on my bedroom floor.” Except a layer or two of dust. Hardwood tended to collect it, and Jude hadn’t gotten around to dry mopping. He would, though. Eventually. And eventually he’d also tackle the dishes and the pile of laundry sitting near the washing machine. Right now, though, his focus was on more important things. Like finding his attacker. And making sure no one else was in the line of fire when the final confrontation came. Especially not a little blond princess with fearless green eyes.

“Doesn’t matter whether there is stuff on your floors or not. I hired the home-care aide. I signed the contract three days ago.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make, as I told you the last four times you hired home-care aides.” Jude ground the words out, not even trying to rein in his anger.

“I didn’t make it. The family did.”

“As in you and Tristan?”

“No. As in the family. We all talked about it, and we all decided it was for the best.”

“You’re all wrong.”

“I don’t think so. You haven’t been the same since your accident. We think having ’round-the-clock help will get you back to your old self more quickly. Come on, Jude. This isn’t something new. We’ve been over it before.”

“And I’ve told you every time that I don’t need help around the house.”

“Tell that to Mom and Piper. They’ve been cooking your meals and cleaning your house once or twice a week for almost a month.”

“I didn’t ask them to.” Jude sounded like a spoiled kid and knew it. He took a deep breath, pushing aside his frustration. Nearly dying had taught him what was important. His family. He wouldn’t risk them, couldn’t risk them being hurt. “Look, Gray, I appreciate everyone’s concern. I appreciate their help, but recovering is something I have to do myself.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Someone is trying to kill me, and I don’t want anyone I love getting hurt because of it. That was the reason he’d tried to keep his family at a distance since he’d arrived in Lynchburg. It was the only way he could keep them safe. But knowing Grayson, Jude was sure that bringing up that argument would only make his stubborn, overprotective brother more determined to help.

“Never mind. We’ve had this conversation before, too,” Grayson growled, and Jude could picture his brother pacing the floor of his house, scowling.

“Look, Grayson—”

“You look, Jude. You pretty much cut the family out of your life for years because you wanted to prove you could go it alone. You proved it, but you also put a distance between us that I don’t like and never wanted. I’d hoped that having you close by would give us a chance to be friends again.”

“We’ve always been friends.”

“Friends are people you let into your life. That’s not something you’ve done with anyone in the family for a long time.” Grayson spoke without heat, but the words were a direct blow to the heart, and Jude stalked outside, away from Lacey’s curious gaze. Cold pavement numbed the soles of his feet. Too bad it wasn’t cold enough to do the same to the insistent ache in his legs or the throbbing guilt in his stomach. He wanted his family far away when the killer struck again, but he didn’t want to hurt them anymore than he already had. “If that’s the way everyone feels, I owe you all an apology.”

“What you owe us is a promise that you’ll take care of yourself. We love you, Jude. And we’re worried.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine.”

“I think I’ve heard that a hundred times these past few weeks. I haven’t believed it once.” Gray sighed, and Jude’s guilt multiplied. He’d moved to New York to sever the bonds that had held him so tightly to his family. He’d needed space, time to be himself, a place where he could live life without his parents and siblings watching him. Judging him. He’d found it, but he’d lost something in the process. He hadn’t realized just how much until he’d come to Lynchburg and been enfolded in his family’s embrace once again. It made it hurt all the more to have to keep them at a distance.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Gray.”

“Yeah. I do. I’m your older brother. It’s my job.”

“So worry, but let me take care of myself.”

“How about we talk about this when the sun is up?” Typical Grayson. Changing the subject rather than conceding. At the moment, Jude had too many other things to worry about. He’d set boundaries for his brother after he figured out who was trying to kill him.

“Fine. Name your time.”

“Sunday after church. Honor and I have some news. That will be as good a time as any to share it. How about we come over your place?”

“Sure.” Grayson’s news could only be one thing. He and Honor must be engaged. Good news for Grayson and the woman he’d fallen in love with. Great news for Jude. With wedding plans in the works, Grayson would have something to focus on besides getting Jude’s life in order.

“And keep the home-care aide. At least until then, okay?”

“Maybe.” Jude hung up before he and his brother could go another round. Better to save the argument until after Jude had gotten rid of Lacey. Once she was gone, there wouldn’t be much Grayson could do about it. And maybe this time he’d get the hint and not hire another aide.

“Did you get everything straightened out?” Lacey stepped outside.

“Depends on what you mean by everything.”

“Did your brother verify who I am?”

“Yes.”

“Good. The sooner I get unpacked and settled in for the night, the happier I’ll be.”

“Just because he verified who you were doesn’t mean you’re staying.”

“Actually, it does.” She smiled sweetly, but Jude had a feeling there was steel beneath her charming facade.

“Look, lady—”

“Lacey. Your brother signed a contract. I don’t think he plans to break it. So, for the next month, whether you like it or not, I’m going to be hanging around and helping out.” For someone who looked so young, she had a strong sense of self and a degree of confidence that usually came with time and experience. Still, he doubted she’d be any more difficult to get rid of than the other four aides had been.

“That’s up for debate.”

“How about we talk about it in the morning?”

“How about we have some more coffee and talk about it now?” He walked into the house, knowing Lacey was following. He needed to lay things on the line for her, let her know that she wasn’t staying, and then he’d say goodbye and watch Lacey Carmichael walk out of his life. Because the last thing he needed was one more complication, and it seemed to Jude that was exactly what Lacey was going to be.




TWO


Adrenaline still thrummed through Lacey’s veins as she followed her new client inside. After sixteen hours of driving, she’d thought she’d slip into the duplex she’d be staying in for the next month, eat one of the packs of crackers she had in her suitcase and then get a few hours of sleep. She’d never imagined she’d find herself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Someone had made a mistake and given the wrong house number. Whether it was her supervisor or Grayson Sinclair, Lacey didn’t know. All she knew was that it could have cost her her life.

“Before we discuss whether you’re staying or going, I’d like the key to my place.”

“I’ll need it so I can get back in tomorrow morning. I wouldn’t want to have to wake you.”

“Hate to break the news to you, but it already is tomorrow morning, and you’re already in my house.” He held out a hand, and Lacey dropped the key into it. “Thanks. Coffee?”

“No. Thanks. I’ve already had a dozen cups today.”

“I guess that explains your shaking hands.” He smirked, his deep-gray eyes almost as unnerving as the gun he still held.

“Looking down the barrel of a gun will do that to a person.”

“Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting company.” He limped across the living room and sat down, his dark hair falling across his forehead and partially concealing a scar that ran from his temple into his hairline. He’d been close to death but had survived. In that, she and Jude were alike.

“Do you always point guns at unexpected guests?”

“Only when they walk in uninvited. Grayson said you weren’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow. You said you’re here early because you didn’t want to waste money on a hotel room.”

“That’s right.”

“I was thinking it wouldn’t be wasted money since your company is probably paying for your travel expenses, so I’m wondering why you decided to drive straight through.”

Jude was a homicide detective. Lacey had learned that from the client information she’d received before she’d left Chicago. She just hadn’t expected him to use his interrogation skills on her. “Are you always this suspicious?”

“Only when someone breaks into my house at two in the morning.”

“It’s not breaking in if that person has a key.”

“Which doesn’t answer my question.”

“Too much coffee. There was no sense wasting money on a room I wasn’t going to be able to sleep in. Even if it was Helping Hand’s money.” It was the only excuse she could come up with. The truth was much too complicated to tell and wasn’t something she planned to share with a stranger. No matter how handsome and compelling he might be.

Handsome?

Compelling?

She was a lot more shaken than she’d thought if she was using those words to describe one of her clients.

“You’ve been on the road a long time. Where were you coming from?”

“Chicago.”

“You were working there?”

“Yes. I had an elderly client who suffered from dementia. I’ve been living with her for the past eight months.”

“And you left her to take the job my brother offered?”

“I never leave clients until they don’t need me any more.”

“People don’t recover from dementia.” Jude pressed for more information. Lacey didn’t mind giving it. Part of building a good working relationship required sharing a few tidbits of personal information. It had taken a few years for Lacey to realize how important that was, but once she had, she’d been able to pick and choose the information she’d shared, offering just enough to make her clients feel comfortable without giving too much of herself away.

“Mrs. Simpson passed away four days ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am, too, but she lived her life well until the end. And now I’m here for you.”

“Actually, you’re here for my family. Like I said before, I don’t need a home-care aide.”

“Are you trying to fire me?”

“I’m just stating a fact. I don’t need help. You’re here because it makes my brother feel like he’s in control of things.”

“Your brother is concerned about you.”

“My brother is a typical oldest child. He thinks the world is his to command. I’ve spent most of my life trying to prove him wrong.”

Surprised, she laughed, her tension easing. This she could handle. A client talking about his life? Piece of cake. “I take it you haven’t succeeded yet.”

“Not quite, but I’m still working on it.”

“Good luck with that.” She stifled a yawn. Despite too much coffee, exhaustion stole her energy and made her want nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a week.

“Looks like that drive really wore you out.” Jude studied her face as if she were a mystery he had to solve. The thought made her uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be studied, and she certainly didn’t want to be solved.

“It did. I think I’ll go next door and get settled in. I really am sorry for waking you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.” He stood, walking to the front door with her, his slightly hitched stride speaking of the injuries he’d suffered.

“Can I get anything for you before I go next door? Something to eat? Medicine?”

“Lacey, I’m a grown man. If I need any of those things, I’ll get them myself.”

“Not while I’m around. Your brother hired me—”

“To be a home-care aide. Yeah. I get that.” He ran a hand down his jaw and shook his head. “But you need to get that I don’t need you here. Go next door. We’ll talk more about why you’re not staying after we both get some sleep.”

“Just so you know.” Lacey stepped outside, shivering in the cold winter air. “I’m planning to stay.”

“Just so you know, I’m the one who will be making that decision.” Jude scowled, his eyes flashing with irritation.

“We’ll see.” She offered her best smile, pulled her suitcase inside the other half of the duplex and closed the door, blocking her view of Jude and his deep-gray eyes.

Her heart beat a little too fast and a little too hard, but at least her legs weren’t shaking anymore. Dealing with difficult clients was something she did well, but Jude wasn’t like any client she’d ever worked with before. He was younger. Better-looking.

Lacey frowned.

A client was a client. Jude was no different from any other man she’d worked with over the past few years.

She ran her hand along the foyer wall, flicking on the light as she had in Jude’s house. She half expected to see a man standing in the living room pointing a gun in her direction. There wasn’t one. Just a sofa and a chair, both in decent shape. A coffee table and an end table. A fireplace.

It was a cozy room and perfect for Lacey. She hummed as she walked down a short hallway and into a roomy kitchen, filling the silence and distracting herself from the fear that hadn’t quite let her go. It was a remnant of a past she preferred to forget. After all, what was in the past couldn’t hurt her anymore. All it could do was teach her how to live her life today.

The kitchen appliances were dated but serviceable, the floor faded linoleum. A sliding glass door led out into the backyard. Lacey opened it, stepping outside and shivering in the cold. A full moon peeked over the treetops, casting green light onto the overgrown backyard. Aside from the wind, nothing moved. The silent stillness seemed heavy and oppressive. Unnatural.

Lacey cocked her head, listening. Waiting. When she’d been a kid, she’d learned how to do both. Then it had been a matter of survival. Now it was simply a matter of curiosity. Something unsettling was in the air. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she couldn’t ignore it. She glanced around the dark yard. It was small and hid nothing from view.

A few straggly plants butted up against a tall fence. A white bench stood close to the house and two gates offered entrances and exits to the yard, one at the back of the property, the other on the side of the fence that separated Lacey’s yard from Jude’s. There was nothing else. She stepped back and closed the door, locking it and pulling the bolt. Whatever she’d felt, it was outside, not in the cozy house she was going to be living in for the next month.

Her own place.

It had been a long time since she’d had that. There’d been a few times over the past ten years when she’d rented an apartment, but most of her assignments came with free board. That usually meant living in the spare room in a crowded apartment or cluttered house. Having a two-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath duplex to herself was sheer luxury. Lacey planned to enjoy it.

The thought made her smile, but it didn’t chase away her unease. Maybe the long ride and lack of sleep had gotten to her. Or maybe seeing Jude glaring at her over the barrel of his gun had knocked her off balance. Either way, Lacey was sure she’d feel better after a few hours’ sleep. First, though, she needed to eat.

She searched through her suitcase, sure that she had a few packages of crackers there. When she didn’t find them, she went to the front door, hesitating for a moment before she opened it. Outside, the heaviness of the air had lifted and the silence seemed more natural. Still, she wasn’t sure she wanted to step across the threshold and walk outside.

Then again, she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the next few hours hungry.

Her Mustang was parked a few feet from the porch and it would only take seconds to grab the duffel bag she’d left in the passenger’s seat. She knew she had pretzels and a Coke in there. Her stomach rumbled, cementing her decision.

She hurried down the porch stairs and opened the car door, grabbing the duffel and locking the car again. “We wouldn’t want someone to steal you, Bess. Another hundred thousand miles and you’ll officially be a relic. Don’t worry, I won’t get rid of you. I’ll just get you a nip and a tuck and a brand-new engine.”

“Do you always talk to your car?” The voice was as deep and rich as dark chocolate, and Lacey recognized it immediately.

She pivoted, searching the shadows until she caught sight of Jude’s tall, rangy form near the corner of the house. His shoulder was pressed against the siding as if he needed the support to stay on his feet.

That concerned Lacey, and she walked to his side, studying his face in the moon’s reflected light. “Bess isn’t a car. She’s a personality.”

“She looks it. How long have you had her?”

“I bought her when I was a senior in high school.”

“So, that was what? Five years ago?”

“I’m flattered, but high school was a few more years ago than that.”

“Seven, then. Or eight.”

“Try eleven.”

“That makes you, what? Twenty-nine?”

“Twenty-eight. Soon to be twenty-nine. Not that I’m counting or anything.” She smiled, wishing she could see his face more clearly.

Why was he outside leaning against the house instead of inside sleeping?

If she’d known him better, she would have asked. Lots of her clients suffered from insomnia. Some because of pain. Others because they knew the end was near and didn’t want to miss a minute of time. She had a feeling something else had Jude up wandering around outside in the wee hours of the morning.

“Why wouldn’t you want to count? You’re still a babe in the woods.”

“Not even close.” She unzipped the duffel and pulled out the bag of pretzels, opening it quickly and eating one. What she really wanted was chocolate. Lots of it. Based on what she’d seen so far, working for Jude was going to be a three-chocolate-bar-a-day job. She should have grabbed her emergency supply from the glove compartment, but there was no way she was going to do it now. Not while Jude was watching with dark, curious eyes.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Let me guess. You didn’t want to waste money stopping to eat on your way here.”

“Something like that.” And she hadn’t wanted to stop until she’d reached the assignment. She liked being busy. Downtime wasn’t something she handled well. Fortunately, Helping Hands had plenty of business, and Lacey never had more than a day or two when she wasn’t working.

“Then I wouldn’t want to keep you from your early-morning snack. Enjoy it.” He straightened and limped toward the back of the house, dismissing Lacey with an abruptness that other people might have found rude.

Lacey found it telling.

Pain often made people want to hide away from the world. According to his client file, Jude had been living with intense pain for two months. Who knew what was on his mind or in his heart because of it?

She fell into step beside him.

“Pretzel?” She held out the bag, but Jude ignored it.

“Go inside, Lacey. I didn’t need you an hour ago, and I don’t need you now.”

“Who said anything about need? You’re awake. I’m awake. Why not spend some time getting to know each other?”

“I’m not in the mood for company.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t need some.”

“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that much.” He smiled, the grim turn of his lips doing nothing to ease the harsh lines and angles of his face.

“That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

“I’m sure that’s what the other four aides my brother hired thought. They lasted a total of two and a half weeks.”

“You sound proud of that.”

“Do I?” He turned and headed back to the house, the long-sleeved T-shirt he wore not nearly enough protection against the cold. At least he’d put on shoes when he’d come outside this time.

“I’ve worked with a lot tougher clients than you, Jude.”

“You sound proud of that.”

Lacey laughed, surprised that the grim-faced man beside her had any humor in him at all. “We’re all good at something. I’m good at dealing with people like you.”

“Like me?”

“Difficult people. People no one else wants to work with.”

“I think I’m insulted.”

“Why? You created your reputation.”

“True, but I didn’t expect you to tell me what it was to my face.”

“Just because I look like a pushover doesn’t mean I am one. As a matter of fact—”

“Shh.” He put a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place.

“What—”

“I hear a car.”

“There are lots of them around.”

“Not on this road.” He pulled her to a shadowy corner outside the house. “Don’t move. Okay?”

She nodded, fear pulsing sharply in her chest.

Who did Jude think was coming?

The car rolled into view, turning onto the long driveway that led to the house and stopped. Dark and sleek. Newer. If there was a license plate, Lacey couldn’t see it. She leaned forward, craning her neck to get a better look, but Jude tugged her back, pressing her against the house with his body. Moving into her space. Stealing her breath as he whispered in her ear. “I said don’t move.”

Lacey wanted to slip away, peer around the side of the house and figure out exactly what was going on, but Jude’s chest pressed against her back, his breath tickling her ear, and she knew if she moved he’d only press closer. She didn’t like people in her space. Especially if those people were men.

“I can’t see a license plate. Stay here. I’m going to see if I can get a look at the driver.” Jude eased away, and Lacey breathed a sigh of relief, turning to face him.

“You can’t—” The words lodged in her throat as she caught sight of Jude’s gun.

“Sure I can. Stay here, Lacey. I don’t want to shoot the wrong person.”

“Jude!”

But he’d already moved away, was slipping through the darkness, part of the shadows and barely visible.

Leaving her standing in the darkness. Alone. Praying that whoever was in that car had a good reason for idling at the top of the driveway and that Jude wouldn’t end up killing someone. Or being killed.

Having her client murdered while she watched was not how Lacey intended to spend her first night in Lynchburg. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket, frowning when she realized the battery had died.

Stupid, Lacey.

Don’t you ever think?

The words were from the past, and she pushed them aside. She couldn’t use her cell phone, but she could keep her new client from getting himself killed.

She hoped.

“A plan would be nice right about now, Lord.” She whispered the prayer as she crept toward the front of the house. Her door was unlocked and open. All she had to do was get inside and call the police.

Piece of cake.

Sure it was.

The car rolled closer to the house. Jude inched closer to the car. And Lacey tiptoed toward the front door. All of them pawns in a macabre chess game.

It was a shame Lacey had never been very good at chess.

She kept moving anyway, danger breathing down her neck, reminding her of other nights, other dark, shadowy places. Terror. Anger. The overwhelming need to survive.

Memories better left in the darkest recesses of her mind.

Gravel crunched. Jude whispered something into the night. And Lacey was pulled firmly back into the present and the menace that seemed to fill the air and deepen the darkness, stealing the light and threatening to steal everything Lacey had worked so hard for.




THREE


Jude knew he’d told Lacey to stay put. Twice. Yet there she was, creeping toward her front door, just begging to be shot by whoever was driving the black Honda sedan. “Get down.”

He whispered the command for the second time, but she kept on going. He had no choice but to change his course and follow. He’d spent enough years working as a beat cop in New York City to sense danger. Right now it was nipping at his heels just as it had been in the weeks preceding the accident that had almost taken his life.

Accident.

That’s what his supervisor insisted it was. That’s what the police report indicated. It’s not what Jude believed. Someone had tried to kill him two months ago, accelerating toward him as he helped a stranded motorist. There wasn’t a doubt in Jude’s mind that the act had been deliberate. Nor did he doubt that the person would try again.

But next time, Jude would be ready.

The car inched forward, moving as quietly as a car could. Nearly coasting. Lights off. License plate concealed. And instead of moving toward it, Jude was heading up the porch stairs, his need to keep Lacey safe outweighing his need to confront the driver of the car.

It was the same need to protect that had nearly gotten him killed. He’d been on vacation, heading out to a cabin in upstate New York when he’d spotted a woman and two kids standing on the side of the road, steam rising from the hood of their minivan.

He could have passed them like everyone else had, but denying someone help wasn’t something Jude had ever been able to do. He’d pulled up behind the car, gotten out of his vehicle and been run down by a black sedan.

One that looked a lot like the one idling at the end of his driveway.

“Get away from the door. You’re lit up like a Christmas tree.” He hissed the warning as he tugged her out of the light from the door and into the shadowy corner of the porch.

“What’s going on, Jude? Who’s in the car?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I find out. Stay here.”

“But—”

“We’ll talk after I deal with my visitor.”

He limped down the porch steps and jogged toward the car, his gun in hand, knowing he and Lacey had already been seen. Maybe, if he were lucky, he’d get a glimpse of the driver anyway. And maybe he wouldn’t get a bullet through the heart while he did it.

The car U-turned, kicking up gravel as it sped away.

Gone.

A missed opportunity.

And Jude knew exactly who to blame.

He gritted his teeth and made his way back up the stairs, slamming his fist on Lacey’s door as he moved into the foyer.

“There’s no need to slam things around.” Lacey stepped inside and closed the door, her shoulders stiff. Jude wasn’t sure if she was scared or angry, and he wasn’t sure he cared.

“Sure there is. I’ve been waiting months to confront the person in that car. Thanks to you, it didn’t happen.”

“Thanks to me? I was trying to save your sorry hide.”

“I didn’t need saving. I needed to get a good look at the car’s driver.” He stalked away before he could say anything worse. Lacey didn’t know what was going on, and she couldn’t be blamed for not understanding.

“I’m sorry, Jude. I just wanted to help.” She touched his arm, her fingers warm through his shirt, searing his skin and cooling his temper.

“There are things going on that you don’t understand, Lacey. For now on, when I tell you to do something, do it.”

He limped back outside, his legs protesting every step, and watched as the retreating car braked at the top of the road. Two months ago, Jude would have sprinted around the side of the house, hopped into his car and sped after the retreating vehicle. Unfortunately, his sprinting days were over.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to find the car and its driver.

“I’m going for a drive. You go back in the house, eat your pretzels and then try to get some sleep,” he called over his shoulder as he started down the porch steps.

“There you go again. Trying to order me around.” Lacey shut the front door and hurried after him.

“I’m not trying. I’m doing it.”

“And wasting time while you’re at it. I don’t know who you think is in that car, but if you’re planning to catch up to him, the sooner we follow, the better.”

“We’re not following. I am.”

“My car is right in front of the house, and I’ve got the key.”

She didn’t add that it would make more sense to take her car since it was obviously closer than his. Probably because she knew she didn’t have to. Jude hadn’t made the grade as a homicide detective because he was ruled by his emotions. He’d made it because he was logical and meticulous.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll take your car.”

“I knew you’d be reasonable.”

“I knew you’d be annoying.”

She laughed, the sound ringing through the night, nudging at Jude’s soul, telling him he needed to lighten up a little, stop taking things so seriously.

Unfortunately, that was hard to do with a killer stalking him.

He walked to Lacey’s car, his limping stride only adding to his frustration. Since the accident, his body no longer felt like his own. His legs were foreign and difficult to move. His back was stiff. Every day was filled with challenges, but what bugged Jude the most was that he couldn’t take off after the bad guys, chase the villains, bring them in and see justice served.

“You’re awfully quiet. You’re not feeling sorry for yourself, are you?” Lacey opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat, clearly not caring that Jude was seething with frustration.

“Isn’t that your job?” He shut her door and got in the passenger’s seat.

“To feel sorry for you? Why would I? You’ve got a nice home, a family that loves you. What’s there to be sorry about?”

“Two bum legs and a lost career.” He muttered the response, but knew she was right. He had plenty to be thankful for and not much to be sorry about. Even less once he figured out who was trying to kill him.

“I’ve met a lot of people who thrived with more hardship than that.” She put on her seat belt, adjusted the mirrors, glanced over her shoulder and fiddled with the dashboard buttons until Jude grabbed the key from her hand and shoved it into the ignition. “There. We’re ready.”

“Right.” She gripped the wheel with both hands and drove backward down the driveway and onto the road. The speedometer crept from five to fifteen miles an hour and hovered there until Jude wanted to wrench the steering wheel out from under Lacey’s hands and stomp down hard on the gas pedal.

“I suppose there’s a reason why you’re driving so slow?”

“Slow? The speed limit is posted. Fifteen miles an hour.”

“Fifteen miles an hour if you’re not trying to catch a potential murderer.” Although at this point, it was unlikely they’d come within twenty miles of the guy who’d been behind the wheel of the car they were trying to follow.

“Murderer? You actually think the guy was here to…” Apparently she couldn’t get the words out, but Jude had no problem with them.

“Kill me.”

“What?” She braked hard, pulled to the side of the road and turned to face Jude. “Grayson said you were troubled, but he didn’t say you were paranoid.”

“I’m not.” He knew that wouldn’t be enough information to get Lacey driving again, but wasting time chit-chatting wasn’t high on his list of things to do when a criminal was escaping.

“You know you can’t tell me someone is trying to kill you and expect me to act as though this is just an ordinary early-morning outing, right?”

“You knew it wasn’t an ordinary outing when you offered to drive, and what I expect you to do is drive.”

To Jude’s surprise, she accelerated, pulling onto the road and heading in the direction the sedan had gone. The street was dark, the houses that lined it silent and sleeping. There were plenty of cars parked in driveways and on the side of the road, and Jude scanned each as Lacey drove past. He didn’t expect to find his quarry, but he hoped. That would have to be enough for now.

“If we see the car, we’re going to call the police, right? Let them deal with it.” Lacey’s question filled the silence, reminding Jude that he wasn’t alone in his quest. There was someone else to think about; someone who could easily be hurt.

“If we see the car, you’ll call the police and wait in here until they arrive.” No way would Jude allow Lacey anywhere near the vehicle.

“What about you?”

“I’ll do what I have to do to make sure the person doesn’t drive away before the police arrive.” He scanned the street as he spoke, his hope of finding the car dying a little more with each passing minute. He wanted to find it, prayed he’d find it, but he doubted either would do any good. After all, he’d wanted to walk out of the hospital on two strong, pain-free legs. Instead, he’d been rolled out in a wheelchair. As for praying, Jude had walked too far away from his faith to expect God to answer.

It had only been recently that he’d realized how true that was. Being forced to slow down had given him time to take a long, hard look at his life. He wasn’t sure he liked what he saw. He’d spent eleven years working hard, playing hard, pursuing his passions with the same single-minded zeal with which he’d pursued criminals.

He wanted to believe there was nothing wrong with that, but a quiet voice in his soul kept whispering that he’d taken the wrong path. That his need for independence had cost him the things he’d valued most—faith and family.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Someone wanted him dead. If Jude didn’t find out who that was, he wouldn’t have to worry about the things he’d given up to gain freedom and independence. He wouldn’t have to worry about anything at all.

“We’re probably not going to find the car.” Lacey echoed Jude’s doubts, but that didn’t mean he planned to give up.

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep looking.”

“We could keep looking. Or we could go back to the house.”

“And do what? Hope the guy comes back?”

“Actually, I was hoping we could raid your fridge and find something for breakfast.”

Lacey’s answer made Jude smile. “Is food the only thing you think about?”

“Not usually, but I haven’t had anything to eat in twelve hours.”

“You had pretzels.”

“They don’t count. Or that’s what I’ll be telling myself when I’m gorging on pancakes, sausage, grits and home fries.”

“Sorry to say, I don’t have any of those things in my fridge. Not that I think you could actually eat all that.”

“Point me to a restaurant that’s open all night and I’ll be happy to prove you wrong.” She sounded serious, and Jude was sure he heard her stomach growl.

“There’s an all-night diner a couple of miles down this road. We can stop there.”

“Does that mean we’re done looking for the guy in the black sedan?” She sounded so hopeful, Jude almost felt bad about telling her the truth.

“We’ll keep looking until we get there. If we don’t find him by then, we probably won’t.”

“Too bad.”

It was, because there was no way the driver of the sedan was going to drive away for good. He’d be back, and when he returned there was no guarantee Jude would see him coming. The way Jude saw it, most people never experienced a miracle in their lives. He’d already experienced one in surviving the driver’s first attack. There was no way he could count on another.

All he could do was wait and hope that when the time came, he’d be ready to fight.




FOUR


Lacey didn’t believe in spending a lot of time worrying. It wasted valuable energy that was better spent enjoying other things. Unfortunately, worry was exactly what she was feeling.

Someone wanted Jude dead.

That was what he’d said, and despite initial doubts, Lacey believed him.

She’d worked with enough paranoid clients to know one when she saw one. She didn’t see one when she looked at Jude. She saw instead a man on a mission. One who knew exactly what he was doing and why.

She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and stared out at the road, praying desperately that she wouldn’t see the car Jude was looking for. If she did, Jude would want her to pull over so that he could confront the driver. Lacey wasn’t sure she could bring herself to do it.

Sure, Jude had a gun…but who knew what the guy in the car had?

She inched down the street in good old Bess, the Mustang’s loud engine masking any sounds from outside the vehicle. A parade of murderers in black sedans could have been speeding up behind her and she wouldn’t have known it.

“You can relax, Lacey. We’re not going to find him tonight.” Jude’s voice was smooth and deep, the kind that could be filled with promises or with threats and still send shivers along the spine.

“Maybe we should call the police.”

“And tell them what?” He snarled the question as Lacey spotted the all-night diner and pulled into the parking lot.

“There’s no need to snap.”

“I’m not snapping. I’m…” He smoothed his hair and turned to face her, the planes and hollows of his face shadowed, his eyes dark. “Snapping. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I guess if I thought someone wanted me dead, I’d be snapping, too.”

“I already told you, I don’t think it. I know it. I was nearly killed two months ago. It wasn’t an accident. Unfortunately, I don’t have the evidence I need to prove it.”

“You were run down while you were helping a stranded motorist. I’m sure you know how often that happens. The fact that the car accelerated could mean that the person driving it was drunk. It doesn’t necessarily mean he was specifically targeting you.” Lacey made the argument without believing in it. Jude had worked as a homicide detective. She didn’t believe he’d jump to conclusions about what had happened.

“That’s what NYPD said. With no other attacks against me, they had no choice but to call the accident a hit-and-run.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” He met her eyes, searched her face, seemed to see much more than other people did. Much more than Lacey wanted him to see.

“Because it hurts when the people you care about won’t help you.” She knew that more than most, but that was a part of the past she preferred not to dwell on.

“You’ve hit the nail on the head with that one. You said you were hungry. Let’s go eat.” He opened his door, cutting off further conversation.

By the time she got out of the car, Jude was already standing by her door, tapping his fingers impatiently on the roof of the car and scanning the other parked cars. “You move pretty slowly for a woman with two good legs.”

“And you’re awfully impatient for a guy who’s got nothing better to do than stand around waiting for me.”

“Who said I don’t have better things to do?”

“Your brother said you’re on medical leave.”

“I am. That doesn’t mean I’m not working.” He put a hand on her lower back and urged her toward the diner, his touch firm and gentle, his stride hitched but confident.

If she hadn’t been looking so closely, Lacey wouldn’t have noticed the sheen of sweat that beaded his brow or the deep lines that bracketed his mouth. Pain. He was in a lot of it, but a guy like Jude would never admit it.

He held the diner’s door, his mouth set in a grim line, and Lacey decided it was time to take control of the situation. She motioned a waitress over and pointed to a booth that overlooked the parking lot. It was near the door, had wide benches set close enough together that Jude could put his feet up and offered a quick escape if he was feeling too bad to stay. “Do you mind if we sit there?”

“Go ahead. You’re in early, Mr. Sinclair. Or late. Guess it depends on how you look at it.” The young waitress glanced from Jude to Lacey and back again, her kohl-rimmed eyes and pierced brow at odds with the sweet innocence of her face.

“We’ll just call it both.” Jude smiled, but to Lacey it looked more like a grimace. He needed to sit down. Not stand around chatting with the waitress.

“How about we discuss it at the table?” She took his arm, tugging him toward the booth and offering the waitress an apologetic smile. Rudeness wasn’t Lacey’s thing, but taking care of her clients was.

“Want me to bring you your usual, Mr. Sinclair?”

“Coffee would be good, but no pie.”

“How about bread? We’ve got fresh pumpkin bread. I helped Louis make it an hour ago.”

“Sure. Why not?” Jude dropped into the seat, wincing a little as he slid toward the window.

“How about you, ma’am? Can I get you something while you’re looking at the menu?” The girl turned her full attention on Lacey. Bold pink strands of hair were woven liberally through her dark-brown locks, and her stance said she was ready for a fight. To Lacey, looking at her was like looking into the past and seeing herself as she’d been as a teenager. Alone. Scared.

Lacey blinked, surprised that she’d be thinking about that time in her life. The girl she’d been had ceased to exist so long ago it was as if she’d never been. God had given Lacey a second chance, a new life. If she kept focused on that, everything else would be okay. “Coffee would be great. Three creams. Two sugars. A slice of the pumpkin bread and a cup of whatever your soup of the day is.”

“Corn chowder.”

“Great.” Lacey forced a smile and fished in her pocket for the packets of Tylenol she kept there. Like Jude, she’d been through her share of trauma. She still felt the effects of it years later. Right now, Jude needed the pain reliever a lot more than she did. She tore open the pack, dumping two caplets in her hand and holding them out to Jude. “Take these.”

He looked at the medicine and frowned. “What are you? A walking pharmacy?”

“Just a woman who likes to be prepared.”

“I appreciate the effort, but I don’t need it.”

“Sure you do. You just don’t want to man up and admit it.”

“‘Man up’?” His lips quirked in a half smile that softened the hard angles of his face.

“That’s what I said.” She smiled back, staring into his eyes. At the moment they were velvety and warm, inviting in a way she hadn’t noticed when she’d looked into them before.

Dangerous in a way she wouldn’t dare acknowledge.

“All right. You win. This time.” He took the caplets from her hand and swallowed them dry. “I think I could take another three and they wouldn’t touch the pain.”

Lacey covered his hand, squeezing it gently. “Why don’t we go back home? I’m not that hungry, and you obviously need something stronger than a couple of Tylenol.”

“Even if I were back home, I wouldn’t take anything more than what you just gave me.” He flipped his hand, capturing hers before she could pull it away. “So, tell me, Lacey, what convinced you to travel all the way from Chicago to work for a guy like me?”

“I haven’t had my own place in a while. When I was told I would if I came to Lynchburg, I knew I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” But that was only part of the reason she’d taken the job. The other reason wasn’t as concrete. The feeling she’d gotten when she’d first spoken to Grayson about his brother had chased her into her dreams and refused to let her go. She had to take the job. The more she’d prayed about it, the more she’d understood the necessity of it.

“You drove halfway across the country to have your own place?”

“Exactly.”

He eyed her for a moment, his eyes winter-gray and filled with questions. “I guess you want me to believe that.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because you don’t seem very materialistic, and I have a feeling you would live in far worse conditions if it meant helping someone in need.”

He was right.

And that bothered Lacey.

Jude had only met her a few hours ago and already knew more about her than most clients learned in a month. “Who says I’m not materialistic?”

“Your car.” His gaze dropped to her faded sweater, but he had the good grace not to mention it.

“Bess is an icon. I’d never replace her.”

“Bess is a piece of junk that needs a new engine and a paint job.”

He was right. Again. “There’s nothing wrong with having an old car.”

“Not for someone who isn’t materialistic. Which brings me back to my main point. I don’t think you came here for the house.”

Obviously, he was going to keep pushing until he got an answer he liked. There wasn’t one, so Lacey gave him what she could. “After I talked to my supervisor and your brother, I prayed about taking the job. It felt like the right thing to do, so I did.”

“You prayed about it?”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“Not at all. I just haven’t met many people who make decisions based on prayer.”

“Maybe that’s why so many people are making so many bad decisions.”

“You’ve got a point there. I know I’ve made a few in my life. Maybe if I’d stopped to pray about them, I wouldn’t have.” He smiled, releasing her hand as the waitress set coffee and plates of pumpkin bread on the table.

“Soup is coming right out. You want to order now, or wait until I bring it?”

“I’d like a grilled cheese sandwich.” Lacey handed the menu back to the waitress, the sleeve of her sweater riding up and revealing the pale white scars that encircled her wrist. She dropped her arm, shooting a glance in Jude’s direction. He seemed occupied with the slice of bread he was devouring. Good. The last thing she wanted were more questions.

“Anything for you, Mr. Sinclair?”

“No. Thanks, Jenna.”

“You sure? We’ve got a great chicken pot pie today.”

“Another time. Thanks, though.”

“Suit yourself.” The young woman scribbled something on her order pad, her lips pressed tightly together. At Jenna’s age, Lacey had been working the same kind of job, and she remembered the nights when she’d calculated the tips and worried about whether or not she was going to earn enough to keep the lights turned on.

“You know, I think I’ll take some of that chicken pot pie.”

“So you want that instead of the grilled cheese?”

“No. I’ll take both. Just box the pot pie so I can take it home for tomorrow. Can you throw in a couple more slices of the pumpkin bread while you’re at it?”

“All right. It’ll be a few minutes. Just raise a hand if you need a refill on the coffee before then.” Jenna walked away, and Lacey grabbed three creamers and dumped them into her coffee.

“You could have just left her a big tip.” Jude spoke quietly.

“That would have been charity. I don’t think Jenna would have appreciated it.”

“Good call. I tried to slip her an extra twenty one time, and she followed me outside to tell me what I could do with it.”

“She did not.” But Lacey knew Jenna had. She would have done the same at that age.

“She did. She informed me that there were a lot of people who were a lot worse off than she was and that I should take the money and give it to one of them.”

“Did you?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you found another way to give it to her.”

“I gave it to her boss and asked that it be added to her tips. I found it taped to my front door the next day.”

“Good for Jenna.”

“You think? The way I see it, pride goeth before a fall. Jenna may be on her way to falling hard.”

“If she does, she’ll learn from it.”

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone falls sometimes, Jude.” Some people just fall harder than others.

“Yeah. That’s something I’m learning.” He grabbed a second piece of pumpkin bread, and Lacey frowned.

“Didn’t your mother teach you to share?”

“She tried.” He grinned, split the piece and handed her half. “Happy now?”

“I’d be happier if you’d given me the whole piece.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you to share?”

“My mother didn’t teach me much of anything.” The words slipped out before she thought them through, and Lacey wished them back immediately.

“You know that comment begs me to ask a dozen questions, right?”

“You can ask. That doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” She met Jude’s gaze, refusing to fidget beneath his scrutiny.

“Understood. So I’ll go ahead and start asking. You don’t get along with your mom?” he asked, as Jenna set a plate of food and a brown paper bag in front of Lacey.

“There you go,” Jenna said. “I’m off shift. If you need anything else, you’ll have to flag down one of the other waitresses.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Lacey dug through her wallet, pulling out her last two twenties. “You can ring up our tab before you go.”

“I’ll have your change for you in a minute.”

“Make it my change and keep it.” Jude nudged Lacey’s money aside and pressed several bills into Jenna’s hand.

She thanked him and hurried away, leaving Lacey with her two twenties still waving in the breeze.

“Here.” Lacey held out the money, frowning when Jude waved it away. “Take the money, Jude. I like to pay my own way.”

“I’m sure you do, but we don’t have time for an argument. Take a look outside. What do you see?”

She looked and shrugged. “The parking lot.”

“Can you see your car?”

“Sure. It’s parked under the streetlight. Why?”

“See the car to its left?”

“Yeah. It’s a black sedan.” Her heart skipped a beat as she said the words, and she leaned closer to the glass. “You don’t think that’s the same car, do you?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

Lacey scooped up the grilled cheese sandwich and shoved it into the carryout bag. “Let’s go.”

He eyed her for a moment, his jaw set, his gaze hot. “We’re not going anywhere. You are staying here. I am going to talk to the driver of that car.”

“I think we’ve been down this road before, and I’m pretty sure we both know where it leads.”

“It leads to you getting fired. Stay put until I get back or forget about having a place of your own for a month.” He stood and limped away, not even giving Lacey a second glance as he crossed the room and headed into the kitchen area.

Probably heading for a back door.

Lacey gave him a one-minute head start and then followed, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end and issuing a warning she couldn’t ignore. Danger. It was somewhere close by again, and there was no way she was going to let Jude walk into it alone. If he fired her, so be it. As a matter of fact, if he fired her, it might be for the best. Jude wasn’t the kind of client she was used to working for. Sure, there’d been other young men, but none of them had seemed quite as vital or alive as Jude. She told herself that it made her uncomfortable because he didn’t seem to need her, and Lacey didn’t want to be where she wasn’t needed. Told herself that, but didn’t quite believe it. Jude was trouble. And not just because someone was trying to kill him. On the other hand, she’d felt absolutely certain moving to Lynchburg was what God wanted her to do.

“So, which is it, Lord? Right or wrong?” She whispered the words as she slipped into the diner’s hot kitchen. A cook glared at her, but she ignored him. Until she knew for sure why God had brought her to Lynchburg, Lacey could only do what she’d been paid to—make sure Jude was okay. Even if that meant putting herself in danger.

Lacey took a deep breath, prayed that whoever was in the car didn’t have a weapon and pushed open the door. The area behind the diner was dark and silent, the shadow of the building hiding her as she stepped into the parking lot. There were no cars there, just empty spaces ready for the breakfast rush. The emptiness should have comforted Lacey. Instead, it reminded her of how alone she was. Maybe waiting inside the diner would have been a better idea, but Lacey wasn’t good at waiting and didn’t believe in leaving others to fight their battles alone. Jude was about to face his enemy. She had every intention of being with him when he did. Heart slamming in her chest, pulse racing, she hurried around the side of the building and headed toward whatever trouble waited.




FIVE


Jude eased around the corner of the restaurant, the dark alleyway offering him perfect cover as he peered into the parking lot. The car he’d spotted through the window of the restaurant was still parked beside Lacey’s. Black. Four-door. Honda. It matched the one that had pulled up in front of his house and the one that had run him down in New York.

He needed to get closer.

A soft sound came from behind him. A rustle of fabric. A sigh of breath. Spring rain and wildflowers carried on the cold night air. Lacey.

Of course.

“I told you you were going to be fired if you didn’t stay where you were.”

“Do you know how many times someone has threatened to fire me?”

“Based on what I’ve seen so far, a lot.”

“Some of my clients fire me ten or twenty times a day.”

“Then I guess I’ve got a ways to go.” Jude reached back and grabbed her hand, pulling her up beside him.

“Is the car still there?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me see.” She squeezed in closer, her hair brushing his chin as she jockeyed for a better position.

Jude pulled her up short, her wrist warm beneath his hand. For a moment he was back in the restaurant, Lacey’s creamy skin peeking out from under her dark sweater, white scars crisscrossing the tender flesh. She’d shoved her sleeve down too quickly for him to get a good look, but the glimpse he’d gotten was enough. There was a lot more to Lacey then met the eye. A lot she hid behind a quick smile and a quicker wit. She’d been hurt before, and he wouldn’t let it happen again. No way was he going to drag her into danger. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever. As soon as they got back to the house, he was going to do exactly what he’d threatened—fire her.

“It’s not the car.” She said it with such authority that Jude stepped from the shadows and took a closer look.

“Why do you say that?”

“The one back at the house had tinted glass. Really dark. This one, you can see in the back window. Looks like there is a couple sitting in the front seat. Unless you’ve got two people after you, I don’t think that’s the same car.”

She was right.

Of course she was.

Jude could see inside the car, too, see the couple in the front seats. If he’d been thinking with his head instead of acting on the anger that had been simmering in his gut for months, he would have seen those things long before now. “You’d make a good detective, Lacey.”

“You think so? Maybe I should make a career change. Give up home-care work for something more dangerous and exciting.” She laughed as she pulled away from his hold and stepped out into the parking lot, but there was tension in her shoulders and in the air. As if she sensed the danger that had been stalking Jude, felt it as clearly as Jude did.

“I’m not sure being a detective is as dangerous or as exciting as people think. Most days it’s a lot of running into brick walls. Backing up, trying a new direction.” He led Lacey across the parking lot, his body still humming with adrenaline.

“That sounds like life to me. Running into brick walls, backing up and trying new directions.”

“True, but in my job the brick walls happen every other day. In life, they’re usually not as frequent.” He waited while she got into her car, then closed the door, glancing in the black sedan as he walked past. An elderly woman smiled and waved at him, and Jude waved back, still irritated with himself for the mistake he’d made.

Now that he was closer, it was obvious the two cars he’d seen weren’t the same. The one at his place had been sleeker and a little more sporty. Which proved that when a person wanted to see something badly enough, he did.

“That wasn’t much of a meal for you. Sorry to cut things short for a false alarm.” He glanced at Lacey as he got in the Mustang and was surprised that her hand was shaking as she shoved the key in the ignition.

He put a hand on her forearm. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“For someone who is fine, your hands sure are shaking hard.”

“How about we chalk it up to fatigue?”

“How about you admit you were scared?”

“Were? I still am.” She started the car, and Jude let his hand fall away from her arm.

“You don’t have to be. We’re safe. For now.”

“It’s the ‘for now’ part that’s got me worried. Who’s trying to kill you, Jude? Why?”

“If I had the answers to those questions, we wouldn’t be sitting here talking about it.”

“You don’t even have a suspect?”

“Lacey, I’ve got a dozen suspects. More. Every wife who’s ever watched me cart her husband off to jail. Every son who’s ever seen me put handcuffs on his dad. Every family member or friend who’s sat through a murder trial and watched his or her loved one be convicted because of the evidence I put together.”

“Have you made a list?

“I’ve made a hundred lists. None of them have done me any good. Until the person responsible comes calling again, I’ve got no evidence, no clues and no way to link anyone to the hit-and-run.”

“Maybe he won’t come calling again. Maybe the hit-and-run was an accident, and maybe the sedan we saw outside your house was just someone who got lost and ended up in the wrong place.” She sounded like she really wanted to believe it.

He should let her, he thought. That was what he’d done with his family. Let them believe the hit-and-run was a fluke thing that had happened and was over. He’d done it to keep them safe. He’d do the opposite to keep Lacey from getting hurt.

“Have you ever walked outside at night?”

“Sure. Who hasn’t?”

“Then you know how it feels to be at ease in the darkness. To feel like everything is just the way it should be.”

“I guess. I’ve never really thought much about it.”

“Imagine that you are outside, walking around, feeling like you have every other time. Next thing you know, your hair stands on end, your pulse starts racing and you realize you’re being watched. You can’t see the person, but you know he’s there. And you know that as soon as you run, he’s going to chase you down.”

She stiffened, and Jude knew he had gotten through to her.

“That’s what’s going on with me, Lacey. That’s how I know I’m in danger. I feel it.”

“I can understand that.” She sighed and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Then you’ll also understand that as long as I’m in danger, anyone who’s near me is in danger, too. That’s why you need to grab your suitcase and leave as soon as we get back to the house.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t think so’?”

“I mean, I’ve never left a job before my contract was up.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“This won’t be it.”

“It will if you’re carried out of here in a body bag.”

“I don’t think that is going to happen. The way I see it, God gave me this job for a reason. Until He tells me something different, I plan to keep it.”

“God wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger to help me out.”

“God expects us to do whatever job He gives us to the best of our abilities. That’s what I plan to do.”

“Sticking around is a bad idea.”

“I don’t think so.”

“But you can’t know.”

“Sure I can. I feel it. The same way you feel danger breathing down your neck.”

“Unfortunately for you, all the ‘feeling’ about it in the world isn’t going to keep you working for me. I told you before that I was going to fire you. I wasn’t kidding.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m working for your brother.”

“You’re working for Grayson for now. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

“Tomorrow is going to bring the sunrise. Just like it always does. As for anything else, I prefer to concentrate on today rather than worrying about what hasn’t happened yet.” She pulled out onto the road, her hands at precisely ten and two o’clock, her eyes trained on the road, tendrils of pale hair escaping her ponytail and sliding down her back. Delicate and pretty, Lacey wasn’t the kind of woman Jude had ever paid much attention to. He preferred tall, athletic women. The kind who wouldn’t hesitate to hike mountain trails or climb rock faces. The most strenuous thing he could imagine Lacey doing was sipping tea in a flower garden.

Despite that, or maybe because of it, he couldn’t seem to pull his attention away from her.

That wasn’t good.

Not when there were other, more important things he needed to focus on.

Like staying alive.

“There won’t be a tomorrow if the guy who’s after me decides two for one isn’t a bad deal and takes you out at the same time.”

“Why would he?”




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