The Defender's Duty

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.