Renegade Protector
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Mariana met him at the edge of the living room, the wary look in her eyes softened. Behind her, on the laptop, he recognized a San Francisco news story about an abducted girl he’d helped find. Mariana held out his ID. “The article doesn’t say what happened to her dad and uncle.”
“They were put away.” He reached forward and took hold of the ID wallet. For a moment, she didn’t release it. The two of them balanced, he felt her strength. The power of her body had been clear when they’d tumbled on the hard parking lot, but that hadn’t been as quiet as this intimate moment in her living room. Their gazes locked. He was close enough to see flecks of gold in her brown eyes and wanted to step closer and search the depth of her darkness. She released her hold on the ID, and the two of them moved apart.
“Do you drink, Detective Morrison?” She drifted to a side table next to the hallway. A few bottles of liquor stood at various levels. Two glasses had been poured with a light amber liquid.
“Ty.” The drink was so inviting. Heat in a glass. “Please call me Ty.”
She picked up one of the drinks and presented it to him. “Do you drink tequila, Ty?”
“I won’t refuse you.” He took the glass.
She took the other. “Ms. Balducci.”
An embarrassed flush heated his cheeks. “Sorry if I used your name, I...” Telling her about all the files and information he’d read on her wouldn’t help to undo the awkwardness.
A smile, tilted wicked, crossed her face. “A joke.” She laughed incredulously. “You did so much. Of course you can call me Mariana.” She raised the glass and he clinked his against it.
“To surviving another night.” Their eyes held again. The tequila was forgotten as he was drawing a new heat from a growing connection with Mariana. The first spark had started when he’d seen her in her shop. But his purpose couldn’t be chasing down this possibility with a woman he’d just met. It wasn’t fair to her and it wasn’t fair to his mission. He blinked, then threw back the tequila. The burn wasn’t strong enough to shake the fire he felt in his veins standing this close to her.
She drank hers quickly and put the empty glass down, not making any more eye contact. “I have to change.” Rifle in hand, she moved into the hallway and up the stairs, followed by Toro. The door at the top closed and a lock was thrown.
Ty set his glass down and stood at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the ceiling creak with her movement. His investigator’s mind always drew pictures, scenarios and possibilities based on details he collected. But that mind usually kept a cool distance so it could observe cleanly. The imagination that saw Mariana in her room, pulling the wet clothes from her body, was not at all professional. He shook the images from his head and brought himself back to task.
“One of the police officers was acting sketchy.” He pushed his voice up the stairs and hoped she could hear through the door.
“Really?” She wasn’t very muffled. The old house had gaps.
“He was unfocused, like he was carrying a distraction.” It still made Ty mad to think of how unthorough the initial investigation was. “Could he be in on this harassment?”
“Which cop?” Her footsteps creaked closer to her door.
“The taller one. White. Blond. Built like a baseball player. A pitcher.”
The door at the top of the stairs opened, revealing Mariana’s silhouette. Her hair was down, making her look mythical as she descended the stairs. The ground-floor light slowly showed that she wore jeans and a button-down flannel shirt. Toro remained at her side and she still held the rifle. “That’s Pete,” she said with a smirk. “My ex.”
That made sense. “There’s the distraction.”
“He played third base.” Dark hair framed the dusky skin of her face. All the lights in the house seemed to have dimmed to a sultry glow. “What position did you play?”
Toro finally ventured close, and Ty put the back of his hand out to sniff. “Wide receiver on the football field, forward on the basketball court.”
“Double threat.” She observed his interaction with Toro, then poured another two drinks of tequila.
“I didn’t mess with baseball.” He ventured to pet Toro’s head and the dog leaned into it. “You were a point guard, right?” It hadn’t been in any file he’d read. She raised her eyebrows as if asking him to explain. “I can see that you like to call the shots. Your orchard, your house, your rifle.”
She quirked a smile. “You should ask Pete about that.”
“I’d like to ask him why he didn’t spend another two hours scouring that parking lot for clues.” Even if they were exes, it was no excuse for shoddy police work.
“Small town.” She shrugged. “They don’t know how to handle this kind of stuff.” Her face darkened. “Or they don’t want to.” She handed his drink over and swirled hers in the glass. “I sell my spread to the developer, they put in a resort hotel, property values go up, property taxes go up, the town does better, the police department does better.”
“That price is too high.” He waited until she sipped at her tequila to taste his. The liquid fire couldn’t override the anger he felt at her situation.
She stared into the distance, eyes unreadable. “Hungry?” Without waiting for his answer, she walked into the hallway and down to the kitchen. Toro remained at her heels. Ty followed. The kitchen was larger than he expected, with a broad center island covered in a warm wood butcher block. One wall was dominated by a stove and vent hood that stretched to the high ceiling. Mariana slid a wire bowl of apples to the center of the island and picked two out. “We have plenty of apples. Can’t sell any of them without harvesters to get them off the trees or customers to show up at the shop.”
She pulled a gleaming knife from a block and quickly segmented the apples. Her hands paused as she pushed some of the slices toward him. He saw her eyes fixed on his hip. His gun. She asked, “Why didn’t you pull that on the guy in the parking lot?”
“I didn’t have it on me.” He reached forward and dragged the pieces of apple to him. “I didn’t know it would be this bad.”
She set the rifle on the corner of the island. “Neither did I.” They silently ate pieces of the apple, drank tequila, then chewed on more apple. Toro glanced between the two of them, like he was looking to see who would give him a handout. Mariana used a piece of apple to point at a slice Ty held. “Do you taste it?”
He’d been eating automatically and slowed down to search. Savoring it this way strengthened the connection he’d been feeling with her all night. Her work, part of herself, was in his mouth, intimate and close. An apple had never made his blood rush like this. “It’s...salty.” A surprising flavor within the balance of sweet and tart.
Her face lit up with a smile, then changed to something more serious as she examined his face. “We’re only a couple miles from the Pacific. The mist comes in from Monterey Bay, bringing the sea salt with it. There are no other apples like this.”
“That’s why I’m here.” She needed to know only part of the reason for now. “There’s too much history here to lose. Your history is here. Your family’s. And if you want to stay, I will help you.”
“With those ghosts from the past?” She nodded out to the living room, where the old photos lay on a table.
“After the Civil War, the West expanded. People tried to carve out lives for themselves. But the law wasn’t always on their side.” Shame and anger shook him, knowing that even as a police officer now, the same injustice occurred. “Money was power. My ancestor joined with others to form a group to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves. Vigilantes. They rode mostly in California. Black, Chinese, Native American, Mexican. Other immigrants. Men and women. They called themselves Frontier Justice.”
Mariana held his look. “You can’t be a cop and a vigilante.”
He stared deeper into her, hoping she saw his vow. “I can if they don’t know. I have to be if no one else will help you.”
Her eyes narrowed, cutting him open for dissection. “Do you ever lie?”
“Yes.” He was no superhero in a cape.
She loosened her posture, resting her hip against the island. “If you’d said no, I wouldn’t have believed you.”
He propped his elbows on the thick butcher block. “We live in a difficult world.”
Despite her casual attitude, her gaze still held steel. “Are you lying now?”
“No.” The night was black and silent outside the kitchen windows. For now, it was just the two of them. In her home. With an unexpected, electric connection stretching between them.
“And you’re going to help me.” She leaned forward. Heat prickled across his chest. Did she feel it, too? “No strings. No motive other than justice.”
“I will.” It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t all of the truth.
Her gaze fell to her hands and she seemed to wrestle with a thought. She glanced at her rifle, then Toro. A long breath shook through her. She made a fist, released it and looked him in the eye again. “Stay the night.”
Even though he knew the invitation was just for the sake of her safety, the words in her low voice, in that quiet kitchen, fired quick heat through him. The circumstances of his visit to her house tried to ice the flames, but only brought them down to a deep red smolder close to his bones. This job of protecting her had started out feeling important because of the ties to his ancestor. Standing here with Mariana, feeling how hard it was to ask for help and knowing how much she needed it, the job was now very personal.
Chapter Four
Mariana had never shared her bedroom with the rifle before. The door was locked and Toro was curled up next to the bed. She sat on the edge of a reading chair, very aware that Ty was in the guest room below her feet. The rifle wasn’t for protection against him. As crazy as his story was, he’d proved she could trust him to help her. Whether or not he could fight off the Hanley Development Group was a different question.
She spoke low into her phone, knowing he could still hear her through the old house. “Hi, Brenda, I couldn’t find an after-hours number for you, so I’m leaving this message.” Her voice was tired and shook as she recounted the minimum details to her insurance agent. “My shop on Pacific was firebombed tonight. Fire department did a good job, but I don’t know how much I can salvage. Call me back and let me know what to do next. Thanks.” She hung up and let the phone slip to the rug.
Brenda was a professional, and had to know the steps for dealing with the nuts and bolts of a claim. Paperwork, phone calls, emails. Impersonal. But that didn’t stop the cold grip that squeezed the back of Mariana’s neck.
Ty had eased that. He knew the violence of the world. And he seemed to understand her. That uncanny perception of his had a way of slipping past her guard. He was probably doing it just then, staring at his ceiling and seeing her rubbing her hands together in an attempt to wring out the tension.
It had been months since the guest room had been used, when Sydney had brought a special bottle of wine and the two had cooked dinner and stayed up way too late. Inviting Ty to stay had taken all her resolve. After all that had happened that night, an empty house would’ve only amplified her anxiety. But when she’d shown him to the guest room, with the made bed against one wall, she was hit with just how intimate the silences between them had become.
Talking about what Frontier Justice had been and what Ty wanted it to be again had occupied her mind like an unfinished puzzle. She’d put the pieces together as he’d spread them out. There were still gaps, like why the old photos had come into her family’s possession, even though none of the people in them had ever been identified as her ancestors. It hadn’t been the time for too many questions, though. Any more information would’ve been overload.
She picked up her phone and walked to the bed, turning what Ty told her over again to see if she could draw any conclusions from what she knew about her own family. The Italian side had come from southern Italy and had started out as farmhands until they could buy their own spreads and plant the kinds of foods they understood. It didn’t take long for them to make ties with the Mexicans in California, marrying into old, established families. Their voices surrounded her, rising up from the earth of the orchard. Her parents had drawn strength and pride from that past, but had passed on only a handful of stories before they were taken from her in a car accident during her first year of college. She’d been so busy growing up, she hadn’t learned what this land had really meant until she’d returned to work it.
Ty seemed to understand these connections. She saw how he felt his own ancestors and their struggle for justice in himself. He acted on it, leaping into the fight for her and into the fire for his own legacy. Thoughts of the assault and the fire kept jabbing into her, making her weary muscles ache. Her mind wouldn’t allow her to go over it again and again. A new thought took over.
Ty’s mouth. Eating the apple she’d grown and picked and cut. He’d taken his time, giving her plenty of opportunities to watch him consider and then savor the fruit. It had almost been like kissing him. Almost. Mariana knew that if she had, she’d still be feeling the power of that man on her mouth. Hell, she might still be kissing him hours later.
She plugged her phone into a charger cord. Sitting on the bed made the mattress groan. She knew he could hear it, too. Her breath caught in her throat with the thought of what Ty’s remarkable perception would find if he turned his attention to her body. Usually people couldn’t identify what made the apples of her orchard so unique. But he’d tasted the salt. He could probably search out pleasures in her body she’d never discovered.
Mariana blew out the hot breath and shook the thoughts out of her head. He might be involved, or married, though she’d noticed no ring. She’d seen his integrity, so it didn’t make sense if he had someone that he’d still be staring so deeply at her. Or maybe it was just her wishful thinking. Throwing too many feelings toward the one man who’d helped her.
She got under the covers, wearing sweats and a T-shirt, knowing her shoes and rifle were close by. Ty’s perception was dangerous. She tried to take comfort in how it was an asset in her fight to keep her orchard, but couldn’t dim the bright flush across her chest and down her legs that he inspired. The man was probably asleep already, thinking only of justice. She turned out the last light in the bedroom. He remained very much awake in her mind. All he’d told her still hadn’t settled into order. But it was the silences between her and Ty she had no defense for.
Stars glittered outside her window. Ty was in her house. Sleep seemed impossible. She closed her eyes and felt him wrapped around her, rolling from danger on the hard ground of the parking lot. Remembering him eating in her kitchen slowed her pulse to a more sensual pace. It was only when she imagined the slow process of handpicking apples from her trees that sleep finally took her.
She woke with a clutch of fear in her throat. The sky was still deep charcoal. It could’ve been hours or minutes since she’d fallen asleep. Toro stood on alert in the middle of the room, staring at a dark window. The unknown danger burned the cobwebs out of her head with icy fire. She slipped from her bed and grabbed her rifle.
One footstep creaked on her floor and Ty’s voice came cautiously low from downstairs. “One car, parked on the road to your place.”
She crouched low and approached the window. Among the natural landscape that spread out beneath her house and orchard, a car gleamed in the starlight. It was on the side of the road, small puffs of exhaust showing it was idling. Then she heard the distant sound of the engine, like an angry insect stuck deep between the house’s walls.
Ty asked in a clipped voice, “Is there a back way to your house?”
She kept her gaze on the landscape while she hurried to her bedroom door and unlocked it. “Fire roads.” She returned to the view of the car. Ty bounded up the stairs. Toro was so intent on the window, the dog didn’t even glance at him.
Ty moved to a window opposite the one she was looking out, with a view of the back hill of the property. “Are they passable?”
“They’re blocked by gates and chains and dry creeks.” The car remained motionless, too far away to see how many people were inside or what they were doing. “Only four-wheelers and horses can get through.”
He came over to the front window and crouched next to her. It was amazing someone with his size and strength could move so quietly. His intense presence brought her even more awake. He kept his voice a whisper. “The car killed its lights a mile before coming to a stop.”
Anger choked her words. “They’re parked on my property. That’s after my fence line.” As if tonight’s attack wasn’t enough, they had to come back.
Ty focused out the window. “Have they ever come this close before?”
She gritted through a clenched jaw, “Yes.” It was then she saw that his pistol was in his hand. “Are you that good a shot?” It was at least half a mile.
He glanced at her, grim. “They might not be the only ones out there.”
She shook off a quick shiver. “Toro would be going crazy.” The dog remained rigid, staring out the window.
Without taking his eyes from the idling car, Ty lowered his pistol. “Good thing it’s so quiet in the country. Never would’ve heard them until they were closer in the city.”
“You heard them coming?” She couldn’t identify exactly what had woken her, but knew it wasn’t the noise of the engine.
Ty shrugged. “I was barely sleeping.”
“Too quiet for a city guy?” Their whispers didn’t reach the glass panes in front of them.
“My grandparents had a spread east of the bay and we used to do summers out there.” A smile emerged in his voice. “Chopping wood. Swinging off a rope into the swimming hole. Chasing chickens.”
“That’s what I was trying to get away from when I went to college.” She put her fingers on the windowsill, wishing she knew more of the history of the hands that had built this house. “I didn’t know how valuable it was until I came back to make a life out of it.”
The steel returned to Ty. “That’s why I’m not going to let them take it away from you.”
“What happened to your grandparents’ place?” Was that why he was so determined to help her?
“The younger generations moved to the cities and the land got to be too much for them to maintain. They sold it off and lived out their lives in a nice little house.” He warmed again. “I still see people wearing belts my grandpa tooled. Didn’t sell them, just gave them away with plenty of free advice. And my grandma tutored any local kid who needed help.”
The lineage started to make sense. “They were Frontier Justice.”
Ty’s gaze dropped to the floor and his brow drew down. After a moment, he shook his head. “As far as I could find, that organization dissolved around World War One. My grandparents were just...”
“Good people.” She moved her hand from the windowsill to brush it against his. “Like you.”
He brought his attention to the idling car again, eyes taking on an edge. “I’m trying.”
His deflection helped her find some perspective. Yes, he was diligent in helping her, but was she reading too much into the silent moments between them? “What does your girlfriend think about you spending the night at my place?”
“No girlfriend.” He kept staring straight ahead. “No wife.”
“Married to the badge?” She could see how his intensity might not leave space for another person.
“I’ll give you my mom’s number.” A wry smile curved his mouth. “She can fill you in on all the things I’m doing wrong in my love life.”
“I don’t know, Ty. I think you’ve got primo moves.” She focused ahead as well, but felt as if she was leaning against his shoulder, even though they were over a foot apart. “You jump into a fight, run into a fire, all just to get into my bedroom.”
He leaned back on his heels, as if startled, and looked about the room. “I was just tracking that car. If you don’t want me in here...” His voice trailed off as he glanced from the bed to her in her T-shirt and sweats.
What had started as a joke turned serious in the new silence. She hadn’t even taken in that he was wearing only a tank top and athletic shorts. The dim light from outside revealed the muscles in his arms that made him move with such sure grace. He was lean, defined, built for purpose, not just for show. “I let you in,” she answered.
Outside, the sound of the car’s engine changed. Condensation from the exhaust billowed and the car moved forward. Ty crouched lower, pistol in hand. Ready. She clutched her rifle and tried to keep her heart from pounding too hard. Her voice shook. “I’ve never shot at another person.”
“You’re lucky,” he whispered, face so dark she couldn’t see into him. “Remember, you didn’t ask for this. These bastards are bringing it to you, and you’re just defending your home and your life.”
Her palms sweated with the thought of it coming down to a life-and-death fight. But that was what they’d done this night, attacking her the way they did.
The car continued up the road. Her breath caught in her throat. Ty remained poised, eerily calm. After a few yards, the car swung across the blacktop in a hard U-turn. Tires screeched into the night. The headlights turned back on and the car sped away, having sent its message.
Relief blanketed her as the tension shuddered its way out of her limbs. She leaned the rifle against the wall and sat on the floor. Ty remained at the window another few moments, then joined her, letting out a long breath. Toro curled up at her feet.
Even though the threat had passed, there was still hard intent in Ty’s voice. “The Hanley Development Group, right?”
“They’re the ones who first approached to get me to sell.” It had all seemed so impersonal and businesslike. Two representatives had come to her shop, laid out the idea of their resort on her land, then left with polite handshakes when she’d declined.
Ty knocked the knuckles of his fist on the wood floor. “We’re going to give them a visit.”
“I’ve got to take care of things locally first. Insurance. Phone calls.” She still didn’t know just how badly her shop was damaged. And she had to update her website and social media to let people know the store was closed. Maybe permanently.
“Soon, then.” He rose. “If they’re hitting you, then we have to hit back.” His outstretched hand waited for her.
Her pulse warmed seeing his skin so close. She could stand on her own. She reached up and took his hand. The touch fired her blood hotter. Like a bolt of electricity passed between them. The way his chest swelled with a breath, she knew he felt it, too. His fingers curled strong around her. She flexed her muscles and got to her feet. Closer, her body demanded. Still clutching his hand, she could press against him, pull him to her. Bring his mouth to hers.
He stared at her from behind heavy lids. This man had burst into her life. In just a few hours he’d reminded her that she’d forgotten how to want something just for herself. But wanting that kiss, that physical contact, and taking it were two completely different things.
She dropped his hand.
He took a respectful step back and the sultry atmosphere lifted from around him. “Good night, Mariana.”
“Thanks for—” how many times could she thank him in one day? “—sleeping light.”
An unexpected quirked smile lit him up. “My pleasure?”
The temptation to ask him to stay in her room hit her. Like the way she’d asked him to spend the night at her place. But this wasn’t motivated by the need for safety. It definitely wasn’t safe to have him in her bedroom. “Good night, Ty.”
He nodded and turned for the doorway. Toro got up, followed him for a step, then stopped as Ty descended the stairs. Mariana closed the door and didn’t lock it. She placed the rifle next to the bed and sat on the mattress. Toro curled near her feet and let out a satisfied sigh, his job done for the night.