The Thanksgiving Target
- -
- 100%
- +
A shiver racked her body, having nothing to do with the temperature outside. His words, spoken so bluntly, made the entire situation sound that much more sinister.
Max was right. She didn’t know who the guy was, so how could she know what lengths he’d go to get back at her for some perceived wrong she’d committed. She would be better off in a hotel, miles from her house. She needed to think logically, not emotionally.
Ted had loved her. He’d want her to be safe.
Max pushed away from the counter, coming to stand in front of her. “Please, Tara? I don’t feel right leaving you here. There must be something I can say to convince you.”
She could almost hear Ted’s voice telling her not to be foolish.
“I’ll stay in a hotel room for tonight,” she agreed slowly. “But I don’t want you to feel responsible for me. This isn’t your problem.”
He didn’t say anything in response, but as she turned to go down to her bedroom to pack an overnight bag, she suspected Max was incapable of standing aside, allowing her to face her problems on her own.
And deep down, despite her guilt over the prickly awareness she felt around Melissa’s brother, she was secretly glad that she had Max to lean on, at least for a few more hours.
Max ground the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to stay calm and rational and awake as he waited for Tara to return with her overnight case.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met a more stubborn woman. There was a part of him that admired her strength, her ability to weather a shock such as finding her dog hurt or her tires slashed. But at the moment he was more frustrated than anything. Lissa had teased him about being a control freak and his sister might be right.
Someone was stalking Tara. Yet she’d never said a word, hadn’t so much as hinted at her troubles. Most women were more than grateful for a helping hand—but not Tara. She seemed to think she could take this guy on by herself. And, like always, his need to protect others kicked in at the first sign of a woman in distress. He wanted nothing more than to keep Tara out of harm’s way.
But her well-being wasn’t his problem, as she’d so clearly pointed out. He wasn’t responsible for her.
He should be glad she felt that way. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to loosen the tightness of his neck. The thought of anyone hurting Tara made his blood turn cold. Thankfully, she wasn’t stupid enough to stay here by herself.
Not after someone had been at her house.
He’d help her get away from this creep stalking her, but then he needed to leave her alone. He didn’t understand this intense attraction he felt for her. She was beautiful, but he’d never particularly cared about outward appearances. He appreciated her nobility in dedicating her life to helping others—people like his sister. Yet she was also a widow. She’d emphatically denied having a man in her life when the police had asked, and he understood she was clearly stating she didn’t want one.
Which should be fine with him. She was a woman in trouble, and he didn’t really want to be involved in her problems any more than he already was. Especially since he refused to make the same mistake again, misinterpreting gratitude and friendship for something more.
He wasn’t going to be in town for long anyway. Soon, he’d be flown back to Iraq.
A twenty-day leave wasn’t much time. His main concern was to find Gary, Lissa’s abusive boyfriend. He was glad the police were already on the case, although until he talked to them, he wouldn’t know if they were making any progress or not. And if he could give Tara a little protection from her stalker, he would. But he wouldn’t allow himself to get too close.
Tara returned to the kitchen, dressed in comfortable jeans, a sweater and a heavy-duty blue denim jacket. She looked much younger in the casual clothes. The navy blue suit she’d worn earlier had given her a more professional appearance. In her arms she carried a small overnight bag and his camouflage cargo jacket.
He was ridiculously disappointed that she’d taken his jacket off to replace it with one of her own.
“Here,” she said, handing the army jacket to him.
“Thanks.” He took the coat and stuffed it back into his duffel. Then he plucked the overnight bag from her hands, ignoring her protest, and slung both bags over his shoulder. He stepped back so Tara could go out the door first. She threw one last glance over her shoulder, and he understood the regret darkening her eyes. Leaving her home hadn’t been an easy decision.
He followed her outside and then waited until she’d closed and locked her door before they headed back down the road toward the bus stop. They hadn’t quite reached the corner when a loud explosion blasted his ears, rocking the night.
In a heartbeat, he shielded Tara with his body, convinced they were back in Iraq under mortar attack.
What happened? Where was the enemy firing from?
He glanced back over his shoulder and once the flashback faded, he realized Tara’s house was engulfed in smoke and flames.
Someone had tried to kill her.
FOUR
The earth shuddered beneath her feet, throwing her against Max, whose strong arms held her upright, his broad shoulders protecting her as he turned, putting himself in front of her. The explosion reverberated through her head over and over in a deafening echo. The acrid scent of smoke stung her nose.
What happened? She clung to Max’s arms, twisting to search for the source of the sound, not sure what she expected to see. A burning car or truck maybe?
Flickering flames danced in the gaping hole where a corner of her house used to be. Her house. She gasped in horror, unable to tear her gaze from the awful sight.
Her house!
“Tara? Are you all right?”
She could barely hear Max through the ringing in her ears. The destruction seared painfully into her eyes, making them burn.
Her home, the home she’d shared with Ted, was gone.
Max’s arms tightened around her. Dimly, she realized her knees had buckled.
Gone. Her home was gone.
Suddenly Max swept her off her feet, striding away from the wreckage. She clutched his shirt, knowing she should protest, but unable to remember why.
“Mrs. Henderson!” Her hoarse voice sounded far away, as if coming from the end of a long tunnel.
“What?” Max’s steps slowed.
She forced her brain to think, to react. She pushed against him, turning awkwardly to glance behind them. “We can’t leave. Not without checking on Mrs. Henderson.”
He stopped, looking down at her. “No. We’re too exposed out here,” he said in a low, rough voice.
“Please. I can’t just leave her.” Sensing her distress, he set her down gently but kept a hand on her arm to keep her steady. She hadn’t realized she was swaying. Pulling herself together, she tried to make him understand. “The blast was on the side of the house closest to Mrs. Henderson’s. What if she fell? What if the fire spreads to her house? I can’t just leave her. She’s been like a grandmother to me.”
His fingers tightened, and she could tell he didn’t want to go. Finally he relented.
“Stay close,” he ordered in a harsh tone he must have used on his men under his command. He wrapped a steel arm around her shoulders as they retraced their steps, heading back toward her neighbor’s house. People were coming outside, standing and staring in horror. In the distance, she could hear the wail of sirens. “I don’t like this,” Max muttered. “Your stalker could be hiding anywhere.”
Her stalker? It took a moment for his words to sink in to her befuddled brain. First her car, then Beau and now her house.
Her stalker wasn’t just some man who was angry with her, looking for ways to get back at her, to inconvenience her, to frighten her.
Whoever this man was, he’d just blown up her house.
Tiny white dots swirled in front of her eyes, and the blood drained from her head. She bent over, bracing her hands on her knees, feeling like she might faint.
She never fainted. Ever.
There was always a first time for everything.
The idiotic thought came from nowhere. For a moment she feared she was losing her mind. She struggled to breathe, fighting a wave of darkness, and clutched a hand to her heart, seeking guidance.
Lord, I need You. Please give me strength.
“Tara? Come on, hang in there. Don’t pass out on me.”
“I won’t.” She wished she could sound more convincing, but finally she was able to take several deep breaths, pushing herself upright. “I’m fine. We need to find Mrs. Henderson.”
Max’s gaze clung to hers for several seconds before he glanced away. “We’ll find her.”
His confidence helped her to believe, and she forced herself to take several steps toward Mrs. Henderson’s tiny blue house just as her neighbor, wearing the familiar bright purple robe, appeared on the doorstep.
Safe. Sweet, elderly Mrs. Henderson was safe. Her thick glasses were askew, and her tight gray curls were disheveled, but she was moving under her own power, a welcome, reassuring sight.
Dear Lord, thank You. Thank You for keeping her safe.
Relief made Tara dizzy. Max’s arms tightened around her, and she sensed his attention was focused on their surroundings now that they knew Mrs. Henderson was unharmed.
“Tara?” Mrs. Henderson called, as they approached. “What happened to your house?”
“I don’t know.” She cast a warning glance at Max. She would not tolerate him frightening this poor woman with talk about stalkers. Gently, she took the elderly woman’s hand. “Are you all right? You’re not hurt?”
“I’m fine. Tumbled to the floor, but lucky for me,” she said as she smiled wryly and patted her round hip, “I have enough padding to cushion these old bones.”
She gently squeezed the woman’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re not hurt.”
Fire trucks and police cars pulled up moments later, and soon her quiet, sedate, family-friendly neighborhood was overwhelmed in chaos. As the firefighters turned their hoses to the blaze, the police ushered her and Max to the closest police car to take their statements.
She’d never been inside the back of a police car before, but she was too numb to appreciate the novel experience. Max climbed in beside her, amazingly still carrying their bags, which he stuffed on the floor at their feet. Officer Anderson, the taller policeman who’d come to see her earlier that evening, slid into the front seat.
He turned around so he could look at them through the metal grate separating the front from the back. “I guess we know why your stalker drugged your dog,” he said in lieu of a greeting.
She wrinkled her brow, not following his logic.
“He obviously drugged the dog so he could sneak inside her house without causing a ruckus,” Max agreed in a grim tone.
“Exactly.” Officer Anderson’s expression was intense. “The focal point of the blast seems to be centered on the back side of the house.”
“The back side?” Max echoed. “That’s where the bedrooms are located.”
“I’m sure he was hoping she’d be asleep when the explosion hit.”
“And she would have been,” Max ground out between clenched teeth, his anger palpable. “If I hadn’t dragged her out.”
They were talking about her as if she weren’t sitting right there with them, but she couldn’t find the strength to complain. Max was absolutely right. By forcing her to leave, convincing her to go to a hotel with him, he’d saved her life.
And while she’d often wondered why God had taken Ted’s life, instead of hers, she discovered she was profoundly grateful.
Because she very much wanted to live.
A jackhammer pounded behind his temples, anger reverberating through his system. He was furious. At God for allowing this to happen. At Gary for hurting his sister. At the police for not finding the source of the explosion sooner, before the bomb or the gas leak or the whatever had blown Tara’s house to smithereens, nearly killing them.
At himself, for not following his instinct to rip her house apart from top to bottom.
Even now, sitting with her in the cramped backseat of a squad car, he knew Tara was not safe. Her stalker was out there somewhere. The thought of such evil threatening her made his gut churn.
He wouldn’t be satisfied until they were far away from her house, somewhere where this guy harboring such animosity and hatred couldn’t find her.
Bands of fear tightened around his chest, making it difficult to breathe.
She’d almost died. Tara had almost died.
“I have to tell you, the captain isn’t going to pony up police protection,” Anderson warned. “Not without proof that this explosion wasn’t an accident.”
“Accident?” Tara’s trembling voice ripped at his heart. “How could blowing up my house possibly be an accident?”
“I’m not saying I believe it was.” Anderson lifted his palms up in surrender. “But there’s a possibility your furnace or your stove was leaking natural gas, causing the explosion.”
“Accidental explosions are rare,” Max pointed out, knowing the cop’s theory was ridiculous. “I didn’t smell any natural gas when I was inside, and neither did you. We were walking to the bus stop when it blew. I understand the need for an investigation, but with everything else going on—the tire slashing, the dog drugging—it’s obvious someone wants to hurt Tara.”
And they’d very nearly succeeded.
“We haven’t located Tyrone Adams yet,” Anderson admitted. “Have you had time to make a list of all your clients who might hold a grudge against you?”
“No.” Tara brushed a strand of hair away from her face with a shaky hand. Max took her slender fingers and gently held them in his. She didn’t pull away but clung to his hand tightly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t imagine Tyrone or any of my clients doing something like this. Any one of them might get angry with me, but I can honestly say they couldn’t hate me enough to try to k-kill me.”
The slight hitch in her voice made him want to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. The logical part of his brain reminded him she wasn’t his to protect. And even if she was, support and friendship weren’t a prelude for everlasting love. He shoved the logical voice aside.
It didn’t matter.
He’d failed to protect Keith and Lissa. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he failed to protect Tara, too. Keeping Tara safe was more important than insulating his heart.
“Are we finished here?” he asked Anderson. “I’d like to take Tara someplace safe.”
“Where?”
Raising a brow, he pursed his lips and decided not to respond. No one needed to know where they were going, including the police.
Anderson stared at him through the metal grate for a long, hard moment. Max lifted his chin and returned the cop’s glare, refusing to back down. If the police weren’t going to offer protection, fine. He’d handle the task himself.
“I’ll give you my cell-phone number,” Tara said. “That way you can call me if you need to reach me.”
He didn’t even want the police to have that much information, although it was possible her cell number was somewhere in their files. Not that he really suspected someone on the force wanted to hurt her. What would be their motive? Tara was clearly a law-abiding citizen. Still, past experience taught him that not all those who promised to protect and serve took the vow seriously.
Some men thrived on violence.
“Use my cell number,” he said, just to be ultra-cautious. He rattled off the number watching as Anderson wrote it in his small brown notebook.
“Got it,” Anderson closed his notebook, indicating their brief interview was over. “We’ll be in touch tomorrow, after the arson investigator has a chance to go through your house, pinpointing the origin of the blast.”
“Thank you,” Tara said quietly.
“Wait,” Max said swiftly, when Anderson moved to climb out of the squad car.
The cop glanced at him questioningly.
“We need a ride to St. Louis General Hospital. I don’t want to risk taking Tara away from here via public transportation.”
She flashed him an odd glance, no doubt wondering why he didn’t just have the cops drive them straight to the hotel, but he tightened his hand on hers, silently asking her to trust him.
There was no such thing as being too careful, not with Tara’s life at stake.
“Sure. Just give me a minute to touch base with my partner.”
“No problem.” Max waited until Anderson climbed out of the squad car and slammed the door behind them, effectively locking them in.
“Tara, I know you’re exhausted and want nothing more than to get to the hotel as quickly as possible, but I don’t want to risk being followed.” He tried to read the expression in her eyes by the lights reflected inside by the nearby emergency vehicles. “Humor me for a little while longer yet, okay?”
She stared down at their entwined fingers. “Okay.”
She was in shock, quiet, subdued. He wished there was something he could do to bring back the stubborn, feisty woman who’d argued with him.
Within moments Anderson and his partner, Schimberg, were back, climbing into the front seat. Anderson took the wheel.
“All set?” Anderson asked, starting the police car.
“Sure.” He glanced down at Tara, who didn’t answer. She was turned in her seat, staring out the window at the charred remains of her house. He sensed she was barely hanging on to her composure. He wanted to hold her close, to promise to be there for her until this creep was caught and locked up behind bars.
But he couldn’t make any such promise. All he could do was hope and pray the police would capture the guy stalking her before his twenty-day leave was over.
Tara held herself upright with an effort, staring sightlessly out the window as Officer Anderson drove through the night. She longed to rest her weary head on Max’s broad shoulder but told herself his strong hand holding hers was enough comfort.
Poor Max. He’d certainly gotten more than he’d bargained for when he’d insisted on accompanying her home.
The image of her burning house replayed over and over in her mind until she wanted to scream with frustration. She drew a ragged breath, controlling the sense of panic.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.