After taking a few deep breaths to steady her anger, she opened her eyes.
“Well, Sheriff, you should be extremely proud of yourself.” She spit out the words as if they were poison. She shook her head with disgust and walked towards the stairs, ignoring the rumbling in her stomach because she knew she'd rather die than share a meal with this man.
Chapter Four
Matt had barely drifted off to sleep before the piercing screams shattered the pre-dawn silence. He threw the covers back, jumped out of bed and quickly grabbed his revolver from his bedside table. He bounded down the hall to the guest bedroom, kicking the door open with one swift thrust of his leg. Matt palmed his gun and walked across the threshold, prepared for anything.
Marissa was sitting up in bed, tears streaming down her face, her expression wide-eyed and wild. Quickly, he looked around the room, relaxing slightly as he realized they were alone. As a precaution he wrenched open the closet door and looked around inside, coming up with nothing.
“Did someone come in here?” he asked, his body pumping with adrenaline.
Marissa shook her head. “N-No, no one's here.”
“What happened?” he asked.
She raked her hand through her hair and said, “It's nothing. A bad dream.” Her voice sounded rattled, and he could see she was shaking uncontrollably.
Matt lowered his gun and let out the breath he'd been holding. “I thought someone broke in. You were screaming bloody murder in here.”
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “It felt so real.”
“Did you remember something about the shooter?”
Marissa furrowed her brow and said, “No, my dream was about a fire. There were flames all around me and I was trying to get out of this house I was trapped in. It was terrifying.”
“Strange,” he said, “I would've thought your dream was about the shooting. Your screams sounded horrific.”
Marissa shrugged. “It's not really odd for me. I've had this dream on and off ever since I was a child. I don't usually scream loud enough to wake the dead, but I do have this recurring nightmare about a fire.”
For the first time since he'd entered the room, Cruz's attention drifted towards Marissa’s bedtime attire. She was wearing a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt and her hair was in pigtails. Rather than appearing childish, she looked fresh and vibrant. After a few seconds of shameless staring, he managed to drag his eyes away from her, focusing instead on the cracked window next to the bed.
Anger rose up within him. “What part of don't open the window didn't you understand?”
Marissa turned towards the window, a guilty expression creeping onto her face. “Woops. I meant to close it before I went to bed. It was so hot in here.”
He clenched his jaw. “Do you think this is one big joke?”
She looked at him with widened eyes. “Of course not. How can you even ask me that?”
“There is someone out there who wants to kill you. That same someone has already killed at least one person that we know of. Leaving your window open is stupid.”
Marissa glared at him as if she wanted to do him bodily harm. “Do you have to be such a stupid... raging... jerk? Did you ever stop and think that this whole thing is new to me? I'm not used to being stalked by a killer. It's not every day that I witness a brutal murder. Do you think I enjoy living under the roof of a man who can't stand the very sight of me? Have you ever heard of a thing called compassion?”
By this time Marissa's shoulders were heaving up and down and her eyes were filled with unshed tears. Once again all Matt could do was squirm. He felt like an idiot for making her tear up. He felt like the Big Bad Wolf being mean to Little Red Riding Hood. Although Marissa came across as a tough, no-nonsense businesswoman, on the inside she was as soft as a marshmallow. And she'd been through major trauma in the last twenty-four hours. Even an idiot like himself could see that!
Deliberately, he softened his voice and said, “Use your head. That's all I'm saying. There's someone out there who won't hesitate to come right through that window and do the same thing to you that he did to Ronnie. It's my job to make sure that doesn't happen.”
Matt saw the fear in her eyes, and he watched as she nervously swallowed. “Point taken,” she said shakily.
As soon as he left the guest room Matt headed to the attic where he roamed around for a few minutes until he found the item he'd been looking for. Moments later he knocked on the guest room door, then slowly opened it after hearing a soft “Come in.” This time Marissa was completely covered by his baby blue cotton sheets.
He held out the giant fan that he'd just dug up from his attic. “You should've just told me you were hot,” he said gruffly.
“I should have,” she acknowledged. “It's hard to ask you for things. You're already doing so much for me – taking me into your home, providing me with around the clock protection. I'm not used to asking for things.”
“It's my job,” he said matter of factly, unwilling to take credit for something that fell under the heading of official business.
“I shouldn't have called you stupid. Or a jerk. I was angry and frustrated.” Her beautiful eyes were full of sincerity, making him regret his harshness towards her a few moments ago.
“Get some sleep,” he said tersely as he made a rapid exit from the room. He needed to quickly get out of the danger zone. Matt headed downstairs and straight to the kitchen for a tall glass of ice water. He downed the contents greedily in the hopes it would rid him of this flushed, heated feeling. For some odd reason he’d imagined himself kissing Marissa. He didn’t even know where the thought had come from!
The one woman he wanted to kiss was the one woman he couldn't touch. Couldn't. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. For starters, they didn't like each other. Despite how they'd made nice today, they both knew that under the surface they had major issues with one another. Not that it would be a crime to share a little kiss, he reasoned, but she was under his protection. That meant she was off limits. It would be all kinds of wrong to violate that trust. Once she got her memory back she would be his star witness, and together they would put a murderer away for a very long time. He took his oath as a lawman very seriously, and he couldn't imagine violating his own moral code for a kiss.
As he walked back to his bedroom he made a mental note to meet some of the guys for beers tomorrow night at Tumbleweeds. Beau and Evie had offered to spell him from time to time and keep watch over Marissa. He would definitely take them up on it, if only to keep his sanity intact. Wanting to kiss her didn’t bother him as much as the fact that he was starting to like her. She wasn't the awful person he'd imagined her to be. Like Beau had told him, she was goodhearted. So good that she'd almost gotten herself killed helping her idiot brother. He wondered what it would be like to be loved by a woman who had such loyalty, such strength?
He imagined what it would feel like to come home to a woman like her every night.
Lord have mercy. What was she doing to him? With a groan he sank down under the covers and prayed desperately for the relief that only sleep could deliver.
Chapter Five
She woke up in the morning with a deep rumbling in her belly, a noisy reminder that she'd sacrificed dinner last night rather than eat in the sheriff’s company. And now her tummy was paying the price for it. Last night had been a rough one. She'd tossed and turned well into the wee hours of the morning, her head filled with faceless enemies wielding guns and out of control blazes threatening to consume her. Her mirror told her no lies – there were dark shadows under her eyes and a look of fatigue imprinted on her face. She looked broke down and busted.
By the time Cruz knocked on her door announcing breakfast she'd managed to make herself look somewhat presentable. A little foundation and loose powder had done wonders for her skin and she'd put her hair back in a loose, no frills ponytail. After adding a little mascara and some lip gloss she was starting to feel less like a hot mess. She pulled out her cell phone and checked in with the office
, rearranging a few appointments and delegating house showings to her staff. Although her assistant, Mary Lou peppered her with questions about her whereabouts, she managed to pacify her by telling her she had the stomach flu. Mary Lou had been speechless.
It was her own fault, she realized grimly. In the four years since she'd owned her company she had never taken a single sick day. Through flu season, dental issues and stomach problems, she'd always managed to make it to work. All work and no play. Her mother's words rang in her ears, reminding her that she needed a healthy balance in her life. Although she loved the business of real estate, there was so much more that she wanted in her life. A husband to love and adore. Children to sing to sleep at night. A soft place to fall.
When she made her way downstairs, Matt was standing at the stove wearing a pair of jeans and a white T shirt. Although his clothes weren't tight, her pulse quickened at the sight of his rugged, toned physique. He had a strong, powerful back and lovely arms. He was a beautiful man, she thought with a sigh. He could be as mean as a snake, but he was gorgeous. He turned towards her at the sound of her footsteps, his face shuttered as he said, “Morning. The food is over there. Eggs. Pancakes. Bacon. Fresh Fruit. Oatmeal. Fruit Loops. Orange juice.”
The sight of the food made her jaw drop.
“I didn't know what you like to eat for breakfast, so I made a little bit of everything,” he explained. “Grab a plate over there,” he said as he pointed a spatula towards the kitchen counter.
After filling her plate with eggs, pancakes, bacon and fruit she sat down at the maple butcher block table. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes until Matt said, “Tony went home with your parents this morning. He ended up giving us a few leads to follow up on.”
Relief swelled through her at the news of her brother's release. “That's good news.”
“I know you think I was being hard on him, but he had to be ruled out as a suspect. For all we knew he could've been the shooter.”
Her mouth hung open in surprise as she struggled for words. “Tony? The shooter? Seriously?” She erupted into a fit of laughter so strong it made her stomach ache. She held her belly as spasms of laughter took over.
“Y-You think my brother...Tony -.” Another fit of laughter interrupted her and she had to pause before continuing to speak. “You think he's the shooter?”
With his brows furrowed together, Cruz said, “I think it was a possibility. You're too traumatized to remember the shooter's face. Who's to say the shooter wasn't your big brother? Maybe that's why you can't remember the event. Perhaps it was too traumatic to see him wipe out his bookie.”
“Who's to say?” he said through a mouthful of cereal.
“Sheriff, I would be a more likely suspect than Tony. He's afraid of his own shadow, for goodness sakes. Why do you think he sent me to the wharf? He's a big, scaredy cat. Always has been, always will be. On some level you must know that, otherwise he'd still be sitting in a jail cell.”
Cruz nodded his head grudgingly, then asked, “Remember anything?”
“Nope. Not a thing,” she admitted with a frown. “It's like there's this black canvas covering my memory of the shooting. The last thing I remember is seeing Ronnie's face.”
“I'd like you to meet with the sketch artist today and take a look at some photos we have down at the station. Perhaps one of the faces will jump out at you,” he suggested. “If you feel more comfortable I can arrange to have her meet us over here.”
“No, the stations fine,” she said eagerly. “It'll be nice to get out of the house.”
Her heart skipped with excitement at the possibility of regaining her memory of the killer's face. If she was able to correctly identify a photo or create a profile for the sketch artist perhaps she could go back home to live. Because of one moment of foolishness when she'd agreed to be her brother's flunky, her entire life had been turned upside down. She couldn't wait for this nightmare to be over! More than anything she wanted to go back to her everyday life as Marissa Santana, realtor. Today she planned to do whatever was humanly possible to make it happen.
***
She wasn't the only one who needed a change of scenery. Had it really only been twenty some hours since she'd moved into his house? It felt like it'd been days, weeks, months. When he'd first laid eyes on her this morning he'd been blown away by her beauty. She was stunning. Had she always been this gorgeous? He wondered. He'd seen her face a million times plastered all over billboards in town advertising her real estate company. Marissa Santana Realty. She's the Real Deal! By that time, he'd heard she was spreading gossip about him around town and the very sight of her turned his stomach. When he'd gotten in her face at Tumbleweeds and read her the riot act all those months ago, he hadn't even noticed how gorgeous she was. He'd been so filled with anger he hadn't noticed a thing about her other than her gossipy ways.
And now it was all he saw. Her olive colored skin. Her wild tumble of glossy hair. The way her mouth formed dimples when she laughed. The almond-shaped exotic eyes that could make him feel guilty with a single, reproachful look. A stunningly beautiful woman.
Ugh. He was losing his professional edge. He was beginning to respond to her in alarming ways that violated his sense of right and wrong. Right – he'd taken on the assignment of protecting her from a killer. Wrong – to mix business with pleasure and start thinking about her on a personal level. There was no doubt about it. He wanted more from her than he cared to admit.
Shame filled him as he remembered the way he'd treated her at Tumbleweeds all those months ago. Caleb had lit into him for raising his voice at her. Anger had made him act like an idiot although he knew it was no excuse. Had he ever apologized for it? He couldn't remember apologizing, and it burned him up inside. He'd acted like a total Neanderthal. No wonder she thought he was a jerk!
He wanted to get out of the house tonight, to throw back a few beers with the guys, toss darts and flirt with pretty females. He needed to be in the presence of other women tonight and have a good time out on the town. What he desperately craved was a distraction.
***
The moment they walked into the police station, Marissa realized that Matt Cruz was the closest thing the town had to a rock star. As soon as he walked into the room a swarm of people surrounded him, each of them wanting a few minutes of the big guy's time and attention. A shapely, brown skinned deputy clapped Cruz on the back, earning her an icy expression from the Sheriff that spoke volumes. Clearly, he wasn't the warm and fuzzy type. It was a bit of a relief knowing he didn't reserve his grumpiness solely for her. His moody demeanor seemed to be part of his personality.
“Hey, Marissa. Remember me?” the female deputy asked with a look of expectation on her pretty face.
She felt like a deer in the headlights, particularly since she couldn't remember having met her before. “Hi there,” she said in a friendly tone. “You look familiar, but -.”
“I was a year behind you at Briarwood High. I'm Evie Jones.” She offered her hand and then shook Marissa's hand vigorously, applying extra pressure to her handshake.
Marissa winced and said, “Of course I remember you, Evie. I had no idea you were a deputy.” She remembered Evie as being a top athlete at school, along with her four, equally attractive sisters.
“Yup,” she beamed proudly. “This is my fourth year on the job. If all goes right this year,” she added with a conspiratorial wink, “I'll make deputy of the year.”
Beau walked past and rolled his eyes heavily upon hearing Evie’s comment.
Marissa watched the way Evie followed Beau with her eyes. She was a goner, Marissa thought with a measure of pity. Although Beau barely spared her a glance, she was all goo-goo eyes and lingering looks. Clearly, she was crazy about the man, despite the fact he didn't seem to know she existed on any level other than his co-worker.
“I'm sorry about all the trouble with you being a witness to a murder and all,” she said in a rambling voice. “But I promise you that the
Briarwood Sheriff's office will serve and protect you till we take the shooter into custody.”
Cruz had walked up behind Evie and, unbeknownst to her, was standing in back of her listening to her every word.
“I'd trust Sheriff Cruz to keep me safe if I had a killer on my trail,” she said in a chirpy voice. “But just between you and me,” she added with a goofy grin. “I'd be over the moon if Deputy Beau was my twenty-four/seven bodyguard.”
“Evie, isn't there some paperwork you need to catch up on?” Cruz asked with a frown.
Evie made a face acknowledging she'd been overheard by her boss. “Yes, Sheriff,” she answered with flushed cheeks. “I'll get right on that.”
As he ushered Marissa into his office, Cruz left instructions to show the sketch artist into his office as soon as she arrived. The phone was ringing off the hook, and after muttering angrily, he reached for it and began talking in procedural jargon.
Marissa looked around the room. A huge, gaily wrapped basket filled with treats sat on his desk courtesy of the Ladies Guild of Briarwood. Marissa could've seen their signature stationary from a mile away since it was dotted with hearts and contained the tag line “From our heart to yours.” The smell of baked goods hovered in the air mixed with the crisp scent of apples and cinnamon. Marissa wanted to gag. Half the women in the Ladies Guild were desperate old biddies and the other half were single ladies looking for a husband. She smirked at the thought of Cruz being chased by the lonely senior citizens in town. Old Widow Jenkins popped into her mind, and for a brief moment, she found herself wondering about their relationship. The gossip about the Sheriff and the widow had raced through town like wildfire, fueled by first-hand accounts and scandalous scenarios. One woman in town had sworn she'd seen them kissing through the widow's large bay window. Although Marissa had eagerly passed the gossip on to some of her clients, she had to admit she'd never paused to question its accuracy.
And, in doing so, she'd earned a spot in Cruz's hall of shame. Despite the fact he was giving her around the clock protection, she knew he still thought she was a malicious, reckless gossip.
Guarding Her Heart (Guardians Inc. Book 1) Page 5