Skylar stood and stepped out of the tub, grabbing a towel for a quick dab-dry before donning her robe. Peering into her bedroom, she saw nothing out of place. At the open door to the hallway, she stopped to listen.
Some light from downstairs illuminated the hall through the open railing, but she saw no one. From downstairs she heard the ticking of the grandfather clock and the faint hum of airflow from the furnace. She heard nothing else. But she had not imagined the sound of breaking glass.
There was no landline in her room and her cell was downstairs. She looked behind her for anything that could serve as a weapon. The desk where she sometimes liked to work at night had a lamp. Too bulky. The vase might be good. But it wasn’t heavy enough to smash over an intruder’s head. The gas fireplace across from the foot of the bed had a poker for show. Now, that she could use.
She hurried to pick up the poker, then went back to her bedroom door. Checking the hall again, finding it empty and quiet, she walked slowly to the railing and peered down into her living room. The TV still played. The hall widened at the railing, the other side a den that she could close with foldable doors. She kept the doors open all the time because she liked the light. Now she was glad she did, because there was a phone in there.
She ran to the side table and lifted the receiver. No dial tone.
A shockwave of alarm sent her pulse flying. She knew someone was in the house. Someone had broken in and she didn’t have to guess who.
What should she do? Find her cell phone? Get the hell out of the house?
Cell phone first.
Leaving the den, she made her way to the top of the stairs, pausing to listen. Nothing. One stair at a time, she descended. At the bottom, she could see her kitchen and living room. All was quiet.
But then she saw the back patio door. One of the French doors was open—and the glass had been shattered in one of the panels.
Skylar searched for her cell. It had been moved from the kitchen island, where she thought she’d left it, to the table. She picked it up. It was turned off. She had not turned off her phone.
She fought for calm. Panicking would not help her right now.
Sensing and then hearing an ever so slight scuff on the floor, she turned in time to see a man, dressed all in black and wearing a mask and gloves, aiming a gun at her.
Skylar dove for cover behind the kitchen island as a shot exploded. She scrambled low into the dining room, putting her back to the wall as another shot sprayed drywall. She would never get out of here if she ran. The gunman would surely shoot her before she got to the door.
She knew some self-defense moves, but not a whole lot—certainly not enough to save herself from a desperate killer. Hearing him walk toward the dining room, she waited until she could see the tip of his pistol, then stepped into the doorway at the same time she swung the poker upward, knocking the gun away. She then used one foot to slam down hard on his lower shin and rammed her knee into his groin. Next, she kicked him, sending him flying backward.
She ran for the front door, fear gripping her with each stride, expecting to be shot any second.
Before she reached the door, someone kicked it off its frame from the outside.
An instant later she saw Julien.
“Get down!” he shouted, aiming his pistol beyond her.
She dove for the floor, dropping the poker as he fired several times. Rolling onto her hip, she watched the masked man disappear into her kitchen.
Julien bolted for the other entryway to the kitchen.
Shakily getting to her feet, she heard more shots being fired. Julien had to take cover behind the living room wall but then charged into the kitchen, weapon firing. Skylar heard more shots from the backyard and then silence.
She hurried to the open, broken door, flipping on the outside lights. Julien ran toward her from the edge of trees surrounding her yard. She had no fence, so the intruder could have easily run away.
Julien reached her, putting his hands on her arms, having already holstered his gun. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, her pulse still pounding but not as frantically as when she’d thought she would be shot to death.
Julien looked back at the trees where the intruder must have gone and then faced her again. “I would have chased him, but I was worried about you.”
“I’m all right.”
He guided her inside and pulled out his phone. “Do you have any wood to cover up your door?”
“I think so. I’ll have one of the hands fix it tomorrow.”
Julien spoke into his mobile phone to a 9-1-1 dispatcher.
Great. She’d get to endure another visit with the dubious sheriff. Except now he’d be hard-pressed to doubt her claims. Clearly she must have seen something to make the hole digger feel he needed to close loose ends.
Julien ended the call. “While we wait for the sheriff, why don’t you go get dressed and pack some things? You should stay with me until we find out who tried to kill you.”
He had a good point, but the notion of staying with him gave her a burst of heat. Conscious of wearing only a robe, she tightened the belt.
“I can stay with my parents,” she said. “They can make sure I’m safe.” Her father would probably install a robust security system complete with guards.
“You might put others in danger if you do that.”
Her parents, Corbin and countless staff members might be in the line of fire if the gunman returned for another attempt.
“Then I’ll beef up security here. I can’t stay away from the ranch for long.”
“All right, then let me help you.”
“Okay.” She could agree to that.
“Don’t worry, I don’t mix my work with pleasure,” he said with a grin, giving her body a sweeping look.
“Good, then I don’t have to worry about trading one danger for another.” She smiled back and left him standing there, uncertainty flattening his mouth.
Chapter 3
This time the sheriff had believed Skylar had seen something nefarious. The sheriff would do his own investigation, but Julien could help. She’d allowed him to stay the night but this morning she had left early to begin her day. She’d promised to keep her deputy manager nearby, but Julien was still worried. He’d reluctantly had to leave to work on his other cases, but not before putting a GPS tracker in Skylar’s truck and arranging for repairs on her house. He hadn’t had a chance to tell her, she’d left in such a hurry. He would tell her later. Right now, he was tracking her to a farm and ranch supply store. Not liking the thought of her out of his sight, he drove there and waited outside.
When she appeared with a cart full of things, he left his SUV and walked toward her truck. She saw him and stopped at the tailgate.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I’ve been tracking your movements. Sorry for not telling you. I meant to.” He lifted a heavy bag of horse feed supplements.
“Should I be worried about the invasion of my privacy?”
That he was tracking her? “No. You should feel safer. Is your door fixed?”
“Yes, along with all the bullet holes. Thanks for doing that. You didn’t have to.”
“I know. I wanted to”
“You should have told me you were watching me. I would have been all right with that. It’s for my safety. Right now I feel stalked.” She put a bedding fork in the back and he put the last feed supplement there.
“Sorry. I’m tracking you with GPS. There are devices in the truck and in your wallet.”
She looked down at her purse, which hung diagonally over her shoulder and hip.
He put some tack in the truck.
Finished loading the truck, she closed the tailgate and faced him. “What else have you done?”
“Not as much as I’d like to.” Although he hadn’t me
ant the double entendre, his eyes raked down her body.
When he returned his gaze to hers, he caught her finishing her own appreciative observation. He grinned.
Her mouth curved upward slightly.
“What I meant is I’d rather be near you 24/7 to protect you. That attack proves how vulnerable you are,” he said.
“I know what you meant.” Her soft smile remained as she seemed to consider something else. “I don’t let men I just met move in with me.”
“I wouldn’t be moving in. I’d be a houseguest for a while. Separate bedrooms.”
Her smile slowly eased away but a flirtatious light glinted in her eyes. “Why don’t we start with dinner? Then I’ll decide.”
The invitation surprised him. She must know she was in significant danger. A killer had attacked her in her own home. Maybe she kept it light by using dinner as an excuse to give in. Or maybe these sparks flying between them had more to do with that.
“Dinner it is.” He’d be sure to pack a bag, too, because he fully planned on sticking around to make sure she was safe.
* * *
Skylar brooded over her invitation. She had clearly gotten lost in flirtation. She’d blurted it before thinking. She had been worried about living alone and whether the attacker would strike again. At the time she’d suggested dinner, she’d thought, Why not? She’d told herself she’d done it with her safety in mind. But she could not fool herself. Having Julien over for dinner excited her.
Without knowing anything about his taste in food, she had opted for surf and turf. A couple of juicy steaks and crab legs with scalloped potatoes and a salad. With the water heating for the crab and the steaks seasoned and ready for the grill, the doorbell rang.
“Right on time.” She opened the door to see Julien in slacks and a dress shirt. Nice but casual. She’d decided the same, wearing black leggings and a white-and-black-patterned shirt that flowed past her hips.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.” With a sexy, crooked grin, he stepped inside.
Telling herself this was not a date and calming the arousing heat the sight of him gave her, she closed and locked the door.
“I hope you like steak and crab.” She led him into her house, seeing how he checked the place out, and not out of admiration. He looked for security.
“The only thing I don’t like is roasted beetles.”
She laughed as she entered the kitchen. “Is that a real thing?”
“Supposedly they’re a salty snack.”
Skylar felt like gagging. “Yuck.”
He chuckled as she retrieved the steak from the refrigerator.
“Would you like some wine while you grill these for me?” she asked.
“Sure.”
She handed him the plate of raw, seasoned meat and then went to her wine cooler, selecting a good white. She brought the filled glasses out to the back patio, setting his down on the stone counter of her built-in barbecue. She took a seat on the outdoor couch and put her glass on the coffee table. She had already lit some tiki torches and the soft lights strung along the top rim of the gazebo.
After lighting the grill, he let it heat and came over to sit beside her. “This is nice.”
“As a lover of the outdoors, I had to have a patio I could practically live on.”
“I’m a lover of barbecues.”
Maybe he wasn’t such a city boy after all. She’d like to get to know him more. “You never did tell me if you and my brother planned on joining DAI together. You must be really good friends.”
“We are. Well, we were until he got married and moved.”
“No.” She inwardly laughed imagining him as one.
“Your brother and I worked together as Rangers until he got married and moved. He joined DAI before me,” he said, finally answering her question. “We were always a lot alike. We met in college, both of us getting criminal justice degrees. I think we had a fascination with superheroes, but your grandfather’s murder ultimately made him decide to become a detective.” He stopped and seemed to ponder something before he finally said, “I have always wanted to fight bad guys.”
Skylar strongly suspected there was more to it than he’d revealed, but didn’t question him.
“Cal and I both aspired to fight bad guys, but after college, we were still young and wild with no focused direction. We became troopers and then Rangers. He moved away. Then there was this murder in Irving that hit too close to home. I helped solve it. That’s when Cal introduced me to Kadin Tandy. He lost his daughter to violent crime and founded Dark Alley Investigations.”
“It seems like a lot of the agency’s investigators have lost someone.” Curiosity gnawed at her. She wanted so much to ask if he had lost someone, too, but didn’t want to overstep.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
Skylar wouldn’t get too personal. She would be patient.
“Are you from Irving?” she asked, noticing how he’d relaxed, tension easing. She had always been intuitive with people. Maybe that came from being raised by someone like her father. She had learned at a young age how to gauge him so she knew when to stay off his radar.
“Fredericksburg. My family still lives there. I moved to Dallas. My parents run a wildflower seed farm and my sister manages the operations.”
Skylar had heard of Fredericksburg. A town with German influence, it was in the Texas Hill Country, about an hour or two drive from the Chelsey ranch, which was just north of Irving.
“A wildflower seed farm?” How fascinating. “You must have interesting parents.”
He smiled, big and genuine. Right away Skylar knew he was close to his parents. Her immediate thought was that she never smiled like that when people asked her about her parents.
“They are. They are smart, happy people who were meant for each other. Two of the lucky ones who met their soul mate and raised kids the right way.”
Skylar did love her parents but she could never say they were soul mates. She was pretty sure her mother had married her father because of his position in society and his earning potential.
“My sister and I were brought up with positive influence,” Julien said, sounding proud. “Our parents believed in us earning privileges. They had us work the farm, which they called our chores, but as I grew up, I realized that was intentional. My dad would always teach us things, not just tasks that had to be done in running a farm or any other business, but integrity and the importance of having good principles.”
He seemed to fall into fond memories and Skylar was envious. “I asked him once where he learned to be such a good parent and he told me ‘from having bad ones.’” Julien’s brief laugh was full of affection. “His father—my grandfather—was an alcoholic who mistreated my grandmother. They’re both gone now, but I never spent much time with them. My dad didn’t like having them around. My mother’s parents were much different. They came for every holiday. I also think my dad learned how to be a good parent from them—and my mother, since she was raised pretty much the same way.”
Skylar sipped her wine, loving hearing the story about his obviously wonderful family.
“I’m talking a lot. Sorry,” he said.
“No. It’s fine. I’m enchanted.”
He looked at her in a way that seemed appreciative but was likely more along the lines of attraction.
“Is your sister younger or older than you?” she asked.
“She’s younger by three years. She’s engaged to be married at the end of summer. My parents are ecstatic.”
Skylar wouldn’t doubt it. They probably looked forward to grandchildren in whom they could instill integrity. She thought of her parents, and how different they were, and it seemed suddenly comical.
She breathed a laugh. “My parents were nothing like that.”
Julien smiled without showing any teeth. “Her f
iancé’s dad owns the hardware store in town.”
“So, he’s set financially. Is that important to your parents?”
“Her security is important, not just the money by itself. He had to pass the integrity and principle test.”
Skylar marveled over that for a second. “Wow. My dad doesn’t care about that. He’d railroad anyone who got in his way of success. I think my brother Corbin is the same way. I keep wondering if there’s hope for him, but his track record with women suggests not.”
“What about you?”
Was he asking if she would railroad anyone to achieve success? “I like to think I’d pass your father’s integrity and principle test, but I wasn’t raised by wholesome parents.” No, she’d been raised by rich and affluent parents. Her father hadn’t just made a lot of money working, he had inherited most of his wealth.
“Surely there had to be good times.”
There had been, thanks to her mother, but her dad hadn’t been home much. “My dad told us if we dated anyone lazy or got addicted to anything disreputable, he’d disown us. He instilled in us the need to work hard. I suppose that’s good in some ways. And it could have been worse.” While her parents had never mistreated them, Skylar had never felt comfortable going to them for serious talks. She had done that with friends.
“Someday, I want what my parents had,” Julien said.
He wanted a wholesome family. Love with a woman—a soul mate—and children.
Skylar had never considered raising a family. In fact, she had always felt a bit of a disconnect with women who wanted to have babies. She had never felt that desire. Maybe that was because of how she was raised.
After several seconds thinking that over, she met Julien’s eyes and saw him closely regarding her. He must have accurately assessed her reaction. He must also know having children was not on her bucket list.
“Did you have animals on the farm?” she asked him. Maybe they had something in common there.
“Dogs and cats. Nothing like what you have here. My childhood was idyllic but I was so sick of working on the farm that I couldn’t wait to live in the city. Now that I’ve been there several years, I know that’s where I belong.”
Her P.I. Protector Page 3