Accidental Bodyguard

by Sharon Hartley

  “About as much respect as you do,” Jack said.

  The sheriff’s mouth tightened, as if he’d tasted something bitter. “Come on now, Jack. You know how I feel about your momma.”

  “Yeah, I get it, Chuck. I guess that’s why you fired her and left her homeless.”

  “Hey. I don’t know what Irene told you, but I did not have a choice.”

  “We all have choices, Sheriff. Always.”

  “There’s no need for this kind of talk, son.”

  “I’m not your son.”

  Chuck stood up straighter, as if Jack had just landed a punch. Good, Jack thought. He won’t come back. At least not while I’m here.

  “Now, is there anything else I can do for you?” Jack asked, folding his arms. “Or have we about covered it?”

  The sheriff gave him a long, assessing look and said, “I guess we’re done. Tell your momma I stopped by.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that,” Jack said.

  Wheeler stomped back to his fancy truck, did a one-eighty and drove away, leaving clouds of dust in his wake. Jack stared after him for a long moment, hoping the unpleasant scene would keep Chuck away from his mother. If they didn’t see each other, there was a better chance his mother wouldn’t reveal Claudia’s presence.

  But if he knew those two lovebirds—and did he ever—their separation wouldn’t last. His mother would never stop praying for the day Chuck left his wife, although that would never happen. Why couldn’t she see that? Damn, but she was the oldest cliché in the book. He remembered when he’d first learned of their affair, the crude jokes of his fellow deputies, his mother’s lack of remorse in the face of his humiliation.

  The fact that she’d continue their tryst in his home after all that had happened three years ago—Jack turned back to the house. No sense in rehashing old news. His mother would never change, but he couldn’t help but wonder just exactly who had tipped off Janie Sue.

  He wouldn’t put it past Irene to tell Janie Sue herself to force Chuck to make a decision. If so, that brilliant ploy backfired and somehow, once again, he suffered the consequences.

  Inside the house, Irene remained on the sofa with a hard look on her face. She glared at him with furious eyes. She’d heard his conversation with Chuck.

  “Thanks a whole hell of a lot, Jack.”

  Jack executed a crisp salute. “You’re welcome.”

  He continued down the hall to the bedroom and knocked. “You can come out now,” he told Claudia.

  She opened the door holding a spiral-bound notebook against her chest. She’d made the bed, and her Glock lay on the comforter. One thing about Claudia, she liked to be prepared.

  “Is he gone?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Come on. Let’s have some breakfast.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  * * *

  CLAUDIA STUFFED HER journal back inside her duffel bag, hiding it beneath clothing, and followed Jack. The sheriff’s unexpected arrival had catapulted her back into terror, and she’d decided to calm herself by entering the latest events into her journal. But Jack had sent the man away so fast, she had barely written a word.

  “How did you get rid of him so quick?” she asked when they’d entered the living room.

  “By insulting him,” Irene stated, coming to her feet.

  “They’re not insults if they’re the truth,” Jack said.

  “Why did you do that, Jack?” Irene demanded.

  “Because I wanted him to leave.”

  “Now he won’t come back.”

  “That was the idea.”

  “You had no right,” Irene said, placing her hands on her hips. “This is my life.”

  “And this is my house.”

  Claudia watched mother and son hurl angry, hurtful words at each other with a growing sense of unease. This was not how family treated each other—at least not her family, so to her this behavior was beyond weird. She couldn’t fathom any of her siblings fighting with her parents in such a manner. She wanted to put her hands into a T again and call time-out.

  Pookie didn’t like the conflict much, either, as she began to issue little hiccup-like barks.

  Irene snatched her dog from the sofa and shushed her. The dog licked her master’s face.

  “You know how much I love Chuck,” Irene said.

  “But he’s married, Mother.”

  The two glared at each other until Irene grabbed her purse and marched toward the back door still holding Pookie in her arms. “Excuse me,” she said with dignity. “I need a cigarette.”

  Jack stepped out of her way.

  “Welcome to my world,” Irene told Claudia when she moved past.

  Claudia didn’t reply, but was surprised to note a glimmer of tears in Irene’s eyes.

  “Damn her,” Jack muttered. He grabbed a jacket from a hook by the front door and slammed out, leaving Claudia alone in the house.

  Well. Claudia took a deep breath. A morning that had started out so peacefully had certainly turned poisonous. Villa Alma might have been boring, but at least it was calm. Most of the time.

  Shouldering on the jacket, Jack disappeared down a path that led into the forest. So much for her breakfast. Was he checking the perimeter or escaping from his mother? She wondered how long he’d be gone.

  Claudia slid open the back door. Irene sat in the plastic Adirondack chair drawing so hard on a cigarette it appeared as if she was mad at the tobacco. She turned her head away to blow out smoke, and gave a half smile.

  “Sorry about all that.” Irene plunged the cigarette into an ashtray and ground it out. Claudia couldn’t help but think Irene was using the butt as a substitute for Jack’s head.

  “Come on,” Irene said. “Let’s go to the shed and get you a place to rest your bones.”

  Irene slid open the cabin’s door, reached inside and returned with a key ring. Claudia followed Irene to a wooden storage shed that looked handmade, probably by Jack. She inserted the key in a padlock and turned, then opened the shed door to reveal a variety of objects Claudia assumed Jack had stashed in here when he left three years ago, including garden tools, a riding lawn mower and three stacked plastic chairs that matched the one on the deck.

  She and Irene each took the arm of one and marched back up the small rise to the deck. Irene didn’t speak on the way, probably because she was having too much trouble breathing. Claudia knew it was none of her business, but the nurse in her couldn’t help but think Jack’s mom needed to quit smoking before it was too late. Maybe it already was.

  When they dropped the chair, Claudia said, “Thanks. We should get one for Jack, too, while we’re at it.”

  Irene hesitated so long Claudia thought she would refuse, but finally said, “I suppose.”

  When they’d returned with a second chair, Irene lit another cigarette and collapsed in her seat. Claudia went back inside to warm her coffee. Returning outside, she took a seat upwind of Irene’s smoke and another long look at the surrounding forest.

  “This is beautiful,” Claudia said to break the awkward silence. “I’ve lived my whole life in Miami, and we don’t have trees like this anymore. Or not very many of them, anyway.”

  “So you’re a Miami gal?” Irene asked.

  Claudia held up her mug. “Born and raised.”

  “I was born in Ocala.”

  “Was Jack born here, too?”

  After a drag on her smoke, Irene nodded. “I know I’m not supposed to ask any questions about what you’re doing here, but is it just work or are you and my son, you know, involved?”

  Heat rushed into Claudia’s face as she remembered just how involved they’d almost become two nights ago. Was she really having this conversation with Jack’s mother?

  Irene laughed softly. “Honey, I
haven’t seen a blush like that in years. You don’t have to say a thing.”

  “It’s complicated,” Claudia said.

  “Ain’t it always,” Irene muttered.

  “Amen, sister.” Claudia and Irene clinked mugs, and Claudia decided to let Irene think what she wanted about her relationship with Jack.

  “What about you and Sheriff Wheeler?”

  “Chuck loves me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure, and he’s everything to me. I love that man too much.”

  Claudia nodded. That much she’d figured out. “But I’m not sure I could forgive a man who fired me and threw me out of my home.”

  “Yeah, you’d think not,” Irene agreed. “But he didn’t have a choice. His wife threatened to make political trouble.”

  “What kind of political trouble?”

  “Being sheriff is an elected position, and it’s real important to Chuck.”

  Claudia nodded, but didn’t verbalize the thoughts swirling in her head. He might love Jack’s mom, but the sheriff’s career was more important than the woman he professed to love. Just like Carlos’s hate was more important than his supposed love for her.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Irene said. “You’re worried about his wife.”

  Claudia remained silent. That wasn’t what she was thinking at all, but Irene didn’t know how similar their situations were. In a bizarre convoluted way, they’d both been betrayed by men they loved. Or thought they loved.

  “Well, don’t you worry your pretty head about Janie Sue,” Irene continued. “The woman is a coldhearted bitch who only wants to play tennis. She does not care one thing about her husband’s happiness.”

  Claudia took a deep breath. She ought to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t. She had to say it.

  “Isn’t that what married men always tell their mistresses?”

  “So you figure he’s just stringing me along?” Irene asked, seeming not to take offense. “But why? And at my age? Look at me. I sure don’t look anything like you anymore, honey, and Chuck is one fine-looking man.”

  “You deserve better,” Claudia stated. “Are you happy to let things stay as they are?”

  “Not happy, no.” Irene ground out her cigarette. “But he’ll retire in a few years and then we can be together. I’ve just got to figure out how I’m going to live until then. Jack coming home kinda ruined my plan.”

  Claudia buried her face in her coffee mug. She hoped she never became so dependent on a man that she’d just tread water waiting for him to do something. Her philosophy—partly learned from her ex—was to depend on no one but yourself. Never trust anyone else to steer your life.

  Yeah, and look at the pitiful mess you’ve got yourself into, Ms. Claudia. Hardly Ms. Independent.

  “So why are you and Jack so mad at each other?” Claudia asked. Time to unearth what she really wanted to learn. “It has to be more than you dating his married boss.”

  A strange look passed over Irene’s face, and she gazed out into the trees. “Not my finest hour,” she said with a sigh. “You know what. We need something to eat. Let’s go scramble some eggs.”

  * * *

  WHEN JACK REACHED the clearing for his cabin an hour later, he found Claudia out on the deck scribbling so intently in a spiral-bound notebook that she didn’t notice his return. Wearing a bulky sweatshirt, she sat cross-legged in a chair, her thick dark hair all but obscuring her face as she bent over her work.

  Unexpectedly stirred by the sight, he watched her for a moment from the edge of the woods. For a woman who yesterday had been obsessively paranoid about leaving the confines of Villa Alma, Claudia seemed a little too comfortable out in the open. She’d make an easy target right now. A skilled sniper could take a bead on her from the camouflage of the trees and plant a bullet in her brain, but she sat oblivious to anything but whatever she was writing.

  Did that careless behavior mean anything? If so, what?

  He wanted her. More than he’d ever wanted another woman. If he was honest with himself, part of the reason he was angry with his mother was because her presence forced him to sleep in the same bed with Claudia. How was he supposed to resist her?

  But with his mother in the small cabin, it would be all but impossible to explore Claudia’s lush body. He was in for weeks of pure torture if he didn’t move Irene.

  Just who was this woman who had entered his life and forced him to deal with his mom again? Lola had confirmed Claudia’s name on the Romero witness list, along with her journal, so she’d told him the truth about that. But she’d been lying to him from the moment he met her.

  She could still be lying to him. Maybe she’d been a terrorist herself, although that didn’t fit what he knew of her personality. That’s why he needed to remain professional. He had to stay on top of his game and prepare for any eventuality.

  Which meant no sex with Claudia, much as he might want it. Until he could make arrangements for his mom, he’d take the couch and let the women have the bed.

  Someone had been busy while he’d been on his recon mission, as a couple of chairs had been relocated from the shed. Surprisingly, Pookie lay at Claudia’s feet on the concrete. When Jack took a step into the clearing, the dog raised her head and issued a bark that sounded more like a hiccup.

  Claudia looked up, spotted him and gifted him with one of her stunning smiles, which loosened the tension churning in his gut.

  “I was getting worried about you,” she said as he approached. She clipped her pen to the page and shut the book.

  She ought to be worried about her own safety.

  “I needed to blow off some steam,” he said.

  “Feel better now?”

  “Not really.”

  “Would food help? We ate, but made you some eggs and grits. I can warm them up and make fresh toast.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Jack said.

  “I don’t mind.” Claudia put her notebook on the table. When she rose, he noted she’d tucked her Glock in the front pocket of her sweatshirt. At least she hadn’t totally let down her guard.

  “Do you want coffee?” she asked.

  “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.” He pointed to the notebook. “What’s that?”

  “I’ve started a new journal,” she said as she slid the door open. Pookie darted inside. “I’m keeping track of everything that’s going on.”

  Jack nodded. His focus still on the book, he sat in a chair on the other side of the table. What exactly had she written? He wouldn’t mind knowing her take on his mother. Not to mention her secret opinion of him. But he wouldn’t read her journal. That would be an invasion of her privacy.

  Not that either of them would have much privacy as long as his mother remained. Yeah, there it was, the million-dollar question. Jack stretched his arms high over his head, relishing the pull on his tight muscles.

  What was he going to do about his mother?

  He’d been debating exactly that for the last hour as he hiked his property looking for trespassers. Some jerk had abandoned a broken-down ATC near the southeast corner that he’d have to haul off, but other than that, all remained as it had been three years ago.

  No sign of any intruders.

  He gazed out into the trees, and despite the unsettled questions that trampled through his head, that old sense of peace washed over him. Even while wrestling with the unexpected complications created by his mother, he’d enjoyed surveying his property, revisiting favorite places like that sinkhole in the east. It’d contained at least three feet of water last time he saw it, but today only a small puddle from yesterday’s rain. No one had disturbed his gun range. The hawks’ nest remained, and it appeared larger, as though still in use by the pair. He’d forgotten how much he loved this land.

&
nbsp; No, he hadn’t forgotten. He just chose not to think about his losses. No good ever came from dwelling on the past.

  Claudia poked her head out. “Breakfast is ready.”

  “Thanks.”

  When Jack entered the cabin, he spotted his mother sitting in the recliner with eyeglasses perched on the end of her nose working on a patchwork quilt. She nodded at him, but didn’t speak and returned to her needlework.

  Claudia sat beside him at the table nursing a mug of coffee. The dog sat at his feet, its little nose in the air, twitching furiously trying to scent his food.

  “We’re out of eggs,” Claudia said. “And there’s not much bread left.”

  “I’ll go to the grocery later.”

  “I can do that for you,” his mother offered from the chair.

  “No need.” He took a huge bite of scrambled eggs, and realized he was famished. “This is delicious,” he told Claudia. “Thanks.”

  “Your mom helped,” Claudia said.

  Jack flicked a glance to Irene, nodded and continued eating without further comment.

  His mother rose, grabbed her cigarettes and exited the sliders. “Come on, Pookie,” she said, waiting for the dog to join her.

  Pookie stretched back on her haunches, surely a delaying tactic, and followed without much enthusiasm. She sniffed the floor around the table as she passed, searching for a dropped morsel.

  When his mother slid the door shut, Claudia said, “I think you hurt her feelings.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Jack, come on. You two can’t keep at each other like this.”

  “Yeah?” He bit back the impulse to tell Claudia she didn’t know the history, to mind her own business. But he didn’t want to start up with Claudia, too. And, hell, she had a point. Truth was, he was sick of the tension in the cabin.

  “All the bickering is not...healthy,” she said.

  “Do you think it’s good for your health to sit outside in the open?” he asked, keeping his voice low so his mother couldn’t overhear.

  “Oh.” Her shoulders slumped. “I thought it would be okay if I had Pookie with me,” Claudia said. “She’s like an early warning system. And I had my gun.”