by Terri Reed
Though uncomfortable wasn’t exactly the right word. More like she’d be hyperaware of him and that would mess with her head. She was struggling as it was to keep her feelings from veering into territory she’d rather not explore. Yet, she couldn’t come up with a logical protest that wouldn’t reveal her feelings.
“All right then. Stay safe.” Justin drove away, as did Linc.
Deciding it would be better to take the small SUV Westley used for transporting dogs across base, they left her car parked in the lot. They loaded Dakota into the back and then both climbed in the front. After buckling up, she turned to Westley. His strong jaw was set in a tense line. His capable hands gripped the steering wheel.
Emotion clogged her throat. He’d risked his life for her. And she had no doubt he would do so again if necessary.
“Thank you again. I appreciate your willingness to see to my safety.” Inwardly she groaned at the stiff and formal way she spoke when she was nervous.
Westley sat silent for a moment, then he looked at her. “The truth is I should have known that car was there. I should have been prepared for something to happen. I won’t be caught unaware again.”
“Please, you couldn’t have foreseen the near miss with the base truck. I didn’t see it.”
“But it’s my job to see the threat before it gets to you.”
“You’re not a superhero,” she said.
He snorted. “Maybe that’s what you need. Someone else who will protect you better.”
A flutter of panic hit her out of the blue. “Stop it. I want you to protect me. Now start this car and get us home.” She sat back and tried not to think about how true those words were. She couldn’t imagine putting her life into anyone else’s hands.
But what about her heart? Was that safe as well?
* * *
I want you to protect me.
As Westley sat on the leather couch in the living room of the Monroe home, Felicity’s words reverberated through his mind.
She had no idea how much those words rocked his world. No one had ever wanted him for anything. Not his father or his mother. Not the foster parents he’d been sloughed off to after his mom had dumped him off at child protective services. Okay, that wasn’t totally accurate. There had been one foster mother who had treated him with kindness, but then he’d been yanked from the home after a fight with another foster kid.
He’d hardened his heart long ago against the need to be wanted.
But with those words Felicity had turned him to mush.
As he helped her put her house back in order, he’d tried to keep an emotional and physical distance. He’d been relieved when she’d finally bid him good-night and had gone upstairs.
Above his head a floorboard creaked. He was hypersensitive to every movement she made as she settled in for the night.
He leaned back against the cushion. From this vantage point he had a clear view of the front door, the back door and the door to the garage. Dakota laid down across the threshold to the stairs after he’d done a perimeter check. They were on guard and ready, should any danger appear.
Felicity was as safe as they could make her.
Even still, Westley sent up a prayer that God would surround the house with protection. The thought of how easily that truck could have taken out Felicity pierced him with an unnerving fear of losing her.
Of failing her, he amended.
When no more noise came from upstairs, Westley heaved a relieved sigh and hoped she would be able to rest after the day she’d had. Being a target of the Red Rose Killer, then discovering the awful truth that her father had been murdered and then someone trying to take her life—it was more than most people could handle in such a short time. Yet, Felicity was strong in spirit and personality. Stronger than he’d ever given her credit for. Her father would be proud of her.
Westley was proud of her. His respect and admiration for her had increased tenfold. How could he go from thinking she was annoying to realizing she was so special? Special and beautiful. Kind and smart.
Just because he was noticing her good qualities didn’t mean he had any intention of becoming romantically involved. He wasn’t looking for a romance with the pretty staff sergeant.
In fact, any sort of relationship would only end in disaster. He believed that with his whole being.
He wasn’t cut out for commitment. He wasn’t the kind of guy a woman should pin her hopes on. According to his mother, he had too much of his father in him.
And too much of his mother.
Both were scarred and dysfunctional. Stood to reason that he was damaged goods, too. He’d promised himself long ago he would never saddle another person with his horrible baggage. And the last person he ever wanted to dump his past on was Felicity. She deserved better than the likes of him.
He would protect her with his life.
But he had a sinking feeling protecting his heart wouldn’t be as easy.
SEVEN
In the bright morning light that had her squinting, Felicity followed the smell of brewing coffee and spicy sausage into the kitchen. She halted on the threshold.
Her sleep-fogged brain processed the sight of Dakota lying by the back door. He lifted his head from his chew bone and wagged his tail in greeting, while Westley stood at the stove wearing her father’s black barbecue apron over his battle-ready pants and a white T-shirt that molded to the hard planes and angles of his chest and back. His dark hair was spiky on top and his strong jaw was shadowed by stubble.
The pull of attraction zinged through her veins. Beneath her fresh battle-ready uniform, a blush warmed her skin.
He glanced her way. Appreciation gleamed in his blue eyes and he flashed her a crooked grin. “Hope you like chorizo and eggs. It’s all I could find that was edible in your refrigerator besides salad dressing.”
“Smells delicious.” Stifling the urge to flip back her hair, she walked to the coffeemaker and poured herself a mug before taking a seat at the counter. “I haven’t been shopping in a while.”
“We’ll remedy that today,” he commented as he turned off the flame beneath the fry pan.
Having only seen him eat prepared meals, she said, “I didn’t know you cooked.”
“I can on occasion.” He dished out the steaming scrambled eggs and sausage onto two plates.
“My dad taught me the basics, enough that I can get by.” She let out a wry laugh. “I’m still not comfortable with a steak or fish.”
“I can show you how to grill a flawless steak or poach a fish to perfection.”
Somehow his words didn’t strike her as a boast, but were simply a statement of fact. The man knew how to do things.
“That would be great.” The idea of him giving her a cooking lesson thrilled her more than she cared to admit. “Did your mother teach you?”
Westley set a plate in front of her along with a fork and stared at her a moment before replying. “One of my foster mothers was a gourmet chef and she made it a point to teach each kid that came through her home how to cook. She made cooking fun and interesting. She let us experiment with food and spices and such.”
Absorbing his words, Felicity wasn’t sure what to say. Remembering how he’d shut her down yesterday when she’d asked about his father, she hesitated probing further. But then again, he’d volunteered the information. She could hear the fondness in his voice as he spoke of the foster parent who’d taken the time to teach him to cook, but she couldn’t help but hurt for his lack of a normal childhood. “How many foster homes were you in?”
Carrying his plate, he came around the island and sat beside her. “Four.”
Her hurt for him quadrupled. “How old were you when you entered the system?”
“Ten.”
But his father hadn’t passed on until Westley was seventeen, she recalled. Obviously, there was more t
o the story there. Curiosity drove her to ask another question. “What happened to your parents?”
“Let’s bless this food and eat it before it gets cold,” he said.
She bowed her head. “Dear Lord, bless this food to our bodies and our bodies to Your service. Amen.”
When she raised her gaze, she found Westley staring at her.
“My dad’s blessing,” she explained.
“I like it.” He shoveled a forkful of egg and sausage into his mouth.
He wasn’t going to make it easy to get him to open up. And for the life of her she couldn’t understand why it was so important that he did. Granted, they would be together, close together, for the foreseeable future and she was putting her life in his hands. Trusting him to have her back.
Getting to know each other better seemed logical. Practical. It would deepen the trust between them. But she could be patient. Letting the subject drop for now, she ate, enjoying the heat of the meat-infused eggs.
After her last bite, she sighed with contentment. “My dad would make this combo on Saturday mornings. My mom didn’t like the spiciness. But I love it. Thank you so much.”
“I guessed as much last night when you asked for extra jalapeños in your tacos. And you’re welcome.”
She grinned. “I own stock in antacids.”
His laugh was rich and deep and shuddered through her with a delicious wave of warmth.
His cell phone rang. He set his fork on his empty plate and excused himself to take the call. He opened the back door, letting Dakota outside while he stepped onto the porch. Felicity could hear the low murmur of his voice as she washed their dishes and the frying pan, then set them on the drying rack next to the sink.
Westley returned to the kitchen. “That was Justin. The meeting has been moved up. We need to get to base command pronto.”
“Let me just brush my teeth and I’ll be ready to go.” She hurried upstairs, forcing from her mind all thoughts of cooking lessons, foster homes and delicious male laughter. She needed to stay focused.
After securing her hair into a regulation braid with the ends tucked out of sight under her beret, she finished getting ready. She paused on the landing to the stairs. Below, Westley had squatted down to Dakota and was rubbing him behind the ears. The dog’s eyes practically rolled back into his head with pleasure. Her insides melted a little at the show of affection between dog and man. And some part of her yearned to have that same sort of attention directed to her.
She nearly snorted aloud at the ridiculous thought. Get a grip, she told herself. Just because Westley was being nice to her while he was forced to have her underfoot didn’t mean she had to go all mushy about him. Still, she couldn’t deny the tender feelings growing in her heart. She ached at the thought that he’d grown up in foster care. She wondered why. What had happened to put him in that position?
Patience, she reminded herself. Her father always said she had a gift for getting others to open up. She’d redirected that ability to the dogs while working with them. Eventually, she’d crack Westley’s hard shell and work the story out of him. She only hoped she was brave enough to handle whatever she found inside.
* * *
Westley held open the door to base command for Felicity to enter before him. Carrying her camera bag over her shoulder, she smiled her thanks to him as she passed to enter the building. She had a great smile that reached her blue-green eyes. Something he’d tried hard in the past not to notice because he’d been her commanding officer.
Right now, though, he let himself take all of her in, including the vanilla scent wafting from her hair. This morning when she’d come downstairs for breakfast she’d worn the long strands loose and swinging before she’d braided it and tucked up under her beret. He liked that she wore a minimal amount of makeup, just enough to highlight her already pretty features.
He gave himself a mental shake as they were ushered into the conference room. He needed to keep his head in the game and ignore the attraction and affection for Felicity building in his chest. He couldn’t believe he’d confessed he’d been in foster care. Revealing such intimate details of his past hadn’t been intentional, yet talking about the woman who’d taught him to cook to Felicity had come easily. It distressed him how easy a lot of things were with Felicity.
The conference room was filled, every chair at the table taken. Ian leaned against the wall and nodded in greeting as Westley and Felicity took positions beside him. Base commander Lieutenant General Hall seated at the head of the long table, held up a hand to gain the room’s attention.
To the right of the lieutenant general sat FBI agent Oliver Davison and to the lieutenant general’s left was Justin. Also seated at the table were Linc, Ethan and several other members of the Security Forces.
Westley was surprised to see Ethan Webb’s ex-wife, Jillian Masters, seated at the table as well. She wore her US Marine dress uniform and a scowl on her face. Apparently, she wasn’t on base by choice. Westley met Ethan’s gaze. The tension in his friend’s eyes was palpable.
Also at the table, seated next to Justin, was a pretty redhead dressed in civilian clothes and clearly very pregnant, while a tall, imposing man, also a civilian by the looks of his Western-style jeans and button-down shirt, stood behind her with his hands on the back of her chair.
“Let’s get this briefing going,” Lieutenant General Hall said. “I’d like to introduce Deputy Sheriff Serena Hargrove and her husband, Jason Hargrove, former Dallas PD. Together with Deputy Hargrove’s K-9, they brought down Boyd Sullivan the first go-round.”
A murmur rippled through the room. Westley had read the news reports of how the deputy and her K-9 partner, an English springer spaniel trained in wilderness air search, had tracked Boyd to a remote cabin in the Texas Hill Country. He’d like to talk to the officer about her canine and look in to adding the specialized work to the training center. But that would have to wait until life returned to normal. As long as Sullivan was on the loose, Westley’s focus was to protect Felicity.
“Deputy, what can you tell us about Boyd?” Lieutenant General Hall asked.
The woman’s lips twisted. “He has a sick mind, but make no mistake, he is intelligent and sly. He doesn’t do anything without careful planning. And his ego is as big as the State of Texas.”
Lieutenant Preston Flanigan, one of the Security Forces members, leaned forward. “How did you manage to catch him?”
Preston had been in the last K-9 training session. Westley thought the young cop was a bit too impatient, but hoped the guy would chill eventually. He’d have to if he hoped to be a K-9 handler.
Serena spared him a glance then focused back on Lieutenant General Hall. “Boyd hadn’t expected my partner, Ginger. She’s small, but mighty. She caught him by surprise and distracted him long enough for me to apprehend him.”
“I was there,” Oliver said. “I can vouch that Serena and her little dog acted bravely. The arrest was a good one.”
“Do you think that’s why he messed with the kennels and released all the dogs? Hoped we’d be too busy recovering them to search for him?” Linc said.
Jason Hargrove spoke up. “Having spent more time with Sullivan than I care to ever repeat, I can tell you he believes he can outsmart anyone. I have no doubt he thought the chaos would afford him time and opportunity to move freely.”
“Which it did,” Justin stated. “Did Boyd have a partner in Dill?”
Serena shook her head. “Not that we know of. There was no indication of one.”
Lieutenant General Hall’s gaze zeroed on Ian. “What about the cook?”
“The medical examiner says cause of death was strangulation,” Ian replied.
“Stephen Butler’s ID badge was used to gain access at the south gate at oh-four-hundred,” Justin explained. “We’re still working on how Boyd got off the base after the attacks.”
&
nbsp; “Are we sure he left?” Ethan asked. “Just because the news reported sightings of him, we can’t know for sure if he’s off base or not.” His gaze slid to his ex-wife and then away.
Jillian’s lips twisted, but the woman made no comment.
Justin nodded. “That’s true. Which is why the base is on high alert with extra security at the gates. And Baylor Marine Base is also coordinating their effort with ours to find the escaped prisoner before he hurts anyone else.”
Lieutenant General Hall rose. “I want Sullivan found. And the person who is helping him. Am I clear?”
A chorus of “Yes, sir” filled the room.
“Dismissed,” Lieutenant General Hall said. He turned to the two civilians. “Thank you for coming all this way.”
“I wish we could be more help,” the deputy said as her husband helped her to her feet.
Felicity leaned close to whisper in Westley’s ear. “We should talk to her about wilderness air-search training.”
Having her echo his earlier thought made him grin. “Good idea.”
She held his gaze for a moment. Something flared in her eyes before she quickly looked away. A slight pink tinged her cheeks. He wasn’t sure what he’d seen. Approval? Attraction? Disconcerted, he pushed aside the thought and followed the Hargroves out of the conference room.
After introducing himself and Felicity, he said, “I would love to hear about the wilderness air-search training you did with your K-9 partner.”
“If you give me your contact info, I can put you in touch with the trainer that we used,” Serena said.
“I’d appreciate that.” He gave her his cell-phone number and email address then bid them goodbye.
Westley escorted Felicity to the photo lab for her new assignment.
“Deputy Hargrove looked like she was uncomfortable,” Felicity said. “She has to be close to her due date.”
Westley made a noncommittal noise. He didn’t know anything about due dates or pregnancies in humans. Dog gestation periods he understood.