DEFENDING HIS OWN

by Beverly Barton

  Miss Carol never would have dared you to come back to Sheffield and face the past if Allen was your son.

  Ashe dressed hurriedly, then rushed downstairs, eager to see Deborah again. He would not look at Allen Vaughn and search for a truth that didn't exist. He trusted Deborah. His heart told him she wouldn't lie to him. And just this once, he intended to listen to his heart.

  * * *

  Chapter 11

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  The trial had lasted eight days, everyone saying the case was pretty well cut and dried since the prosecution had a reliable eyewitness to the murder. After three and a half hours of deliberation, the jury had rendered a guilty verdict, surprising no one. Five days later, the judge had sentenced Lon Sparks to life in prison, and Deborah Vaughn had been free from threats and harassment for nearly two weeks.

  Ashe had been waiting for Buck Stansell to strike, but nothing had happened, not even a wrong number telephone call. He'd thought about paying Buck a visit, but decided against it. Why take a chance on stirring a hornet's nest? He had talked to his cousin Lee Roy, who'd said little, except that people weren't overly concerned with an insignificant guy like Lon Sparks, that the man wasn't worth enough to cause trouble over.

  Roarke had suggested it might be time to think about returning to Atlanta, but Ashe kept putting him off. How could he take a chance on leaving Deborah undefended? She'd come to mean far more to him than she should. He had allowed himself to become too involved with her, with Allen and Miss Carol. This was a job, but not like any other. These were people he cared about, a family he'd started thinking of as his.

  Maybe he had reached the age when he needed to settle down, to start considering marriage and children. He wasn't sure. He and Deborah were attracted to each other, always had been, although he'd fought that attraction when they'd been younger. Maybe somewhere deep down inside him, he'd always thought he wasn't quite good enough for Deborah. Not just because her parents were wealthy and socially prominent and he'd come from white trash hoodlums, but because he'd never been innocent or pure or good, and Deborah had been all those things. Even now, at twenty-eight, she still personified everything right with the world.

  And he still wasn't good enough for her.

  Ashe paced the floor in the doctor's office, waiting for Deborah and Miss Carol. He'd told himself that he would hang around Sheffield until they knew the test results. It was as good an excuse as any. This way he could justify his reluctance to leave, to Deborah and her family, as well as to himself.

  Sitting, he flipped through several magazines, then stood and paced the floor again. He glanced at the wall clock, checking it against his watch. Nearly an hour. Dammit, how long did it take for a doctor to explain test results?

  Just when his patience came to an end, Deborah and Miss Carol emerged from the office, solemn expressions on their faces. Deborah's arm draped her mother's slender shoulders.

  "We're ready to go home, now, Ashe," Deborah said.

  Ashe didn't ask any questions, didn't say a word, simply nodded his head and led the ladies outside and assisted them into the car.

  Miss Carol, sitting in the front seat beside Ashe, reached over and touched his arm lightly. "Can you stay awhile longer?"

  "Yes, ma'am, of course I can stay." He pulled the car out of the parking lot and onto the main thoroughfare.

  "Deborah and Allen will need you," Carol said.

  "Mother, please don't—" Deborah said.

  "Hush up." Carol swatted her hand in the air. "Ashe is like family and I want him here. Even if you think you can handle this alone, I believe you'll need a strong man at your side."

  "I take it the tests results weren't good." Ashe kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.

  "The cancer has returned and Dr. Mason has scheduled surgery for the first of next week." Carol opened her purse, took out a lace handkerchief and wiped her hands, then returned the handkerchief to her purse.

  "I'm sorry, Miss Carol."

  "No need for all this gloom and doom." Carol sat up straight, squaring her shoulders as if preparing herself to do battle. "I licked this thing once and I can do it again. But I'll rest easier knowing Deborah won't be alone, that you'll be at her side."

  "You hired me, Miss Carol. I won't leave Sheffield as long as you need me."

  "Thank you, Ashe." She patted him on the arm.

  Little more was said on the short drive home. Indeed, what more could be said? Ashe wondered. Life certainly didn't play fair. Not when it heaped more trouble on one family than it could bear. But then, Deborah and Miss Carol were both strong women. They were fighters despite their genteel backgrounds.

  Sirens blasted, shrill and menacing in the quite, lazy atmosphere of Sheffield's main street.

  "Oh, my." Carol shivered. "I do so hate the sound of those things. Sirens always mean bad news."

  "Look at that black smoke," Deborah said. "It's coming straight up Montgomery Avenue

  ."

  "My goodness, you don't suppose it's one of our neighbors' homes, do you?" Miss Carol leaned toward the windshield, her gaze riveted to the billowing smoke filling the blue sky.

  The closer they came to home, the darker the smoke, the louder the sirens. A sudden sick feeling hit Ashe in the pit of his stomach. Allen was still at school. Roarke would be with him. Ashe blew out a breath.

  Before they reached the Vaughn driveway, they saw one fire truck parked at the back of the house and another just turning in behind it. "It's our garage!" Deborah gripped the back of her mother's seat. "It's on fire!"

  Ashe pulled the Cadillac up to the curb, stopped and jumped out. "Stay here." He ran across the front yard.

  "Stay in the car, Mother. I'll come back and check on you in just a few minutes."

  "But Ashe said for both of us to stay here," Carol said.

  "Ashe isn't my boss."

  Deborah jumped out of the car, catching up with Ashe at the back corner of the house, where he stood watching the firemen do their job. He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to his side.

  "It's just the garage," he said. "And it looks like they're getting the fire under control."

  "Mazie? Where's Mazie? Is she all right?"

  "She's at the grocery store. Remember? This is Wednesday morning, her midweek trip to pick up supplies."

  "Oh, yes, of course."

  Deborah leaned against Ashe, watching while the firefighters extinguished the blaze, leaving a charred three-car garage, a blackened Mercedes, a soot-covered BMW and swirling clouds of gray smoke spiraling heavenward.

  Fire Chief Greg Wilbanks nodded, removed his hat and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Damn curious blaze. Whoever set this baby didn't try to hide the fact that it was out-and-out arson."

  "What do you mean?" Deborah asked.

  "The place was doused with gasoline and torched. We found two empty gas cans at the back of the house." Greg looked at Ashe. "I've called Chief Burton. I'd say your job isn't finished, Mr. McLaughlin. Looks like somebody's out to get himself a little revenge."

  "Ashe?" Deborah grabbed his arm. "Do you think that—"

  "I don't think anything," he said.

  "But Greg said—"

  "I know what he said. There's no point jumping to conclusions. We'll take every precaution, but we're not going to panic." He grasped her by the shoulders. "Go tell Miss Carol that everything's all right. The fire's out. Tell her the truth, but play it down. There's no need to worry her any more than can be helped."

  "You're right." She slipped her arms around Ashe's waist and sighed when he hugged her close. Pulling away, she tried to smile. "I'll take Mother in the front door. There's no need for her to see this until later."

  "Don't read anything into this," Ashe said. "Not yet. Let me handle things. I'm not going anywhere, not until you're completely out of danger. Trust me, honey."

  "I do trust you. With all my heart."

  Ashe watched her walk away, a tight knot forming in the pit of his stomach. She
expected a great deal from him. Was it more than he could deliver? Would he let her down again, or could he be the man Deborah wanted and needed?

  Ashe approached Greg Wilbanks. "When Chief Burton arrives, tell him I'd prefer he not bother Miss Carol or Deborah. I'll talk to him. And once you've filed your report on this fire, I'd like a copy."

  "As Miss Carol's representative?" Greg asked.

  "Yeah, as Miss Carol's representative."

  "No problem."

  Going in the back door, Ashe met Carol and Deborah in the hallway.

  "I'm taking Mother upstairs to rest," Deborah told him, then turned to assist her mother. "I'll fix you some tea and bring it up in just a little while."

  "Tea would be nice." Halting on the landing, Carol grabbed Deborah's arm. "Let him do whatever he has to do to put an end to this."

  "Mother, what are saying?"

  "I'm saying that Ashe knows how to deal with those people. However he chooses to handle the situation. I don't want you trying to persuade him otherwise."

  "Ashe is not a hired assassin, Mother. He's not going to kill Buck Stansell."

  "You two go on," Ashe called out from the downstairs hallway. "I'll fix you both some tea and bring it up."

  "Thank you," Miss Carol smiled.

  "Mother!" Deborah glared at Carol. "Do you honestly think Ashe would murder someone?"

  "Not murder, my dear, kill. There is a difference. And Ashe McLaughlin has been trained to kill. There is no doubt in my mind that he would kill anyone who'd harm you."

  "I don't want him to have to kill to protect me, but… Perhaps Buck Stansell wasn't responsible for the fire. Besides, no one was harmed."

  Downstairs, Ashe put on the water to boil, set two cups on a tray and laid two Earl Grey tea bags in each cup. Lifting the phone out of the wall cradle, he dialed Roarke's cellular phone number.

  "Roarke, here."

  "Keep a very close eye on Allen."

  "What's wrong?"

  "We've had a fire here," Ashe said. "Someone doused the garage with gasoline. They left the cans for the firemen to find."

  "Looks like we'll be hanging around Sheffield for a while longer than we thought."

  "Yeah. I'd say Buck Stansell is back to playing games with us. The question is just how deadly will his games become."

  * * *

  Deborah took care of her morning phone calls, dictated several letters and closed a deal on the old Hartman farm before her ten-thirty coffee break. She had wanted to stay home with her mother, whom she worried would fret the day away there at the house with only Mazie, the eternal pessimist, as company. But her mother had insisted she didn't need a baby-sitter, so Deborah had found an alternative plan.

  She glanced in the outer office where Ashe sat with his long legs stretched out, his big feet propped up on a desk in the corner, situated where he could see directly into Deborah's office. He had begun work on his second crossword puzzle book since his arrival in Sheffield.

  Deborah dialed the telephone, hoping her plan for keeping her mother occupied would work out.

  "Hello."

  "Mama Mattie," Deborah said. "I have a favor to ask of you."

  "What is it, child?"

  "Mother's at the house all alone with Mazie, and I'm afraid, after the doctor's news and the fire in the garage yesterday, she'll spend the day fretting."

  "You need say no more. I've just baked an apple cinnamon coffee cake. I'll take it over and spend the rest of the day with Miss Carol."

  "Thanks so much, Mama Mattie."

  "It'll be my pleasure." Deborah hung up the phone and glanced back at Ashe, who looked up from his puzzle and grinned at her. She lifted her hand to her mouth in a drinking gesture. Ashe nodded agreement. They met at the coffeepot, one of three set up on a table in a small, open room directly across from the office rest room.

  "Good morning." Holding a mug of hot coffee in one hand, he cupped her hip with the other and brought her close enough for him to kiss.

  She returned the kiss, then pulled away, turning to pour her coffee. "Get your hand off my hip, Mr. McLaughlin. This is an office, not a bedroom," she teased.

  "I'm glad you told me," he said. "I was planning on backing you up against the wall over there and ravishing you. But since this is an office, I don't suppose ravishing the boss lady is allowed."

  "Most definitely not."

  "You've had a busy morning."

  "I've accomplished a great deal."

  They carried their coffee back into the outer office, pausing just outside Deborah's private domain.

  "Ashe, have there been any threatening phone calls or a letter today?" she asked.

  "No, honey, not a one."

  "I'd thought that since … well since the fire yesterday, the harassment might start all over again."

  He nudged her through her office door. "There may not be a connection. But…" He didn't want to alarm her.

  "But what?"

  "If Buck Stansell was behind yesterday's fire, I'd say phone calls and letters are a thing of the past. Simple harassment will no longer be the order of the day."

  "I see. You're saying things will get nasty."

  "They could."

  "Do you think Allen and Mother are in danger?"

  "Possibly."

  "Oh, Ashe." The coffee sloshed over the edge of her mug. Quickly holding the mug outward so the liquid could run down the sides, she averted being burned.

  Just as Ashe started to close the door to Deborah's office, a string of loud, piercing blasts sounded. The front office windows shattered. Glass blew across the room. The office staff screamed and dived for cover under their desks. Ashe knocked Deborah to the floor, covering her body with his as he drew his gun.

  "Crawl to the left," he told her.

  She obeyed silently, not questioning Ashe's order for one minute. Standing, he lifted her to her knees and sat her in the corner behind a row of metal file cabinets.

  "Stay put."

  She nodded. He made his way to the outer office where he found the staff in hiding. The front of the office wall consisted of a line of long windows, all of which had been destroyed by a barrage of bullets.

  Annie Laurie looked up from beneath her desk, her eyes wide with fright. "Ashe? Oh, my God, what happened?"

  "Everyone stay put," Ashe said.

  Cracking his office door a fraction, Neil Posey peered outside. "Is everyone all right?" he asked. "Is Annie Laurie okay? Was Deborah hurt?"

  "As far as I know the only damage is to the windows," Ashe said as he made his way to the bullet-riddled front door. He walked out onto the sidewalk. People were staring at him and at the Vaughn & Posey building. In the distance he heard a police siren and knew, the police station being only a few blocks away, the authorities would arrive at any moment. Returning inside, he made his way toward Deborah's office.

  "It's all right," Ashe said. "Whoever did all this damage is long gone."

  One by one the staff of Vaughn & Posey emerged from under their desks.

  Neil opened his office door. "Annie Laurie, are you sure you're all right?"

  "I'm fine, Mr. Posey. Just scared to death."

  Ashe found Deborah still sitting in the corner behind the filing cabinets. She stared up at him, her eyes dry, her face pale.

  "It's okay, honey." Reaching down, he lifted her to her feet. She shook uncontrollably. "Deborah?"

  She clung to him, her trembling growing worse. "Was anyone hurt?"

  "Everybody's fine. Nothing's hurt but the building."

  "I can't let the people who work for me be at risk because of me."

  Ashe stroked her back, trying to soothe her. "You can't blame yourself for this."

  "Yes, I can. And I do. I'm Buck Stansell's target. If I hadn't been here at the office, then he wouldn't have sent someone here to shoot up the place."

  "Don't start blaming yourself for something that isn't your fault." Dammit, she was shaking like a leaf. He wasn't getting through to her.
<
br />   He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her soundly. She glared at him, then nodded her head. Ashe pulled her back into his arms, and that's how the police chief found them.

  "Deborah, Chief Burton is here," Annie Laurie called out from the doorway.

  Deborah turned in Ashe's arms, but made no move away from him. He kept his arms tightly around her.

  "They sure as hell made a mess of things," Chief Burton said. "A couple of witnesses across the street said they saw one man drive by real slow, coming to a stop right out front before he pulled out what they thought looked like some sort of automatic weapon. Of course, they can't identify the weapon. Said it happened too fast. He was driving a new Chevy."

  "The car was probably stolen," Ashe said.

  "Could've been. Anyway, I just .wanted to ask if either of you saw anything that could help us."

  "No," Ashe said. "We didn't see anything."

  "Nobody in the office seemed to have seen a thing. Just heard the shooting." The police chief looked directly at Deborah. "Ms. Vaughn, you might want to think about staying at home for a few days, that is, unless you plan on closing down the business."

  "No, I do not plan on closing Vaughn & Posey." She stiffened her spine. Sliding his hand up and around, Ashe caressed her back, then placed his arm around her shoulders. "However, I will consider staying at home. I don't want to put my employees' lives at risk."

  "I'm taking Ms. Vaughn home, now," Ashe said. "If you need to question us further, you'll know where to find us."

  "Fine," Chief Burton said. "I don't think we'll need either of you any more today."

  "I need to make arrangements to have the building cleaned and repair work started immediately." Deborah allowed Ashe to lead her across the shattered glass and splintered wood covering the outer office floor.

  She stopped at Annie Laurie's desk; the two women hugged each other. Deborah turned to face her employees. "I'm sorry this had to happen. I'm so relieved no one was injured." She glanced over at Neil, whose round, normally pink face was a pale gray.

  "Let everyone go home for the rest of the day. I'll have someone come in and clean up. Rearrange things so work can continue tomorrow. Make use of my office. I'll be working at home. Temporarily."