A Marshal's Embrace

by Dora Hiers

  “Do you need to get anything to take to my house? More clothes?” His voice came out gruff. He cleared his throat.

  “No. I’m good.” Her hand shook as she flicked a loose strand of hair behind an ear.

  “Let’s go, then.” He tugged her out of the kitchen and waited for her to lock the door. He led the way to the truck, not letting go of her hand until he helped hoist her inside.

  He settled himself in the driver’s seat and cranked the engine, checked the rear-view mirror to back up, saw a tear slide down her cheek. His hand dropped from the gearshift. He leaned over, cupped a cheek with one hand and thumbed away the tear. “We’ll find this guy, sweetheart.”

  She leaned into his hand and nodded.

  Guilt pricked his conscience. So far, he hadn’t done a good job of protecting her. Had probably caused more harm. His emotions were scrambled, out of sync, laid out on a table like a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. He could still see the card table set up in Granny’s living room, her head bent over working a jigsaw. Man, he hated those. “Back up. Don’t get so close to it, honey. Look at the big picture,” Granny always said.

  Yeah. Just like a jigsaw. He needed to back up, think rationally, look at the big picture. Stop thinking of Danae in ways that he shouldn’t and start focusing on keeping her safe.

  Then he might actually be able to keep her safe. Protect her.

  He pulled his hand away and slammed the truck in reverse.

  Protect her from more than this bozo’s harassment.

  Protect her from him.

  9

  Ryker disconnected the call and stowed his phone.

  “A grave marker?” Danae angled her head to the side, trying to wrap her brain around the police officer’s report. Packing wrap dangled from one hand, a dinner plate in the other. Why would someone hurl a slab of cement through her window?

  Ryker hoisted another box onto the kitchen counter and sliced the seal open. “Not an actual grave marker. An imitation. With your name engraved on it.”

  “What? With my name on it? What kind of freak would do that?”

  He quirked his eyebrows. “One that wanted to send you a message.”

  Send her a message? That’s crazy! “Well, if they wanted to give me a message, they could have just knocked. Why go through all that trouble? What did it say?”

  “Are you sure you want to know?”

  She shot him her best glare. “Ryker, somebody hurled a stinking slab of cement through my window. Of course, I want to know why!”

  “Stop your stupid crusade. Or this will be yours.”

  “My stupid crusade?”

  “Yeah. Do you have any idea what it’s referring to?”

  “About a crusade? I don’t have a clue.” Slowly, she placed the plate on the counter and turned around, rubbing her forehead. She shook her head. “Do you have any ideas?”

  He leaned a hip against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. “Are you dealing with any hot issues at work? Anything controversial?”

  She shook her head and unwrapped another plate. “None that I can think of. Things have been kind of slow.”

  “No jobs coming up?”

  “I have a day job on Friday, but nothing until then so far. I don’t get much warning on some jobs, though.”

  “What about raising money for Quiver Full?”

  She shrugged and stacked the plate with the others. “I can’t see how raising money for an orphanage would set off anybody’s hot button.”

  “You never know.”

  “Talk about hot buttons. I am on a recycling committee. It’s not a popular topic right now. A lot of people are upset about that.”

  “Upset about recycling?”

  She reached for another plate and unwrapped it. “Yeah. Not so much the recycling part. More about having to pay for it.”

  “Really?”

  “Hard to believe, isn’t it? That someone would object to a few dollars a month? But that’s because we grew up recycling. Remember unloading the van every week at the recycling center?”

  “Uh-huh. Boys did the cardboard and paper. Girls got the easy stuff.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him and set the plates in the cabinet. Her phone vibrated with a text. “Uh-oh. Forgot I agreed to play basketball at Quiver Full this afternoon.” She swiped dusty hands across her jeans. “Want to tag along?”

  He smiled, the stubble almost hiding the cleft in his chin. Almost, but not quite. “What do you think?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Just don’t think you’re going to play a game of basketball, McLane. Sorry, not happening.”

  “Afraid I’ll edge you out. Score more points than you?” He lifted his chin in a dare.

  Egging her on might have worked in the past, but she was older, wiser. On to him. She shook her head. “Nah. I’m not worried. In your fragile condition, I know I could score more points. I just don’t want to make you look bad in front of the boys. Big, bad Deputy U.S. Marshal getting beat by a girl.”

  That’d get him. He wouldn’t want to tar his image with the guys.

  But, she knew better.

  Ryker was as soft as the beat-up Raggedy Anne doll she kept on the nightstand. The one she tugged close to her chest after a particularly tough day with a patient transport. Or during the nights when she felt like being a little girl, scared, longing for reassurance, needing a soft, gentle touch. The kind of touch her own mother never gave her.

  “Besides, you might take an elbow to the gut.”

  He winced, covered his wound with a hand.

  She pulled a sweatshirt over her head and tugged her hair free. “See, it hurts already, doesn’t it?”

  “You don’t pull any punches.”

  “Haha.” She felt her face softening. “I just don’t want to see you—” she was going to say hurt but changed her mind. “Back in the hospital. Didn’t you tell Stephen you would look after me? How will you do that if you’re in the hospital?”

  The marshal’s face darkened. His hand lifted to stroke her hair.

  Oh, no. She couldn’t handle another of Ryker’s kisses. When he kissed her like that, everything faded away. She lost sight of herself, who she was, where she came from. The vow she meant to keep.

  And the fact that he was only spending time with her because Stephen had asked him.

  She took a step back.

  Rejection shadowed his eyes. He jerked his hand away and swiped it through his own hair instead. “Danae, I’m sorry I let our kiss get that far. I promise it won’t happen again. And if you’re the slightest bit worried about it, I give you permission to whack me over the head. Not in the side, though.”

  Man, he just didn’t get it, did he? Sometimes he could be so dense.

  She tossed her head and flounced to the front door. A little ineffective because Ryker’s house was so big.

  “Danae, wait.”

  His footsteps sounded on the hardwood behind her. She turned around, and he skidded to a stop. They stood nose to neck.

  “What?” Even she winced at her sharp tone.

  “What about ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t you like?”

  “Just forget it, McLane.”

  “No. I don’t want to forget it. That kiss is indelibly etched in my memory.” He nudged her chin up with a thumb.

  She took a deep breath, felt a quiver shudder through her body. Didn’t he know what he did to her? She opened her eyes. Yep, there he was again, so close, those gold flecks melted her insides.

  “Danae, you’re nothing like your mother, you know.”

  She gasped, the air leaving her lungs in a swoosh. Ryker knew about her mother? After all these years of keeping that secret tucked deep down, far enough that she didn’t even want to remember it, he knew about her mother? “What? How would you know?”

  He cocked his head, pursed his lips. “I’ve known about your mother since the day you started high school.”

  “Stephen told you about mom? The drugs, all the men—”

&
nbsp; He nodded, sadness lining his lips and eyes. “Stephen wanted me to know in case any of the guys said—or did—anything.”

  She closed her eyes, shame rippling through her in waves.

  He cupped her face with his hands, his gentle touch practically forcing her eyelids up as much as his soft voice. “You’re a special person, Danae. Not just to your brother. You’re special to many people, including me. I know how important your vow is to you. And, trust me, your purity will mean the world to the man you marry. I will not do anything to ruin that special night of intimacy you’ve preserved for you and your husband. So…will you accept my apology?”

  ****

  This was killing him.

  How could he stand on the sidelines and watch Danae shoot hoops?

  Shoot. He couldn’t stand on the sidelines and not watch her.

  She was great with the kids. When had she grown up into this incredible woman with such meaningful goals and remarkable talents? How had he not seen this in her before now?

  Kyle drove to the basket, weaving his way through the defense, until only Danae blocked his path to the rim. Waving both hands in the air, Danae planted her sneakers and stood her ground. Kyle plowed past, knocking Danae off her feet.

  Ryker blasted breath through the whistle in his mouth, teeth biting down hard as he jogged over to Danae. He spit out the whistle. “Technical!” he yelled, offering a hand to help Danae up.

  She laughed and took his hand, rubbing her bottom as he tugged her off the concrete. “That’s not a technical, Ryker. Where did you learn the rules? Not here obviously.”

  She walked away from the basketball court, toward the truck. Glancing over a shoulder, she waved to the kids. “I’ve got to go clean up, guys. See you later.”

  Ten players moaned in unison. Ryker lifted a hand in farewell as the kids yelled out their good-byes. Renata assigned a new referee, and the game kept going.

  “Are you all right?”

  “What? Are you too rich now for concrete basketball pads? You only play on the fancy gym floors?” Danae challenged with a smile.

  “I haven’t played basketball in a long time. Probably since I left here.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “Surely you’ve played some kind of sport? Done something to keep the stress level down, I hope?”

  “Hockey.”

  She cocked her head to the side, an “oh” framing her lips. “Hockey, huh? That’s a rough sport. Don’t think I’d play that just yet in your condition.”

  “Yeah. I guess I won’t be doing a lot of things until I heal.”

  “You’ll work it out, Ryker. Losing a spleen isn’t the end of the world. People live without their spleens. That’s the important thing. You’re alive.”

  Alive? Yeah, now that he thought about it, he’d never felt more alive than the last few days. Alive, yeah. Confused, definitely.

  He still didn’t have any answers. Like what was he going to do about his career? Did he really want to risk his health, maybe even his life, protecting mostly criminals who would do anything to avoid jail time?

  Or did he want to do something more meaningful, more significant, with the rest of his life? Like Danae? She seemed to have her life all figured out. She transported sick patients all over the world to get the best medical care. Spent precious time with the kids at Quiver Full, kids who desperately needed someone to care, to listen, to play games with them.

  She made a difference in other people’s lives.

  What did he do?

  Right now his job was protecting Danae. He needed to focus on that. Everything else could wait. “What’s next on the agenda?”

  “City Council meeting. Six o’clock.”

  Great. Just what he wanted to do tonight. Sit through a boring meeting. But, he would. Only for her. “Your big debut?”

  “I’ve been to several city council meetings. This will be the first time I’ve actually addressed the council. So, yeah, I guess.”

  “Is your speech ready?”

  She opened her mouth wide, feigning shock. “You think I need a speech?”

  He gasped and sputtered as he opened the truck door. She grinned and swatted him on the arm. “Of course, I’ve got a speech ready. No worries. I have it under control. I won’t embarrass you.”

  “You’d never embarrass me, Danae. Never.” Scare his heart plum out of his chest, maybe, but never embarrass him.

  He closed the passenger door and walked around the truck, catching a glimpse of a patrol car parked under some trees at the opposite end of the orphanage’s parking lot.

  Burton?

  Keeping an eye on Danae? Why didn’t he come over and say hello? Did he not like the kids?

  Ryker waved. Just to let the officer know that he’d been made. Keep him on his toes.

  No return wave.

  Hmm. That’s interesting. Kind of a hostile fellow.

  Ryker opened the door. “Danae, did you want to talk to Chris? He’s sitting over there in the cruiser.”

  She peered at the car and shook her head. “Not now, Ryker. I’ll barely have enough time to shower and change clothes as it is.”

  Worked for him. “Just thought I’d ask.” He wasn’t sure he trusted this Officer Burton just yet. But he’d give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.

  ****

  “Do you have any questions I might be able to clarify?” Danae closed the notebook with her speech and waited, certain one particular ornery council member would comment.

  “That was a well-organized, professional presentation, Ms. Huntley. Do you mind my asking why you’re the one doing the presentation and not a staff member of Quiver Full?”

  David Andrew?

  That came out of nowhere. The one council member she knew she could count on for support. Where was he going with this question?

  She flashed a smile, including all the council members in her gaze. “Sure. I apologize for not introducing myself properly in the beginning. I’m the chairperson for their fundraising campaign.”

  “I see.” David’s face lacked even a glimmer of the friendliness he’d always displayed at church. “So, the way I understand it, correct me if I’m wrong, is that you expect the city to forego all of our expenses for police and fire protection? Oh, and also the added expense of our public works crew for extra cleanup? All to benefit the orphanage?”

  She refused to let the smile slip from her face. And she wasn’t backing down without a fight. “We’re asking for the same type of arrangement that the council approved for the Kiwanis Race last year. And the Festival in the Park to support the arts earlier this year.”

  Yeah, she’d done her homework. Knew that council members supported their pet projects.

  “Ms. Huntley, doesn’t the orphanage receive state funds?” David continued his assault.

  “Yes, but recently the Department of Social Services changed their policies. Keeping children with family members or in foster care is less cost prohibitive than residential care. So the state has drastically cut funds.”

  “Doesn’t it stand to reason that the orphanage population is lower? That they’re not sending as many kids there for care?” The irritable Council Member Janson finally spoke up.

  So old man Janson was going to side with David Andrew? This wasn’t quite the scenario she pictured for tonight.

  A lump settled in Danae’s throat. What had she expected? To waltz in here, give a speech, and for the council to grant her every wish? Without questions or concerns?

  Well, she had plenty of answers. And an orphanage full of concerns. They didn’t know what she knew, didn’t see what she saw, didn’t hear what she heard. She’d have to educate them. She straightened her spine and gripped the podium.

  “The truth is that most kids who enter into residential care at the orphanage come with nothing but the clothes on their back. Unless you want to count the emotional baggage or the physical scars they carry. Scars inflicted on them from
people who are supposed to love and protect them. And although the state sends fewer kids to the orphanage, more privately-placed kids have taken their place.”

  “If the kids are privately-placed, the parents should have to fund that.”

  “You know what the economy’s been like over the last few years. Many parents can’t afford to pay.”

  “My point exactly. In this weakened economy, how can we, as a city council, commit taxpayer funds to help the orphanage?”

  David Andrew again? What was up with this guy? Didn’t he tell her that he supported this fundraiser?

  “How can you not? These kids are citizens of our city, part of our problem. If they weren’t living in Quiver Full, with adults who love them, clothe them, feed them, and generally provide for their every need, they’d be out on the streets. You’d pay for them then, wouldn’t you?” Danae spoke softly, trying in vain to control the quiver in her voice. Her knuckles turned white against the podium, but she couldn’t do anything to stop her legs from shaking. Rage, hurt, anger, all boiled in her veins, threatening to spill from her eyes. She wanted to hurl the microphone at David. She could have been the one they refused to help.

  An arm slipped around her waist. Startled, she glanced sideways. Ryker. He’d left his vantage point, his back rigid against a side wall, to stand next to her. To stand with her. She smiled, a mite weak, tremulous at first, but it grew stronger. Ryker understood. He’d been there, too. Quiver Full was just as much a part of him as it was her.

  Maybe she did need Ryker right now.

  Seven faces stared at her from the council dais. Seven chances for more room at the orphanage. She forced an even tone, pushing back the anger. “Helping kids, helping homeless kids, is everyone’s responsibility. They’re not just the responsibility of the house parents who work at Quiver Full. Or to the handful of churches who commit to send money every month. The responsibility for these kids rests on all of our shoulders. On every citizen of Serenity Ridge.” Her gaze slid down the row, looking each council member in the eyes. “Thank you for your time. For your consideration of our project. And for your sense of responsibility.”

  The mayor asked the city manager for his recommendation.