by Liz Johnson
It was easy to let himself off the hook for his own stupidity, but he should have known that she wasn’t for him. She’d claimed to share his faith but always had an excuse for skipping Sunday-morning services. She’d promised to write him during his tours. She rarely had.
But she’d been intoxicating. And when he’d been near her, he couldn’t help but be swept up in the party that was Bianca’s life.
And then his knee had been ripped to shreds.
Bianca hadn’t wasted any time calling to tell him it was over. “You’re not a SEAL anymore. And I need more than a retired medic. I’m sorry, Luke.”
He still felt the words, as surprising as the bomb that had killed his career.
But not nearly as strong.
Honestly, losing Bianca had been the easiest thing he’d faced at Walter Reed.
And she hadn’t been cold or heartless. Just realistic about her own expectations for their life together—or rather, her life alone.
The truth was she did deserve more than a SEAL without a mission, without a future.
Mandy did, too.
When had he begun thinking of Mandy in terms of a future?
It didn’t matter. Mandy was driven yet kind. Poised but sometimes self-deprecating. And he wasn’t the one for her. He couldn’t be as long as his future remained so uncertain.
But for this minute he could keep her safe. And when this operation was over, he’d wish her well and walk away.
At least he could enjoy her smile for a little while longer.
Except just as she looked at him and he started to return her grin, her face turned stricken.
His gaze swept the crowd, but he didn’t have to look far. Just a couple yards from her booth, Gary stood with his arms crossed and a knowing smirk in place. As the family left her side, Gary swayed toward Mandy, whose eyes grew large.
His movements were loose, almost too casual. And the red of his nose and cheeks boasted that he’d indulged in more than a bit of liquid courage.
Without a word to Will, Luke barreled through the crowd. He grimaced as he jarred his injured knee but kept going. Getting to Mandy was the important thing.
“You look amazing tonight,” Gary slurred as he stepped into Mandy’s personal space, forcing her to back up. She bumped into a tent pole behind her.
“Why are you here?” Her voice was firm but quiet, and Luke almost missed her next words. “I want you to leave.”
He held up his hands as if to ward off an attack. “Hey, I paid money to be here, same as everyone else. I just wanted to come over and say—”
Luke clamped a hand on his shoulder, and Gary’s words died, his mouth flapping like a fish. “She said she wants you to go.”
Gary’s fish face turned into a snarl as he turned back to Mandy. “Who does this guy think he is?”
Mandy’s mouth opened once, then snapped closed. Her eyes lit with a fire that went beyond fear. But when she found her words, they were low and serious. “He’s a friend. He’s welcome here. You’re not.”
Apparently that response didn’t settle well with Gary, who spun on Luke. “We have a history you know nothing about, so do yourself a favor and get lost.” Then the guy had the gall to poke Luke in the chest.
Luke jerked away from the unexpected contact, then looked down at the spot where he’d been jabbed. “Seriously, man?”
Mandy looked as if she was going to be sick, but she mouthed an I’m sorry in Luke’s direction.
Gary had no such courtesy. He just stared up at Luke, eyes filled with hate and arrogance and breath reeking of liquor. Luke had at least four inches and as many years of specialized hand-to-hand combat training on the guy. Clearly Gary had underestimated a man on crutches.
Bad idea.
Luke leaned in, a smirk slipping into place. “Trust me when I tell you, you should walk away. Right now. This—” Luke flicked his finger back and forth between them before resting it again on the handle of his crutch “—won’t end well for you.”
“Oh, really?” Gary pushed up his shirtsleeves, showing off a pair of tough-guy tattoos. In Luke’s experience, guys with tats like that were trying too hard to prove something. “You’re going to make me leave? You and what army?”
Who even said something like that? This guy was a real piece of work, and Luke had the urge to show him that he didn’t need an army. Or even a wingman.
But before he could say the words on the tip of his tongue, the sound of three bodies jockeying for prime position around them interrupted him. Luke glanced over to see Will off to the right, his arms crossed and a relaxed expression on his face. Zig was on the left, running a hand over his bald head and giving Mandy an easy smile. Jordan, the biggest guy there, cocked his head and raised his eyebrows.
None of them said a thing as Gary held up his hands in surrender, his bravado withering. “Hey, man, we were just talking.”
No army required. A SEAL team would do the job.
Just as Gary turned to leave, Mandy grabbed for the sleeve of his jacket. “Where’s Camilla?”
That knowing grin fell back into place, in spite of her guards. “I don’t have any idea.” Then he jerked his arm out of Mandy’s grasp and disappeared into the crowd.
It was a lie. One that could cost Mandy her life.
“You good, Cubby?”
Luke rolled his eyes at Zig, but the older SEAL wasn’t likely to lay off the harassment with a pretty girl around. He never did. “We’re good.” The others tipped their heads and slipped away like steam evaporating.
“What did I ever see in him?” Mandy seemed to be asking herself, so Luke did the only thing he knew to do to offer a measure of comfort. He slipped his hand into hers and squeezed. She squeezed back, and sparks shot up his arm. After a long moment, she looked up, all brown eyes and fair freckles. “Thank you.”
“We’re in this together, remember?”
“You say that enough that I couldn’t forget if I wanted to.” Her lips held a funny little frown, but her tone of voice rang with humor.
“Just making sure.”
The rest of the night went off without a hitch, without any sign of Camilla. And as the clock struck ten, dads picked up their sleepy children, and moms pushed strollers toward the parking lot. A few minutes later, Mandy made her exit, saying goodbye to the event’s hostess and several other friends.
Luke watched her walk out with Matt and Ashley and their two little ones. He offered a small wave when she turned and caught his eye. She nodded back, then cupped her bare elbows against a stiff breeze.
Hadn’t she had a sweater before? He was almost sure.
Hustling toward the ring-toss booth, he spotted the deep green pullover that she’d worn earlier. She must have forgotten it.
He picked it up, running the smooth and supple fabric over his hands. A thread caught on one of his calluses, and he carefully released it before tucking the light jacket over his shoulder. He could give it back to her the next day when they met up for his walk.
He moved toward his car as a workman began tearing down the booths, packing up each tent and the contents from within. Most of the SEALs and all of the families had cleared out, and the parking lot was nearly deserted except for the trucks and trailers that would haul away the evening’s entertainment.
Tossing Mandy’s sweater onto his car’s passenger seat, he stowed his crutches in the back, angled himself into place behind the wheel and adjusted his leg.
His gaze dropped onto the sweater. Again.
Tomorrow. He’d see her then. In fact, first thing in the morning.
The sweater could wait.
But he wasn’t sure he could.
Pulling onto the road, his car seemed to make the decision for him. It zipped toward Mandy’s house as he relived her every expression from that night. Every laugh. Even the fear-filled gasp when Gary had shown up.
A vise at his temples squeezed, and he rubbed a fist across his forehead.
The guy made Luke want to p
unch a wall and find a safe house where Mandy could never be found. But was he really the one trying to kill her? Gary sure knew more about Camilla than he was revealing, but what kind of intel did he have?
The cops, Mandy, even Luke, were all hanging their hopes on the idea that Camilla was behind everything.
Because if she wasn’t after Mandy, then they were at square one.
Suddenly the screen on his phone lit up, and he hit the hands-free button. “This is Dunham.”
“Luke?” Her voice was reedy, but he’d know it anywhere.
“Mandy, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” But the dismissive remark didn’t cover the hitch or the long pause that grabbed his heart with its talons. “I’m— The cops are already on their way.”
The air in his car vanished. But he didn’t need to breathe. He just needed to get there. Get to Mandy. Only two stoplights to go.
He pressed his foot against the accelerator, sailing through a yellow light and screeching into a turn on two wheels. “I’ll be there in ninety seconds. Are you safe?”
“Yes. No. I—I don’t know.”
Icicles of fear stabbed through him as he skidded around the last turn, every worst scenario playing through his mind.
“I’m here.” He grabbed his phone, snagged one of his crutches and flung open his door as Mandy ran out of her house. They met in the middle of the lawn. He held out his free arm, and she threw hers around his middle, her face burying into his chest.
“She was in there.” Mandy’s entire body trembled, each syllable taking every ounce of her strength. “She was in my house.”
“How do you know?”
Eyes as wide as the Pacific lifted up to meet his gaze.
“She left me a note.”
Everything inside him screamed not to ask. But he had to. He had to know. “What did it say?”
“She won’t miss again.”
SEVEN
Luke sighed into her hair, and Mandy let herself fall fully into his embrace. The arm not hanging on to his single crutch wrapped around her waist. And the rapid tempo of his heartbeat below her ear matched her own.
“Is she still in there?”
The ground seemed to open up below her, and she clung to him to keep herself standing. “I don’t know.”
His head turned toward the open door, and she felt his entire body sway in that direction. He was going to go inside to check. But the very thought made her feel like a kite caught in a tornado.
“Please, don’t go.” Oh, how she hated the way her voice pitched to the storm raging inside. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “I mean, the police will be here in a minute.” And I don’t want to be alone.
She couldn’t admit that aloud, but it didn’t change the truth. She’d come to rely on Luke, to look forward to his appointments and his smiling face. And he’d been there for her. Every step of the way, insisting that they were a team, promising he wasn’t going to leave her.
And, so far, he’d kept that promise.
But this reliance, this dependence on a patient made her uneasy. Still, she couldn’t step away from his strength.
She didn’t want to.
His arm tightened around her as he looked across the row of empty, square lawns. She followed the direction of his gaze and froze as an eerie shadow slinked across the grass three doors down. Her shoulders erupted in tingles, and she wrenched in the opposite direction. Someone was watching her. Watching them.
Down the street a trash can crashed to the ground, its metal lid clanging against a driveway. She nearly jumped onto Luke’s back, hiding her face in his shirt and praying for some heaven-sent help.
“We’re too exposed out here.” He tugged on her arm and tucked her into his side, his gaze always sweeping, always prying into the darkness.
What did his trained eyes see? Could he spot the person threatening her life? Or the barrel of a gun pointed at them? Everything inside her turned to ice. When she finally forced a breath over tight lips, she was pretty sure she could make out the cloud it left. “Who’s out there?”
With uneven steps, he moved them along the smooth stone walkway. “I’m not sure. But I don’t think it’s a friend.”
Her mouth went dry, and she couldn’t even swallow the lump at the back of her throat. She wasn’t imagining this. The weight of someone watching her wasn’t an illusion. It wasn’t a prank or a joke.
All of this was real.
Oh, Lord. Let this end soon. I can’t live like this. You’ve got to save me.
With one last glance down her street, Luke closed the door on the night. With a flip of the lock, they were secure.
But were they alone?
Mandy’s pulse rate tripled at the thought of being locked inside with her visitor—with Camilla. But when she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out.
Luke rubbed his hands up and down her arms, his gaze never straying from hers. “I’m going to look around.” He tried for an encouraging smile, but it ended up more like a grimace.
She could muster only a quick shake of her head. He couldn’t leave her. He just couldn’t. She needed a minute to pull herself together. He couldn’t go until she had a firm grip on reality. He’d promised.
“Want to come with?”
She nodded.
“Okay. I want you to stay right behind me.”
Another nod.
He shook his head in response. “Not just at my side. I want you staring at the middle of my back and holding on to my waist.” He moved her hand to his right side, patting it into place so she could feel the even rise and fall. His words were thick with intensity, but the rhythm of his breathing never wavered. Always even. Always controlled. Always confident. “No matter what you hear, don’t let go, and don’t try to look around me. Got it?”
If he was an anchor, she was the ocean in a storm, cresting and falling, swooping and crashing.
Using his single crutch to keep the weight off his injured knee, he took a slow step forward. Everything inside her jolted.
Dear God, don’t let there be anyone in my house. Please. Please!
She managed to follow his lead with a clumsy step. When she grabbed his side to stabilize herself, she jerked away. She couldn’t add more pull on his body. Not when he wasn’t evenly balanced.
He glanced over his shoulder. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Did I hurt you?”
His eyebrows formed a loose V. “No.” Then with a nod of his head, his features returned to normal, and he stepped into the hallway.
First the coat closet. The door creaked as he opened it, and she hoped it wasn’t a mess. Of course, it always was. There was no helping the piles of reusable shopping bags stacked on top of saved shoe boxes beside the broken vacuum. He swished his hand through the half dozen coats hanging there. Satisfied, he closed the door and walked to the kitchen.
He entered slowly, peeking around the corner. And when he was sure it was safe, he lifted one hand and made a quick motion for her to keep up, but the knot in her stomach pulled so tight that she could barely move.
“Are you all right?” he asked when she lagged behind as he limped past the dining table she’d rescued from a ’50s-era diner.
“Yes. I think so.” Her own throat tried to strangle the words as he systematically checked every cupboard and entrance.
When he pulled open the back door, a chill swept through the room, and Mandy stepped even closer to Luke’s warmth. He smelled like the night air and a hint of the cotton candy that had been liberally passed around at the carnival.
After the kitchen was the spare bedroom. They moved on to her room, where she closed her eyes and prayed she hadn’t left anything embarrassing lying around. Luke paused for a moment, but he didn’t say anything. Then as he looked into her closet, the entire ceiling creaked.
“Is there anything up there? A second floor?”
She shook her head and the house moaned again. Eerie and low, it wrapped around them, s
tealing her nerve. She tugged on his shirt. “Let’s go.”
He patted her hand and then wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her close. “We don’t know that it’s any safer outside.”
Why did he have to remind her?
She glanced at her bed and wished with all her might that she could just crawl into it, pull the covers over her head and stay there until there wasn’t someone out there trying to kill her.
The ceiling creaked again, and they both jerked their chins toward it. He whispered, “Do you have an attic or crawl space?”
Jaw clamped too tight to speak, she managed just a nod.
His gaze dropped to his knee brace, and he let out a low growl. “I can’t make it up there.” His words sounded as if they were laced with lemon juice.
Sweat covered her forehead. She swiped it off with the back of her hand and croaked out an offer. “I—I can look.”
His eyebrow cocked so high it was almost humorous. “Or we can wait for the police.”
She let out a rush of air, relief coursing through her. Right. The police. They were on their way.
Luke took her hand in his, pulling her back through the house, keeping his pace easy. “I don’t think there’s anyone up there.” When he reached the front window, he spread the blinds with two fingers and peered into the inky night. “But we’ll wait by the door, just in case.”
“How do you know?”
His gaze shifted over her head toward the hallway attic entrance. “No footsteps.”
Of course. She was wound so tight that she hadn’t even thought about the noises that her old house so often made. “It does groan like that sometimes.”
He leaned against the back of the sofa, rested his crutch at his side and stared straight into her eyes. His gaze searched deeper than the surface, deeper than she was comfortable, but there was no looking away. The planes of his face went taut, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’ll stay with you. When the cops get here.”
“Thank you.” Her voice suddenly sounded breathless and airy, and she didn’t want to think about why.