by J. M. Madden
“Hey, John,” she called.
“Yeah.”
“Have you looked outside?”
“Yeah. Don’t think we’re going anywhere today.”
That was what she thought too, but she just wanted to hear him confirm it. She pulled a favorite sweatshirt over top of the long-sleeved t-shirt she already had on and slipped her feet into her slippers to pad down the hallway. John was on his cell phone, obviously talking to Duncan. Shannon picked up the receiver of the house phone. Dead.
She wasn’t surprised. Colorado was notorious for bad weather, and if a person got upset by minor things like dead phone lines and car batteries, it wasn’t the place for them. At least they still had power. She had a generator in the garage if they needed it. Difficult to start, but a necessity, nonetheless. Crossing to the fireplace, she stoked the coals, and within minutes had a wonderful blaze going. The stack of wood beside the grate had dwindled quickly. John was still talking, so she grabbed a jacket from her closet and stepped out onto the back porch.
And screamed.
A bloody, mangled, furry mess lay on the concrete porch lightly covered in snow, and Shannon stumbled back into the house, slamming the door shut. John was right there when she turned, and she clutched his shirt in her hands, gasping. He shushed her and set her gently aside, then opened the door and scanned outside. His gun was already in his hand. Shannon backed farther into the kitchen as he rolled out the door. She didn’t know what the thing lying on the concrete had been, but it had died a horrible death.
John came back in a few minutes later. Shannon had gotten hold of her emotions, somewhat, but she felt brittle.
“It’s just a dog, Shannon.” He pulled her hands into his and stared into her eyes. “It looks like it was hit somewhere else and dragged here. There’s no fresh blood. Whoever brought it here dropped it on the concrete and left over the back fence, dragging a branch or something behind them to cover up their tracks. The snowstorm then covered that track, so that we wouldn’t see anything unless you looked specifically. I need to get a crew out here, to catalog the evidence and get photographs as soon as possible. Okay?”
Shannon nodded, and crossed to the sink to scrub her hands. She hadn’t actually touched the poor thing, but she still felt dirty.
“You shouldn’t have gone out there alone.”
She could tell John was angry at her, and it made her defensive. “You were on the phone, and I didn’t want to bother you. It was just the back porch.”
“What if the guy had been standing out there waiting for you to come out?” John actually growled, and smacked the cupboard beside her. Shannon jumped in surprise and winced at the sound. Tears came to her eyes. She didn’t want John to be mad at her.
It had been irresponsible. Hell, she hadn’t even looked through the vertical blinds before she walked out. Taking a deep breath, she forced the tears away. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I didn’t think, I just went along like I normally do.” She looked him in the eye. “I won’t do it again, I promise.”
John was still angry, but he accepted her apology. He turned away to the living room, and within a few seconds she heard him on the phone, calling people in.
For two hours, her house turned into a circus. The police came to file another report and take pictures. The detectives arrived to ask questions, and the crime scene people stomped through her house and outside as they gathered evidence. Duncan stopped to look things over and talk to John. He gave her a big hug when he walked in the door. “Don’t worry, Shannon. We’ll get him.”
She nodded and hugged the older man back. He’d become a dear friend to her over the months and she had a lot of faith in his abilities. She retreated to her bedroom and curled up in the soft little chair beside the window. Here she could watch the cars pull in and leave her driveway, but she didn’t need to talk to anybody else.
Duncan was the last to leave, and the house finally quieted. At some point she drifted off into a weary doze. When she woke John sat beside her in his chair. The light had dimmed outside, fading into afternoon. A snowplow lumbered past, spitting salt.
Shannon adjusted and stretched her arms above her head. When she looked at John, he was just shifting his eyes away from her breasts. Shannon smiled inwardly, even as she girded herself for him to say whatever it was that had the frown on his face. He started to say something, then looked like he changed his mind and went in a different direction.
“I, uh, shouldn’t have snapped at you.” The words were quiet, and sounded like they were forced out.
She shrugged. “I think I needed it. Walking out the door was irresponsible. I’ll remember next time.”
He blinked at her as if he were surprised at how easy the apology had been. He ran his palms down his jean-clad thighs.
“It’ll be a while before we hear anything from forensics, but on preliminary examination, it looks like the dog was just road kill. There were bald patches where the hair had been scraped off, and a couple of minor marks that looked like tire prints. If I had to guess, the prick saw the dog and thought it would be funny to throw on your back porch to spook you.”
She ran a hand through her tangled hair. “Well, it worked.”
John didn’t look so chipper himself. Deep lines bracketed his mouth, and the black stubble on his jaw was longer than normal. Shannon knew it had to frustrate him, because the weather wasn’t cooperating. He hadn’t seen the intruder on the monitors because of the swirling snow, and she had a feeling the crime scene people didn’t get anything either, for the same reason.
“Duncan and I talked, and we’re going to bring in another guy.”
Surprise lifted her brows. “Really?”
John’s expression completely closed down, and he crossed his heavy arms over his chest. “Really. I can’t protect you properly with just me. I need backup. Legs, basically.”
Shannon wished things could have been different. John had probably been a force to be reckoned with a few years ago, big and robust. Bitterness rolled off him now, and his mouth twisted when he said the words. It was the biggest humiliation in the world for a man to admit he needed help.
“Who’s coming in?”
“Harper.”
She nodded. The former SEAL was one of the few men actually not on assignment right now. He worked graveyard shift, so she didn’t know him as well as the others, but he seemed like a very dangerous individual. Even more so than John. He set her on edge, actually. Almost as bad as the Jennings kid had.
“He’ll be here within the hour.”
John turned his chair to go, but Shannon reached out and brushed her hand against his arm. She wanted to acknowledge how hard it must have been for him to request backup, but if she said anything it would only make him feel worse. “Thanks for letting me know, John.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Whatever we need to do to get this guy, we’ll do. I promise.” He tipped his head and rolled away.
Shannon felt her heart melt as she watched him maneuver out the door. John Palmer was a good guy, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
When the sky started to ease into evening, she headed to the kitchen to make dinner. John sat, elbows propped, at the table. Harper Preston leaned against her counter. Shannon was a little spooked, because she hadn’t even heard him enter the house. She certainly hadn’t seen him. He had an open blade in his hand, and was scraping the edge against his black jeans, back and forth, back and forth. His pale silver eyes pinned her to the doorway, and it was all Shannon could do to contain a shiver. He had the eyes of a killer, cold and merciless. His head was shaved so close, only the barest hint of dark stubble remained.
Those eerie eyes settled on her, and he folded the knife away. “Ms. Murphy.”
“Hello, Mr. Preston. I’m sorry you got dragged into my mess here.”
Extra-wide shoulders jerked in a shrug. “It’s all work.”
John’s expression was guarded as he watched them. Shannon didn’t like feelin
g he examined her movements. She crossed to the refrigerator. Preston moved as far away from her as he could, then turned to lean against the wall, looking out the sliding glass doors. The space in the room was stifling.
Shannon ducked her head back into the fridge. “Is there anything you’d like for dinner, guys?”
Preston didn’t say anything, but she didn’t really expect him to.
“Anything is fine, Shannon. The easier the better.”
She pulled pork chops and a bag of vegetables from the shelves. A can of fruit got dumped into a bowl, and she warmed up the few remaining noodles from a few nights ago. Within minutes, she had set the table and was passing around food. Preston filled his plate, then moved to stand back where he had been, leaning against the jamb. Shannon had to clamp her mouth shut not to say anything about his behavior. John smiled slightly and winked at her.
The agency wouldn’t hire anybody not suitable for the job, she knew that. And Duncan certainly wouldn’t put a man in her house that he didn’t trust. More importantly to her, John didn’t seem to mind him either. Maybe it was just a military thing.
Dinner was tense and quiet. Shannon ate quickly just so she could get away from the menace in the air. She offered seconds, which the new guard promptly accepted, and put the food away.
“I’ll get the dishes.”
The thought of the muscle-bound hulk with tattoos on his arms filling her dishwasher almost made her smile. “Thank you.” Hell, she wasn’t going to argue with the man.
Shannon didn’t give him time to change his mind. She grabbed the box of kittens and walked them down the hallway, with Pickle trailing behind. She heard the whisper of John’s rubber wheels on the floor as he brought up the rear.
He stopped inside the doorway and closed the door behind him.
Shannon’s heart began to accelerate. The door had been open before. Closed, it suddenly ratcheted up the intimacy.
“Don’t worry about Preston. As long as he has focus, he’s good. Just try to stay out of his way, and for God’s sake don’t come up behind him.” His full lips spread in a grim smile.
Shivering, she crossed to the bed and reached the kittens out of the box, setting them on the comforter. John rolled to the opposite side of her bed to keep one from falling off. Boohini clawed into her pant leg and climbed into her lap. Shannon stroked him, and he set up a little rumble in his throat.
“I’ll remember. Is he really that dangerous?”
John sighed. “Let’s just leave him alone, okay? Don’t try to butter him up with your cooking or anything.” He dropped his head when he said the last, and she had to strain to hear.
Shannon laughed. “Oh, please. He doesn’t look like the German chocolate cake type.”
John raised a dark eyebrow. “That’s my cake. You better not make him that.”
Shannon knew he was trying to tease her out of the funk she was in, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. “I won’t make that cake for anybody but you,” she promised.
The laughter in his face faded away as he heard the sincerity in her voice. He cleared his throat sharply. “Maybe, you uh, should. You know, just in case somebody likes it better, or appreciates it more. Or something.”
He avoided her eyes until she moved off the bed to stand in front of him.
“John.”
He dragged his gaze up to her face, but he wasn’t happy about it. “I just don’t want you to settle.”
“How the heck am I settling? That’s not the way I see it at all. Move your hands.”
He held his arms at his sides, and she settled crossways onto his lap. Automatically, his hands settled at her hips, and he leaned to the side to look in her face.
Shannon didn’t give him a chance to complain; she just wrapped her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled her nose into his neck. She sighed and melted into him. “I’ll cook anything you want if you just let me rest here for a little minute.”
*****
Well, fuck.
Here he was, trying to do what was best for her, and she was having none of it. Instead she curled up against him and destroyed all reasoning. How the hell was he supposed to do the right thing with all this softness nestled on his lap? And, God, what was she doing to his neck?
John fought to keep things even, but his body welcomed her presence like a desert begging for rain, finally being granted just a few precious drops. She smelled so good he wanted to lick her, just to see if she tasted like he thought.
Awareness coursed through him, and heat began to build in his groin. Oh, yeah.
Desperate curiosity ate at him. He was getting erections more often, but would he be able to follow through? He’d masturbated this morning before she got up, and it had definitely been easier than normal. All he had to do was remember her bent over the first day he had met her to get hard. That didn’t mean he’d actually be able to have sex, though.
Doubts crowded into his mind.
“Why did you tense up?” she whispered. “Oh.” She stiffened and pulled away, sliding her legs off his lap. “Sorry, I forgot.”
Against his better judgment, his hands tightened on her. “Don’t leave.”
She looked at him warily, and John was hit with a fresh surge of guilt. She didn’t know what he wanted. He had put that uncertainty in her eyes.
“Shannon, I like being close to you, and you didn’t put me out by sitting on my lap. I just…I’m not sure what I want.”
That was a total lie, of course. He knew exactly what he wanted, and she sat on his useless legs waiting for him to make up his mind.
“Well,” she said softly, “maybe I can give you something to think about.”
John knew the kiss was coming, and he froze. He willed himself not to move. Shannon’s plump lips brushed his once, twice and nibbled at the corner of his mouth. John forced himself to rein in his frantic excitement. Shifting to the side a bit, she nibbled down the hardness of his throat. It was all he could do not to grab her and devour her. Deliberately being gentle, he burrowed a hand into her thick hair and dragged her mouth back to his to taste again.
Shannon moaned in her throat, making his excitement spike, and his erection fill. John knew the moment Shannon felt his excitement. She stilled, then pulled back to look at him.
Instead of the condescending pity he expected to see, her face was drowsy with her own need. For him. In spite of all the obstacles.
“I’m willing to go as far as you’ll let me.”
John felt his throat tighten with emotion at her words. She was prepared to give herself over to whatever he wanted, with no promise as to what might be in it for her. Nobody had ever offered themselves to him like that. One nagging part of his mind had to wonder why she offered herself to him. Was she curious if he could get it up? Or keep it up? Did she think he’d be grateful for any attention he got?
No. Shannon wasn’t like that. He knew that, in spite of what his brain was trying to tell him. She wasn’t the type to play with a person’s emotions. If she offered herself to him, she had to have a strong motivation.
Was it possible she did actually care about him?
Unable to even comprehend the possibility, his mind veered away from the question.
Shannon waited for him to make a move, but John honestly didn’t know if he could. He cleared his throat and looked toward the door. “I don’t know if this is the time. I need to finish briefing Preston.”
She stared at him for several long seconds, and he felt like a damn schmuck, always making excuses to get away from her. Finally, she slid off his lap and turned to the bed. “Okay, John. I’m going to read for a while, then I’m going to bed. I think for now I’ll keep the kittens in here with me.”
The tightness in his throat didn’t allow him to respond, so he just rolled out the door.
Preston was in the living room, at the bank of security monitors. John felt a moment of embarrassment that the soldier had probably seen Shannon on his lap, but he brushed it away.
Shannon was a beautiful woman. He would be proud to be seen with her anywhere. Should be proud.
The burly soldier looked up with a smirk from the monitors. “Personal protection, huh?”
John clamped his jaw shut and stared the man down. “Yes, and if you have problems with that, let me know now. I’ll have somebody else assigned.”
Preston shook his bald head and backed down immediately. “No, Gunny. No problem. Just collecting intel.”
John nodded, and briefed the man on the particulars of the case. Duncan called about halfway through, and informed John that they’d gotten a tiny break. Carpet fibers had been found in the hair of the dead dog. They were running them now, and assumed they came from the vehicle the dog had been transported in. He said he’d call as soon as they had more information. Clayton Williams, another investigator, was also being sent out to Ohio to interview Gerbowski. He would arrive in the morning, and hopefully by tomorrow afternoon they would have some insight into the stalker.
John told Preston about the find, but the ex-sniper didn’t seem impressed. “Even if you figure out what kind of vehicle it came from, it probably won’t help you until you pinpoint a suspect.”
He was right, but John couldn’t help but be encouraged. This was the first tiny break they had. And Williams was a professional interrogator. They would have answers, soon.
Preston waved him away when John started to go over the camera angles again. “Dude, you’re half asleep. You need to catch some Zs. I’ll be fine here. Nothing will get past me.”
John knew he was probably right. He nodded and pushed his chair backwards, away from the table. “I’ll be in the guestroom.”
Preston thumped his fist on one of the monitors. “We’ve got something wrong with camera three. You better check it out.”
John snorted. “Camera three, huh?” Shannon’s room.
Preston nodded. “Yep. It’s all snow. Maybe you should just camp out in there.”
John tipped his head, unwilling to argue. His estimation of the man had just gone up. “Will do.”