Undercover Protector

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  The petite blonde stood on the small patio that led to the door, a large, masked man positioned just behind her. As Anderson slammed the truck into Park, the man let Nadine go just long enough to pull off the balaclava. For a moment, he could swear he recognized the guy from somewhere. It made him frown, but dwelling on it wasn’t an option at the moment. Getting Nadine to safety was the only priority.

  He started to swing the door open, hell-bent on charging in and demanding her release. He was forced to pause, though, when he spotted an all-too-familiar silver flash between the pretty schoolteacher and her captor. The man had a gun.

  Anderson cursed under his breath and took a moment to do a quick assessment of the area. A lone car sat parked at the other end of the block, kitty-corner to where he’d stopped the truck. It was a slick ride—a pricey sedan with low-profile rims and tinted rear windows. It didn’t look like something driven by a thug.

  But Garibaldi’s not your run-of-the-mill criminal, is he?

  The thought rang true. It was also obvious that the car didn’t belong in the neighborhood. So there was a good chance that it belonged to the man who held Nadine. The guy’s clothes matched the quality of the vehicle, too. A tailored suit, Anderson thought. Shiny shoes. Strange attire for a man on a kidnapping mission. There wasn’t time to dwell on that, either, though.

  The man was guiding Nadine down the stairs now, and when they reached the bottom, there was a possibility that he’d turn toward Anderson’s truck.

  You need a plan, and you need it now.

  Thinking quickly, he decided his best bet was an interception. Even if he lost the element of complete surprise, he could retain an advantage if the man literally didn’t see him coming.

  Quickly and silently, Anderson grabbed his weapon, then opened the truck door and slid out. His feet hit the ground noiselessly, but he crouched down anyway, watching to see if Nadine’s captor had taken note of his presence yet. Thankfully, the man appeared too intent on keeping his prisoner close to bother looking around.

  Glad for the luck running his way, Anderson slunk away from the truck and made his way across the nearest lawn and its adjoining house. When he reached it, he pressed himself to the exterior wall and mentally mapped his way to the sedan.

  Just a few houses up, there was a long row of privacy hedges that spanned several yards with no apparent break. After that, a six-foot fence with a gate that hung slightly ajar. Then an in-bloom bush covered in bright red flowers. Finally, there was the conspicuous car.

  Okay, Anderson thought. So long as the creep doesn’t manage to coincidentally sync his glances with my movements, I should be fine.

  “Here goes,” he murmured, then dropped his head and hit the road at a light jog—fast enough but not loud.

  He hit the hedges without even breaking a sweat. He paused there for a minute, waiting until he was sure he hadn’t been spotted before continuing on. When he was sure he was in the clear, he moved again.

  The greenery flashed by as he crossed three yards, each one with a narrow path through its own spot in the bushes. Those he sailed by without pausing, just in case Nadine and her captor happened to pass by at the same moment.

  At the end of the row, the fence he’d previously spotted rose up to block him in. Though the gate had been open on the street side, the side that lined the yard was a sold wall of tightly fitted panels.

  Gritting his teeth, Anderson eyed the perimeter. It was apparent that the only way out was to double back and come out one of the paths. The idea sent more than a sliver of concern through him. It would be almost impossible to sneak out. The hedges were flush with the sidewalk, and even peering around to get a look at the street risked potential exposure. The last thing he wanted was to add any more risk to Nadine’s already precarious situation.

  But not getting to her at all isn’t an option.

  He turned with the intention of going back. As he did, a flash of movement caught his. His hand went automatically to his weapon while he crouched down defensively and zeroed in on the space where he’d spied the movement. His body wanted to go rigid. Out of habit, he took in and let out three deep breaths and forced himself to stay loose. At the third exhale, he just about choked. A dog—a Great Pyrenees, he thought—came wriggling out from between the corner of the fence and the bottom of the last hedge. The big animal, which had to weigh near to 150 pounds and whose white coat was covered in grime, gave Anderson a slightly guilty look, then wagged its tail and bounded up the yard.

  Anderson watched, astounded, as the dog disappeared around the side of the house. Then, in what felt like slow motion, he shifted back to the spot from which the dog had crawled in the first place. There was no visible break in the bottom of the hedge, but for the animal to have come through as easily as it did, he knew there had to be one.

  Moving quickly, he stepped forward, then dropped to his knees. A quick survey made him smile. There was a hole in the ground. A huge one. It led straight into the yard next door, defeating the entire purpose of the fence. With a silent thank-you to the big dog, Anderson flattened himself to the ground and pushed his way through.

  Chapter 8

  Every part of Nadine—mind and body—was bucking against what was happening. What she was letting happen. The problem was that she couldn’t seem to come up with an effective way to stop it. She didn’t know if the man who held her would actually follow through on his threat to shoot her then and there. She had no idea what level of desperation he was at, but she couldn’t take the risk. So she’d already considered and rejected anything that might tip him over the edge. There wouldn’t be any screaming for help. No violent kick to the shins or attempts to slip out of his grip.

  To make matters worse, Nadine was sure she was experiencing some kind of trauma-induced flashback. Something about the way the man pushed her along filled her nostrils with nonexistent smoke and her heart with remembered fear. She could nearly hear the sounds that plagued her dreams. Crackling wood. The incessant beep of hospital monitors. Hushed, worried voices.

  She tried to force it aside. To remind herself that a decade had passed since then. She was strong and capable and on a mission to set things right.

  But they were getting closer to the man’s car now, and Nadine couldn’t quell the panic. It increased tenfold. Time was running out, the window for escape—for survival—growing slimmer by the second. Her need for it, though, was doing just the opposite. Ballooning into a desire to drag her heels. To close her eyes and delay whatever was about to come by any means possible.

  Like he could sense her blossoming urge to fight back, her captor tightened his already painful grip on her wrists. She bit back a whimper, but she didn’t have the same control over her feet as she had over her mouth. In her attempt to keep her eyes forward, she didn’t notice the sudden dip in the sidewalk in front of her. Her shoe caught the edge of the concrete. Her knee twisted awkwardly. And down she went, blissfully free. But the euphoria lasted only a moment.

  From behind her, the man snarled. “You think a game like that’s going to work?”

  He thought she’d done it on purpose, she realized.

  “No,” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to—”

  She didn’t get to finish. An unfamiliar noise—almost the sound of a punch—cut her off. And then something heavy smacked into her back. For a second, she was stunned. The air blew from her lungs as the deadweight of whatever it was flattened her to the ground. She no sooner recognized that it was someone—her captor—rather than something landing on her than the weight was abruptly pulled off.

  “Nadine.”

  Anderson’s voice flooded her so hard with relief that she almost let out a sob. His hand on her wrist—no less strong than that of her attacker—was the most welcome bit of human contact she’d ever felt. Her fingers closed on his, and as he tugged her gently to her feet, she threw herself into his arms, not cari
ng if she seemed needy. Because right that second, she was in need. And nothing could’ve been more reassuring than the solid feel of the big cop’s chest against her face.

  He hugged her back for a second, then spoke softly in her hair. “We should go.”

  Nadine exhaled. “What about him?”

  “I’d love to ask him a question or ten, but I’m not inclined to draw any more attention to us by dragging him down the block. I don’t think we have time to wait for him to wake up.”

  “Time?”

  “Look up for a second, sweetheart.”

  She lifted her head reluctantly, then pulled away with a sharp gasp as she realized that the smoke scent hadn’t just been some residual memory trying to come to the surface. Even from where they stood, she could see that a black cloud was pushing through the cracks around the doorframe. Her captor had succeeded in setting his fire. Her mother’s house would be destroyed, if not by flames then by the smoke damage. And it would likely take the three shared suites with it.

  “The neighbors,” she said worriedly.

  “Already know.” Anderson inclined his head toward a woman who’d just appeared on the lawn in front of the house. “And if we don’t go now, we’ll probably have to answer more questions than we’d like.”

  Nadine glanced from the smoke to the unconscious man, then back to Anderson before nodding and straightening her shoulders. “Okay.”

  He took her hand, and she didn’t look back as he tugged her quickly over the pavement. She let him help her into the truck, too, squeezing her eyes shut as he reached over and buckled her seat belt. A few seconds later, the driver’s-side door creaked open, and the seat beside her sank down, letting her know Anderson had climbed in, as well. Then the rumble of the engine and the bump of the tires told her they’d started moving, and the wail of sirens made her sure they were heading away from the house. But cataloging it the way she was—with her lips pressed together and a small wall around her heart—could only last so long. And as soon as they were out of her old neighborhood, the flood of emotions trickled through the cracks and forced her to acknowledge them.

  The home where she’d spent the first decade and a half of her life would no longer exist. The shoe box full of notes that she’d just seen would be ruined. Maybe burned to a crisp. Maybe soaked by the firefighters. Either way, they’d be unreadable. Everything would become a memory. And while memories were all well and good, Nadine thought there were probably few people who knew as well as she did just how tenuous they could be.

  “Hey.” Anderson’s low timbre cut through her silent mourning.

  “Hey,” she managed to echo with only a slight tremor in her voice.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “You’re safe.”

  She finally opened her eyes and fixed her gaze out the windshield. “It’s not that. I mean, yes, I was scared back there. But it’s not the first time I’ve been through something harrowing. And I know what to expect where Garibaldi and his men are concerned. I set myself up to dive right in. I just... I guess I wasn’t expecting to lose all those memories. I feel broken all over again. My heart hurts like it did when my dad died. I want the heartbreak to end. That’s why I came back to Whispering Woods. Not to get destroyed a second time.”

  Anderson went quiet for a moment, and Nadine wondered if her admission had crossed some invisible line. She didn’t really know him, after all. And large, emotional declarations weren’t the norm for her, even in the most intimate circumstances. She fiddled self-consciously with the hem of her shirt, trying to formulate a way to withdraw the outburst. But before she could say anything, Anderson flipped on his turn signal and veered onto the shoulder.

  “Come here,” he commanded.

  Nadine blinked. “Come...where?”

  He leaned over and unbuckled her seat belt. He slid his hand to her waist, then dragged her across the bench seat so that she was flush against him. Then he squeezed.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, a catch in her voice.

  “Hugging you, sweetheart.”

  “No. I mean, I know. But...”

  “But what?” he said. “You’re hurting. I care. Simple as that.”

  “We don’t even know each other.” Now the catch had a desperate edge.

  “I know your whole family history. I know you’re tough as hell on the outside, but that you must have a soft inside because you teach elementary school. I know some jerk convinced you that commitment meant nothing. And right now...I know that you need a hug. I think that’s a lot.”

  Tears threatened all over again, and try as she might, she couldn’t quite fight them. “I’m sorry, Anderson.”

  His free hand came up to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. “For what?”

  “For running off this morning. It was stupid.”

  “Damn right it was.”

  “Oh.”

  He chuckled and pressed his chin to the top of her head. “Did you expect me to argue with that? My team of guys had me dedicate myself to keeping you out of harm’s way. That right there tells you how much danger we think you’re in.”

  Her heart sank a little, just like it had the last time she remembered that she was a part of his job. She pulled away. For a second, she met resistance, but his grip relaxed quickly, and she slid into her own seat.

  “We should go,” she said in as cool a voice as she could manage.

  “Nadine...”

  “Yes?”

  “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she lied.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I might not be a complete expert, but I know that ‘nothing’ means ‘something’ in woman-speak.”

  “I’m not exactly a typical woman.”

  “No kidding.” He dropped a wink. “And I mean that as a compliment.”

  She felt heat creep up her cheeks. “We have work to do.”

  “Work to do... Some things are more important than work.”

  “Like what?”

  Unexpectedly, his hand shot out and landed on her wrist. Each point of each of his fingers sent a jolt of heat into her skin, then straight to her heart. It was almost dizzying. And when he pulled her back into his arms, it made Nadine want to cry all over again. Because it drove home just how badly she wanted to be more than a job to the big, protective cop.

  * * *

  Anderson was at a bit of a loss. His instinct was to comfort the woman in his arms in any way he could. To offer a shoulder. To hold her as long as it took to wring out all of her tears. To kiss them away, if that’s what it took.

  Hell. The last bit was what he really wanted to do. He thought it was obvious that he was willing to be whatever she needed him to be. But he also felt like he was somehow getting it wrong. Every time he delved into a bit of emotional supportiveness, Nadine backed off. He couldn’t figure out why. Yeah, she had a bit—okay, more than a bit—of a prickly exterior going on. Definitely in place to keep herself from getting hurt any more than she had been already. Except Anderson was damned sure she wanted something more tender from him. The way she’d thrown herself into his arms back there at her mom’s house. The warmth in her eyes when she looked at him. So what was he doing wrong?

  Things are easier when it’s just a job, aren’t they, Somers?

  The self-directed question made him pause mentally. He felt something click. He remembered that she’d become defensive when referring to him as her babysitter. He’d assumed it was because she didn’t want to be under guard. Except now that he was thinking about it, there’d been a touch of something else in her reaction, too. A bit of hurt, maybe. The expression on her face just a second ago had been the same.

  He felt his forehead wrinkle into a deep frown as an explanation occurred to him. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

  She spoke into his chest. “Is what what’s botherin
g me? I didn’t say anything.”

  “I’m reading between the lines.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t do that.”

  He leaned away just enough that she had to sit up a bit and look up at him as he spoke. “I’m picking up a not-wanting-to-be-protected-by-Detective-Anderson-Somers vibe. And I can’t say I’m crazy about it.”

  “I know I need your help. That whole thing back there proved it.”

  “Needing and wanting are two different things,” he pointed out.

  “I’m aware.” Her reply was stiff.

  “I don’t think you’re hearing me, honey. A week ago, my guys gave me this job. I took it because we’re a team. And I’d keep doing it regardless of my feelings about you specifically.” He paused to clear his throat. “Look. I’m not much of a subtle guy. Straightforward all the way. Sometimes that gets in the way of...I dunno. Emotional finesse?”

  “Emotional finesse?”

  “No need to mock me.”

  “No mocking intended. But using the words ‘emotional finesse’ to describe the lack thereof seems kind of ironic.”

  “Why? Too poetic?”

  “Exactly.”

  A tiny smile tipped up her lips, and he couldn’t resist the urge to lift his thumb to follow the curve of her mouth. She held still as he did it, the only movement the automatic rise and fall of her chest. He dragged his fingers back to first cup her cheek, then smooth back a lock of hair. Her breaths came a little faster, and Anderson knew he was reading her body language correctly. As much as she might try to pretend otherwise, her interest in him went as much beyond the professional as his did for her.

  “My point is that you’re right,” he said softly.

  “About?”

  “Need and want are different.”

  “You said that, not me.”

  “But you agreed. Resentfully.”