He needed to get her inside, and he needed to do it now. He crouched next to the dog and let Bentley sniff his hand. He’d seen some homely mutts before, but Tessa’s was about as ugly as they came. Ugly and huge.
“Come on, boy. Let’s get you inside where it’s safe.” He slid his arms under the dog and was rewarded with a sloppy kiss that he would have wiped away if he’d had a free hand.
“You can’t carry him. You’ll hurt your shoulder,” Tessa protested.
“It’s already hurt,” he grunted, the strain of the hundred-pound dog dragging at his injured arm. “And if you don’t open the door so I can get inside now, it’s going to hurt more.”
She frowned, but ran to the door. Dirt clung to her pants and her down vest. Her elbow peeked through a rip in her long sleeved T-shirt, the skin raw and bleeding. She was worried about her dog’s well-being—Seth was worried about her.
She ushered him through a large foyer and into a nearly empty living room. A dark brown couch stood against a wall and a rocking chair sat in front of a fireplace. A throw rug in muted greens and blues lay in the middle of the floor. No coffee table. No shelves. No books or magazines or photographs. A blank slate with cream-colored walls and dark wood trim.
“You can put him on the couch,” Tessa said, her voice trembling. “He’s bleeding. I really hope his vet gets here soon.”
He placed the dog on the couch and took Tessa’s arm. “Let’s worry about you now, okay? Sit,” he commanded, leading her to the rocking chair.
“The police—”
“I’ll handle it,” he cut in.
She leaned her head back against the rocking chair and closed her eyes.
“For the record,” she murmured, “I’m not good at taking orders.”
“I’m not ordering. I’m helping. But I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” He pulled a throw from the back of the rocking chair and tucked it around her. She still smelled like vanilla, under the musty aroma of earth, dead leaves and fear.
He shoved the envelope he’d brought her into his pocket and opened the front door, waiting impatiently as a police car pulled up in front of the house.
Seth knew the officer who got out of the car. Deputy Sheriff Logan Randal had a reputation for fairness and a drive for justice. Seth had worked with him on a few occasions, and he had a lot of respect for the guy.
“We got a call that someone was assaulted?” Randal asked as he approached the house, his eyes narrowing at Seth. “What are you doing here, Sinclair?”
“I know the home owner.”
“You’re the boyfriend?”
“No, he’s not my boyfriend.” Tessa edged in beside Seth, her shoulder brushing his arm. “Not that that has anything to do with what happened.”
“It has a lot to do with it, ma’am. Most victims know their attacker.” Randal moved forward, forcing them both to step back into the foyer.
“I didn’t know mine,” Tessa insisted.
“How about we sit down, and you can explain what happened?” Randal suggested. He placed a hand on Tessa’s shoulder and led her down the wide hall.
Seth could have taken that has his cue to leave, but Randal would want to interview him when he finished with Tessa.
That was as good an excuse as any to follow them into a large kitchen. Like the living room, it was pristine and nearly empty, the walls light yellow, the cupboards bright white. A small round table sat in the center of the oversize room, four chairs positioned at perfect intervals around it.
Randal pulled one out for Tessa and motioned for her to sit, his gaze on Seth.
“If you want to go home, I can send an officer to your place,” he suggested.
“I don’t mind waiting.” As a matter of fact, Seth was set on sticking around. He didn’t know what had happened out in the woods, but it was obvious Tess was in trouble. It wasn’t his problem, but if he could help out, he planned to.
“Then how about you wait in the living room or in your car? Another officer should be here shortly. He’ll take your statement if I’m not finished with Tessa by then.”
“How long will this take? My dog is injured, and I need to make sure he’s seen by the vet,” Tess cut in, her fingers tapping against the tabletop.
“You said the vet was on the way,” Seth reminded her.
She nodded. “She is, but I don’t want Bentley to injure himself more while he’s waiting.”
“I’ll wait with him,” Seth offered.
That would make Tessa and Randal happy. Seth wasn’t so sure it would make him happy. He wanted to know what had happened to Tessa, and he wanted to know who to blame. Tessa had been quick to deny knowledge of her attacker, but that didn’t mean she’d been attacked by a stranger.
He fingered the envelope, half tempted to toss it on the kitchen table and let Tessa explain who it was from and how it was possible that the tarantula and the attack weren’t connected.
He’d wait, though. Give her a chance to tell Randal what she needed to. She was almost a stranger, after all, and he had no right to barge into her life and take control.
That’s what his sister, Piper, would probably say. His three brothers would have a different view of the situation.
But Tessa’s opinion was all that mattered. She’d tell the deputy sheriff what she needed to. With or without Seth’s prodding.
He hoped.
The doorbell rang as he walked into the living room, and the front door swung open. A mousy brunette rushed inside. She glanced in Seth’s direction, her gaze dropping to Bentley, who lay still and quiet on the sofa.
She hurried to the dog’s side, putting her hand on his head, sliding it down toward an area on Bentley’s haunch that was glossy and slick with blood. “Where’s Tessa?”
“Speaking with the police.”
“I’m Amy Spenser. Bentley’s veterinarian.” She opened the dog’s mouth, examined his gums. “He’s in shock. I’m going to have to take him to the clinic. Tessa!” she called, her attention focused on the dog, her dark eyes nearly hidden behind the thick lenses of her glasses.
“Right here.” Tessa hurried into the room with Deputy Sheriff Randal right behind her.
Amy’s gaze cut from one to the other, then settled on Tessa. “I’m going to take him to the clinic and start some fluids. You said you thought he was shot?”
“I heard a pop. Nothing like other gunfire I’ve heard, but I don’t know what else it could have been.” Tessa touched the dog’s scruffy chin, her red hair sliding over her shoulder, nearly hiding the bruises on her neck.
“If it’s a gunshot wound, the perpetrator might have used a silencer.” Randal leaned over Bentley, touching the bloodied area. “We’ll need the bullet if there is one.”
“I’ll keep it for you,” the vet responded. “Right now, though, I need to get Bentley stabilized.”
“I’ll carry him out to your car,” Tess said, patting the dog’s big head, her hand trembling.
If he’d known her well, Seth would have taken her hand, tried to still the tremors.
“Let me,” he said instead, sliding his arms under the dog and lifting him from the couch. The poor mutt didn’t even whimper.
Cold wind knifed through Seth’s jacket as he followed Dr. Spenser to an SUV and lowered Bentley into the back. The dog licked his hand, its tail thumping. No wonder Tessa had given him a home.
Seth closed the hatch, his shoulder throbbing. He’d been up since before dawn. After therapy, he’d dropped off Tessa’s unwanted pet and then gone to the office where he poured over files until his neck cramped and his eyes crossed. He needed to go home and stretch the kinks out, maybe go for a run to clear his head. What he shouldn’t do was get involved in Tessa’s troubles. He’d been through six years of trouble. First Julia’s death, then his injury,
his surgery, his recovery. He didn’t need or want anything more than what he’d finally achieved: normalcy, and a little peace.
He had a feeling that peace was the last thing he’d have if he didn’t get in his truck and drive away.
Sometimes, though, peace was overrated. Sometimes God put a person in just the right place at just the right time to accomplish His will and plan. It could be that Seth had been dropped into Tessa’s life at exactly the right moment to lend a hand.
He couldn’t turn away from that. No matter how much he thought he should.
He shoved his hand in his pocket, his fingers brushing the envelope that had brought him to Tessa’s house. He’d planned to deliver it to her, and that was exactly what he was going to do.
THREE
“You’re sure that you don’t know the perpetrator?” Deputy Sheriff Randal asked for what seemed like the thousandth time in the ten minutes since they’d returned to the kitchen.
Tessa wasn’t sure what response he wanted, but apparently it wasn’t the one she’d been giving. She gave it again, anyway, tapping her fingers against the stained wood of the old dinette table. “I never saw his face, Deputy—”
“Call me Logan. Most people around these parts do,” he cut in, offering a quick smile that didn’t meet his eyes.
“I don’t know who attacked me. If I did, I’d tell you.”
“Sometimes victims want to protect their attackers.”
“I’m not protecting anyone.” But in a way, that was exactly what she was doing. She was protecting Daniel, his legacy, his dream. Their dream.
She bit her lip, torn between the need to do that and the need to tell Logan everything that had happened in the woods—including the words that had been whispered in her ear.
“But, you are hiding something.”
She was. That was the problem.
“I—”
The front door opened, cutting off the truth before Tessa could reveal it.
Logan cocked his head to the side and frowned, pushing away from the table, his hand dropping to his firearm. “Stay here. I’ll see who that is.”
Even if she’d wanted to, Tessa didn’t have the energy to follow him from the room. Her neck hurt. Her head throbbed. Her elbow ached.
And she was more scared than she’d been in a long time.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and trying to imagine a scenario where the attack had nothing to do with her past.
I remember. Do you?
She did. Every moment of the nightmare that she’d survived and every bit of the secret she’d been charged with. Could she tell the sheriff about one without telling him about the other?
Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor, masculine voices mixing with the quiet hum of the refrigerator. She wanted to say goodnight to Logan, climb in bed, close her eyes and pretend that everything was the same as it had been when she’d gotten up that morning. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t solve her problems. She’d learned that the hard way, ignoring all the little hints that Andrew had let slip because she hadn’t wanted to believe that he was anything other than upright and trustworthy.
It had cost her the only man she’d ever loved. It had cost Daniel his life. She couldn’t let it cost any more.
She shoved away from the table, wishing she could push away the memories. She just wanted to forget and move on, but no matter how long or far she ran, she couldn’t escape the past.
She grabbed the kettle from the 1920s stove and filled it with tap water. A cup of tea wouldn’t sooth her nerves, but she needed to keep her hands busy, keep her mind occupied. If she didn’t, she might sink back into the abyss she’d fallen into after Daniel’s death. The dark well of grief and anger had nearly destroyed her. It had taken everything she’d had to pull herself out of it. Her faith had suffered, her relationship with God floundering as she wrestled with nightmares and fear. She couldn’t allow herself to go back there.
“Tessa,” Logan said as he walked back into the kitchen with Seth. “It seems like you left a little bit out of the story you told me.”
“What’s that?” she responded, reminding herself that Logan couldn’t know what had been whispered in her ear. But that didn’t stop her heart from thumping hard. One revelation would lead to another, and that was a path she wasn’t sure she could take. Not without risking everything she and Daniel had worked for.
“The delivery you received this morning?” Logan prodded.
“It was nothing.” She glanced at Seth, found that she couldn’t drag her gaze away. He didn’t look apologetic. But, then, she hadn’t expected him to be that any more than she’d expected him to keep what had happened that morning to himself. She wanted to be angry, wanted to feel betrayed, but she’d have probably done the same if she’d been in his position.
“There aren’t many people who would say that if they received a package with a giant spider in it,” Logan said, pulling her attention back where it needed to be—on him, the conversation, the questions that she needed to answer. And, the ones she couldn’t.
“I’m not most people.”
“Apparently not, because most people would be happy to give me the information that I need in order to help them,” Logan said as he settled into a chair.
“I am happy to give you the information. It’s just...things are complicated.” She turned away from the men and pulled mugs from the cupboard. “Would either of you like coffee or tea?”
“I’d rather have answers,” Logan replied.
“Okay.” She took a deep breath, willing her voice to remain steady as she pivoted, nearly bumping into the rock-solid wall of Seth’s chest.
He stood just inches away, his coat open to reveal a blue button-down shirt tucked into black pants. He must have come from work to deliver the envelope.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked quietly.
She almost told him that she did, but he’d gone out of his way to help her and she couldn’t bring herself to send him away. “Whatever you want to do is fine.”
She moved past him and sat across from Logan. “My husband was murdered five years ago today.”
Logan stiffened, but he didn’t speak.
Tessa knew he was waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t know what else to say—how much to reveal, how much to keep hidden.
“I’m sorry, Tessa.” Seth broke the silence, his tone gentle, his eyes the color of the sky at dusk—deep azure blue, and almost glowing in his tan face. There was something in those eyes, something that she’d lost so long ago she’d stopped believing she’d ever find it again.
She blinked, and whatever she thought she’d seen was gone.
“We were missionaries to Kenya,” she said. “An insurgent group attacked the village we were ministering to. Twenty people were killed or wounded. Daniel was one of casualties. So was his brother, Andrew.” Five years of recounting the tale had given her practice saying what needed to be said, but the words still made her throat raw and her chest tight.
“Why didn’t you mention this before?” Logan jotted something in a small notebook.
“I didn’t think it mattered.” Didn’t want to think it mattered, anyway. She pulled her hair from its ponytail and gathered it back in, keeping her hands busy so she didn’t give herself away.
“Everything matters,” Logan said, jotting something else in his notebook.
She needed to tell him everything.
She knew she did, but the words were stuck.
She cleared her throat. “Then I guess I should tell you that the guy who attacked me asked if I remembered.”
Logan stilled, his face tight with irritation. “That’s a big piece of information to leave out.”
“She didn’t leave it out,” Seth responded before Tessa could. �
��She’s telling you now.”
Tessa didn’t need his support, and she should have told him that. But the truth was, it had been years since anyone had stood in her corner, and even though she didn’t want to admit it to herself, it felt good to have Seth there.
Plus, there were too many other things to worry about. Like trying to explain why she hadn’t immediately told Logan about the whispered words.
“Everything happened so quickly,” she murmured.
“I understand, but I need to know that I have all the details. Is there anything else I should know?” Logan looked up from the notebook.
Could she tell him about the roses?
Probably—the roses weren’t part of her secret.
“Every year someone brings me a black rose on the anniversary of the massacre. It’s been happening for five years, but there’s never been anything else.”
“Until today,” Seth reminded her.
“Until today,” she agreed.
“Did you get a rose today?” Logan asked, his expression grim and hard.
“I did. It was left on the hood of my car.”
“Do you still have it?”
She shook her head, her eyes hot and gritty. She was saying too much, but she didn’t know what else to do. “I threw it into the yard this morning.”
“Left or right of the driveway?”
“Left.”
“I’m going to see if I can find it, then I’m heading out onto the trail. Hopefully, I’ll be able to collect some evidence. Stay put until I come back.”
He strode from the room, his boots tapping on the hardwood floor. The front door opened, then closed.
Tessa went to the stove and lifted the kettle, pouring hot water into a mug and dunking a tea bag in it—and avoiding Seth’s eyes. He leaned against the counter, his arms crossed, his hair a little windblown. He looked good, and that wasn’t something she wanted to notice.
She yanked sugar from the cupboard and scooped two large spoonsful into her tea. “I appreciate your help tonight, Seth, but I don’t want to take up more of your time.”
Defender for Hire Page 3