by Jenna Night
When Elijah turned back to Olivia he took the pill bottle from her hand, glanced at the label and handed it back to her. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s get your water.”
The shades were pulled down over the kitchen windows. An individual bulb in the vent hood over the stove was the only light left burning.
He filled a glass of water and handed it to her. While she took her pill, he opened the freezer and took out a half-gallon container of ice cream. “Caramel cashew,” he said. “Your bottle didn’t say you couldn’t have food with your meds. Do you want some?”
“I never turn down ice cream.”
He smiled and it looked good on him. It didn’t soften his features as much as give them context. He wasn’t an angry man, Olivia decided. He was just a very serious man most of the time.
She smiled back at him, letting her gaze meet his and lingering there for a few seconds.
Elijah turned away first. He opened a cabinet door and took out two bowls. While he was busy, Olivia found herself worrying about how she looked. Having to work one-handed, she did the best she could to smooth her hair and tuck some of the more unruly strands back behind her ears.
Elijah dished up the ice cream and carried the bowls to the breakfast table. Then he pulled out a chair for Olivia.
“It looks delicious,” she said after they sat down. “But it doesn’t get you out of answering my questions.”
He savored a bite of ice cream before he answered. “Most of what Vanquish the Darkness does involves visiting people in the hospital, getting them outside and back into nature if we can, and just letting them know they aren’t forgotten.” He jammed his spoon back into the bowl and stirred his ice cream for a few seconds. “Sometimes we help people in a financial jam. Sometimes we run across someone in danger. In that case, the first thing we do is call the cops. But we like to offer a little extra support when we can.”
He brought a spoonful of ice cream to his lips and let it hover in front of them. “We’ve brought people here before to keep them safe. It’s made some bad guys angry. So that’s why we need the extra security.” He popped the ice cream into his mouth.
That was a very serious commitment to an outreach program.
“What about my second question? Why are you going out of your way for me? There are other members in Vanquish, other people you could have asked to help me.”
He hunched over his ice cream. “You remind me of someone.”
“Who?”
“A woman I was assigned to protect while I was in Afghanistan. Mrs. Elaine Somerset.” He smiled slightly and shook his head. “She was a piece of work. She arrived courtesy of a charity organization, determined to make sure girls in Afghanistan got a decent education.”
“A worthy goal,” Olivia said, watching him closely. The confident expression he normally wore had begun to turn to something different, something more uncertain.
“I was her bodyguard for three weeks, then I was reassigned. There was a gap of time, very short, barely twenty-four hours, between when I left and when her new bodyguard would arrive.” He stopped talking for a minute. “I had a bad feeling about leaving her unguarded, but I followed orders.” He paused again. “I should have stayed to protect her, but I didn’t.”
Olivia was sorry she’d pressed him on the issue.
“Mrs. Somerset knew not to leave the secure complex where she lived and had an office,” he said quietly. “And yet she did leave. To meet a reporter she knew who’d just arrived in Kabul.” He paused again. “Both she and the reporter survived the acid attack, but Mrs. Somerset was severely burned.” He took a breath. “She was splashed in the face and blinded.”
Olivia’s stomach sank. “You can’t think that was your fault.”
He shrugged. “She was a civilian in a dangerous place. Someone should have looked after her.” He looked Olivia straight in the eye. “Just like someone should look after you. You’re in over your head right now. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
He gestured at her to eat. She took a bite of ice cream. It was delicious.
“I’m going on that job interview tomorrow at eleven,” she said after a couple more spoonfuls. Just so he knew her acceptance of his help didn’t give him the last word on everything.
“Okay.”
“We’ll have to go by Aunt Claudia’s first so I can get properly dressed for it.”
“Understood. In the meantime, you might want to get back upstairs and get some more sleep.” Elijah glanced at his watch. “Bedford will be here in about five hours. He’ll probably have some tough questions for you.”
* * *
Elijah glanced at his computer screen just before eight the next morning and took a sip of coffee. On the screen, Deputy Bedford made the turn from the road and drove his patrol car beneath the arch onto the Morales driveway. Somebody else was with him. A couple of minutes later Elijah was opening the door for Deputy Bedford and Sheriff Ben Wolfsinger. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” Bedford took off his department-issue cowboy hat while giving Elijah a nod. Wolfsinger, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved dress shirt, likewise took off his cowboy hat and extended his hand to Elijah for a handshake. The gray at his temples gave him a distinguished look.
Elijah ushered them toward the couches in the living room. “There’s coffee if you want some.”
Both men declined.
Claudia sat on a couch with Olivia. Jonathan had fetched Claudia from her house and brought her over. Everyone else was at work or otherwise going about their daily routine. Elijah made the introductions between Olivia and Wolfsinger.
“How are you doing?” Wolfsinger asked in that focused way he had that made people feel their concerns were his concerns.
“Other than being shot at, I’m doing okay,” she responded.
“I’m sorry that happened to you. But we’re looking for who did this and we’re going to find him.”
Last night had been quiet after Olivia went back upstairs. She’d been surprisingly easy to talk to, and Elijah had found himself wondering about her personal life. He’d thought back through every conversation he’d had with her, trying to remember if she’d ever mentioned a man in her life. He didn’t think she had.
Now, with Bedford and Wolfsinger here, maybe he’d get a clearer idea of what Olivia was facing and what he needed to do to protect her. As soon as everyone was situated in the living room, he turned to Wolfsinger and said, “Tell me you’re closing in on Kurtz.”
The sheriff sighed and turned to Olivia. “Who else wants to kill you besides Ted Kurtz?”
Olivia leaned back, staring at Wolfsinger with the wide-eyed expression of a woman confronted by a madman.
Elijah set his coffee mug on the table with a loud clang.
Olivia hadn’t eaten more than a couple bites of her breakfast. She looked as if she hadn’t slept very well, either. And she had that job interview she still insisted on going to. She didn’t need any extra grief right now.
“Nobody else wants to kill me,” Olivia finally answered, her voice brittle.
Elijah looked at the sheriff. He’d better have a good reason for asking that question.
“Nobody else has ever threatened to kill you?” Wolfsinger watched her closely.
“No, no one else has ever threatened me,” Olivia said.
“Never?” Wolfsinger pressed. “You never had run-ins with irate husbands or boyfriends at that safe house? Or maybe after giving testimony in court or talking to the police?”
“Nothing I took seriously. I’ve had a few tense moments, but it was just angry people lashing out. The moment passed. Things moved on.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Because Ted Kurtz is out of the country,” Wolfsinger answered. “H
e left ten days ago.”
Her jaw dropped. But Elijah wasn’t completely surprised by the news. He’d gone online and done some research last night. Like Bedford said the night Olivia arrived in town, it was hard to imagine designer-suited mob attorney Ted Kurtz skulking through the foothills around Painted Rock wearing a ski mask.
Olivia shook her head, refusing to accept what Wolf singer was telling her. “Maybe Kurtz is just trying to make it look like he’s out of the country.”
“He’s in the UK,” Wolfsinger said. “I got confirmation this morning.”
“Do you think he hired someone to kill me?” she asked faintly.
Sitting across from her, Elijah could see the tears well up in her eyes. And he could see the beginning signs of panic. She started to gasp, and then her chest began to heave as she fought back sobs.
“That’s one of the scenarios we’re looking into,” Wolfsinger said. “But I don’t want to rule anything out. If you could get the names of the men who threatened you because of your work at the shelter, we’d like to look into them, too. I’m sorry, but I have to ask again, who else might be angry enough with you to want you dead? An old boyfriend, maybe? A bitter ex-husband? Did you borrow money from somebody and you can’t pay them back?”
Much as Elijah wanted to protect Olivia and stop the hard questioning, he couldn’t. They were painful questions, but given the circumstances, they were necessary.
“There’s no one in my personal life who wants to kill me.” Her voice had a hollow sound to it, as though her inner strength was dissolving. “I have a friend, Vanessa, who worked with me at the shelter. Maybe she can help me come up with some names of men who threatened me because of my work there.”
“That would help. And I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
She nodded. “I just want this to end.”
He asked her a few more questions, many of them the same ones Elijah had heard Bedford ask right after she’d been shot. The sheriff was obviously hoping Olivia might have remembered some helpful detail she’d forgotten before, but that wasn’t the case.
They wrapped things up and Elijah walked them to the door. Wolfsinger walked out first. Bedford stepped out, turned and lingered just beyond the door. “If she tells you anything that might help, you call us immediately.”
“You think it’s likely we’re looking at a hired killer?” Elijah asked.
“I do. Watch your back.” Bedford put his cowboy hat back on and headed toward his patrol car.
Elijah closed the door and walked back into the living room. Olivia sat staring off into space, biting her bottom lip.
She turned to Elijah. Her face had reddened and she’d started wringing her hands. “I don’t know what to do.”
She had to work through the emotions that came with having someone trying to kill her. Elijah knew that from experience. He just hated watching her go through it. But she needed to be reminded that she was strong, and a fighter.
“Does it look like you have to figure out what to do on your own?” Elijah asked, forcing an edge of disdain in his voice as he looked pointedly from Olivia to Claudia.
“No,” Olivia answered sullenly.
“So work on that list of losers from the safe house for the sheriff’s department to check out. Are you still up for that job interview?”
She squared her shoulders. “Of course.”
“Then we’d better head over to Aunt Claudia’s so you can get ready.”
EIGHT
“I don’t have a family ranching business to fall back on like some people, so this job opportunity is very important to me.” Olivia hurried out of Claudia’s house wearing her favorite suit, a navy blue light wool skirt and matching jacket with a black velvet collar and an ivory shell underneath. The last time she’d worn the ensemble it fit perfectly. Now the skirt sagged at the waist and the jacket was so loose she was easily able to get her bandaged arm into the sleeve.
“I understand this interview is important to you.” Elijah followed her out onto the front porch and closed the door behind him. He reached out to grab her hand. The one attached to the shoulder that hadn’t been shot. “But you need to slow down. Let me walk out ahead and see what’s out there.”
At least Olivia was pretty sure that’s what he said. His strong hand holding hers suddenly brought her mile-a-minute interview-related thoughts to a screeching halt. The sudden sense of protection, the feeling of being cared for by someone as capable and earnest as Elijah Morales sent a gentle eddy of peace through her body that made her sigh.
And then a wave of dizziness took control of the moment. She caught her heel on an uneven board and might have pitched over into the bright pink zinnias at the bottom of the steps if Elijah hadn’t tightened his grip.
“Do you want to go back in?” He turned her around and made her face him, his brows drawn down with concern. “We could call Larry and tell him you want to wait a week or two for the interview. He’d understand.”
“I’m fine. My heel just got caught on the edge of a board.” That was true. It was also true she got a little woozy now and then. Either from getting shot or from the pain medicine. But she wasn’t talking to Elijah about that. He’d drag her back inside. She glanced past him at his truck parked in front of the house. “I’m fine.”
“Larry’s been looking for someone to fill that position for a while, so it’s not like there’s any rush.” He let go of her hand. “Hard to believe, but there isn’t a long line of people eager to move to a backwater like Painted Rock. Not for a part-time job teaching arts and crafts at a senior residential facility.”
“I want the job.” If it were an unpaid volunteer position, she’d still want it. Ever since Claudia had mentioned the job, she’d thought about activities she wanted to do, conversations she wanted to have. Maybe she could take some online classes and eventually work her way into counseling seniors. “I miss helping people. I miss doing something useful.”
“A few of us from Vanquish ride up there to visit the seniors pretty often. I know Larry. He’ll hold out for the right person. We can reschedule your interview.”
“No!” She had to keep this appointment, had to get her life moving again. Now that she was injured, there weren’t a lot of chores she could do to help Raymond around Claudia’s ranch. Doing nothing productive and thinking about herself all day would make her miserable. She’d found that out while hiding in her apartment in Las Vegas.
“What if there’s more than one right person for the job? I have to get there before Larry hires someone else.” If Elijah wouldn’t drive her she’d walk up there. Or find out if they had taxis in Painted Rock. “This might be my only chance to get back into doing the kind of work I love.”
“You’re too hard on yourself.”
She let go a harsh, cynical laugh. “You’re noble and you’re good. People practically think you walk on water around here. I hear what people say about you. I’ve seen how they look at you.” Her gaze dropped down to her feet. “You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to intentionally do the wrong thing, knowing it was wrong, and then have to live with all the pain and trouble you’ve caused.”
He laughed softly, but when she looked up his expression had taken on an unexpected edge. The lines of his jaw looked tense as he leaned toward her, bringing his face close to hers. “Do you really think you’re the only person around here who’s done something to be ashamed of?” His voice was so quiet it was nearly a whisper.
“I’m sure whatever you did was in the course of a good cause,” she said, starting down the steps, frustrated and angry with herself and tired of rehashing the same old topic over and over again. “Driving your motorcycle over the speed limit on the way to a fund-raiser for orphans won’t get you on anybody’s permanent naughty list.”
He caught up with her, stepped past her, and th
en stopped, redirecting her into a sheltered corner of the wide porch. Getting her out of the potential line of fire if anyone was watching.
“I realize you just met me,” he said. “But do I really give the impression I’m that shallow?”
She looked at the scars on his face, and then looked in his eyes. How could she have ever thought them flat and expressionless? The depth of feeling visible in them, the bottomless understanding coupled with the world-weary edginess of a man who’d seen it all, made her regret her snippy comment. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, looking away.
“If you’re carrying around a burden of regret, this might be a good time to lay it down.”
She laughed, but the bitterness coursing through her nearly turned the laugh into a snarl. “It’s not that easy.” She’d been a churchgoer. She’d heard the sermons about forgiveness generously given. But when you didn’t really believe you deserved it, it felt impossible to receive.
“You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who only does what’s easy.”
She blew out a breath and felt some of the tension leave her neck and shoulders. “Well, I am a girl who needs a paycheck. So, can we just go? I don’t want to be late.”
“Sure.” He stepped back, took her arm and scanned the area around Claudia’s circular drive while guiding her to his truck. He opened the door and helped her in.
“Maybe we should take your motorcycle,” she said. “That would make a memorable impression.”
Elijah got in the truck and started up the engine. “I thought you didn’t like motorcycles.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m getting a little more open-minded.”
“I’ll take you for a ride once things have settled down,” he said.
“Thanks for doing this,” she said as they started the short ride to the seniors facility. “I know you have your own job to do. I’m sure they miss your help around the ranch while you’re dealing with me.”
“It’s no trouble.”
A few minutes later, they pulled through the gate at Golden Sands, a rambling single-story building nestled between two rolling hills on the northern edge of town. Pine trees dotted the property, surrounded by wildflowers and rustling grasses turned golden in the early-autumn sun. Cultivated shrubs hugged the walkways alongside the building.