Conner’s lips twitched and he shook his head. They were never going to agree, were they? She could see it coming a mile away. If they ever actually gave a relationship a shot, they’d be mired in couples counseling forever. Never agreeing on anything, and each convinced his or her thinking was the right thing for both of them.
Despite the sweetness of the kiss they’d shared, Kayla simply couldn’t see a way this was going to work.
Conner shook his head again and waved her over. “I’ll be back soon.”
She wanted to go to him again and get another hug. To see if, maybe, he would kiss her again. But she stood where she was. She couldn’t help but think of all the reasons they were doomed. Not just because Manny was after them and she had to hide here. Not just because Andis Bamir wanted her dead and her shelter house was at risk. But because she and Conner could barely seem to agree on anything.
Instead she just nodded. “See you soon.”
*
“What’s your take on Jan Barton?”
Conner watched the scenery rush past. Locke was driving—of course—which left Conner and one of the male team members to enjoy the view.
Locke couldn’t let anything go. Least of all the fact that one of the last things Conner had done before he’d been “fired” and went undercover was punch the man in the face. It had been part of the cover story, but Conner couldn’t say he hadn’t seriously enjoyed doing that. Locke was so smug, so know-it-all sometimes it was infuriating.
“I only met her once,” Conner said. “She played the part well. Bruised-up face, cradled her arm like it was broken or something. If it was a ruse designed to find out where Kayla sent Andis’s wife and daughter, it was well thought out. She had it down, and she was perfect. Kayla took right to her, even in the middle of everything that was going on. But I knew something was off and I never mentioned it. Too much else was going on.”
He told Locke about the breakin at Kayla’s office. The director probably knew, but Conner gave him the version that let Locke piece together Kayla’s mind-set. Even the best Secret Service agent couldn’t protect someone whose mental state was volatile or even distressed. Erratic behavior risked people’s lives. They had to partner up with the people they protected, or it didn’t work.
Locke took the turn Conner indicated. “She always did feel too much.”
He wasn’t wrong. Still—“That isn’t a bad thing. It’s just who she is.”
Locke didn’t answer.
If Conner had to admit it, he was the same way. So much heart, his mom had always said. Like that was a good thing, watching his sister walk away even as she self-destructed. Undercover work had been good for him. He’d had to learn how to be hard. How to shove the care he had for others, for human life, to the side and put work first. Duty had become second nature—that was the life of a Secret Service agent.
What Kayla saw as his innate need to protect her above everything else was only his need to keep her safe. If anything happened to her, or anyone else he was supposed to be protecting, it would destroy him. Especially if it was Kayla. In guarding his heart, he’d created this default mode in which there was only Kayla and the need to keep her safe.
She thought that was a bad thing. For Conner, it was the only thing.
Because he couldn’t even bear thinking about the alternative. He’d seen burned-out agents. Or agents who let the frustrations of the job get to them. He’d even seen a good agent destroyed when the charge he was protecting was killed. If it was Kayla who got hit, Conner wouldn’t retreat from life. He would cease to exist.
Locke pulled into the construction site. The sun was setting and cast long shadows across the dirt and buildings. A dark figure shifted between swatches of black. Conner cracked the door before Locke even stopped. He hopped out and moved away from the now-crawling car. Locke yelled, “Hey!” But Conner ran toward the figure, which ducked behind the construction office.
No one was there. Conner spun around, scanned the area. The window! The office window was open. “Inside!” Hopefully, Locke heard and wasn’t planning on scolding him for jumping out of the car before the director could formulate the plan. It could be a neighborhood kid, a thief, but then again, it probably wasn’t. He was past the point of believing in coincidence.
“On it!” Conner heard Locke yell back to him over the sound of the car engine.
Conner grabbed the edge of the window and peered over the frame. Inside the office, Jan Barton gathered papers from the file cabinet, got the laptop and turned to the window. Her face was hard, her eyes dark behind the bruises still as fresh as the last time he’d seen her. What kind of woman had someone beat her just to convince the sheriff and Kayla that she was helpless and needed saving?
The answer: a woman who saw the payday at the end of the tunnel.
There were few things in the world that motivated people more than the idea of a bunch of money coming their way. Conner had seen it again and again—the latest example being Andis.
“Hands up. Drop the stuff.” Locke stood by the door. “Secret Service.”
Conner hauled himself up to the window frame. How she’d climbed inside so easily he didn’t know. His leg hurt, bad. And he needed to lose some weight. He sat on the frame and drew his weapon to cover Locke.
Jan Barton glanced between them. One side of her mouth curled up and she smirked. “Boys, boys, boys. This isn’t going to end well for you. I need this laptop, so back up and let me leave.”
Locke gave a short shake of his head. “Put the laptop down and put your hands up. Now.” He might not be so practiced at making arrests, but the man wasn’t doing too badly. Though his sheer size made him look completely intimidating. Conner was a little scared of him right then.
“The ruse is up, Jan.” Conner wasn’t going to let Locke have all the fun. This was his case. “Sofija and Lena aren’t going to be found, and whatever part you’re playing in this operation ends now.”
Jan’s gaze flicked from Conner—actually from behind him through the window—to the door. She stood completely still for a second before gunshots began. Pop. Pop. “Down!” Locke yelled over the loud cracking sound. Pop. Pop.
Conner fell in through the window and hit the floor. Fire shot up his leg and he grunted. Some kind of rifle, probably a hunter’s gun. He moved to lift himself off the floor but more shots went off. Bullet holes spread across the back wall. The shots were coming from outside the door beyond Locke.
The other agent was outside. Was he okay?
Jan Barton was down, too. Between shots she stood up. “Okay,” she said into a phone. The laptop in her other hand, she rushed toward the window behind Conner. He grabbed her foot as she passed.
“Jan, stop!” However careful they were, she was going to get hit. “You aren’t leaving!”
A gunshot smacked the wall inches above his body. He jerked and her foot left his grip. Jan brought her heeled boot down on the bandage on his leg.
Conner cried out. Bright lights flashed across his world, blinding him. He heard an “Oof” and someone fired.
“Stay down,” Locke called. He jumped over Conner and went out the window. Conner got to his feet, pushing down the swell of nausea. The rifle fire had stopped, but that didn’t meant the person didn’t still have him in his—or her—sights.
Conner hugged the wall, got outside and tried to think where he’d be situated if he was the sniper in this situation. The trees were too far, at least for the kind of accuracy the shooter was getting in the office. Conner’s leg was bleeding again, but he could take care of that later. The apartment building being constructed had enough cover.
He drew his weapon and ran…right into a man leaving the back of the building.
“Hands up.” Conner aimed his weapon.
The man dropped the rifle and lifted his hands, a reflex. A dark look crept over his face. It was Tim Harmer, Jan Barton’s boyfriend, who had stolen the laptop from Kayla. Tim ducked his head and rushed toward Conner as if to t
ackle him.
Conner shifted the gun in his hands. When Tim came within reach, he slammed it down on Tim’s temple. The man dropped to the ground.
“You’re under arrest.”
FOURTEEN
Kayla couldn’t hold it in. She tried, but the tears came anyway. Emotional reactions weren’t logical. Like the one she was having now after being left alone—except for the two Secret Service agents outside and Sheriff Johnson, none of whom were Conner. Sitting here, supposedly resting and instead doing nothing but wondering if he was even going to make it back. Or what else would happen before Andis was caught and they made sure his wife and daughter were safe forever.
Since Conner had shown up in her office, Kayla’s whole world had flipped upside down. If it ended with her attending his funeral and seeing him in that suit…
That “hero” dive, she could still see it in her mind. He was probably running through a hail of gunfire right now. Putting it all on the line for her. The noise that came from her throat sounded like a growl, even as tears flowed unchecked down her face.
“Excuse me.”
Kayla spun around on the couch.
Sheriff Johnson’s eyes widened and he lifted both hands so his palms faced her. “Whoa.” He cleared his throat, like he didn’t know what to say. Or where to start. “Is…everything okay, Kayla?” He sat on the armchair across from her. The agents were around, or one was. The female was outside.
She sighed. “Fine.” The word was short. She couldn’t give him anything other than exactly what she was feeling. Mad. Not that the sheriff deserved that, but couldn’t he see she was in the middle of a drama? “Okay, so everything isn’t fine, but it could be.” Unless Conner had his way, in which case nothing would be right again.
She should walk away now. Just get in the car—Conner’s car—and leave him here. She’d be free, and she’d have plenty of time to find someone normal. Someone who wouldn’t insist on taking a bullet for her—because there wouldn’t be any bullets. She’d have a nice, peaceful life instead.
He started to get up. “You have a lot on your mind. I’ll leave you to it.”
Okay, so now she was just being rude. Kayla had never liked the couple of times when she’d been like that. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I do have a lot on my mind.”
“You know, if it’s not too forward and you don’t mind me saying, you once told me that perfect love casts out fear.”
Kayla blinked. “That was…”
He nodded. “One of the hardest cases I’ve ever had to deal with.” Not only had there been an abused spouse, but a child had been involved. A child who had been the victim, one neither of them had been able to save.
The sheriff said, “You reminded me that God’s love can heal anything, and I got to share that with the mother. Before she…”
Kayla nodded. “You did?”
“Sometimes we need to search outside of ourselves to find something bigger. Stronger than us. Love that can heal even the hurt that goes so deep it rips at the fabric of who we are.”
Kayla squeezed her eyes shut. She’d seen it over and over, and she’d thought she knew what it would feel like, but the reality was that she didn’t. “Thank you.” She smiled at him. “I’m also worried about the shelter.”
“Have you called over there? If Andis has you in his sights, it isn’t a stretch that everyone there could be in danger.”
Kayla nodded. “I think so, too, but Jeremiah Fallston lives there. He might be eighty, but he used to be a PI, and before that, he was a cop. He only moved here from Norfolk fifteen years ago.”
More than once he’d seen someone he didn’t like loitering near the shelter or sitting in a car on the street watching the place, and he’d called the sheriff. He saved the women who lived there from who knows how much extra heartache they didn’t need.
Sheriff Johnson said, “So you’re sure the house is protected from being found? There’s no way they can find the shelter, because Jan was never taken there? You dropped her off at the motel, right?”
She nodded. “It’s not connected to me in any way. Jeremiah Fallston is a middleman, and there’s a house manager, too. I gave him an unregistered phone that we use to contact each other. He sends the manager over.”
She gave the sheriff a commiserating smile, knowing how hard burner phones made his job. She hadn’t been all the way comfortable with it, but Locke had insisted on certain things—like the phone and using a dedicated email address. “Not even the money or my calls are connected.”
It occurred to her that he’d never asked about it before. Kayla could be cautious with what she said, but Sheriff Johnson had been instrumental in helping so many women in town escape from bad situations when they needed to. He would never do anything to jeopardize the good work they had done.
“Very good.” The sheriff nodded. “Still, might be a good time to call that middleman and double-check everything.”
“I will.”
He handed her his phone, which Kayla was grateful for. She had no idea where she’d put hers, and the sheriff only wanted to help. Kayla could feel the remnants of tears on her face and swiped them away. There was something about crying that made being angry so much more satisfying. She sent the sheriff what was probably a crazy-faced, blotchy “I’m still mad at something” smile. “I’m going to call now.”
The sheriff nodded and stepped away to give her some privacy, leaving her alone on the couch. Before she made the call, Kayla closed her eyes. God, I need Your love. Fill me with it so that it overflows, and help me show that love to others. Most of all, she wanted to show it to Conner. To be the one who drew him to the Lord. Help me do that, Father.
Kayla sat in the quiet and prayed for Conner, for everyone at the house, and asked God to keep Andis’s wife and daughter safe. Sofija and Lena didn’t deserve to feel any more hurt and pain. They should be free of him if they wanted to be.
Peace settled on her like a warm blanket on a snowy morning. She smiled to herself and said a quick prayer of thanks before she dialed the number. Three digits in, the door opened. Conner strode in with a distinct limp, followed by Locke.
“You’re back.” She stood, aware of the rush of excitement at seeing him. Would that ever calm, even if she saw him every day for the rest of her life?
Conner nodded, then glanced at the sheriff, who appeared from the kitchen holding a mug. “Got a suspect for you to question at your office. We sent a black-and-white of yours over there with Tim Harmer.”
The sheriff put the mug down without taking a sip. “Righto. I’ll get over there.”
“I’ll drive,” Locke said. “We need to find out what’s going on. We need to know why Jan Barton is spearheading this and why it seems like she has a vested interest in finding that laptop.”
“Got it.”
“And I want your files on all of them. Everything you have.”
The sheriff nodded, and Kayla passed him his phone. Before they left, she put a hand on Locke’s arm to stall him. When he looked at her, she said, “Can you check on the house for me?”
He nodded. “I sent the team over there before we came inside. They’ll make sure it’s all fine.”
“Thank you.”
Locke and the sheriff left the room.
Conner turned to her, a smirk on his face. Kayla had to laugh, but the humor didn’t last long. “He hasn’t changed one bit, has he?” She sighed. “I was just about to call the house, check on everyone.”
“Jan got away with the laptop. I guess Locke is going to find out why.” Conner limped over. “Come on. Let’s cook dinner, and we can think about something else. Once Locke gets back, we can plan our next move.” He shot her a look almost identical to the one from just a second ago. “You know Locke won’t let us decide anything without him.”
Kayla smiled. “True.” She did need a break. “What’s on the menu?”
“How about something easy, like spaghetti?”
Kayla shrugged. She was m
ore into therapeutic baking. Cookies. Cakes. Lemon bars. Or maybe it was more like therapeutic eating. She probably shouldn’t admit to Conner that was how she dealt with stress. He’d probably find a bakery and commandeer some sweet treats with the weight of his badge just so she could eat them.
“What just happened to your face?”
Kayla laughed, remembering the first time he’d said that to her. His quirks were cute now, instead of frustrating. “Nothing. Just thinking about dessert.”
He nudged her shoulder. “I’m sure we can work something out. We eat, and we take a nap. Sound good?”
Kayla nodded. That sounded great.
*
Kayla lasted through the first ten minutes of the movie she’d picked. Now she was curled up on the other end of the couch. He’d felt good—as good as he could feel in the heat of danger when he was the one who had to save her—just hanging out with her. He’d needed the rest as much as she had, but Conner could hardly believe what had happened. Cooking together, sharing a meal and watching a move.
It was so simple. Easy things that made up a good life, and doing them with Kayla made him feel like a hero. The concept had dawned on him as she drifted off, a low chuckle of humor in her throat at something one of the characters said. He’d been shocked breathless for a second as he comprehended the enormity of what this meant.
He could come home from a day of fighting the tide of crime sweeping this country, of doing his duty, and find as much satisfaction at home. He didn’t have to be a hero at work only; he could be one with Kayla—and not because he stood between her and death. It didn’t have to be a compromise or a trade-off. He could have it all.
With Kayla.
Conner was fighting sleep when Locke returned. He stood and met the agent at the door. “Shh.”
Locke gave him a weird look.
“What?”
“Nothing,” his former boss said. “Tim Harmer won’t tell us anything. But we did find something out when we dug deeper into their backgrounds.” He paused. “Get this. Jan Barton was in the army. She was on a team that specialized in bomb disposal.”
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