Danger in Deer Ridge (Blackthorne, Inc.)

by Terry Odell

“That might work for Dylan, but Will’s old enough to know differently. He understands that married people sleep together, and I don’t want to give him a reason to think otherwise yet.”

  He stood, took her hands, and kissed her forehead. “I admit, I’m drained. Sleep well. In fact, why don’t you sleep in? I’ll take care of the morning stuff.”

  “Not necessary. I’ll be up.” She put on his shirt for the second time that day and tiptoed down the hall.

  The alarm lifted her out of a sound sleep. She should have accepted Grinch’s offer. Smiling, she stumbled for the shower. The tingling spray brought reality into focus. Grace. Had Grinch’s contact learned anything? Had Grace regained consciousness? Had she missed some critical update while she and Grinch pretended they were the only two people in the universe? She rushed through the rest of her morning routine, pulled her wet hair into a ponytail, threw on some clothes and ran downstairs. She smelled coffee.

  Grinch’s smile when she entered the kitchen was strained. Was it Grace? Victor? Or morning-after regrets? Before she dared ask, the boys barreled into the room. Routine dominated. Talking about either last night or Grace wasn’t going to happen yet.

  Grinch stood. “Can you drive the boys in this morning? I’ve got some things I need to do around here.” He went to the coffee pot and refilled his mug, cut a sunken brownie and popped it into his mouth.

  “Come on, Mom,” Will said. “Let’s go. I want to get there early to show Coach how I can throw the old pigskin.”

  Swallowing her apprehension, she smiled for Will. “I’ll get my keys.”

  She trotted upstairs for her purse, making sure she had both her cell phones. No messages on either. On the way out to the car, she passed the den, hearing the tapping of computer keys through the closed door.

  The toast she’d eaten turned to a ball of ice in her belly.

  * * * * *

  Grinch set aside any guilt that he hadn’t acknowledged Elizabeth’s obvious anxiety about Grace. Getting into it over breakfast, with the boys right there, wouldn’t have worked. And this way, he might have some accurate information to share when she got back. He knew she’d be running through every ‘what if’ scenario, but until he had something concrete, his answers would probably come across as evasive, and she’d not only continue to think the worst, she’d be mad at him. And after last night, he didn’t want her mad at him. Ever. When he’d slid inside her, it was as if he’d come home after a long time away.

  The front door closed—perhaps a little more vigorously than necessary—and her car started. As tires crunched away, an incoming message flagged as urgent popped onto the computer monitor. Before he clicked it open, his phone chimed an incoming text message, then vibrated and played the James Bond theme song. The ringtone he’d programmed for Jinx when all this started.

  Grinch grabbed his phone, reminding himself to stay calm. No conclusion jumping. Right. Tell that to his pounding heart. Good news wouldn’t warrant three simultaneous messages. At least not for Jinx, although Elizabeth would probably disagree. “What do you have?”

  “You want the bad news or the worse news first?”

  Grace. His first thought was of Grace, and not because he cared about her—although he did, even though he hadn’t known of her existence a week ago—but because she was important to Elizabeth.

  Sweet Mother of God. Since when was he thinking of how someone else felt? Why did his tongue fill his throat at the thought of having to be the one who told Elizabeth her friend hadn’t made it?

  He swallowed. If he didn’t ask about Grace, it wouldn’t be real. “Spill.”

  “Grace Ellsworth hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”

  Grinch felt relief, then guilt for thinking that it stemmed from not having to tell Elizabeth Grace had died. Maybe while they were having hot, jungle-monkey sex. Not that it would have made a difference, but somehow, he knew she’d blame Grace’s death on her actions.

  Damn it all to hell. Elizabeth wasn’t an assignment anymore. She was his, and this was not the time to deal with falling in love. As if there was ever a right time. He forced his attention to the phone. “What are the doctors saying?”

  “Guarded. She didn’t get worse. The cops haven’t made any progress with the accident investigation. No witnesses.”

  Grinch realized he hadn’t asked for details. “Wouldn’t the car that hit hers leave plenty of trace? The cops must have something.”

  “She wasn’t in her car. She was walking her dog. The critter may have saved her life—it raised quite the ruckus and alerted locals who found her. The investigative reports say she was thrown at least ten feet. She must have been clipped as she was entering a park near her house. Neighbors say she’d take the dog there every day.”

  “Where is he?” Grinch asked.

  “Who? The dog?”

  “Yes, the damn dog. Reggie.” Will had told him all about his pet, how much he’d regretting leaving him behind, but that Grace had promised to take good care of him. Actually, he’d been telling Chester, but Grinch couldn’t help but overhear. “Where is he?”

  “How the hell should I know?” Jinx said.

  “Find out. The dog belonged to Elizabeth’s kid. They had to leave it behind.” Talk about heaping on the guilt. No way would he deliver that piece of news to either Elizabeth or Will.

  Jinx obviously picked up on Grinch’s irritation. “Will do.”

  Grinch waited a beat before he went on. “Okay, so I’m guessing that was the bad news. What’s the worse stuff?”

  “Grace’s computer is missing.”

  “So, no way the hit and run was an accident. Someone wanted information. Tell me Blackthorne is doing its own investigation.”

  “We are. But there’s more.”

  Grinch dragged his hand through his hair. “Worse?”

  “Partly. Depends on your point of view, I guess. You know someone named Phil Yancy?”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell. Why?”

  “He was on the investigations side, so it’s not likely your paths crossed. Turned out he wasn’t up to Blackthorne standards. He had a drinking problem, so Blackthorne let him go. But aside from his issues with the booze, he was a top-notch investigator. He could follow a trail colder than an Antarctic winter.

  “Apparently Yancy’s working freelance. Somehow, he got enough insider information to know about Grace. He’d have the skills to break into her place and steal her computer. And quite likely, know what to do with it. Not sure how or why he’s involved, but our guy is working on it.”

  “You think Yancy is the one who hit Grace?”

  “I doubt it, but who knows how low he’s sunk. Or who he’s working with.”

  “So we’re talking at least two people here.”

  “That’s a reasonable assumption.” Jinx sucked in a breath, then exhaled. “You know this isn’t my area of expertise. I don’t work that side of Blackthorne. For this, I’m only the conduit. But if I were where you are, and I cared about the people I was watching out for, I’d be looking over my shoulder right about now.”

  Something in the way Jinx said “cared about” made Grinch’s belly flip. He had barely figured out he “cared for” Elizabeth himself, but he’d apparently telegraphed it loud and clear to Jinx.

  “Can you get me further inside the loop?” Grinch asked. “Let me know who’s working the case?”

  “I’ll give him your number,” Jinx said. “Tell him to keep you informed. He’s good, but he doesn’t like to be bothered.”

  “It’s not bothering if I’m the one involved.”

  “I’ll tell him, but you have to let him do his job. We don’t tell you how to fly your helo. If he confirms that whoever went after Grace did it as a way to look for Julie Ann, you’ll be first to know. Meanwhile, there are too many variables. I told you before. Grace has been around a long time. Who knows how many feathers she might have ruffled over the years?”

  “You’re right.”

  “Of course.” />
  Grinch couldn’t help but smile. Blackthorne operatives didn’t lack for self-confidence. “Keep me updated.”

  “Will do.” Jinx cut the connection.

  Intellectually, Grinch knew Jinx was right. But his gut said this all revolved around Elizabeth. Why? Was it a genuine premonition? Or because she was in his charge?

  If he’d been assigned to watch someone else, what would he be doing now? His job, of course. But would thinking about it make his palms sweat and his stomach lurch?

  Heaven only knew how many Blackthorne “assignments” he’d rescued. Each one had been his sole focus as he and his team had done whatever it took to bring them to safety. Most had faded to faceless anonymity. The ones that stuck with you were the ones you couldn’t get out. Or who didn’t make it out alive.

  Thankfully, there weren’t many. Even so, Elizabeth would not join them. Not while he could take a breath.

  He had vague recollections of being in love when he and his ex had married. Had the bitterness of their split blurred his memories? Because right now, he couldn’t remember feeling this way about anyone.

  Enough of this mushy contemplation, or they’ll revoke your Man Card.

  If this were a television show, he’d be reaching for the remote at this point.

  What would the guy do in a television show you would want to watch?

  Definitely not sit around with his thumb up his ass, mooning over his damn feelings. Only then did he realize how easily Jinx had avoided giving him the name of whoever was working the Blackthorne side of this case. Definitely time to shut off those feelings.

  He swore. Loud enough to bring Chester to his side. He leaned over and scratched the dog’s ears. “I think it’s time for a workout. Wouldn’t want you to get rusty if we need your help, right, boy?”

  Chester gazed at him as though he understood exactly what Grinch meant. Hell, maybe he did. He’d immediately understood that Dylan was under his protection, and Grinch suspected it had carried over to Will as well.

  But first, he went to the safe in the back of the coat closet and got his Glock and his Sig P238, where he’d stashed them the day he brought Dylan home.

  While he made sure they were in good operating order, he debated the best place to store them. He frowned, thinking of Will or Dylan running across them, even though he kept the bullets in another cabinet. He’d grown up with guns—his father had taken him and his brother hunting from an early age, but he’d also pounded in safety and respect for the firearms they carried. Working for Blackthorne meant he constantly qualified on a variety of weapons, but again, safety was top priority.

  Counting on Jinx to give him the lead time he’d need, Grinch locked them up again. He would make sure he and Elizabeth agreed on the best way to deal with both safety and accessibility. And hoped it would never come to needing them accessible.

  He made sure his cell was attached to his belt, the ringer turned to full volume, and whistled for Chester.

  When Elizabeth returned about fifteen minutes later, he was glad he’d locked up the guns. Her expression said she’d have used one. Actually, the way her eyes blazed, she probably wouldn’t need one.

  Chapter 25

  “What are you doing?” Elizabeth leaned on the porch rail, her fingers gripping the rough wood. Grinch said something to Chester, who wagged his tail and trotted toward her. Her grip on the rail tightened. What she’d been watching since she’d arrived was not a friendly game of fetch.

  Grinch wiped his hands on his jeans and smiled. “Working with Chester. Why?”

  Chester bounded up the steps and rubbed against her leg. She froze. “Call him off,” she said to Grinch.

  She tried to remember if you were supposed to meet a dog’s eye if it was a threat. Show no fear—she knew that much. But what she’d just seen wasn’t the dog she knew. Chester rubbed harder and whined. Okay, so that didn’t seem threatening, but …

  “Chester, sit,” Grinch said, and joined her on the porch. “What’s the matter?”

  The dog complied, and Elizabeth exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “You … you were telling him to kill. I can’t have an attack dog around my son.”

  And then her brain made the connection. “You found out something. We’re in danger.”

  Grinch scratched Chester’s ears. “Let’s go inside and have some coffee. Or you can have tea. I’ll explain.”

  Grinch commanded Chester to stay in the mudroom, then strode to the kitchen, where he helped himself to coffee. She accepted a cup, and went to the fridge for milk, using the pouring and stirring to settle. She’d been worrying about Grace, and running through every possible scenario since she’d awakened this morning—to the point where she’d half-expected to find Victor waiting when she got back from the rec center.

  She sucked in a deep breath and carried her coffee to the table. Grinch held a chair for her. Surprised at the extra courtesy, she nodded and sat. Since Victor wasn’t here, and Grinch seemed calm enough, she shifted gears. “Did you hear anything about Grace?”

  “She’s still unconscious, but she hasn’t gotten any worse.”

  “Thank God. I want to be there for her.”

  Grinch shook his head. “She has someone with her around the clock. The cops are investigating. So is Blackthorne. They’ll keep me informed.”

  “So, we’re safe for now?”

  He studied his coffee. “Yes. There’s no proof that what happened to Grace is connected to you.”

  “Then explain what you were doing with Chester.” She set her cup on the table with enough of a clunk that Grinch met her eyes. “I can’t worry that someone here might say the word ‘kill’ in idle conversation, and Chester would go for the jugular.”

  Grinch’s lips twitched, but he quickly exchanged his expression for something more serious. “Chester’s not an attack dog. I use the command ‘kill’ because on the off chance that someone does show up, they won’t know that. It’s more scare tactic than actual threat.”

  “But I saw what he did.”

  “He growled and barked, right? Showed his teeth?”

  She nodded, realizing that Chester had never actually pounced—although there wasn’t anyone for him to pounce on at the time.

  “He’ll also run toward whoever he perceives as a threat. Which, if you recall, was why I did what I did the day we met.” He raised his hands, as if warding off any retort. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t have left Dylan. But I didn’t know he was that sick, and I figured I’d be in and out in minutes, and with Chester in the truck, I knew he was safe.”

  “So, he’s like a bodyguard?” The knots in her belly eased.

  “If I tell him to guard, yes.”

  “And you were working with him this morning because? I don’t recall seeing you do this before. Or is it your normal Wednesday routine?”

  “I didn’t want Chester getting rusty. Since I’ve had Dylan, Chester’s been a family pet. I figured a quick refresher on his other responsibilities couldn’t hurt.”

  He was sugar-coating again. She shook her head. “Say what you mean. Even if there’s no proof someone’s found me, it’s better to be prepared.”

  He took her hand and trapped her with his gaze. The one that said she could trust his words. “Exactly.”

  “But Will and Dylan—they don’t know about the command, right?” She envisioned them having an argument, and one telling the dog to kill the other. Even if there wasn’t any dog-to-human contact, it wasn’t something she wanted to encourage. What if they tried it on the UPS guy, or a friend?

  “Chester only takes commands from me. He knows to protect Dylan.” He stroked her hand with his thumb, sending a wave of heat through her. “I’d like to expand his circle to include Will—and you.”

  After shifting her attention away from his thumb and onto his words, she agreed. “I’d be happy to have him on Will’s side. And mine.”

  “But I’d also like him to take orders from you. If you’re willing.”
r />   “Do you think that’ll be necessary?”

  “I hope not.” His thumb did that thing again. “But I’d feel better.”

  Between his words, his eyes, and his thumb, she felt as if he’d given her a gift more valuable than any of the “please forgive me” jewelry Victor had bestowed upon her after one of his abuse sessions.

  “I guess I owe Chester an apology,” she said.

  “He’s not one to hold a grudge,” Grinch said. “Especially if there’s a doggie treat involved.”

  She grinned. “I can handle that.”

  Grinch rose when she stood, and this time, instead of surprise, she felt as if she were snuggled in a down quilt on a cold winter night. She rounded the table and stood on tiptoe, brushing his lips with hers. “Thank you,” she said. “For caring.”

  Before he could react, she called for Chester. She got no answering click of toenails on the floor, only a quiet whimper. “You’re sure he doesn’t hold a grudge?”

  Grinch caressed her cheek with a knuckle. “I told him to stay. He won’t leave until I release him.”

  Her mind whirled. “But what if Dylan was here and something happened? Would Chester break the rules, or does he have some sort of priority, or what? What if you told him to stay, and then a bad guy came and shot you and you couldn’t tell him to unstay, or kill, or whatever?”

  “Lizzie, you’re overcomplicating things. Relax. If one of us was in danger, Chester would do his thing. But if it’ll make you feel better, we can start working with him now.”

  Elizabeth stopped for a dog biscuit on the way to the mudroom. Chester turned his brown doggie eyes from her to Grinch, and his ears pricked up, but he didn’t move.

  “Clear,” Grinch said. Chester jumped up, tail wagging and headed straight for her. He nuzzled the hand holding the biscuit and sat at her feet.

  She knelt and opened her hand. The biscuit survived about half a second, and Chester did a doggy happy-dance. She rubbed his ears and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  “Tell him to sit,” Grinch said. “Use his name first.”

  She did, and the dog obeyed, but not without looking at Grinch first, as if asking if she meant it.