by Karen Kirst
“Try that again, Staff Sergeant, and you’ll regret it.” She made a show of pulling the plate closer to her.
At her use of his title, his brows shot up in silent question.
“It’s on your collar.” She brandished a fry toward the metal pins affixed to the sturdy material. “It should come as no surprise that my mom has kept me informed of your ascent through the ranks. I know that you’re in charge of thirty-nine Marines and that you were hailed a hero during your last deployment.”
Six months ago, her mom told her that Cade had been involved in an ambush and had saved someone. Tori had experienced nightmares for weeks afterward. Off and on through the years, she’d considered telling her mom to cease with the updates. They weren’t a couple anymore. They didn’t text or email. Didn’t follow each other on social media. But she hadn’t been able to cut off the flow of information. Because no matter how much time passed, she needed to know he was all right.
Cade fiddled with the straw in his milkshake, his mouth grim. “Kind of difficult to think of myself that way when we lost someone. I may have helped Corporal Faulkner, but I wasn’t able to do anything to save William Poole. He was an outstanding Marine.” The haunted look about his eyes troubled her. His fingers pressed into the beveled glass.
“Surely you don’t blame yourself.”
“Did I do what I thought was right at the time? Yes. I relied on my training and sheer instinct. Not everyone was satisfied with my performance, however. Two Marines in my platoon lodged complaints with our command, which led to an informal investigation into my actions.”
“But you weren’t found to be at fault.”
“No.”
Tori wanted to reach across and squeeze his hand. Offering him comfort used to be second nature.
“I thought we’d agreed to keep the conversation shallow and meaningless,” she lightly chided.
“You’re too easy to talk to. That hasn’t changed.”
Whatever else he might’ve said was lost by a foreign sound. A high-pitched ping. Glass splintering. A heavy thwack.
Then, for the second time in the span of a few hours, Cade was diving for her.
* * *
Screams rent the air. Another round whizzed into the diner.
Cade’s focus narrowed to one thing—keeping Tori safe.
Familiar with the hail of gunfire, he’d tugged her to the space beneath the table and ordered the others to hunker down. Somewhere in the room, a woman sobbed. A baby’s helpless cries prompted him to action.
He gripped her shoulders. “Stay here.”
“Where are you going?” Her eyes were huge pools of dread.
“To see if I can spot the shooter before he decides to come inside.”
“Are you armed?”
In answer, he lifted his pant leg and removed his Beretta Jetfire from the ankle holster. His larger weapon was at home in the safe, more suited to long-range targets. This one would have to do.
He twisted toward the kitchen area and hoped some of the employees had escaped through the rear exit. There was no evidence of blood, no anguished moans that typically accompanied wounds. Lord Jesus, let us all survive this.
Tori gasped. “Cade, your arm’s bleeding.”
The light was dim in the space beneath the table. He prodded the area and came away with bloodstained fingers. A needle-sharp sting registered through the rush of adrenaline. “Feels superficial.”
Another bullet pierced the glass above them.
“I have to go.”
Jaw locked, she gave a tight nod.
Cade inched farther onto the tiles and scanned the crowd. “Anyone hit?”
Those trapped beneath the tables in the middle stared at him in shock. In the far corner, an older man with a high-and-tight haircut—likely a retired Marine—lifted his shirt to reveal a pistol. “We’re okay on this side.”
Satisfied there were no wounds to tend, Cade darted toward the side door that led to an alley and trash dumpsters. If he could reach those dumpsters, he could use them as a buffer while searching for their assailant. Crouching low, he rushed outside. Oppressive heat mixed with eerie silence. The gravel beneath his shoes crunched. Blood singing through his veins brought back memories of Afghanistan and the kill-or-be-killed mindset. Instead of Marines, he was protecting a diner full of civilians. And Tori.
Weapon drawn, he wedged into a slim crevice between the metal dumpster and brick building. The rain-dampened sidewalks were empty. Water droplets coating the playground equipment glittered in the waning sunlight. He squinted at the storefronts farther down, but the angle wasn’t right.
Where are you?
Who are you?
Cade braced for further assault and prayed that Tori would stay put.
Was this a random act? Maybe a disgruntled former employee with an ax to grind?
An employee trained in sniper-like kills?
Doubtful.
In the back of his mind, he kept connecting this to the explosion earlier that day. He didn’t want to. Tried to reject it. But he’d lived in Sneads Ferry all his life and couldn’t remember a single incident like this one.
Sirens announced the approach of law enforcement. The gunman must’ve heard it, too, because there were no more shots fired. The first officer to arrive was an acquaintance of Cade’s, sparing him the need to get on the ground until they figured out he wasn’t involved. Cade sprinted over and, crouching behind the patrol car, told him everything he knew. Tori rushed into the street before they’d given the all clear.
Ignoring the officers’ protests, she hurried to join Cade. He seized her hand and tugged her down. “You’re not supposed to be out here,” he growled.
“I remembered something. While we were waiting for our order, I saw a man. He was watching us.”
The gut feeling he’d had solidified. Over her shoulder, he studied the diner’s facade. Tori turned to see what he was looking at. What scant color there was left in her face drained, and she lifted a trembling hand to clutch her neck.
“Cade...”
Only one of the plateglass windows had been blown out. Theirs.
“My car. It wasn’t an accident, was it?” Her gaze swerved to his, begging him to refute her claim.
“We can’t know that for sure—”
“Someone shot at us.” She had to work to drag in air. “You told me not to ignore my instincts. I should’ve heeded your advice. Someone has been watching me since I returned. Waiting for an opportunity to...”
She didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t have to.
They both knew that, had the timing of the car explosion been different, had the shooter’s aim been a little more accurate, Tori would be dead already.
FOUR
“Why would someone target you?” Cade demanded. “Did something happen in Tennessee? Something you’re afraid to share?”
His words doused her in cold shock.
Secrets were her former boyfriend’s specialty. Patrick, with whom she’d shared a fun, low-key relationship, had turned out to be a white-collar criminal. His arrest and conviction hadn’t shattered her heart so much as shaken her confidence in her ability to discern a person’s true character.
Not about to share her humiliation with Cade, she said, “My life is ordinary.”
His head sagged against the bumper. “Nothing about this is ordinary, Tori.” He sighed.
Beneath his tattered sleeve, blood trickled down his biceps. She sidled closer, the hot pavement searing her bare knees, and reached for his wounded arm. “You need medical attention.”
He shifted away. “It’ll keep a while longer.”
“I won’t pass out.” At his disbelieving stare, she said, “I’m not as squeamish as I used to be.”
“You aren’t going to swoon in my arms like a Jane Austen heroine?”
She was unable to banish the memory of her seventeenth birthday and the incident involving a rusty nail in her foot. He’d carried her half a mile to the nearest residence, called for an ambulance and refused to leave her side. He’d been her own personal hero. Well, she was older and wiser. More cynical? Or was it that her heart had been broken at eighteen and never fully repaired? Whatever the case, she didn’t believe in heroes anymore. Exceptional romance belonged on library shelves.
Cade didn’t seem inclined to reminisce further. His gun clutched in one hand, he scrutinized the area around the diner. She could picture him on the battlefield...focused, in command, lethal. Above all, willing to sacrifice his life for his men and his country. Hadn’t she witnessed his bravery twice already? He’d put her safety first both times a threat arose. Tori’s gaze sought out his injury, and her mind played out a deadlier scenario. If he’d been sitting in a different spot, if the bullet had drifted a few inches to the left, she wouldn’t be here talking to him.
Tori angled her face away to hide the raw emotion coursing through her.
The minutes ticked by, the humidity suffocating, the wait almost unbearable. Where had the shooter gone? Was he watching them now? The why of this situation escaped her.
Deputy Claxton arrived and, after conferring with the North Topsail police, ushered them to a waiting ambulance. While a paramedic cleaned and stitched his wound, Cade related the evening’s events, moment by moment. The deputy’s attention switched to her. He must’ve come to the same conclusions they had, because his questions probed into her private life.
She twisted her hands together, wincing when her wrist protested. “I’ve dated off and on since college. Nothing serious until Patrick. My relationship with him lasted a year and a half.”
Deputy Claxton’s pencil hovered above the paper. “Patrick’s last name?”
“Livingston. We ended things last summer.” Keenly aware of Cade’s laser-like perusal, she was reluctant to add details.
The deputy wasn’t having it. “Occupation? Current location?”
“He’s, ah, in a correctional facility.”
Cade’s brows hit his hairline. “Tori—”
“Patrick embezzled funds from his company. I didn’t find out until the news of his arrest hit social media.”
The scowl on his face was at odds with the compassion filling his eyes. Unable to bear his pity, she dropped her gaze.
“Safe to say he isn’t our shooter,” Claxton said. “But that doesn’t rule out the possibility he orchestrated it from behind bars. Would you say he was angry with you? Did he expect you to stick with him through thick and thin?”
“Not at all. Patrick regretted pulling my name into it. Not once did he ask me to stay. We didn’t have that kind of relationship.”
While she hadn’t wanted to dwell on it at the time, their connection had been shallow. Nothing like what she’d had with Cade.
More scribbling. “Did you have any fractious relationships in your former workplace? Jealous coworkers? Friendships that soured?”
“I can’t think of a single person who’d want to hurt me.”
She made the mistake of glancing at Cade, whose eyes burned with righteous determination. “Think harder. There must be someone.” He paid no heed as the paramedic snipped off the thread. “You need to make a list of acquaintances, college buddies, professors—”
“I graduated years ago.”
“Write down every single employee at that library you used to work at, from the cleaning crew to the folks behind the check-in desk.” He counted on his fingers. “If you don’t know their names, we’ll get them from Human Resources.”
“How about you settle down and let me do my job, son.” Deputy Claxton shot Cade a dry look. To Tori, he said, “Make the list. I’ll be inputting the car explosion into the state database to see if there have been similar crimes.”
“You got the report back?” Cade asked.
“Our guys aren’t finished with the wreckage.”
“But you’re assuming it was an intentional act.”
Before he could answer, another deputy walked over to deliver the news that they’d scoured the area. The perp was in the wind. They planned to canvas the neighborhood and conduct interviews. There was a chance someone other than Tori saw him and could give them valuable information.
Cade studied the buildings around them. “No traffic cameras, but there could be private security cameras.”
“We’ll consult the individual businesses,” Claxon said. He left with a promise to contact her.
While Cade was being patched up, he caught the attention of a second paramedic and insisted Tori’s wrist be examined. As expected, it was a slight sprain. She was testing out the snug wrap when she noticed a pair of young men in heated conversation with an officer. She hurried over.
The lanky blond one spotted her and frowned, his gaze on her wrist. “That’s my sister.”
The officer twisted around and, seeing her, allowed them to pass. She wasn’t surprised to see her brother with his new friend, a shy but pleasant young man whom he’d met at the gym.
“Hello, Heath,” she greeted the redhead before turning to her brother. “Jason, what are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight.”
“Switched shifts with Billy, so I don’t go in until eleven. Heath and I were headed to Red’s to meet up with a few buddies.”
He reached up to smooth his hair, only to come up empty. Like her, he was still adjusting to his altered appearance. Without his wavy blond locks, he looked less like the surfer he was and more like a Marine. He’s eighteen. No longer the adoring little brother you left behind.
“What happened?”
A female officer speaking into her radio passed by. Jason watched the hushed activity around them, especially the subdued customers trickling out of the diner and waitresses huddled around the splintered window. Their faces were ravaged by the horror they’d endured.
“There was a shooting.”
Behind his glasses, Heath’s puppy-dog eyes filled with disbelief. “In Sneads Ferry?”
“Hard to accept, I know,” she agreed, wondering how she was going to tell Jason about the car and their suspicions.
“Was anyone hurt?” Jason asked.
“A bullet grazed Cade’s arm, but he’s going to be okay.”
Heath’s gaze shifted beyond Tori, and he snapped to attention. “Good evening, Staff Sergeant.”
She turned to see Cade approaching. He inclined his head. “Lance Corporal Polanski.”
“You two know each other?”
“Staff Sergeant McMann is my platoon leader,” Heath explained.
“Fortunate for you,” Jason said, his admiration plain.
When Tori transferred to a university in Knoxville, she got busy carving out a new life for herself. Meanwhile, Cade took Jason under his wing. She was grateful to a point. Cade was a good role model. But she couldn’t help but be a tad jealous of their close bond.
“Why would someone want to shoot up Red’s?” Jason mused.
Tori intercepted Cade’s probing glance. She reached for the ring on her right hand and twisted the silver dolphin. “We have reason to believe the shooter was after me.”
Deep grooves distorted his forehead. “What?”
Beside him, Heath paled, the smattering of freckles on his nose stark against his skin. “Why would you assume such a thing?”
“Earlier this evening, my car exploded. Right around the time I usually drive to the bank with the shop’s earnings.”
“I don’t understand.” Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why would someone target you? You’re a librarian.” He said it like it was the most mundane job in the world.
Cade shifted closer to Tori, determination gripping his features. “That’s what we’re going to figu
re out.”
“You can’t stay in the apartment,” Jason said. “This guy knows where you live.”
“I can’t abandon the shop. It’s Mom’s baby. Besides, there will be deputies parked outside.” For tonight only. They simply didn’t have the manpower to guard her around the clock indefinitely. But she didn’t tell her brother that. “Maybe he’ll come back tonight and they’ll snag him.”
“And what if he takes them by surprise and manages to get to you?”
The depth of her brother’s concern surprised her. She’d started to think he resented her to the point of dislike.
“I’m staying, too.” Cade’s tone brooked no argument—one she suspected he used on his junior Marines.
“The commanding officer routine doesn’t work on me,” she responded.
“I’m not an officer. No college degree, remember? I’m a grunt, like Heath here.”
“That’s beside the point. You’re not staying.”
“Accept his help, sis.” Jason’s blue eyes were serious. “I’d be there if I didn’t have to work.”
“I’ll sleep downstairs. If anyone breaches the house, I’ll know about it.”
His goal had been to deal with the past so they could move on with their lives. But moving on wasn’t going to happen as soon as they’d hoped, not with him acting as her protector. And while spending time with him would prove a minefield of emotional traps, Tori couldn’t bring herself to face her unknown enemy alone.
* * *
Cade placed his weapon on the kitchen counter as Tori entered the room with a pillow and an armful of blankets. Her gaze fell on the gun and the shadows in her eyes deepened. She’d swapped her breezy summer dress for a blue pajama pant set that looked like something from the fifties.
She gestured to the military-issue sleeping bag rolled out on the linoleum. “That’s not going to be comfortable.”
“Compared to some of the spots I’ve slept in, this is a luxury. No sand fleas or other pests. Central heat and air. Indoor plumbing.”
She looked as if she’d like to question him, but refrained. He took the blankets from her and set them on one of the dining chairs. The day’s events were taking their toll. He’d been at the base by 0500 hours for a strenuous round of PT—a five-mile hump carrying fifty pounds of gear through the woods. The stores of adrenaline that had carried him through the explosion and shooting were depleted. Getting winged hadn’t helped matters.