Chapter Two

“Seriously?” Vanessa leaned her elbows on the kitchen table as she hugged her coffee mug between her hands, praying the caffeine would provide the promised jolt to her batteries.

“I’m serious,” Craig said. “I’ll drive.”

“No way. You don’t even have a car and you’re not driving my rental.” Vanessa cocked her head. “I have such mixed emotions about this.”

Vanessa had had very little sleep last night, not because she was on duty or nervous about an attack of some sort, because she didn’t believe for one second that Craig’s life was at risk. She laid the blame for her restlessness completely at the feet of Craig Devlin. Knowing he was in the bed in the adjacent room, and in all likelihood sleeping in the nude, had her tossing and turning like a rotisserie chicken.

From her time in the sandbox, she’d developed the ability to fall asleep anywhere and anytime she commanded herself to do so. Unfortunately, last night, her body would not listen. Heck, her brain wouldn’t either. When she could force her eyes shut, memories would flood her head. The images were hell.

“Don’t be such a killjoy,” he said. “Getting out of the house is a great idea. I’ve been glued to my computer for days.  The book I’m writing is the true story of a blind woman terrorized by an unknown assailant. Took place here in Big Branch.”

“Yikes.” Vanessa shivered. “Sounds scary.” She studied him. “True story, huh? Does this woman know you’re writing about her life? Maybe she doesn’t want the whole world to know.”

“Of course she knows. She’s excited. Besides, I know her pretty well. She’s my audiobook narrator.”

Vanessa’s heart skipped a beat. “Fiona Harper had a stalker?”

His eyes opened wide. “You know Fiona?”

She shook her head. “Um, no. I mean, her name is on your audiobooks, right?”

A smug smile stretched across his mouth. “You bought my books.”

“Of course not.” She straightened her back. ”Someone might have loaned me a book or two.”

“You bought my books,” he repeated. “I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be. When I was overseas, I’d read or listen to just about anything to quell the boredom.”

“I have a couple of things I need to go over with Fiona about the event timetable. When I called, she invited us to lunch, and I said yes. I think you’ll like her.”

“I’m sure I will. “ She shoved back her chair and stood. “I’ve got things I need to do this morning before I can go anywhere.”

“That’s fine. I still need to write a couple of thousand words before I can stop. Want to shoot for noonish?”

“That works.”

She could feel his gaze on her ass as she walked away. She almost said something, but if admiring her butt kept him close, then so be it. Her job was to keep his ass alive.

Still, knowing he watched her leave, she added a tad more swing to her hips as she walked away.

Since her job was to keep him alive and producing books, she headed up to her room to load an extra cartridge—not that she thought for one second she’d need additional firepower, but habits were habits. Then, she should check in with the office.

 

Craig swore he wouldn’t stare at Nessie’s ass, but the minute she turned to walk out of the kitchen, his gaze followed her to the door. His hands itched to stroke both globes. Hell, his fingers were twitchy to stroke everywhere…down her face, around her neck, down her chest, across those luscious breasts, and….

He reached under the table to adjust his rapidly expanding cock inside his jeans. Vanessa Britt had knocked his socks off in second grade when she chased him down to beat him up over that princess story. The corners of his mouth twitched as he thought about how determined she was to make him pay.

Somewhere around high school, she forgave him enough to give him her virginity. He’d been mad crazy in love with her.

After high school and two years into college, they married but discovered marriage was a completely different animal from going steady or even living together. Being married been much harder, requiring more compromise than he’d realized at the time, and definitely more than he’d been capable of giving back then.

Working any job she could find, Vanessa finished putting him through college from bachelor degree to master to finally his doctoral degree. He took a job teaching, while continuing to write his great American novel in his spare time. Between their job hours and his sacred writing schedule, about the only time they spent time together was in bed, where they never had a problem.

However, once his writing career took off, he turned into an insufferable jerk, not appreciating the sacrifices she’d made. All he could see were his hours of work and the years of rejection before his debut novel rocked to the top of the bestseller lists. Somewhere along the way, he’d decided he should have married a woman more his intellectual equal. Remembering those days and all the horrible and unforgivable things he’d said to Nessie made him cringe.

Not only had he not married down, as he’d told himself, he’d married a woman who, in the end, turned out too good for him. Vanessa was the one who’d married down when she’d chosen him. She should have married a man who would appreciate everything about her. Instead, she’d gotten him. 

He owed his wife so much more than the paltry dollars direct deposited into her account every month, and he planned to make sure she got what she was owed.

At eleven forty-five, Vanessa knocked on the door of the room he was using for an office.
“It’s almost noon,” she said. “Are we on any type of timetable?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” He automatically hit save before looking up at her. ”We’re supposed to there about noon.” He held up one finger. “Give me a minute. I need to finish this paragraph and then I’ll stop.”

“I believe I’ve heard those words before.”

He focused back on his scene, determined to finish the description of the bloody head-on collision. What felt like one minute later, Vanessa returned.

“Put it away,” she ordered. “It’s after twelve.”

“It is?” He looked at the screen to check the time. “Darn it. Lost track of time. Let me call Fi and tell her we’re running late.”

“We’re running late?” Her eyebrows arched. “How about I was ready and you’re running late?”

He grinned. “Po-ta-toe, pa-ta-toe.”

“Not hardly,” she replied, but then she laughed.

His stomach tilted with her laughter. How could he have forgotten how her deep laugh would steal his breath? How the sparkle in her eyes could make him forget everything but the overwhelming need she evoked?

The day would come—and probably sooner than later—that he would have to tell her the truth. She’d be irate when she discovered what he’d kept from her. He’d deal with her temper then, making her understand why he’d done what he’d done, or rather hadn’t done.

“Come on,” she said. “Move it.”

“Right.” After shutting down his computer and a quick call to Fiona and Chase to let them know they were late, he and Vanessa walked outside toward her Jeep.

“You’ve got a flat tire.” He gestured to the driver side rear.

She uttered a low-pitched cuss word, then squatted down to examine the tire. “You have got to be kidding me.” She pounded her fist on the black rubber.

Her voice was a mixed of exasperation and good-old-frustration at the situation.

“Flat tire, huh? That sucks.” The voice was female and came from off to their right.

Vanessa’s hand flew to the gun at her back as she spun on her toes, remaining in her crouched position.

Craig put a hand on her shoulder to stop her from pulling the weapon. “Yeah. It does.”

“I’m Deloris Dane,” the unfamiliar woman said. “Everyone calls me DD. I live in the yellow house across the street.” She gestured with her head toward a one-story ranch. “What happened?”

DD was dressed in leggings, jogging shorts, a sweaty T-shirt, and running shoes. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a wet ponytail. A set of wireless earplugs filled the palm of her hand. From the perspiration rings under her arms and breasts, she looked as though she’d recently finished a long run.

Vanessa shook off Craig’s hand and rose. “You see anyone around my car?”

“Nope. Left here about an hour ago for a run. Just getting back.” She looked at Craig with a warm, bright smile. “I do believe this is the first time I’ve seen you out of your house. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Thanks. The neighborhood’s quiet. Just what I needed for my work.”

She nodded toward the house beside his. “If you want quiet, you have the perfect neighbor in Mrs. Johnson. She won’t give you any trouble at all.”

“She seems nice. I went over and introduced myself when I moved in. Can’t hear a thing, can she?”

DD laughed.

Even though she had a nice laugh, it didn’t set off his insides like Vanessa’s did.

“If she has in her hearing aids, she can hear some, but not much. Her vision is about half gone, so she stays inside a lot, which is too bad. My sister and I grew up in the house where I live. In fact, our grandparents lived in the house you’re renting. My whole family has known Mrs. Johnson all our lives. She was quite the neighborhood partier. She and her late husband used to throw the best parties. I was just a kid, but I remember some of them. But since Mr. Johnson died, she been on a downhill slide.” DD wiped some brow sweat onto her shoulder. “Sorry about the tire,” she said to Vanessa, then she turned toward Craig. “Hope to see you again. Let me know if you need anything.” With a wave, Deloris jogged across the street and let herself into the yellow house.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Vanessa said in a mocking tone. “I bet she could give you lots of things.”

Craig laughed. “We’re in Texas. She was just being neighborly.”

“Neighborly. Right,” she scoffed. “I don’t even know my neighbors.”

He draped an arm around her shoulders. “Hard to believe, given how friendly you are.”

She hip-checked him and stepped away. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Put your arm around me. I’m only here to do a job.” She squatted again and pointed to the flat tire. “Damnation. I think this tire’s been slashed.”

He lowered himself down to her level. “Where?”

She pointed to the cut in the tire.

“Why would someone want to flatten your tire?”

“I don’t know. Maybe to send me somewhere to get it fixed? That would leave you here alone.”

“Oh, Nessie. That’s crazy.” He waved off her comment like shooing away a fly. “Nobody is coming after me.”

“I hope you’re right.” She stood. “I’ll call the rental agency. Since we have no idea how long I’ll be getting this fixed, can you let your Fiona know we’ll have to reschedule?”

“For once, I wish I had rented a car for my time here. But having a rental car parked in the garage most of the time seemed like a waste of money.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We would still have to get the tire fixed.”

When he headed back to the house, she watched until he was safely inside. Then, she turned back to the tire. She’d been counting on this assignment to be an easy job.

She called the rental agency to send someone to replace the ruined tire. When she disconnected, she lowered herself again to study the slit. The damage could be related to a warped belt causing a weak area and the hole was some type of blowout…not that she’d ever seen a blowout like this. But frankly, a tire expert she was not.

She stood in time to see an orange Harley Davidson carrying two people turn onto the street and roar toward her. Rider and shooter? Reflexively, she pulled the gun from the holder at back and held the gun pointed down at her side, while at the same time, edging closer to the Jeep for protection.

Her heart drummed in her ears. Her vision tunneled on the motorcycle, watching for the rear passenger to make a move. Her muscle tensed. Her body was prepped and ready for action.

To her shock, the bike pulled to stop in front of her Jeep. The rider was a large bear of a man.

He turned off the engine, pulled off his helmet, and said, “Vanessa Britt?”

His knowing her name didn’t make her relax her guard, but it also prevented her from pulling her gun from her side. “Who’s asking?”

To add to her already surprised condition, the man smiled. “Chase Adams. Hold on.”

He helped a petite woman off the rear. When she removed her helmet, long red hair tumbled down her back.

“Hi,” the woman said in a husky voice. “I’m Fiona Harper, Craig’s narrator. This is Chase Adams, my husband.”

“You can put away the gun,” Chase said with a grin. “We come in peace.”

“Vanessa Britt.” She slipped the weapon back into its holder. “Nice to meet you both.”

“Where’s Craig?” Fiona asked.

“In the house.” She jerked a thumb toward the house.

“I’m heading up there.” She handed her helmet to her husband and extended a white cane. “I’ll let you two have a private talk.”

“Oh, okay,” Vanessa said, a little confused as why she would need to have a talk with the narrator’s husband, private or not.

Chase kissed his wife and waited until Craig opened the door to allow Fiona to enter before he turned back to Vanessa. “Hank wanted you to know you have backup close if you need it.” Then he chuckled. “Not that I offer all much help in a combat situation, but if you need computer support, I’m your man.”

She frowned. “Hank? Hank who?” she asked, just testing his response. Her question made him laugh.

“Patterson. Our boss. Remember him?”

Her mouth dropped in surprise. “You work for Brotherhood Protectors too?”

“Not in the field like you. I do a lot of the computer stuff for the office.”

“From Big Branch?”

“Yep. Used to live in Montana closer to headquarters, and then Hank sent me down here to check on a friend of his wife’s.”

“Fiona Harper?” He brow furrowed in confusion as she tried to piece toward the few facts she had. Fiona had a stalker. Hank had sent this guy to help her and now they were married?

“You know the story then.”

She slowly shook her head. “Not really. I only know the little that Craig has told me.”

“Long story best told over good food and wine. However, once I met her, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. Usually, I don’t do field work. I’m an IT guy. You know how computers are. I can work from any place with internet service. Hank called me after you checked in this morning. Thought it might be good if you knew you had local support if you need it. When Craig called to cancel lunch, I thought I’d come over and see if you need any help. Of course Fiona was determined to meet Craig’s wife.”

“Ex,” she said. “Anyway, the rental company is coming with a tire. But take a look and tell me your opinion. Slit from a knife or slit from some type of blowout?” She pointed to the opening in the tire.

Chase dropped to one knee and leaned in to inspect the hold. He studied it from a couple of angles and then stood. “Knife.” He frowned.

Her stomach fell when he agreed with her assessment. “Damn. That was my impression also.”

“Got any idea why someone would cut your tire? You leave some angry enemy from a previous assignment who could have followed you down to Texas?”

She shook her head, but took a quick scan of the area. “No enemies from my past, at least none that I know of. The only plausible explanation I thought of was an effort to get me away from Craig for a while. Otherwise, I’m as lost as Goldilocks in the woods.”

By late that afternoon, the tire had been changed, Chase and Fiona had headed home, and Craig locked himself away in the office with a quick, “Got to write.” Since Craig didn’t have a car to put into the garage, Vanessa moved the Jeep in from the street to give it better protection.

After a walk around the yard and then the house, she settled down in the living room with the book Craig was accused of plagiarizing. It didn’t take more than the first chapter to recognize his voice in every sentence. Tight wording, tense situations, and the three dimensional characters sucked her into the story.

She was reading a particularly scary kidnapping scene when someone said, “I’m starved. How ’bout you?”

Her heart leapt into her throat. She reached for the gun on the table, and then the voice registered. Craig.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “Where are you in the book?”

“Frank is taking the daughter down to the basement.” She blew out a long breath and closed the book. “Good story, but I bet your readers don’t sleep after some of the scenes.”

He actually blushed, but brushed it off with a laugh. “You had dinner?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost six.”

“Gosh. I totally lost track of the time. What’s in the kitchen to fix?”

“Better idea. Let’s go out. Celebrate.”

Her brow furrowed. “Celebrate? Celebrate what? That someone wants to kill you?”

He scoffed. “I haven’t been with my wife in years. The least I can do is take her out to dinner. Should have last night, but I wasn’t in a place in the book where I could stop. So,get ready and let’s go out.”

“This is a horrible idea.” She frowned. “And it’s ex-wife.”

“Make you a deal.” He sat in the chair across from her. “We’ll go out to eat and come directly home. When nothing happens, you chill out, take my brother’s money and treat this like the vacation it is. Trust me. I know Joseph Knue. He’s a quiet, soft-spoken introvert. Heck, Nessie. Most of the time, he wouldn’t look me in the eye when speaking. I can’t see him yelling at me, much less attacking me.”

“So, you don’t think he wrote those messages?” She tapped her chin as she pictured the type of man Craig described. “If not him, then who?”

“All the emails sound like him. I’ve read enough of his short stories to recognize his work, but I have no idea what is going on in his mind. Those threats just aren’t like him.” He shrugged. “And since I’m pretty sure he has no money and no car, the odds of him coming from California to Texas on a vendetta are slim.” He stood. “ Now, let’s go get a fat, juicy steak.” He held out his hand. “Come on.”

She sighed and let him pull her to her feet.

Like she’d told Hank yesterday, this assignment was a bad idea. Oh, not because she couldn’t handle bodyguarding duties. Those were no issue. She’d completed many assignments since she’d been hired by Hank.

Her problem was the struggle with her reactions to Craig. That simple touch of hands as he pulled her to her feet had her head swimming and her bones melting.

She remembered his kisses. Remembered? Hell, during the worst times in the sandbox, she could close her eyes and relive them, drown herself in the memories of the heat of his mouth, the touch of his tongue on hers, and the feel of his heart beating against her chest.

Since the divorce, she’d dated other men. She’d kissed other men, but they’d all felt like some way to pass time. There’d been lots of offers, temptations even, but no man had shared her bed. She feared no other man could reach her soul like Craig had…damn him.

To do her job effectively, she had to tune him out, train herself to be immune to his touch, immune to his voice,and immune to his laugh… Aw hell, who was she kidding?

 

The stalker cleaned the handgun after today’s target practice. The range instructor had been quite impressed with the progress after only a couple of weeks. From unable to load the gun to eighty percent accuracy was remarkable.

The plan hadn’t included shooting Craig. The stalker had only learned all the gun skills for personal protection.

Now, however, fate had provided be an opportunity to put all those new learned talents into use.

The ex-wife had to go and the sooner, the better.

Tonight even.

With a smile, the stalker shoved the loaded magazine into the Glock 19.