Defender for Hire (2 page)

Five years, but she could still hear the wails of terrified children, still feel the blazing African sun, still smell the blood.

She gagged, stepping away from the desk and the package, and wishing she could step away from the memories.

Just then, the package moved, something inside of it scratching against the box. Tessa jumped back, knocked into a rock-hard chest and swung around, a scream dying on her lips as she looked into Seth’s vivid-blue eyes.

“Careful.”

Seth held his newest physical therapist’s arm and looked into her misty-green eyes. Her skin had gone three shades of pale, and she looked as if she was about to jump out of her skin. Based on the way she was eyeing the package Dana had handed her, he’d say it had something to do with whatever was in it.

“You’re supposed to be setting up appointments with Dana,” she snapped, her eyes flashing with irritation and something else. Something that looked an awful lot like fear.

Leave it alone,
his brain warned, but he’d never been all that good at taking orders.

“I already did. Now I need the printouts so I can get on with my day.” He touched the box, his curiosity piqued. “What’s this?”

“A wrapped box,” she responded dryly, grabbing a few pages from a printer and thrusting them toward him. “Here are the exercises. I’ll see you next week.”

Her dismissal couldn’t have been more obvious, but Seth wasn’t quite ready to go. Tessa and her mystery box were way more interesting than desk duty, and that’s what he’d be heading for when he left her office.

He tucked the printouts into his coat pocket and lifted the box. It was light and just a little off balance, as if whatever was in it fit in one corner, leaving the rest of the space empty.

“Put that down,” she said without looking away from her computer.

“You seem a little jumpy about it.”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” She reached for the package, her fingers brushing the paper. Something skittered along the bottom of the box. Seth felt the movement through cardboard and paper. Tessa must have, too. She jerked her hand back.

He set the box down. “There’s something alive in here.”

Tessa made no move to lift it. “It seems that way.”

“You don’t know what it is?”

“No.” She tucked a loose strand of deep red hair behind her ear and sighed. “Look, Seth, I don’t want to be rude, but I have another patient waiting and—”

“Dana is in with her.” He lifted the box again, examining the envelope taped to its top. “There’s no return address. It’s not even postmarked. Someone hand delivered it.”

“You’re probably right.” Tessa didn’t seem impressed by his deductive reasoning, and she didn’t look happy that he hadn’t left. She didn’t reach for the box, though, and he thought that she’d be relieved if he took the initiative and looked inside.

“I spent a fair amount of time in the desert, and I’ve dealt with a lot of critters. Why don’t you let me see what’s in here? If it’s something you don’t want, I’ll dispose of it.”

“What if it’s a snake?” she asked, hovering close to Seth’s side. He could feel the heat of her arm through his coat sleeve, could smell a hint of vanilla in the air.

“The box isn’t big enough. Besides, snakes don’t skitter. They slide.”

“How...comforting.” She offered a brief smile, a dimple flashing in her left cheek.

“I don’t mind snakes,” he said, pulling the envelope from the box and handing it to Tessa. “It’s scorpions I despise.”

“I’ll take a scorpion over a cobra any day of the week.” She ripped the envelope open and pulled out a white note card.

“What’s it say?”

“Today’s date.” She turned it over so that he could see the numbers scrawled in thick, black marker.

“Maybe there’s a note in the box.” He pulled out his utility knife and eased the tip under the wrapping paper. “Better tell me now if you don’t want me to do this.”

She remained silent, and he slid the knife blade under the box lid.

“What if it jumps out at you?” Tessa moved closer, her shoulder pressed against his arm.

His muscles tensed in response. Dormant memories sprang to life of a hundred moments spent with the only woman he’d ever loved.

He forced them away and flipped the box lid up. Better to look in the box than to look at the past.

“What is—”

Tessa’s voice trailed off as two long, brown legs reached over the side of the box, the hairy exoskeleton as recognizable as it was surprising. Seth had seen his share of tarantulas. This one was bigger than most, its legs retreating as it scurried into a corner of its prison. A white envelope lay beneath it.

Seth reached to retrieve it, but Tessa grabbed his arm. “Just leave it.”

“Don’t you want to know who it’s from?”

“It was sent to me by mistake.”

“Your name was on the box.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of people in the world with my name.” She smiled, but her face had gone paper-white again, her eyes emerald against the pallor.

“You’re scared.”

“I don’t like spiders any more than I like snakes.”

“I don’t think that’s the reason.” He shut the box lid, leaned his hip against the desk. “I think you should call the police, and let them know that this was sent to you.”

“It’s not illegal to give someone a tarantula.” She rounded the desk, pulled masking tape from a drawer and taped down the box lid. “I’ll take this guy to the pet store this afternoon. Someone will want it, right?” Her hands and voice were steady, and her expression neutral, but the fear in her eyes gave her away.

He took the box from her.

“I’ll take care of it. See you next week, Tessa.” He walked into the hallway, feeling the giant spider moving around inside the box in his hand.

Tessa didn’t follow.

He wasn’t surprised.

And he wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up for his appointment next week and she wasn’t there.

He knew all about having secrets.

Tessa could keep hers, but he was just curious enough to take a look at whatever lay at the bottom of the box. Tessa might not have wanted to know who’d sent it, but Seth did. Just in case the spider wasn’t the last of the gifts.

Just in case there was trouble.

And generally, when it came to Seth’s life, there usually was.

TWO

G
o. Don’t look back...

The words echoed through Tessa’s mind as she ran up the steep hill that overlooked her house. Sweat slipped down her neck and pooled in the hollow of her throat, her breath heaving as she crested the rise and headed down the path that led to the Spokane River. Her dog, Bentley, panted along beside her, his muscular body relaxed, his one good ear upright. At nearly a hundred pounds, the huge mutt was large enough to discourage unwanted attention. He was also smart and alert enough to warn her of danger.

She’d chosen him for that and for his sweet, goofy ugliness. Long black fur over a homely face, one blue eye and one brown, he’d been abused by a previous owner but had still had the exuberance of a puppy when she’d found him at a shelter two years ago.

And now it was the five-year anniversary of Daniel’s and Andrew’s murders.

Don’t look back.

But how could she not when everything she loved was in the past?

She picked up her pace, running until her muscles cramped and her body ached. Finally, she couldn’t run another step and she pressed her elbows to her knees, trying to catch her breath.

Darkness had fallen, purple-black and thick. No moon. No streetlights. Just the Spokane River lapping softly at its banks and the distant lights of the city hinting at civilization. Dear God, how she wished she could find a place she could stay for longer than a few months or a year.

She straightened, a half-formed prayer nudging at the back of her mind, a cry from the heart that she didn’t want to acknowledge. God hadn’t answered her prayers five years ago, and she didn’t expect Him to now. She didn’t even want to bring her hopes and dreams before Him because she’d been devastated when He hadn’t answered before, despondent when everything she’d ever cared about had been yanked away.

She couldn’t lay the responsibility for that in God’s hands, but she couldn’t take it out of His hands, either. He could have changed things, could have saved her husband and brother-in-law or taken her with them.

She still didn’t understand why He hadn’t.

“Come on, Bentley. Let’s go home,” she said, hoping that her voice would chase away the melancholy mood. Every year, she got the rose. Every year she felt this way.

This year had been different, though.

This year, she’d gotten the spider.

Despite what she’d told Seth, she didn’t think it had been sent by mistake. Someone knew that her brother-in-law had kept a pet tarantula when they were on mission to Kenya. Someone had wanted to remind her of that.

As if she needed any reminders.

Her legs trembled as she jogged back up the hill and into the deep woods that separated her from home. Sweat cooled on her cheeks and she shivered. Early November, and the temperature was already in the thirties. This would be her first winter in eastern Washington. If she stayed.

Five years. Five towns.

Soon, it would be six, then seven and eight.

How many before she could finally stop running?

Bentley growled low in his throat, tugging furiously against the leash. It almost slipped from Tessa’s grip, and she tightened her hold.

“What is it, Bentley?”

The dog growled again, his muscles taut, his body angled to the left. The night was silent and heavy, the woods and path still, but something whispered through the darkness, a quiet breath of movement that rustled the thick carpet of dry leaves.

“Hello?” Tessa called, her heart slamming against her ribs, her body numb with terror. She’d never felt as if she were in danger before—the roses had always seemed like a reminder of what would happen if she ever told the world the truth, which of course, she wouldn’t. She had Daniel’s legacy to protect. The work they’d done together, the children and villagers that they’d helped. She wouldn’t risk those things.

Bentley let out a sharp warning, and she knew she’d better heed it. She pivoted away from the deep shadows, racing down the path toward home, Bentley lunging against her hold, snarling as he tried to get at whatever was coming up behind them.

Branches snapped, leaves crackled, feet pounded. Hers? Someone else’s?

Pop!

Something whizzed through the darkness and Bentley yelped, stumbling. Tessa turned and saw something coming toward them. Black and broad against the navy sky, swooping in. She screamed, dropping the leash as Bentley snarled again and tried to run.

Another high pitched yelp, and then silence except for Tessa’s ragged breaths and the thud of her pulse in her ears. Something slammed into her back and she fell hard, her hands and knees skidding across leaves and dirt, her mind sliding back five years. A tiny hut on the outskirts of a Kenyan village. Screams and terror and Daniel whispering for her to run.

She tried to shut it out, shut it off, force her mind and her body back to the present moment and the fight, but hands were around her throat, lips pressing close to her ear.

“I haven’t forgotten. Have you?”

How could I?
She wanted to ask, but she had no air, no thoughts. Blackness edged in, and she bucked against her captor, trying to use her weight to throw him off.

She had no strength.

Bentley snarled, the sound echoing in Tessa’s ears.

Run!
she wanted to shout.
Go home!

Her attacker’s hands tightened, then released. Gone. As if he had never been there at all.

Tessa wasn’t sure if she was in the past or the present. In Africa or Pine Bluff. Didn’t know if she was hurt or okay. Silence settled as thick as the darkness that pressed in all around her. She drifted in it, cold seeping through her clothes and settling in her bones.

Bentley whimpered, his nose nudging her cheek before he collapsed beside her.

She reached for him, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Warm fur, and something sticky and wet. Blood?

She had to get him home.

Had to call the police and get help.

First, she had to move.

She rolled to her side and pushed up to her knees, touching Bentley’s silky head. “We need to get out of here.”

She stood, her legs shaking, and Bentley struggled to his feet, huffing quietly in the darkness. He limped beside her as they maneuvered down the steep path.

She pulled out her cell phone and called 911, her voice raw as she explained the situation and gave her address. Her throat ached, her head pounded and she shivered with cold and fear, but Bentley was her first priority.

She disconnected, cutting the 911 operator off midsentence and dialing Bentley’s veterinarian. Dr. Amy Spenser was almost as new to Pine Bluff as Tessa was. Neither of them had family or kids, and it had seemed natural to strike up a friendship. They’d gone shopping for furniture together, accepting that each had her secrets and a limit to how deep a connection she wanted to make.

“Hello?” Amy answered on the first ring, her voice soft and smooth with just a hint of an accent.

“It’s Tessa. Bentley’s been hurt.” Tessa didn’t have time for long explanations. Sirens were already blaring through the quiet night. Tessa’s house loomed ahead, lights shining out from every window. Since Daniel’s murder, she always left the lights on. Tonight, she was more than grateful for the habit.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. We were out on a run and someone attacked me. Bentley tried to help...” She recalled the pop and Bentley’s whimper. Tried to make sense of it. “He may have been shot.”

“Are
you
okay?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be at your place in ten minutes.” Amy hung up, and Tessa shoved the phone back into the pocket of her running vest.

“You’ll be okay, boy,” she murmured, more to reassure herself than Bentley. He limped beside her, slower than usual, but still moving.

That had to be a good sign.

Didn’t it?

The woods opened out into her backyard, the long expanse of grass unobstructed by trees or shrubs. No sign of anyone lurking nearby, but her heart raced as she urged Bentley across the half-acre lot.

She rounded the side of the house and froze as Bentley barked.

A man sat in the old porch swing, his dark blond hair gleaming in the porch light, his scarred face familiar.

Seth Sinclair.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, taking a quick step back.

Seth watched Tessa back away from the porch and from him. The sirens he’d been hearing for the past few minutes grew louder, the sound blaring though the darkness.

“I brought the tarantula to the pet store.” He held up the white envelope he’d come to deliver. “I thought you might want this.”

“Just leave it on the swing.” She eyed him warily, her hand clutching the leash of an oversize dog. Loose hair fell across her cheeks but didn’t hide what looked like bruises on her neck.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Seth stood slowly, afraid if he moved too quickly, she’d run. “What happened?” he asked, walking down the porch stairs, the sirens still screaming.

“We ran into some trouble in the woods.”

Seth thought they’d run into more than “some trouble.” Tessa’s running pants were ripped at the knee, her vest covered with dead leaves. “You need to sit down before you fall down.”

He touched her arm, and she jerked back, her eyes wide with fear. “Who gave you my address, Seth?”

“I asked around. It wasn’t difficult to find you in a town this size.” He took her arm as gently as he could and tried to urge her up the porch stairs, but she held her ground.

“You can go home. Bentley and I will be fine.” She tugged at the dog’s leash, calling to him as she tried to walk to the house.

The dog whined but refused to move.

“He’s hurt,” Seth pointed out, though he was sure that Tessa already knew it.

“The vet is on the way.” Her voice sounded hollow, her face so white, he thought she might collapse.

He needed to get her inside, and he needed to do it now. He crouched next to the dog and let Bentley sniff his hand. He’d seen some homely mutts before, but Tessa’s was about as ugly as they came. Ugly and huge.

“Come on, boy. Let’s get you inside where it’s safe.” He slid his arms under the dog and was rewarded with a sloppy kiss that he would have wiped away if he’d had a free hand.

“You can’t carry him. You’ll hurt your shoulder,” Tessa protested.

“It’s already hurt,” he grunted, the strain of the hundred-pound dog dragging at his injured arm. “And if you don’t open the door so I can get inside now, it’s going to hurt more.”

She frowned, but ran to the door. Dirt clung to her pants and her down vest. Her elbow peeked through a rip in her long sleeved T-shirt, the skin raw and bleeding. She was worried about her dog’s well-being—Seth was worried about
her.

She ushered him through a large foyer and into a nearly empty living room. A dark brown couch stood against a wall and a rocking chair sat in front of a fireplace. A throw rug in muted greens and blues lay in the middle of the floor. No coffee table. No shelves. No books or magazines or photographs. A blank slate with cream-colored walls and dark wood trim.

“You can put him on the couch,” Tessa said, her voice trembling. “He’s bleeding. I really hope his vet gets here soon.”

He placed the dog on the couch and took Tessa’s arm. “Let’s worry about you now, okay? Sit,” he commanded, leading her to the rocking chair.

“The police—”

“I’ll handle it,” he cut in.

She leaned her head back against the rocking chair and closed her eyes.

“For the record,” she murmured, “I’m not good at taking orders.”

“I’m not ordering. I’m helping. But I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” He pulled a throw from the back of the rocking chair and tucked it around her. She still smelled like vanilla, under the musty aroma of earth, dead leaves and fear.

He shoved the envelope he’d brought her into his pocket and opened the front door, waiting impatiently as a police car pulled up in front of the house.

Seth knew the officer who got out of the car. Deputy Sheriff Logan Randal had a reputation for fairness and a drive for justice. Seth had worked with him on a few occasions, and he had a lot of respect for the guy.

“We got a call that someone was assaulted?” Randal asked as he approached the house, his eyes narrowing at Seth. “What are you doing here, Sinclair?”

“I know the home owner.”

“You’re the boyfriend?”

“No, he’s not my boyfriend.” Tessa edged in beside Seth, her shoulder brushing his arm. “Not that that has anything to do with what happened.”

“It has a lot to do with it, ma’am. Most victims know their attacker.” Randal moved forward, forcing them both to step back into the foyer.

“I didn’t know mine,” Tessa insisted.

“How about we sit down, and you can explain what happened?” Randal suggested. He placed a hand on Tessa’s shoulder and led her down the wide hall.

Seth could have taken that has his cue to leave, but Randal would want to interview him when he finished with Tessa.

That was as good an excuse as any to follow them into a large kitchen. Like the living room, it was pristine and nearly empty, the walls light yellow, the cupboards bright white. A small round table sat in the center of the oversize room, four chairs positioned at perfect intervals around it.

Randal pulled one out for Tessa and motioned for her to sit, his gaze on Seth.

“If you want to go home, I can send an officer to your place,” he suggested.

“I don’t mind waiting.” As a matter of fact, Seth was set on sticking around. He didn’t know what had happened out in the woods, but it was obvious Tess was in trouble. It wasn’t his problem, but if he could help out, he planned to.

“Then how about you wait in the living room or in your car? Another officer should be here shortly. He’ll take your statement if I’m not finished with Tessa by then.”

“How long will this take? My dog is injured, and I need to make sure he’s seen by the vet,” Tess cut in, her fingers tapping against the tabletop.

“You said the vet was on the way,” Seth reminded her.