The Marine Next Door (13 page)

“All he said was my name, too softly for me to identify a voice. Then some heavy breathing. And I didn’t hear him speak to you. It could have been anyone.” The arch of John’s eyebrow told her he knew she didn’t believe that. But she couldn’t back down; she didn’t want to admit that Danny had become a part of her life again. “And I never knew my ex-husband to smoke. He was always about being fit and working out.”

“You don’t have to smoke to have access to cigarettes and a lighter.”

“You can’t be sure it was him on the stairs either.”

“He put a lot of people at risk tonight.”

When the green-gold glare never wavered, she felt compelled to add, “Fine. I promise to call first thing in the morning and let my attorney know it’s a possibility, okay? So just drop it.”

John shrugged, his big shoulders creating a ripple effect in the kitchen’s quiet atmosphere. “Like you said, it’s not my decision. I can see I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

With just a few steps, he strode through the archway and left her alone.
Alone.
With Danny out there in the world somewhere, watching, waiting for his next chance to get to her.

Maggie ran to the archway to stop him before he reached the front door. “Would you like some tea?”

So much for standing on her own two feet.

She held her breath as John halted in the shadows of the unlit room. She knew they both worked in the morning, and the hour was already late. She knew the former marine had better things to do than deal with her problems.

Maggie also knew she really didn’t want to be alone right now. She’d never had an ally against Danny before, and had worked ten long years to get to the point where she didn’t need one. But please, please, please, don’t let John Murdock think she was such a crazy woman that she didn’t appreciate his help and concern. Please let him turn around and stay until she could get these nerves worked out of her system and become a competent cop and confident woman and think on her own two feet again.

She was still holding her breath like some kind of dumbstruck teenage girl who’d just asked the high school quarterback to the Sadie Hawkins dance when John turned around. “Tea sounds good.”

It was too dark to tell if the glare had disappeared, but the quiet depth of his voice skittered like a caress against her ears. Her breath rushed out on a noisy sigh and she tiptoed back across the cool tiles to turn on the light over the stove and pick up the kettle.

Nervous energy thrummed through her veins as she filled the teakettle with fresh water. Was this relief crashing through her system? Trepidation at entertaining a grown man in the middle of the night? Anticipation of forming an alliance that could, at the very least, give her an outlet for expressing the fears she’d guarded close to her heart for so long, and, at the very most, give her an extra pair of eyes and ears to help her avoid Danny and keep her son safe? Maybe her inability to be still had to do with something else altogether—something she hadn’t even allowed herself to feel for a very long time.

Awareness. Attraction. Desire.

She was so out of practice at relating to a man who wasn’t a coworker or a perp, and whose age landed in the eligible range between father figure and ten-year-old that she couldn’t be sure what she was feeling.

John Murdock was a fascinating mix of Jekyll and Hyde. Even if he refused to pin the ribbons and hardware to his uniform, he wore the medals he’d earned serving his country in every proud step he took. He walked on an artificial leg and had visible burn scars, but there was nothing weak or wounded about those broad shoulders and strong arms. He could be gruff and standoffish one minute, and almost possessively concerned the next. She should be afraid of a man who was bigger and stronger than she was. Yet every newly awakened cell of her body had been imprinted with the memory of what it felt like to be held by him—to be surrounded by his heat and strength, to feel secure in a way she never had before. And foolish as it might be, she longed to be held that way again.

History had taught her a bitter lesson about her inability to judge men. But tonight she was trusting another lesson she’d learned the hard way—that a man’s merit shouldn’t be judged by his outward appearance or his personality. Handsome charmers could be deadly. And maybe a damaged marine who showed up unannounced and uninvited on her doorstep in the middle of the night was someone she could trust.

“I figured you for a coffee drinker.” She pulled out the tea tin and sorted through the bags inside. “I’m assuming you want an herbal blend at this hour. No caffeine?”

The oak chair creaked beneath his weight. “Surprise me.”

Maggie opened the dishwasher and pulled out mugs and saucers. Trusting though she was willing to be, there was an unfamiliar intimacy about having a grown man in her quiet kitchen at this time of night that raised goose bumps along her skin. She set out the sugar bowl and asked if he wanted milk. Then she was back at the tea tin again, digging through it to find the precise flavor that appealed to her right now. Something to calm her ping-ponging thoughts? Or something to boost her courage? Maybe she was the one with the Jekyll and Hyde personality. She should double-check that Travis was still asleep with his ball glove. Maybe she should get dressed. Or at least brush out the sleep-rumpled hair that kept falling into her face.

“Maggie, sit.”

The mug she held clattered in its saucer before she righted it with both hands. Her heart thundered in her chest. “I don’t take orders like that very well. Especially from a guest in my own home.”

“Fair enough. Sarge, will you sit with me, please?” The deep timbre of his voice could be downright mesmerizing when he softened it like that. “I know I’m barging into your life, and maybe I’m not welcome, but I think you need to talk.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears, rubbed her damp palms over her hips and turned. A reassuring smile never quite took hold. “You’re welcome here. Always.”

“Sit.”

John’s quiet patience seemed to soothe her own rapid pulse. With a nod of acquiescence, she came to the table and pulled out a chair on the opposite side. “Where should I start?”

“Wherever you need to.”

His hazel eyes glimmered gold in the dim light of the kitchen, encouraging her to open up. But she couldn’t just jump into Danny Wheeler and the memories of pain and terror. So she pulled her feet up onto the seat and hugged her knees to her chest. She nodded toward the bedroom outside the archway. “I wish I had Travis’s ability to fall asleep fast and stay oblivious to the world until the alarm goes off in the morning.”

“That must make it easy for the tooth fairy to pay him a visit.”

She nodded at the silly comment, appreciating the effort at humor, but knowing she needed to steer the conversation toward more serious matters. “I checked his cell phone. It’s working just fine now. Maybe the moisture from the rain did mess with it, but I’m thinking he saw it as a way to spend some time with you. You’ve been a popular topic lately.”

“Yeah, he asked a lot of questions before you got home tonight—everything from timing his batting swing to wanting to know what it was like to drive a fire engine.”

“He probably loved that.”

“Well, I don’t drive one anymore.” His chest expanded with a controlled sigh. “But back in the day…”

“But you’re a firefighter.”

“Arson investigator. I go into a fire after the fact now.” She could hear him tapping his false leg under the table. “I’m not on the front lines anymore.”

“You were tonight.” The regret she heard in his voice saddened her. Although she didn’t see how having the brains, training and experience to do that kind of analysis and help put away criminals or prevent similar tragic accidents could be a bad thing. “Sounds a lot like detective work. I love the challenge of solving a puzzle like that. I’m hoping to make detective one day soon myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I just graduated with my degree in criminal justice in December.” She shrugged her shoulders around her clasped knees. Maybe she shouldn’t have revealed just how delayed she’d been about taking control of her life after the devastation of her marriage. But she suspected John had agreed to a cup of tea so he could get some facts to explain the harassing phone calls and arsonist in the building, not to trade stories. She needed to say something to alleviate his concern. She brushed a wayward strand of hair off her face and held it behind her ear. “Travis knows he could have called me at the precinct. Whether or not I’m in the middle of an investigation, they’d have gotten a message to me. I’m sorry he bothered you.”

“It wasn’t a bother. Compared to the way I used to live my life, it’s nice to know that I can still be useful.”

“Useful?” Surprised by the admission, Maggie dropped her feet to the floor and turned toward him, crossing her arms on top of the table. How could a man whose touch had blotted out her fears and whose quick action had prevented a small fire from becoming a big tragedy think he had nothing to offer? “You’ve taken on not one but two heroic careers. How do you figure you’re not useful?”

“Is it possible the calls came from someone besides your ex-husband? I don’t want to leave you exposed to more trouble because we didn’t look at other possibilities. Is there something about a case you’re working on now that makes you feel like you have to arm yourself at home?”

Ouch. She’d run into walls before. So it was fine for the man to come over here and question her, but if she showed any concern about him, the subject was closed. More Jekyll and Hyde. “I don’t know who you used to be, John Murdock. All I know is the man you are now. And if I didn’t think I could trust you, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“So you let me in.” She could learn a thing or two from his interrogation tactics. The man didn’t mince words or waver from his goal. “But are you going to answer my question?”

Maggie exhaled a surrendering breath. If he was going to be rescuing her son and holding her in his arms and insinuating himself into their lives, she supposed she owed him some explanation. “I’ve been a desk officer for most of my career. Not a position where you make a lot of enemies. My chief assigned me to the Rose Red Rapist task force—sort of an internship for detective work. But I’ve been a part of that for only a few days.”

“I imagine you could make enemies on a case as big as that.” John leaned forward, seeming to assess every response she gave. Maggie drew back a few inches. “That bastard was in the papers back before I went overseas. The cops never caught him?”

She shook her head. “The crimes stopped for a while and any leads the department had went nowhere. Now he’s back. There was a victim attacked with the same M.O. a week ago.” Maggie fiddled with the corner of the place mat in front of her. The unsettling events these past few days struck too personal a note to be attributed to someone who didn’t know her, right? Could there be another enemy out there? Was she so worried about Danny coming back into her life that she was overlooking a different threat? “I’m more support staff and investigator-in-training than a real detective yet. I blew off a reporter last night who thought I knew something insightful about the case. I don’t.”

“Would this Rose Red Rapist know that? Has anyone else on the task force been targeted?”

“Targeted?” The place mat crumpled between her fingers.

“Maybe your ex did send you flowers and a love letter. But an elevator mishap? Communication lines out just on our floor?” He pointed out just how personal the odd events had become. “Lines that were out until
your
phone rang at midnight?”

Her fingers fisted around the corner of the placemat. “Those things could happen anywhere, to anybody.”

“If you make an excuse for one more thing—” Maggie snapped her gaze back to John and that focused intensity wouldn’t let her look away again. He reached across the table and laid his fingers over her fisted hand. “Don’t tell me it’s nothin’. I know what scared looks like, and what a person does to cover it up. And, Sarge, you’ve got that look. If it’s not the rape investigation, then I’m guessing it’s your ex—and that it wasn’t a friendly divorce.”

A bubble of familiar terror stuck in her throat. Danny Wheeler wasn’t something she’d talked about with anyone except her therapist and Chief Taylor. But the bubble burst with an exhale of relief that he’d guessed her secret, and her fingers relaxed and slid beneath the warmth of John’s hand. “Pretty easy to figure out, huh?”

“He’s the one who called tonight, isn’t he?”

“I can’t be sure, but I wouldn’t put it past him to say something like that.”

What was it about those beautiful eyes blocking out everything else but their focus on her that made her think she could trust this guy? “Can you talk about it?”

She was surprised to discover that she could.

“I married too young and I married wrong. Danny Wheeler was abusive. Very.” Her fingers flinched as she spoke, but John’s grip around her hand was rock-steady—the same way his arms had been when he’d held her so close. Just like before, his touch steadied her nerves and allowed her to choose her words very carefully. “That’s why Chief Taylor thought I’d be a good fit for the task force. I’m a rape victim, too.”

Those eyes finally blinked and looked away. She could only imagine what kind of curse or emotion that steely jaw was crushing into silence. With another blink, John looked at her again. His grip on her hand shifted. Tightened. The intimacy of the night shrank down to the graze of a callused thumb over the tender skin on the inside of his wrist. “Can you tell me about it?”

“I tried to leave him once. We had a daughter.”

“Did he ever…?”

“Hurt her?” Danny had never laid a hand on their daughter. And yet… “Angel wasn’t even in school yet when Danny took her. You know, to make me come back. He got drunk and passed out. By the time I got there, she’d wandered out of the motel room where he was hiding and got hit by a car.”

John was observant enough to know how that accident had turned out. “Please tell me there’s something positive coming out of this story.”

Maggie’s fingers danced inside John’s grip. The only silver lining to this story was asleep with his ball glove in the next room. “That’s when I knew there was no chance at reconciliation, that even if Danny stopped drinking, I couldn’t be with him again. I filed for divorce. I was moving my things out of our apartment when he…trapped me on the elevator.”