Читать книгу Her Christmas Protector - Geri Krotow - Страница 12

Chapter 2

“He wasn’t just a vendor with an umbrella, I’m certain.” Zora spoke in the privacy of her car as she drove home, her mission to draw out the killer over. For today.

“I’m not doubting what you saw, Zora, but it doesn’t fit this criminal’s profile.” Claudia Michaels, retired US Marine Corps general and CEO of the Trail Hikers, sighed audibly over the secure cellular connection. “This is supposed to be one of our easier missions. I wouldn’t have risked you blowing your cover otherwise. Not this close to where you live.”

“We’ll get him. It’s not over.” The same foreboding that had struck her on the football field made her grip the steering wheel tighter. “But I may have blown my cover all by myself.”

“Go ahead.” Claudia’s voice remained level but Zora knew her boss was gritting her teeth—the secrecy of the Trail Hikers was paramount to its success.

“The detective assigned to the case—Bryce Campbell—was my neighbor growing up. He may have recognized me. If he didn’t, he’ll figure it out. He’s a smart man.”

“That’s not a problem. Detective Campbell has a stellar reputation and he’ll follow Superintendent Todd’s orders. I’ll double-check to make sure.”

Bryce must be one hell of a detective if Claudia was aware of him—he was SVPD, not fed or ex-military, as far as Zora knew.

“Are you going to tell me he’s a Trail Hiker, too?”

Claudia sighed.

“You know I can’t tell you who’s on our team until you need to work with them.”

“I do.” The Trail Hikers worked on a strict need-to-know basis. Zora had come to recognize familiar faces at the agency’s headquarters in Silver Valley but never pursued finding out who they were. There’d been no need to.

She’d know if she’d seen Bryce, however.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more careful with my disguise.”

“Go back to your civilian job, Zora, and we’ll be in touch soon.”

“Roger.”

Claudia ended the connection and Zora shut off her Bluetooth. The ugly brunette wig itched and she wanted a hot shower, a chilled glass of chardonnay and a couple hours with her favorite author’s latest novel before bed. Maybe she’d spend the whole weekend reading. She had a full day of clients on Monday in what she considered her real job—family counseling. Claudia referred to it as her “civilian job” because it allowed Zora to live a normal life while taking on missions as needed for the Trail Hikers.

Counseling was her vocation now. But when the client she’d been seeing since she’d started her practice had been murdered two weeks ago, simply because she was a woman and a Protestant minister, Zora had known she had to take the mission. Louise had been seeing her for over a year and had been the kind of woman Zora hoped to become. Wise. Compassionate. Generous.

Her killer could not go unpunished.

Forcing herself to ease her grip on the wheel, Zora looked out over the dark and quiet farm fields that surrounded the property she’d chosen to make home two years ago. The area had promised safety, a place to stop running. The farmhouse had fit her desire for a slower pace of life, a respite from the grind that a military career demanded.

Bryce’s presence, his stare, had unnerved her earlier. Of course she’d recognized him immediately—he’d been the only boy she’d ever let get close to her when she’d moved to Silver Valley as a twelve-year-old. Make that the only person, save her adoptive parents.

Her real parents.

And then she’d let Bryce down, broken their childhood friendship in the worst way. She’d left Silver Valley and never spoke to him again. Complete silence, no explanations. It’d been too risky to let him into her life completely. She’d believed she was protecting him from the worst parts of herself. She’d entered the naval academy without a backward glance at Silver Valley or Bryce.

Until tonight. He’d matured, grown handsome as she’d known he would. Seeing him again made her wonder why she’d been so awful to him, why she hadn’t at least written to him over the years and apologized for her behavior. It always came back to the fact that she’d never explained why she’d left the way she had. Revealing her reasons would mean revealing her past. And that would be too painful, too complicated.

By his reaction tonight she knew he still remembered her on some level. He might not have figured out it was her under the wig and bulky bulletproof vest, but she had no doubt that he would, eventually.

He’d remember.

Bryce had always figured out what was bothering her, how to make her laugh on an otherwise dreary winter day during high school exam week. He’d been the best friend a girl like her could have hoped for—funny, kind and respectful. He’d never made her feel he wanted to be any more than friends even when the sexual pressures of their teenage years had confronted them on a daily basis.

The headlights swept her long driveway as she drove up to her old, small farmhouse. She noted that her front porch light was out. She hadn’t had to change a bulb since she’d moved here, and seeing the darkness of the porch gave her the creeps. She parked and opted to walk around the well-lit right side of her house to use the back entrance. She had no close neighbors so she didn’t have to worry about explaining her wig. It was one of the many advantages of buying a home outside of a conventional development.

The back of the house was dark, too, and she waved her arm high to activate the motion detector light.

Nothing happened. No light.

Butternut’s sharp bark from within the house made her stop in her tracks. The German shepherd never barked when she came home. And those weren’t playful barks—Butternut was trying to warn her.

A twig snapped in the inky night in front of her an instant before something slammed into her chest, throwing her backward into darkness.

* * *

Bryce ran the rest of the way up the dirt driveway to the farmhouse. His gut had told him tonight wasn’t going to go smoothly, and it wasn’t only because he suspected Colleen Hammermill wasn’t who she said she was.

He’d heard gunshots while he was on duty exactly four times in his ten years with the SVPD. Two were when hunters had been in an off-limits area and one was when he’d fired his own weapon to take out a convenience store robber who’d shot a cashier and then pointed his gun at Bryce.

The fourth was ten seconds ago, in the dark fields surrounding the farmhouse he’d followed Colleen Hammermill to. Superintendent Todd had given him her address when he’d texted him after the ceremony.

“Need backup, Cherry Creek and Skyline Drive. The old Shropesbury farm.”

He shoved his phone back into his chest pocket and kept running, weapon drawn. He’d explain to his boss later why he’d made the decision to follow the “chaplain” home.

The house was dark but the side of the structure was lit as a dog barked incessantly, probably inside. He scanned the surroundings as he approached but found no one near the house. No one running away, either.

A still figure lying on the ground came into view as he crested the top of the drive. Sirens grew closer but they weren’t here yet. He did a rapid check of the shrubs and trees around the house for an assailant.

Once he was satisfied there wasn’t a shooter in the immediate vicinity, he went to help the chaplain. Backup would scour the woods around the farm later. She was conscious but looked confused as she struggled to sit up.

“Hang on, are you hit?”

A pale, feminine hand brushed her chest at heart level.

“My vest...”

“I’ve got it.” He lifted her school jacket up, revealing a tight-fitting T-shirt underneath. It was stretched over a bulletproof vest.

Holy shit. No way was this woman only a minister.

The glint of metal peeked from a hole in the shirt. The shooter had aimed for her heart.

“You’re okay. You still have your Kevlar on. Good going.” He eased her back and was relieved she didn’t fight him. She had to be on the verge of being in shock and the EMTs couldn’t get here soon enough as far as he was concerned.

As he laid her back, her red hair caught his eye, right at her temples. Where her wig was sliding off.

Her wig.

He removed it the rest of the way. Thick, lustrous red hair spilled into his hands.

“Zora.” He breathed out her name before he could stop himself.

“Bryce, I’m undercover.”

“For who?”

She closed her eyes, shielding him from the pale green irises he remembered too well.

She stayed silent, but was still breathing.

Did the shooter want “Colleen the chaplain” dead, or the girl—no, woman—he’d once dreamed of spending the rest of his life with?

* * *

“You don’t need to know what she was doing, Bryce. All you need to know is that she helped us draw out the Female Preacher Killer. Unfortunately, we didn’t catch him.” Superintendent Colt Todd spoke matter-of-factly, refusing to answer Bryce’s questions.

“We’re still not certain if it’s a he or she, and I disagree, Superintendent Todd. This is my assignment and that was my patrol last night. I have a right to know who’s working with me.”

“You know as well as I do that there are some cases we need a little extra help on, Bryce. And I appreciate that you kept your eye on the chaplain.”

“On Zora Krasny, you mean.” He’d gotten something out of her after she’d been examined at least. Her curt answers to his questions hadn’t eased his mind over who she was working for, however. She’d admitted she was a licensed counselor, not a minister, and had lived in Silver Valley for almost two years.

And had never contacted him or any of their high school acquaintances.

Whatever.

“Yes, Zora Krasny. Any reason why you’ve taken such an interest, other than for your operational needs, Bryce?”

“Yes, sir. We went to Silver Valley High School together.”

Superintendent Todd’s eyes narrowed and Bryce realized he’d never seen the superintendent taken aback by anything. He’d surprised him with that one, though.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. “She went to the naval academy, I went to Penn State, and I never heard from her again.”

“Sounds like a broken-heart issue. Not my problem, Bryce.”

“No, sir. We still have a killer out there.” He said that as much to remind himself. Zora’s presence was distracting to say the least.

Damn it.

“Yes, and I fully trust you’re going to flush him out, Bryce. We came close last night.”

“We did. Zora told me she caught a good glimpse of a male vendor at the game who she believes was suspicious.”

“Any chance whoever shot her saw her wig come off?”

“No, sir. I only noticed it because she was lying on the ground.”

“I don’t like that she was ambushed at her house.”

Bryce didn’t, either. Especially since he’d followed her home, and hadn’t noticed any other vehicles tailing and none in the surrounding area. That meant the shooter had been waiting at her house before they got there, and that the shooter most likely wasn’t the same person they’d tracked at the football game. But they couldn’t even be certain of that. Anyone who knew the local farm roads could have beaten the SVPD units to the scene.

Whoever the shooter was, he knew where Zora lived. Whether he thought she was Colleen Hammermill the minister or not was irrelevant.

Zora was in danger.

* * *

“What do you mean I can’t work out for a couple of weeks?” Zora hated how weak and squeaky her voice came out. She felt stronger than that, save for the pain that radiated through her rib cage. Whatever medication the doctors had prescribed last night hadn’t been strong enough. She’d barely slept during her mandatory overnight stay for observation at Silver Valley Regional Hospital.

“You took a bullet to your chest, Zora. Your heart stopped momentarily from the blow—if you hadn’t had your vest on we wouldn’t be enjoying this conversation, and you wouldn’t have another workout to look forward to, ever.” Dr. Mark Lassiter eyed her over his reading glasses, his expression uncompromising. They’d met when she did her hospital rotation as part of her counseling degree and struck up a decent rapport—enough that he’d asked her out on a date. She’d politely refused. Luckily, he hadn’t harbored any ill feelings about it.

She’d had top-notch care at the Harrisburg area’s new hospital, which sat on a sprawling medical campus known for its trauma expertise.

“I’m grateful to be here.” She winced as she struggled to stand. “I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass.”

Mark’s hand touched her shoulder and she sat back down.

“Trust me, in a few weeks you’ll be back in your yoga classes or whatever you’re so fired up about missing. But for now you need to rest.”

“Fine. And yoga’s not as easy as you think, by the way.” Since she’d left the navy she’d found a lot of joy in yoga, as it balanced her more than her running routine did.

Mark smiled.

“I’m in a power yoga class and I know what a good workout it is.” He held up his hand. “And guess what? You’ll be relieved to know I moved on—I’m engaged.”

“Mark, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you. Really.” Pain twisted through her torso as she took too deep a breath in her exuberance.

“Thank you.”

“This is going to hurt when the drugs wear off, isn’t it? That’s what you’re not telling me. I won’t want to work out for a while, will I?”

“It’ll be uncomfortable, yes. About the time your bruise turns yellow, you’ll be ready to ease back into your fitness routine.”

Mark turned at a sharp knock right before Bryce walked through the hospital room door.

“Detective. Just in time.”

“In time for what?” Zora asked. “Wait—no. I don’t need any more help.” No way was Bryce going to help her home. He’d seen enough of her vulnerability in the past twenty-four hours.

“Trust me, I don’t want to be the one to take you home but it’s Silver Valley PD policy—we take care of our own. You took a bullet from a criminal in our territory. That makes you one of us. I’m grateful you agreed to the bulletproof vest before you said the invocation last night.”

Nice save, Bryce. He left nothing undone. Mark wouldn’t suspect what she did in her hours away from counseling. To him, she’d been a lucky victim, not a willing participant in the effort to take down a murderer.

“That was a good call on your part, Bryce.” Mark looked at his watch, then back at Zora. “I’ll leave you now—remember what I said. No cheating.”

“Got it.”

Mark left the room and Zora’s skin prickled at her excruciating awareness of Bryce’s proximity.

It had to be the narcotics. They’d wear off as soon as he got her home.

“You look like hell.” His gaze assessed her with practiced attention to detail.

“Why, thank you. You’re as charming as I remember.”

“And you’re as untrustable as ever.”

“That’s not even a word. You mean unreliable.”

“No, I meant it the way I said it. I don’t trust you any more than I did when you stood me up.”

“Really? We’re going to discuss something as silly as a prom, something that happened fifteen years ago?”

“No, we’re not. And if it wasn’t so important, why do you remember exactly how long it’s been?”

She wouldn’t let him make her feel pretty, despite the way he was looking at her.

Nor would she let him make her feel desirable.

“Let it go, Bryce.”

“Ready to go home?” A nursing assistant pushed a wheelchair into the room and stopped at the bed. She looked at Zora, then Bryce.

Bryce didn’t budge.

“Here, let me get you into the chair,” the assistant said.

“I’ve got her.”

“My parents...”

“Were notified last night. I called them myself. Your mother is at your house waiting for you. I spoke to her earlier.”

Strong, steady hands grasped her forearms and her vision was filled with a white dress shirt, red tie and Bryce’s chest. It wasn’t the thin, teenage physique she remembered. Because she did remember every last thing about Bryce.

He smelled more mature, too. More sexy, as his cologne or soap was spicy and hinted at the power that his muscles demonstrated. She didn’t consider herself a petite woman by any means, but he moved her easily.

“I’ve got you. Take it nice and slow.” His voice, God, his voice! Deep, gravelly and all adult, yet still achingly familiar.

She’d missed him. She’d missed them. The bond they’d shared for the better part of six years, through their worst growing pains and hormonal fluctuations. They’d each dated others, but only fleetingly. Mere experimentation.

Nothing had come close to the chemistry and friendship that had grown between them.

You were kids. You were a lost girl. It’s history.

“I’m not an invalid.” Still, she leaned into him—it was that or risk crying out in pain and humiliating herself in front of both him and the aide.

“There you go. Nice and easy.”

He held her the entire way down to the chair, and made sure she was settled as comfortably as possible.

Blue-gray eyes were level with hers.

“You okay?”

“Yes.” She nodded to emphasize that he wasn’t affecting her, wasn’t doing anything but helping her get into the blasted wheelchair.

“You’re a real pro there, sir. You do this before?” The nurse’s aide all but drooled at Bryce. Zora damned the chair for not being powered. Zipping out of the room and back into her life without Bryce was beyond tempting. Of course, she’d have to run over Bryce to escape since he was standing in front of her.

“A few times.” Bryce left Zora’s vision and she was being propelled through the door, down the hall to the elevators.

As the aide chatted up Bryce, Zora allowed her mind to wander. Her first concern was her mother’s safety. Mom would be safe staying with her, since Zora had Butternut as an early-warning detector, and of course, her weapons. They were in a hidden storage compartment—she usually only kept one pistol accessible and used whatever the Trail Hikers issued for a particular mission, if any. Before the football game last night she’d signed out a few different weapons, just in case they didn’t draw out the killer in a predictable fashion.

She’d never expected to be targeted on her own property. Not without noticing a tail. Bryce had been behind her but not close enough that she could see him. The killer had beaten him to the house.

“Wait here while I get the car.” Bryce left her at the hospital’s portico. His butt was too cute, and it annoyed her to admit she was enjoying the view.

“He’s such a sweet guy. You’re lucky.”

Zora grunted and tried to clear her dry throat. It was like talking through cobwebs and exacerbated her nausea.

Pain meds—not her favorites.

“He’s a colleague.”

“None of my colleagues look at me like he looks at you. I’d say he’s interested.”

Zora craned her neck to look at the aide’s name tag. Upon closer inspection, the woman was much younger than she realized. The drugs were really playing with her reasoning. It wasn’t Bryce.

“Nice to meet you, Heidi Kurtz.”

“Same here, ma’am.”

“You really like your job, don’t you?”

“I do. And I’m taking classes at HACC to get my RN. Only two more semesters to go.” Heidi referred to Harrisburg Area Community College.

“That’s the ticket, Heidi. Go after your dreams.”

“Is being a police officer your dream?”

“Oh, I’m not...” She was a beat too slow but at least Zora’s brain caught up to her mouth before she blabbed anything Heidi didn’t need to know. “Yes, I’ve always wanted to help protect people.”

“The whole staff was abuzz about your injury. We don’t get a lot of gunshot wounds this side of the river.”

“They get plenty in the city.” Harrisburg had one of the highest crime rates per capita in the United States. At least her mind hadn’t seized completely.

“Yeah, that’s where I used to live. I went to elementary school in Dauphin County.”

“What brought you to the West Shore?” Keeping the aide talking about herself would prevent her from asking any questions Zora wasn’t prepared to answer.

Like why she’d taken a bullet to her chest.

“My grandparents. My father was never around and my mother’s been in and out of rehab, so they raised me.”

“Good on you for going after what you want. Your grandparents sound like good people.”

“They’re the best.”

The quiet engine of a luxury SUV hummed under the portico as Bryce parked his vehicle in front of Zora. It boasted a cheery Christmas wreath on its grille, complete with a red bow.

“Here’s your ride,” Heidi said.

Bryce was out of the driver’s seat and at her side before she could even try to stand.

“Here, give me your bag.” He took the small duffel and placed it on the backseat before he opened the passenger’s door and turned back to her.

“Thank you, Heidi. You’ve been most helpful.”

“No problem. It’s my job.”

Zora didn’t have to look to see the blush she was certain was blazing on Heidi’s cheeks. How could any young woman be immune to the high-voltage smile Bryce flashed at her?

“Okay, warrior woman, time to roll.”

Warrior woman?

“I’m not a warrior.”

“Save your energy for getting up into the seat.” His breath caressed her face as he leaned toward her and lifted her out of the chair.

A groan escaped her before she could check it. Damn the drugs and her resulting lack of control!

“Sorry. I know this hurts like hell, but it’s quicker and easier on you. I don’t think you’re up to climbing steps yet.”

The impulse to argue with him vanished at his words and she allowed herself to relax against his broad chest. She hadn’t been held for so long, and certainly not by a man she had such a complicated history with. Besides, she was blaming any foolish surrender on the drugs.

He placed her onto the leather seat as if he was putting an intricate ship into a glass bottle. She giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“I always laugh when I’m in pain. And it’s kind of silly how nicely you’re treating me.”

His gaze steadied on her. No drugs could keep the warmth of his nearness from creating a coil of tension in her midsection.

“It’s my job.”

He stared at her for a moment before he clicked the seat belt in place and closed the passenger door, leaving her to shiver without his body heat.