Читать книгу A Promise to Protect - Liz Johnson - Страница 13

FOUR

Matt growled deep in his throat, his knee screaming as he sailed across the lawn toward the figure still in shadows. This could be the guy who had threatened Ashley. This was his chance to pin down the jerk and get some answers.

It was dumb. Careless. Amateurish. The porch was welllit, and the guy was watching it closely. He should have pretended to leave and snuck around behind the guy, but it was too late now. As soon as Matt moved toward him, the man in black noticed and ran, too. His pace was no match for a SEAL running at top speed, but he had a pretty major head start. He hit the sidewalk seconds ahead of Matt, diving into a car idling at the curb.

Matt ran into the street, but was met only by the blaring horn and blinding lights of the car as it took off. He bounced off the offending hood and managed to land on steady feet.

Ashley ran up behind him as the car sailed away.

Probably a getaway car.

“Are you okay?” Her hand rested on his arm; it was strangely heavy for such a small woman.

He shrugged away from her touch and bent over at the waist, pinching his eyes closed against the fire searing down his calf. “I’ll live.”

Although the guys on his team would never let him live down losing a footrace to a thug, Ashley wasn’t quite as likely to ride him about it. Then again, he’d lost a valuable opportunity to end this whole thing right there. Maybe she should rag on him for it.

He should have caught the guy. Should have finished this thing.

“I think he’s gone.” She took two small steps back, reaching her hand out to him again, more tentatively this time.

He shook his head with a wry grin and straightened all the way up.

“What’s really going on with your leg?” In the dim streetlight, she glared at him. Hard. She meant business.

“Is that the look you give the kids here when they misbehave?”

“Yes.” She pulled on his arm until he stopped on the sidewalk leading to the front door. “I check out everyone who comes into this house, and you’re no exception. You don’t have to tell me the country, the mission or anything else classified. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I told you already—just a couple stitches near my knee.”

Her pale fingers squeezed his biceps like a kitten bite. “How many is a couple? Do you need to see a doctor?”

He looked toward the clouds covering the moon. How much could he say without scaring her? This wasn’t just about him. She had to worry about Tristan when he was deployed, too. She wouldn’t just dismiss the injury. She couldn’t. Not after ten years with a SEAL for a brother.

“About ninety.”

Her mouth dropped open, and her grip weakened for a moment. Then she quickly shook her head. “How’d you get them?”

“A guy with a knife who wasn’t very happy that I was trying to get us to the extraction point.”

“Who is ‘us’?”

He chuckled. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

She nibbled on her lower lip, staring at the ground for what felt like an hour. “Are you going to have to retire?”

He scooped her chin up with one finger; her skin was softer than suede. Her gaze darted around the street, around his arm, over his shoulder. Anywhere but his eyes. And it was suddenly clear. She worried about him. Not quite like she worried about Tristan. Not to the same extent, certainly. But she was concerned about his welfare, about his future.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been really concerned about him. Sure, the other SEALs watched his back, and if he was in danger he knew that any one of them would dive into the line of fire for him, but they weren’t so great at expressing concern—or any emotions at all. A punch in the arm was about as close as any of them got to saying “Hope you’re okay” or “Get well soon.” And aside from them, who else even gave him a second thought? His commanding officer was always yelling at him to be careful with C-4. His landlord was afraid he wouldn’t make it back from a mission and would miss a rent payment.

But genuine concern for him as a whole? Maybe his social worker from way back when, Miss Jorgens. She had looked like she was going to cry when she dropped him off with the Wellseys nearly thirty years before. Maybe she’d known then about his foster dad’s temper. It hadn’t stopped her from driving away.

Well, it was only fair that Ashley worried about him. He was going to worry about her, too, until whoever was harassing her was caught.

“Someday I’ll have to retire. But not this week. And certainly not because of this.” He dismissed his leg with a flip of his hand.

Her breath came out slowly between tight lips. “Do you need to see a doctor? Should I take you to the hospital? Or back to your hotel?”

He snorted. “Do you know the ribbing I’d get from Tristan and the others if I let you drive me to a hospital? I could be gushing blood, and I still wouldn’t let you do it.”

Her gaze shot to his, humor completely gone. “Are you bleeding?”

The air around them filled with his laughter. “No.” When the lines on her face disappeared and her shoulders relaxed, he winked. “I’m just slow and out of shape and apparently unable to dodge a car.”

She gave him a half smile for his half joke. Sure, he wasn’t in peak condition, but even with the leg, he could take most men. He just needed a little rehab. But he needed to work on that while he was in town.

“I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

When she was convinced of his general health, her eyebrows knitted together. “What about the guy that was here? Did you see his face? Or what kind of car he got into?”

“No.” He slapped his hand against his thigh. It’d been dark, the man mostly in shadows, and all he’d seen of the car were blinding high beams. “But maybe you should call Chief Donal and let him know you had a prowler.”

“I will.” She glanced over her shoulder at the front door. “Will we see you tomorrow?”

And tonight, if you look out your window. There was no way he was going back to the hotel when there was any chance that the guy from earlier might come back. But he had a feeling Ashley wouldn’t like that answer, so he kept it to himself for now. “I’ll pick up what we need to fix those locks and be here first thing.”

She sauntered to the front door, but turned back when he said, “Lock your door. Okay?”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.” She offered a tiny wave before slipping inside.

He waited at the edge of the sidewalk for fifteen minutes, absently rubbing his leg, as the lights in the house turned out one by one. When all was dark, he strolled around the perimeter. No cigarette butts or footprints. Toys in the backyard clean and put away. The bushes hadn’t been trampled. No sign of anyone lurking in the area.

That didn’t mean their visitor wouldn’t be back.

So Matt settled into his truck, stretched his legs across the bench seat and leaned against the passenger door. Crossing his arms, he watched.

* * *

Ashley rubbed her eyes and covered a yawn as she opened the front door.

Matt’s hand, in midknock, dropped to his side. With his other hand, he held a brown paper bag out to her.

“New locks?”

“Muffins.”

She laughed as she grabbed the bag and poked her head inside. More than a dozen in different varieties; the scent of cinnamon and brown sugar rose on waves of warmth. “Thank you. I was just making an omelet. These will go great with that.”

Leading him into the hallway and over multicolored braided rugs toward the kitchen, she stole another sniff into the sack of fresh pastries.

The faces around the kitchen table looked up from coloring books and crayons with a mixture of surprise and concern. But their uncertainty disappeared as soon as they recognized Matt.

“Good morning.” He nodded at Benita from the doorway, as though asking permission to enter, and when she smiled at him, he stepped into the room, still leaning on the edge of the doorframe.

“You all remember my friend Matt Waterstone, right?” She set the bag on the counter, then got back to work on the omelet. She poured the beaten eggs into a skillet on the stove and added ham and cheese as she introduced the others. “Matt, you met Benita and Julio and the girls last night. And this is Meghan, Greta and Sara’s mom. She works the night shift at the hospital and just got in this morning.”

Matt offered them a wide smile, somehow making himself shorter, less intimidating. Apparently he didn’t take their welcome for granted, so he’d keep earning their trust. His broad shoulders couldn’t be helped, but he wasn’t so meaty as to look like a thug. In fact, he looked almost the opposite of the guy he’d chased away the night before.

The skin at the corners of his blue eyes wrinkled with his grin. How on earth did he look so refreshed? She’d lain awake for hours last night, listening for any sound out of the ordinary. And all she had to show for it were puffy eyes and a thundering headache.

“Very nice to meet you, Meghan.” Matt stepped into the room just far enough to offer a handshake to the middle-aged woman. “Your daughters and I played a board game last night, and I’m sorry to report that I lost miserably. You have smart kids.”

Meghan beamed at him but didn’t say anything.

Matt relaxed back into his spot in the doorway, putting his hands in his jean pockets, his elbows loosely bent at his sides. The dark brown of his long-sleeve T-shirt made his hair look even lighter than usual; several curls fell over his forehead. He tossed his head, sending his curls back into place as he watched the kids, who had returned to their coloring.

She hadn’t looked at any man more than just in passing since Paul, so why did Matt make her heart stutter?

When he caught her eye, he quirked the corner of his mouth and winked. She jumped, nearly sending the omelet onto the floor.

“What’s wrong, Miss Ashley?” Julio ran up to her, his little eyes squinting, two lines appearing between his brows. “You’re all red in the face.”

Of course she was red in the face. She’d just been caught staring at a man she had no business looking at. Avoiding Matt’s gaze at all cost, she offered a distraction. “Matt brought us muffins for breakfast. Who wants one?”

“Me!” Julio grabbed for the bag.

“Uh-uh, mister.” She shook her head. “The table needs to be cleared and set first. And would someone please call Carmen and the others?”

When all was ready and everyone had assembled, they squeezed around the long wooden table. Ashley told herself that she sat next to Matt so that he wouldn’t end up next to someone he might make uncomfortable, but that wasn’t the entire truth.

His elbow bumped hers as he shoveled eggs into his mouth, and he whispered an apology, followed by surprising words of praise. “You’re doing a good thing here.”

The affirmation sent an unexpected burst of warmth straight through her chest, curling around her heart and leaving her a little bit breathless. She was doing something important.

But then why was someone threatening her?

With the breakfast dishes done and the kids doing crafts at the table, she followed Matt into the rooms in need of window-lock repairs.

As he unscrewed a broken bolt, he handed her the warped hardware. “So do you want to talk about the girl you mentioned yesterday? Joy, right? Still think the threats are about her?”

Ashley glanced over her shoulder, peeking down the hall to make sure no one was close enough to hear them. She still whispered for good measure. “I can’t be sure, since the notes never mention her by name. But I just don’t see how it could be anyone else.”

“Tell me more about the woman who brought her here.” His attention moved from the screwdriver in his hand to land heavily on her face.

“Miranda. She lives on the other side of town and works in human resources at the tire plant.”

“The same one that’s been having layoffs?”

“Yes. Some of the women who work there have come to her when their husbands lose control. She always directs the women to me, and, if they want it, I do whatever I can to get them the help they need.” A ball thumped against the opposite side of the wall that she leaned against, and she gave it three sharp raps.

“Sorry, Miss Ashley.”

“Take it to the back patio, Julio. But put on a coat before you go outside.”

After several seconds, the screen door slammed, and she continued, “Last week Miranda brought this girl—Joy—to the back door, which was strange.”

“How so?”

“Miranda will tell anyone who wants to know about this place, but she’s never brought women by in person. She always said it would put her in a sticky situation between the employees she was supposed to serve and their spouses. Some of the women work at the plant alongside their husbands. Miranda didn’t want to get mixed up in domestic disputes that would spill into the workplace, but she couldn’t just sit back and watch when one of the guys took his temper out on his wife. My guess is that Jimmy is pretty—”

“Jimmy?”

“Swift. You met him at the police station yesterday.”

Matt nodded slowly, not like it took him more than an instant to remember the guy. More like he was trying to wipe away an unpleasant memory.

“Anyway, I think Jimmy pretty much sides with the guys in a dispute. As far as I’m aware, he’s never spoken to Miranda about her work with us. But I got the feeling from Miranda that he knows about it and doesn’t exactly approve, even though he’s never tried to stop it.”

“So if Miranda brought her in personally, then that means that Joy wasn’t a wife or girlfriend or daughter to one of Swift’s workers?”

Ashley chewed on her lower lip, rubbing a hand down the leg of her jeans. How much of her memories of that night were accurate? How much was conjecture? It had been so late when Miranda knocked on the door.

But it was their only lead and the only place for them to start.

“I don’t think so. Miranda introduced the girl as Joy. And, like I said, she wouldn’t say much more than her name.”

“So you just took Miranda’s word for it that...what? Joy was in trouble?”

“I didn’t have to take anyone’s word for it—her injuries spoke for themselves. She had bruises on each arm from her wrists to her elbows...and those were just the injuries I could see when she was fully dressed.”

Joy really hadn’t communicated beyond a few short statements. But the hope in her eyes when Ashley had asked if she needed a safe place to stay had spoken volumes.

Ashley had stayed calm and collected at the time, but thinking back now on that first encounter with Joy, she felt a shiver run along her spine. In all likelihood, the man who had caused those bruises was the man threatening her now. If he’d been that rough with Joy before she’d gotten away from him, Ashley shuddered to think what he might do to the girl if she was ever in his power again. No matter what, Ashley had to make sure that didn’t happen.

She jumped, pulled from her thoughts as Matt strolled past her, into the hallway and toward Lil’s room—the next room with a broken lock. Next to the laundry room, this was the smallest in the home. The single bed covered with a blue quilt looked even smaller than usual as Matt filled the space.

“As I was saying,” Ashley continued, “Miranda said she didn’t know much about Joy’s situation except that she needed a place to go. Somewhere out of town. I have contacts at shelters in counties around the state, so I was able to get Joy set up at one of them.”

“What did Joy say?”

“Aside from her name and age? Not much. Well, she nodded when I said I could set her up at a place out of town. Normally, if someone feels they need to leave town, I prefer to send them to stay with someone they already know. But she wouldn’t give me the name of her parents or a relative, so I had nowhere else to send her.” Ashley wrung her hands, reliving that night in her mind, second-guessing every decision she’d made to protect the girl. “Miranda seemed certain that she wasn’t safe here in town. That whoever was abusing her would find her if she didn’t get out of the county. I wasn’t going to leave her unprotected. She’s in a safe place now.”

Matt finished installing the lock and turned to face her. She took a deep breath as his frown deepened and the grooves at the corners of his mouth grew. His eyes bore all the way through her as he crossed his arms over his chest. In response, her back straightened and she tilted her chin up. Maybe her choices with Joy hadn’t been by the book—since she suspected the girl was underage, protocol said she should have contacted the police—but she stood by her decision.

He could fight her all day if he wanted. She wasn’t going to back down, no matter what questions he asked. She’d done what she had to in order to protect the girl.

If he didn’t like her answers? Well, he didn’t have to stick around.

She could protect the women and children living at Lil’s on her own.

An image of the shadowy figure lurking on her lawn the night before sent her stomach to the floor. What if she had another visitor and Matt wasn’t there to scare him off?

It didn’t do anyone any good to go over worst-case scenarios. She could do this. Paul had taught her that, after all. She was stronger than he’d ever given her credit for. She was stronger than Matt seemed to think, too.

“So Joy arrived right before you were almost run over and got that first note?”

Fists clenched at her sides, she started to defend herself. “I did the right...” His words sank in. “You’re not upset that I didn’t get more information about her before finding another place for her?”

He crossed the room in three steps, his stride swallowing the distance and invading her space in an instant. The intensity of his gaze left her struggling for air. He rested a hand on her shoulder and leaned in even closer.

Her breath released in a rush as she stumbled over the leg of Lil’s bedside table, but his grip on her arm caught her before she fell.

The force of his gaze didn’t lift, but at the last minute the corners of his eyes crinkled with a hint of a smile that never found its way to his mouth. “I’m so proud of you. Tristan talks about you all the time. He says you’re amazing and that you’re doing incredible things for the women here. He wasn’t kidding.”

Despite the blaze in her cheeks, she rolled her eyes as she searched for somewhere—anywhere—else to look. The spot where he still held her arm tingled like the buzz after a particularly sweet cupcake, and she slipped it out of his grasp, wrapping it around her stomach.

Whether the tingle originated from his touch or his kind words, she had no business feeling this way for any guy, let alone Matt Waterstone. Paul had made her tingle, too, at first, and she wasn’t about to go there again. That beast was laid to rest, and she was just fine on her own. She didn’t need any distractions from the women who needed her at Lil’s.

He dropped his hand to his side and stepped back, and she stole a full breath.

“Well, that’s the last of the broken locks. I’ll have to go to a different store to find a new chain for the front door. So we’re done for now.” He tossed an old lock in the air and caught it without even looking at it. “What’s next?”

She chewed on her bottom lip and shook her head. He had a plan. It was spelled out across his face in perfect penmanship. So why wasn’t he in a rush to put it into action?

“I suppose we better find out who might be after Joy.”

The floorboards creaked as he shifted his weight to the other leg, flinched and shifted right back. “Where do you want to start?”

“I’ll call the director at the home where Joy is staying right now to see if she’s said anything about who hurt her. Our only other option is finding out if Miranda can tell us anything else.”

“You think she wasn’t completely honest with you when she dropped off Joy?”

“There’s only one way to know for sure.”