Diana Palmer - Protector

She smiled shyly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’ve never had better food anywhere.”

She laughed again. “Thanks.”

He took a bite of mashed potatoes, perfectly seasoned, and savored them.

“Your investigator wants to come and see you in the morning, to keep you up-to-date on the case,” she said suddenly. “Yancy thinks he may have a lead. I wanted to make sure you were feeling up to it first, though.”

His face became somber. “I’ll be up to it. I want to find out who tried to kill me.”

She nodded. “I don’t blame you for that. Copper said if you hadn’t moved when you did, it would have hit you square in the center of your forehead.”

He was grim. “Yes. That means a professional hitman.”

“That’s what Yancy thinks, too. The shot cartridge was from a sniper rifle, according to Cash Grier.”

“It will be a short list of suspects,” he added quietly. “That sort of talent doesn’t come cheap.”

“I know.”

He had a sudden thought, and he frowned. “Don’t stick your nose in this,” he cautioned. “I don’t want you in the line of fire.”

Her eyes widened.

He glowered at her. “You have two little dependents who need nurturing,” he explained. “They don’t have anybody else.”

“Bull. They have Aunt Sarah. She’d take care of them.”

“Not like you do,” he replied.

She smiled. “It’s one of the biggest stories of the year,” she pointed out. “And I’ve got an exclusive. You can’t leave.”

“Excuse me?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “We’ve got all your clothes in the wash, except the pajamas you’re wearing. Try walking home like that.”

“Walking?”

“Well, I’m not driving you or loaning you a vehicle,” she said matter-of-factly. Her eyes were twinkling. “You’d have to have help to break out of here, and I’ve already threatened everybody who knows you.” She leaned forward. “I know things about all of them and I own a newspaper.”

He burst out laughing. “That’s not fair.”

“Hey, this incredible scoop just landed in my lap and you think I’m going to give it up without a fight?”

“Uh-huh,” he mused. “So that’s why you were so eager to give me a home while I mend.”

“Caught me,” she laughed.

He cocked his blond head and studied her with open curiosity. It sounded good. But he knew better. Minette didn’t have a poker face. At least, not a good one.

She didn’t like that intent stare. It made her uncomfortable. “Stop that,” she muttered.

He smiled at the color in her cheeks. She was pretty when she blushed. “Sorry.”

“I was kidding,” she added after a minute. “You’re the best sheriff we’ve ever had. None of us want to lose you. There were lots of people who offered to take you in, you know. I was just quicker than the rest of them.”

His dark eyes smiled into hers. “Okay. Thanks. And I’ll tell you what I can, when I figure out what’s going on.”

“I know that.”

“But you’re not printing a word until I give you a green light.”

She crossed her heart.

“I mean it.”

She crossed her heart again.

He laughed. “Well, we can argue later. Right now, my excellent mashed potatoes are getting cold.”

“You go right ahead and eat. I’ll go check on the kids. Sarah or I will be back for the tray in a few minutes. Is the pain easing a bit?”

He nodded. “Thanks,” he said stiffly.

“I know you don’t like taking medicine,” she replied. “I know why.”

The truce was over, just that quickly. He saw Bobby’s white, dead face, the track marks down his arms from drug abuse. Bobby had died of an overdose. Minette didn’t know that she was involved in that death. He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know. But in the end, he heard his father’s voice, and his own promise, and he couldn’t do it.

Minette grimaced. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m really, really sorry.”

He averted his eyes. He started eating again and didn’t say another word.

Minette went out and closed the door behind her, gritting her teeth. Of all the stupid, stupid things to say! She could have pinched herself. Just when they were getting along, she had to drag up a bitter memory and hit him in the face with it.

“That’s the way, Minette,” she muttered to herself, “ruin everything, why don’t you?”

Aunt Sarah glanced at her as she came into the kitchen. “Talking to yourself again,” she observed. “Men with nets are lurking.”

She waved her hand. “They’d never catch me. I’d throw down a couple of homemade, buttered rolls and they’d kill themselves fighting over them.”

Sarah laughed with delight. “That’s true enough, sweet,” she agreed. “You really can cook. How’s Hayes?” she added.

“Mad,” Minette sighed, perching against the counter. “I mentioned why he hated drugs and the truce went over the hill.”

Sarah grimaced.

“Me and my big mouth,” Minette said heavily. “I just never know when to keep it shut, do I?”

“He won’t believe the truth, after all this time, will he?” she asked.

Minette shook her head. “I don’t know why he hates me so much.”

Neither did Sarah. But she was older than Minette and she’d heard enough gossip to have a faint idea of what might be the problem. She didn’t have the heart to share that information with Minette, however. Some secrets should never be told.

Minette frowned at the guilty expression on her great-aunt’s face. “What do you know, Aunt Sarah?”

“Me?” Sarah acted for all she was worth. “What do you mean, child?”

The innocent act worked. Minette couldn’t see through it. “Sorry,” she replied. “I’m just edgy.”

“I know.” She was somber. “Somebody wants Hayes dead. I hope they can find out who, before they try again.”

“Yancy Dean is one of the best investigators we’ve ever had,” Minette reminded her. “He came out here from Dade County, Florida, and a Miami cop is no slouch.”

“I agree.”

“Besides, Zack Tallman could dig information out of a dry turnip. The pair of them are almost invincible.”

“I heard something today.”

Minette moved closer. “What?”

“Yancy went to see Cash Grier.”

Minette sat down at the table with the older woman. “I know. He’s trying to find out who the shooter was.”

Sarah leaned forward, as if the walls themselves had ears. “Cash still has contacts in covert ops. He knows where to find out things. If it’s local talent, he’ll ferret it out, Yancy says.”

“Yancy’s sharp.”

“Yes. So is Zack,” Sarah agreed. “You mark my words, it’s this drug cartel that’s responsible. Somehow, Hayes is in the middle of a turf war.”

“He catches crooks. It’s an unpopular profession.”

Sarah nodded. “And he takes chances, honey.”

Minette’s black eyes were sad. “I noticed. This is his third gunshot wound. Sooner or later, he’s going to get one they can’t fix.”

“It’s so odd, too, isn’t it?” Sarah asked, thinking aloud. “I mean, Dallas Carson never got shot even once, and he was sheriff here for twenty years. We’ve never had a police chief take a bullet, either. But Hayes gets hit three times.”

Minette frowned. “Maybe it’s just bad luck.”

“It’s indifference,” Sarah said quietly. “He doesn’t care if he dies.”

Minette’s face went pale. She tried to hide it, but the older woman knew her too well.

Sarah laid a hand over Minette’s. “He’s alone. Well, except for this time, when he needed family around him, and he had nobody. He hasn’t had a family since his father died. He lost his mother when Bobby was in high school, then he lost Bobby. Dallas had a heart attack. So now there’s just Hayes. He has no girlfriend, no close relatives, nobody. It’s almost Thanksgiving, too, which reminds him that he’s all by himself in the world.”