Julie Anne Lindsey - Marked By The Marshal

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. The call connected and Kara gasped. Tears of relief blurred her vision.

“Garrett,” West answered, a bubble of laughter in his voice. Country music mingled with sounds of a crowd in the background.

“West?” she whispered, cupping her hands protectively around the phone. Not wanting to be heard by the man outside her door. “There’s someone on my porch and I’m freaking out.”

The background sounds grew silent. “Kara?” West’s voice was sharp now, followed by the distinct snick of a closing door. “What’s going on?”

She swallowed a yelp as the knocking grew into pounding against her spine. “Someone’s here.” The quiver troubling her limbs infiltrated her voice.

Kara swung her attention to the stairwell. She could be upstairs in twenty seconds, and at the backdoor with Casey in thirty more. Could the man on her porch break down the door in less time than that? What if he predicted her move and was at the back door when she got there?

“Sit tight,” West said with utter Garrett-like confidence. “I’m sending someone to you. Give me five minutes to route him your way.”

“Okay.” Her darting gaze landed on the hearth. “I might hit him with a fireplace poker.”

“Tell you what. Anyone comes through that door without an invitation, and you’ve got my support in doing whatever you want to him,” he huffed. “He’s not responding.”

“Your deputy?” Kara squeaked. Could the man on her porch have taken out the patrolling deputy?

The knocking stalled, and a new kind of fear clawed through her. At least while he was knocking, she knew where he was. A shadow fell over her front window and the silhouette of a man came into view. “Kara?”

The voice of a ghost permeated her glass. It twisted her core and squeezed her lungs. A strangled noise rose from her parted lips.

“Oh, my goodness.” Slowly, she moved away from the door, eyes wide, jaw heavy.

“What?” West barked.

“Kara? Open up,” the voice continued, more pleading than stern despite the sharp edge to his words.

She turned the deadbolt and opened the door with bated breath.

“Kara!” West hollered through the forgotten phone in her hand.

“It’s you,” she breathed.

Ryder Garrett, the ghost of love lost, stood before her in an arch of porch lighting. Hat in hands, he dipped his chin in greeting. “Hello, Kara.”

* * *

RYDER REACHED FOR her phone and spoke briefly to his brother in acronyms and grunts before returning the phone to Kara.

Kara batted dazed eyes at Ryder before inviting him into their formerly shared home. He accepted with a nod and tried not to wonder what her expression meant, exactly.

She worked her mouth closed, still openly staring at him.

He tried not to return the favor, which wasn’t easy. Kara was striking. He hadn’t blown her out of proportion in his mind. She really was the kind of woman who could walk down the street and cause a ten-truck pileup. Her pale blue eyes were lined in thick, curled lashes. Her cheeks and lips were naturally pink, though at the moment they were both slightly white from shock. He ached to kiss the line of freckles spilled over her nose. The ones she tried desperately to hide with makeup when they’d gone out for special occasions. He curled his fingers at his side, reminding himself not to touch her. He couldn’t do that anymore. It was a privilege he’d lost long ago.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, finally snapping back to life. She twisted the deadbolt and turned the lock on her doorknob before checking the window.

Did she really think any of that was necessary with him there?

He scanned the vaguely familiar room. Unlike Kara, the home was much different than he remembered. A giant mirror graced the wall above the fireplace where his massive mounted trout had once hung. Their engagement photos and candid snapshots had been replaced with selfies of Kara and an infant. He shook his head. The moment was surreal. It was his home, but it wasn’t. She was his girl, but she wasn’t. And the baby. Well, she hadn’t existed to him until three hours ago.

Kara cleared her throat. “Well?”

Ryder forced a comforting smile. “I heard you had a bad experience at the park today.” Ignore my poor manners for showing up at this hour, unannounced . He’d dialed her number a dozen times on his drive back to town, but couldn’t bring himself to hit Call. What would he have said? What if she’d told him not to come?

Her nose wrinkled. “West told you about the park? Why?”

“He was worried. Thought I might be, too.”

“Why?” she repeated. A flash of emotion passed over her stunned expression.

“Maybe you could tell me more about what happened today.” He inched toward the kitchen. “We can sit down. Go over the details.”

“Okay.” She ghosted in front of him. Flipping on lights and starting up the coffee maker. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

Kara kept her back to him as she prepped the mugs. Her head shook infinitesimally, and he was thankful not to know what she was thinking.

He didn’t mind the view, either. Being back in this place with her was a lot for him to process. He hadn’t anticipated the intensity of it. The sight of their old things. The sound of her grandma’s too-loudly-ticking wall clock, and the scents of that sugar-and-spice candle she loved so much. He smiled. In all the years they’d been together, Kara never let their— her —personal supply run out. One year for Christmas he’d bought her a case of those candles to be mischievous, but she’d been so pleased that they’d made love right there under the tree. His attention drifted to the exact spot, and heat rose in his chest.

The coffee maker chugged steam into the air, drawing his attention back to the kitchen.

Ryder blew out a long breath and refocused on Kara, but that didn’t help clean up his thoughts. And never mind the fact that Kara was wearing a tank top and shorts set that clung distractingly to her new, curvier...everything.

She spun on him suddenly. A frown creased her brow.

He jerked his gaze to her eyes. “What?” Caught ogling. Real nice . A true gentleman.

She shook her head again. “West told you that some creep harassed me this morning, and you what? Drove straight here from wherever you live now?”

He nodded slowly. “Cincinnati.” That almost summed it up. That and the fact that he believed her harasser to be a murdering psychopath, but there was no reason to say so until he was sure. For the moment, Ryder was enjoying this strange trip into his past. It was nice being there with her. Nostalgic.

Unfortunately, once Kara learned it was probably him who’d put her and her baby in danger, she’d want to coldcock him with that coffeepot.

She made her way to the table, two mugs in hand. The faint scent of cinnamon drifted in the bitter steam. He’d almost forgotten the way she added the spice to her grounds.

“Thanks.” He took a seat and waited while she did the same. “Can you tell me everything you told West about the man, plus anything you might’ve forgotten to mention, but thought of later?”

“Sure, but it’s probably nothing. I only called because the park was so busy, and I knew I’d never forgive myself if the guy tried to take one of those other children and I hadn’t spoken up.”

Ryder’s shoulders relaxed by a fraction. “You think he was a child abductor?” Timothy Sand was many awful things, but pedophile wasn’t one of them. Maybe he’d been wrong about this.

“I don’t know. He leered at me pretty good,” she said, looking fairly ill.

“What made you think the man might try to take a child? Did he try to take your baby?”