Shirlee McCoy - The Defender's Duty

Then again, she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the next few hours hungry.

Her Mustang was parked a few feet from the porch and it would only take seconds to grab the duffel bag she’d left in the passenger’s seat. She knew she had pretzels and a Coke in there. Her stomach rumbled, cementing her decision.

She hurried down the porch stairs and opened the car door, grabbing the duffel and locking the car again. “We wouldn’t want someone to steal you, Bess. Another hundred thousand miles and you’ll officially be a relic. Don’t worry, I won’t get rid of you. I’ll just get you a nip and a tuck and a brand-new engine.”

“Do you always talk to your car?” The voice was as deep and rich as dark chocolate, and Lacey recognized it immediately.

She pivoted, searching the shadows until she caught sight of Jude’s tall, rangy form near the corner of the house. His shoulder was pressed against the siding as if he needed the support to stay on his feet.

That concerned Lacey, and she walked to his side, studying his face in the moon’s reflected light. “Bess isn’t a car. She’s a personality.”

“She looks it. How long have you had her?”

“I bought her when I was a senior in high school.”

“So, that was what? Five years ago?”

“I’m flattered, but high school was a few more years ago than that.”

“Seven, then. Or eight.”

“Try eleven.”

“That makes you, what? Twenty-nine?”

“Twenty-eight. Soon to be twenty-nine. Not that I’m counting or anything.” She smiled, wishing she could see his face more clearly.

Why was he outside leaning against the house instead of inside sleeping?

If she’d known him better, she would have asked. Lots of her clients suffered from insomnia. Some because of pain. Others because they knew the end was near and didn’t want to miss a minute of time. She had a feeling something else had Jude up wandering around outside in the wee hours of the morning.

“Why wouldn’t you want to count? You’re still a babe in the woods.”

“Not even close.” She unzipped the duffel and pulled out the bag of pretzels, opening it quickly and eating one. What she really wanted was chocolate. Lots of it. Based on what she’d seen so far, working for Jude was going to be a three-chocolate-bar-a-day job. She should have grabbed her emergency supply from the glove compartment, but there was no way she was going to do it now. Not while Jude was watching with dark, curious eyes.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Let me guess. You didn’t want to waste money stopping to eat on your way here.”

“Something like that.” And she hadn’t wanted to stop until she’d reached the assignment. She liked being busy. Downtime wasn’t something she handled well. Fortunately, Helping Hands had plenty of business, and Lacey never had more than a day or two when she wasn’t working.

“Then I wouldn’t want to keep you from your early-morning snack. Enjoy it.” He straightened and limped toward the back of the house, dismissing Lacey with an abruptness that other people might have found rude.

Lacey found it telling.

Pain often made people want to hide away from the world. According to his client file, Jude had been living with intense pain for two months. Who knew what was on his mind or in his heart because of it?

She fell into step beside him.

“Pretzel?” She held out the bag, but Jude ignored it.

“Go inside, Lacey. I didn’t need you an hour ago, and I don’t need you now.”

“Who said anything about need? You’re awake. I’m awake. Why not spend some time getting to know each other?”

“I’m not in the mood for company.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t need some.”

“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that much.” He smiled, the grim turn of his lips doing nothing to ease the harsh lines and angles of his face.

“That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

“I’m sure that’s what the other four aides my brother hired thought. They lasted a total of two and a half weeks.”

“You sound proud of that.”

“Do I?” He turned and headed back to the house, the long-sleeved T-shirt he wore not nearly enough protection against the cold. At least he’d put on shoes when he’d come outside this time.

“I’ve worked with a lot tougher clients than you, Jude.”

“You sound proud of that.”

Lacey laughed, surprised that the grim-faced man beside her had any humor in him at all. “We’re all good at something. I’m good at dealing with people like you.”

“Like me?”

“Difficult people. People no one else wants to work with.”

“I think I’m insulted.”

“Why? You created your reputation.”

“True, but I didn’t expect you to tell me what it was to my face.”

“Just because I look like a pushover doesn’t mean I am one. As a matter of fact—”

“Shh.” He put a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place.

“What—”

“I hear a car.”

“There are lots of them around.”

“Not on this road.” He pulled her to a shadowy corner outside the house. “Don’t move. Okay?”

She nodded, fear pulsing sharply in her chest.

Who did Jude think was coming?

The car rolled into view, turning onto the long driveway that led to the house and stopped. Dark and sleek. Newer. If there was a license plate, Lacey couldn’t see it. She leaned forward, craning her neck to get a better look, but Jude tugged her back, pressing her against the house with his body. Moving into her space. Stealing her breath as he whispered in her ear. “I said don’t move.”

Lacey wanted to slip away, peer around the side of the house and figure out exactly what was going on, but Jude’s chest pressed against her back, his breath tickling her ear, and she knew if she moved he’d only press closer. She didn’t like people in her space. Especially if those people were men.

“I can’t see a license plate. Stay here. I’m going to see if I can get a look at the driver.” Jude eased away, and Lacey breathed a sigh of relief, turning to face him.

“You can’t—” The words lodged in her throat as she caught sight of Jude’s gun.

“Sure I can. Stay here, Lacey. I don’t want to shoot the wrong person.”

“Jude!”

But he’d already moved away, was slipping through the darkness, part of the shadows and barely visible.

Leaving her standing in the darkness. Alone. Praying that whoever was in that car had a good reason for idling at the top of the driveway and that Jude wouldn’t end up killing someone. Or being killed.

Having her client murdered while she watched was not how Lacey intended to spend her first night in Lynchburg. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket, frowning when she realized the battery had died.

Stupid, Lacey.

Don’t you ever think?

The words were from the past, and she pushed them aside. She couldn’t use her cell phone, but she could keep her new client from getting himself killed.

She hoped.

“A plan would be nice right about now, Lord.” She whispered the prayer as she crept toward the front of the house. Her door was unlocked and open. All she had to do was get inside and call the police.

Piece of cake.

Sure it was.

The car rolled closer to the house. Jude inched closer to the car. And Lacey tiptoed toward the front door. All of them pawns in a macabre chess game.

It was a shame Lacey had never been very good at chess.

She kept moving anyway, danger breathing down her neck, reminding her of other nights, other dark, shadowy places. Terror. Anger. The overwhelming need to survive.

Memories better left in the darkest recesses of her mind.