Shirlee McCoy - Defender for Hire

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No matter how many times Tessa Camry moves, her mysterious tormentor always finds her…and leaves a grim reminder of all she’s lost.But this year, no longer content to deliver roses, her stalker wants her dead. When former Army Ranger Seth Sinclair becomes her bodyguard, he encourages her to stand her ground, even if it means letting go of long-held secrets.Seth realizes that Tessa may be his second chance at love, but their future depends on finding the man determined that Tessa never forgets the past…

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SOMEONE WAS WATCHING HER…

No matter how many times Tessa Camry moves, her mysterious tormentor always finds her…and leaves a grim reminder of all she’s lost. But this year, no longer content to deliver roses, her stalker wants her dead. When former army ranger Seth Sinclair becomes her bodyguard, he encourages her to stand her ground, even if it means letting go of long-held secrets. Seth realizes that Tessa may be his second chance at love, but their future depends on finding the man determined that Tessa never forgets the past….

Heroes for Hire: Seeking the truth—at any cost.

“Someone is after you, Tess.

And I think you know who it is.”

“I don’t!” she protested.

Seth studied her silently, his eyes cold. “We’re dealing with a guy who sneaks around to do his dirty work. Someone who wants the world to see him one way, but who isn’t what he seems. A charlatan. Sound familiar?”

She almost said it didn’t, because no one in her present life was like that.

But there was someone from her past.

An upright citizen on the surface but as evil as they came where it counted the most.

Tessa stepped away from him, trying to clear her mind before she opened her mouth and changed her life forever.

“What are you thinking?” Seth asked. He could tell she was right on the edge of telling him something—something big.

“You just described my…”

“Your husband?”

SHIRLEE McCOY

has always loved making up stories. As a child, she daydreamed elaborate tales in which she was the heroine—gutsy, strong and invincible. Though she soon grew out of her superhero fantasies, her love for storytelling never diminished. She knew early that she wanted to write inspirational fiction, and she began writing her first novel when she was a teenager. Still, it wasn’t until her third son was born that she truly began pursuing her dream of being published. Three years later, she sold her first book. Now a busy mother of five, Shirlee is a homeschooling mom by day and an inspirational author by night. She and her husband and children live in the Pacific Northwest and share their house with a dog, two cats and a bird. You can visit her website, www.shirleemccoy.com, or email her at shirlee@shirleemccoy.com.

Defender

for Hire

Shirlee McCoy

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For nothing is hidden, except to be revealed; nor has anything been secret, but that it would come to light.

—Mark 4:22

To my family, because they know me well

and love me anyway.

Contents

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

Black.

Not the color of love, friendship, admiration.

The color of sorrow and death.

Tessa Camry lifted the single long-stemmed rose from the hood of her car and tossed it into her yard.

Five years.

Five black roses.

She glanced around the quiet neighborhood and saw nothing out of place. She never did. One rose every year to remind her. That was it. As if she needed anything to keep the memories from dying.

She slid into her Ford Mustang, backing down the long driveway, her skin crawling. Five towns. Five states. And still the flower had found her. She’d come to expect that it would, but that didn’t mean she was happy about it.

“It’s not like you went to a lot of effort to hide,” she muttered, her words echoing hollowly in the car.

True. She hadn’t been hiding, but she hadn’t announced her location, either. No Christmas cards or phone calls—no contact with anyone from the past. Nothing to tie her to her college years, her married years.

The mission trip.

She shoved the thought away, checking her mirror several times as she made her way along the winding country road. Not a car in sight, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the person who had left the rose was following her; that the past was running toward her and one day it might catch hold and refuse to let go.

She shuddered as she pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of Centennial Physical Therapy. The small white building gleamed in the early morning sunlight. Tessa had been working there part-time as a physical therapist for five months. She didn’t need the money—she needed the distraction.

And today, she needed it more than ever.

She jumped out of the car and jogged to the small reception area, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. The memories were too close, and she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in her work. To forget what day it was, bury what had happened five years ago in flurry of activity that would exhaust her.

“Finally!” Dana Langtry looked up from the computer. Small and compact, her blond hair cropped short, Dana was energetic, efficient and friendly. She was also blunt and tough—a good combination for a physical therapist’s assistant.

“I’m fifteen minutes early,” Tessa pointed out as she went through the motions of shrugging out of her coat and pulling her hair into a ponytail, trying to pretend it was any other day rather than the day.

“Well, our first patient beat you by ten minutes.” Dana handed Tessa a clipboard with the patient’s chart.

“This is the new client that called last week, right?”

“Yes. I put him in room one.” Dana glanced over her shoulder, then leaned close. “And, just between you and me, I think he looks like trouble.”

“How so?” Tessa asked absently, her heart still thumping too hard, her pulse thrumming in the aftermath of her frantic drive from home.

“Just a vibe that I’m getting.” Dana lowered her voice a notch. “Too bad Sam isn’t here. I’d rather he deal with the guy.”

“I’ll be fine, Dana.” The last thing she needed was Sam Marne coming to the office to take a patient that he’d assigned to her. Sam had opened Centennial Physical Therapy five years ago and had slowly been building his clientele since then. The fact that he’d needed help at the same time that Tessa had wanted a part-time job had worked out well for both of them, and Tessa had no intention of messing with the arrangement.

“Probably, but I could just call Sam and—”

“It’s his day off. If we call him in, he won’t have any use for me, and I’ll be out of a job.” Tessa forced a smile as she glanced through the chart. Seth Sinclair. 34. Recovering from shoulder surgery.

“I still think we should call him,” Dana huffed.

“I’ve been a physical therapist for a long time, and I’ve dealt with a lot of patients who look like trouble. There’s no reason to call for backup,” Tessa responded. “Besides, Darius Osborne referred the guy. He wouldn’t have done it if he thought the man was a serial killer.”

Darius, a childhood friend, was the reason Tessa had moved to Pine Bluff, Washington. She’d attended his wedding the year before and fallen in love with the area. After so many years of wandering, it had seemed like the perfect place to settle for good.

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