“Why didn’t you tell me you were being stalked?” Max asked.

“Because I didn’t know for sure,” Tara said. “I didn’t really believe it, until I saw…my dog.”

Max stared at her intently for a long moment, then leaned his hips back against her kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “You have fifteen minutes to pack.”

“What?” She stared back at him.

“Tara, I’m not leaving you here alone with some stalker on the loose. I’ll find a safe haven.”

Admittedly, the idea held some appeal. She’d be closer to the hospital, able to keep an eye on Max’s sister. And if she stubbornly insisted on staying in her house, she doubted she’d get any sleep. She’d lie awake, frighteningly aware of every sound.

But going with Max would be a risk, too. She was already feeling too close to him. Too grateful for his protection.

LAURA SCOTT

grew up reading faith-based romance books by Grace Livingston Hill, but as much as she loved the stories, she longed for a bit more mystery and suspense. She is honored to write for the Love Inspired Suspense line at Steeple Hill Books, where a reader can find a heartwarming journey of faith amidst the thrilling danger.

Laura lives with her husband of twenty-five years and has two children, a daughter and a son, who are both in college. She works as a critical care nurse during the day at a large level-one trauma center in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and spends her spare time writing romance.

Please visit Laura at www.laurascottbooks.com as she loves to hear from her readers.

The Thanksgiving Target
Laura Scott

In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From His temple He heard my voice; my cry came before Him, into His ears.

—Psalms 18:6

To my husband, Scott, with love—thanks for a truly

blessed twenty-five years of marriage. I look forward

to many more cherished years together!

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

“Wait a minute. Stop right there,” a female vice commanded. “Who let you in?”

Lieutenant’s Max Forrester’s head snapped up, and he belatedly realized there was a woman at his sister Lissa’s hospital bedside. A chair with a discarded blanket on the seat was tucked in the corner where she must have been sitting.

Who was she? The ICU clerk had told him Lissa’s visitors were restricted.

“Are you Gary?” she asked sharply, a dark scowl marring her otherwise dainty features. She was young, about Lissa’s age, her long dark hair pulled back in a braid that hung down to her shoulders. She was dressed in a conservative navy blue jacket and skirt, with an official-looking ID pinned to her lapel. Her radiating anger caught him off guard. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

Gary? Who was she talking about? He lifted his hands palm forward, hoping to calm her down. “I’m not Gary. I’m Lissa’s brother, Max Forrester. The woman at the desk checked my ID before letting me in.”

“Her brother?” The petite woman eyed him suspiciously, not giving him an inch. “Melissa didn’t mention a brother.”

She hadn’t? The news hurt. Why hadn’t Lissa said anything about him? True, they didn’t chat often, but she’d been happy to know he was coming home on leave to spend the Thanksgiving holiday together.

Glancing down at his sister, with her bruised and battered face, he realized this woman, who must be a friend of Lissa’s, had every right to be suspicious. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. Lissa couldn’t even breathe on her own because she wasn’t conscious. His sister must have been mugged to end up here like this.

“Here’s my ID,” he said, handing it to her. “I’ve been in Iraq the past three years and just arrived home on leave today. When Lissa didn’t meet me at the airport, I went to her apartment and her landlord told me she was here.”

The woman stared at his ID for a long moment, then handed it back with a weary sigh. “I’m sorry. I should have known Gary wouldn’t go so far as to disguise himself in army fatigues.”

“Who are you?” Max asked, putting his ID back in his wallet. “And who’s Gary?”

“My name is Tara Carmichael. I’m Melissa’s social worker.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gazed down at Lissa, with sorrow and despair. “Unfortunately, Gary is the man who did this to her.”

Tara Carmichael eyed the handsome stranger warily. Melissa’s brother cut an impressive figure in his camouflage fatigues, and she imagined he’d be even more so in action. Right now though, his tormented gaze was riveted on his sister, his face drawn into harsh lines of anger.

“What’s Gary’s last name?” he asked, his low voice vibrating with suppressed anger. “Where can I find him?”

She suppressed a sigh. “I wish I knew. Melissa never told me his full name. In fact, the last time she left him, she refused to go to the police to press charges. Even when I drove her to a women’s shelter, she stayed for only a few days before going back home.”

“What?” Max whirled on her, pinning her with his stark gaze. “Are you telling me this happened before?”

She swallowed hard, knowing his anger wasn’t directed at her. Besides, she had to admit, he was showing remarkable control. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Not this bad, just a few bruises but enough to make me concerned.”

He was silent, and she watched a myriad of emotions playing across his features: fury, despair, agony, helplessness. Finally he turned away, letting out a harsh sound as he tightened his fingers around the side rail of Melissa’s bed. His tortured expression of self-recrimination tugged at her heart. “I didn’t know,” he murmured, his tone full of anguish. “I honestly didn’t know.”

Tara wasn’t sure what to say. Melissa had obviously kept secrets. From both of them.

“She didn’t mention Gary or that she had a new boyfriend?” she asked, hesitantly. It did seem odd to her that Melissa hadn’t mentioned her brother during any of their meetings. Although maybe it was because he was so far away, stationed in Iraq, Melissa hadn’t seen him as a true support system.

For a long moment, Lieutenant Forrester stared down at his hands. “A few months ago, she did mention meeting a guy but didn’t really say much about it. I don’t always have a chance to respond to e-mails, especially once the fighting heats up. Weeks can pass before I’m able to return messages.”

She could only imagine how difficult it must be for the men and women who fight overseas. Even if Melissa had mentioned Gary, what would it matter? The damage was already done. Clearly, this time Gary had gone too far.

“I understand.” She tried to smile, but it wasn’t easy. Melissa’s situation was grim. When the hospital had called, letting her know about Melissa’s admission and suspected abuse, she’d immediately rushed over. Seeing Melissa in such bad shape had shaken her. Especially when Melissa had begged for her to keep Gary away, right before she’d slipped into a coma. There wasn’t much she could do at that point, other than pray for her safe recovery. But sitting there, watching Melissa fight for her life, she’d vowed to stay close, supporting Melissa’s escape from her boyfriend once and for all.

At least having Lieutenant Forrester here eased one of her concerns. Melissa wasn’t alone, not any longer. Between her brother and herself, she was convinced they could pull Melissa through this crisis.

“You’re Lissa’s social worker?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts. “That’s why you were allowed in?”

She hesitated, knowing she couldn’t tell him much about Melissa’s history of substance abuse without breaking her client’s confidentiality, before nodding. “Yes. The hospital called me when she was admitted.”

“I see.” Max Forrester stood ramrod straight, his military bearing ingrained to the point she wondered if he ever relaxed. A spurt of sympathy nudged her heart. This couldn’t be a very nice homecoming for him. After fighting for three years in Iraq, coming home to find his sister in the ICU had to be a shock.

“Have you spoken to Melissa’s nurse?” she asked, wishing there was more she could do to help him.

“Not yet.”

“I’ll get her for you.” Grateful for something constructive to do, she stepped out into the hallway, glancing around for Natalie, the young woman taking care of Melissa. Natalie was in by another patient, but as soon as she saw Tara hovering there, she finished what she was doing and stepped out. “Do you need something?”

“Melissa’s brother is here, having just arrived home from Iraq, and he would like some information on Melissa’s injuries.”

“Sure. I’ll be right in.”

Tara returned to Melissa’s room, and Natalie followed a few moments later. She introduced herself to Lieutenant Forrester.

“Melissa has two cracked ribs and a fairly serious head injury. The doctors have ordered another CT scan of her head for first thing in the morning, which should tell us if the injury is getting worse or better.”

The lieutenant paled. “Will she wake up?”

Natalie offered a gentle smile. “So far her head injury is serious, but if it doesn’t get much worse, she should recover just fine. I wish I could tell you more, but right now we can only wait and see how things go.”

He swallowed hard. “Thank you.” He looked so grim, his face drawn into harsh lines, that Tara had the insane urge to step closer and take his hand, offering him her support. But she kept her hands tightly clasped in front of her.

“I’ll need your contact information,” Natalie said, picking up a clipboard. “Have you spoken to the police yet?”

“No. But I’d like to,” Max said.

Tara was surprised to hear the police were involved this time. “Do they have Gary in custody?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” Natalie said with a tiny frown. “Officer James Newton gave me his card and asked me to call him when Melissa woke up so he could question her.” She turned to Max. “What’s your phone number?”

She wrote the information as Max rattled it off. “Can I have the police number, too?” he asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Natalie gave him the information and then glanced up when a shrill beeping echoed from across the hall. “Excuse me,” she murmured before dashing away.

With a grim expression, Max tucked the phone number into the pocket of his camouflage shirt. Silence hung heavily between them.

Smoothing her hands over her wrinkled jacket, Tara glanced at him. “Well, it’s late and I really need to get home. But I’ll be back in the morning to check on your sister.”

He stared down at Melissa. “I’ll stay here.”

She sensed his exhaustion and understood the desire to stay near his sister, but it was obvious that he needed some rest. Her social worker training kicked in. “Lieutenant, you should really find a hotel nearby to spend the night. Melissa is in good hands. The nurses here are wonderful. We’ve limited her visitors to protect her. You need your rest, too. She’s going to need your strength and support over the long haul.”

He remained silent, but she could see the emotional tug of war on his face. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted finally. “I’ve been on a plane since yesterday. Are there cheap hotels nearby?” His troubled gaze cut back to his sister. “I’d like to be close, keeping in touch regarding Lissa’s progress.”

“Of course.” Tara folded away her own problems and concerns, trying to remember which hotels offered the best prices. “The family center has brochures for all the nearby hotels, and I’m pretty certain a few offer discounts for families with loved ones here at the hospital.”

“That would be great.” He smiled, and she was struck by how his harsh features softened with the gesture. His eyes were the same bright green as Melissa’s. With his broad shoulders and chocolate-brown hair cut military short, Lieutenant Forrester was a very handsome man.

The realization made her stomach clench, sending her back a step. How could she notice Melissa’s brother in that way? She’d loved Ted, her husband, with her whole heart and soul. Her love hadn’t changed when he died. She’d vowed to love him forever.

“It’s no problem.” She worked hard to ensure her tone portrayed only the utmost professionalism. Turning, she led the way out of the ICU, taking the elevator back down to the main level, acutely aware of Max walking silently at her side.

She found the brochures in the family center, quickly pointing out several options before leaving. She needed some distance from the tall, handsome stranger. The bus stop was right outside the main doors of the hospital, so she walked in that direction.

Remembering why she was forced to take the bus, rather than her car, made her shiver as she stepped outside. When she’d left for work earlier that evening, she’d discovered someone had maliciously slashed all four of her tires, rendering her car useless. She’d called the police and waited while they dusted for fingerprints. Since she was in a hurry to see Melissa, she’d left her disabled car in the parking lot and had taken the bus to the hospital, rather than deal with the hassle of getting her car towed.

She couldn’t help wonder if the man with the navy blue jacket and baseball cap who’d followed her the other day was the same person who’d slashed her tires. His baseball cap had been pulled low over his eyes, and the collar of his jacket was pulled up to cover his face so she hadn’t gotten a good look at him.

Now that it was so late, she couldn’t help but glance around, searching for anyone wearing a baseball cap as she made her way to the bus stop.

The shelter outside the bus stop wasn’t deserted, as she’d hoped. There were two men standing there—neither wore a baseball cap—but one of them looked extremely disheveled, taking deep drags off a cigarette despite the signs declaring the area as nonsmoking. Her steps slowed as she hesitantly approached, and she glanced up the street hoping the bus would arrive soon. After her tire-slashing incident, it was difficult not to look at everyone around her with uncertainty.

She gathered her courage and lifted her gaze heavenward. Please, Lord, keep me safe.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she did her best to remain warm in spite of the chilly night temperatures. She didn’t have her coat; she’d left her office in such a hurry she’d forgotten it.

“Ms. Carmichael?”

The sound of her name had her spinning around in a rush, her heart thumping in her throat. Lieutenant Max Forrester stood a few feet behind her, his face etched in a deep scowl.

“Oh, no, did something happen to Melissa?” Fearing the worst, she took several steps toward him. “Is she…?”

He held up a hand. “No, she’s fine. Not fine, but her condition is unchanged.”

Relief flooded her. “You had me worried.”

“Ma’am, why are you out here waiting for the bus?” He swept a gaze behind her, noticing the two men sharing the bus stop with her. “It’s late, half past nine at night. You’d be much safer in a taxi.”

Her pride was stung by his somewhat condescending tone. She welcomed the surge of annoyance. Obviously if she’d wanted to take a taxi she would have. Maybe she didn’t normally take the bus, but she wasn’t about to tell this stranger her problems with vandalism. “Thanks for your concern, Lieutenant, but I can take care of myself.”

“Ma’am, I’m sure you can, but since I grew up in St. Louis, I know the crime rate isn’t something to brag about.”

“I grew up here, too, so I’m well aware of the crime rate.”

The fact they had something so minor in common shouldn’t have made a difference, but she couldn’t help feel a sense of kinship with Melissa’s brother.

“Fine.” He gave her a brisk nod that was more like a salute, widened his stance and crossed his arms over his broad chest, reminding her of a human shield. “If you’re going to ride the bus home alone, I’ll ride along with you.”

TWO

Her jaw dropped, and she gaped at him in surprise. While she appreciated his gallantry, his protection wasn’t necessary. There was no reason for her to spend any more time with him. Besides, he needed to stick close to the hospital for Melissa. “I thought you wanted to stay in one of the hotels nearby? There’s no need to go out of your way.”

“I’ll find a hotel room on the way back. There’s no rush.” He frowned, and his voice grew soft and slightly grim as he added, “Lissa’s not going anywhere. As you said earlier, she’s in good hands.”

Biting her lip, she pondered her choices. If she simply gave in and took a cab, she knew the lieutenant would step back and go about his own business. If she stubbornly took the bus, she had no doubt he’d ride along with her.

Trying to hide a shiver, she turned away, reaching into her purse to subtly check her pocketbook. She hadn’t spent any money on lunch, having packed some leftovers from home, but she had filled up her gas tank earlier in the week. She didn’t think there was much cash left and verified the dismal amount rather quickly. With a sigh, she closed her purse with a quiet snap.

There was no choice but to strengthen her resolve and take the bus home. Borrowing money from the stranger would be much worse than enduring a protective shadow on her ride. If the lieutenant wanted to ride the bus she couldn’t stop him. Besides, she didn’t have the energy to fight.

A heavy fabric dropped over her shoulders, carrying the enticing, musky scent of man. Startled, she glanced up at Max, who was straightening the camouflage jacket over her shoulders.

“You were shivering,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, dropping his hands and refastening his duffel bag. “And I appreciate your help in lightening my load.”

She wanted to smile at how he’d tried to make her believe she was really the one helping him, but sudden tears pricked her eyes. When was the last time anyone had noticed if she was tired, hungry or cold? Ridiculous to so grateful for a chivalrous gesture, and she swiped the moisture away with an impatient hand trying to pull herself together.

“Thank you, but I really wish you wouldn’t do this,” she told him. “I hate taking you out of your way.”

In that instant, the bus lumbered up to the stop. With a sigh, she took her place behind the man who’d been smoking, grimacing a bit when he tossed his cigarette butt directly in front of her before he boarded the bus. There weren’t many occupants at this time of the night, and most of them were men. One passenger wore a baseball cap backward on his head, but he looked too young to be the man she’d seen following her.

She slipped into an empty pair of seats taking the one closest to the window, not at all surprised when Max chose the seat right next to her. His broad shoulders brushed lightly against hers, and she found she was grateful for his reassuringly protective presence.

Safe. For the first time in three weeks, her underlying sense of fear melted away. If anyone was following her, he’d certainly think twice about approaching her now.

And for that small favor, she owed Lieutenant Forrester a huge debt of gratitude.

Max tried to ignore the rumbling in his stomach and slid a sideways glance at Ms. Carmichael, hoping she hadn’t heard the betraying sound.

He’d stop for something to eat after he’d seen her home.

Just then, her stomach let out a low gurgle, a grumbling sound that was even louder than his.

She blushed and let out a small chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m hungry. I skipped dinner.”

Max stared at her, realizing with a start how pretty she was. Her cheekbones were high, her skin translucent. In his anxiety over Lissa he hadn’t really noticed her mesmerizing blue eyes. Not that he had time to think about a pretty woman, especially since he needed to get back to the hospital to see Lissa. Even taking this much time away bothered him, but he couldn’t ignore Tara’s plight, either. Besides, he planned to be there for his sister, offering strength and support for the duration of his leave.

He didn’t want to think about what would happen once he returned to Iraq.

This wasn’t the time to worry about the future. Right now he was hungry. He’d already figured out that Tara didn’t have much money, especially when she’d subtly checked her purse for cab money.

They were both hungry and needed to eat.

“I haven’t eaten in several hours myself. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but seeing as this is my first night on American soil in three years, would you do me the honor of allowing me to buy you dinner?” He couldn’t help but produce a wistful smile. Did she have any idea how much he’d looked forward to his first American meal? The food they’d given them on the plane hadn’t counted, since he could barely recognize what it was. “It’s no fun eating alone.”

“That’s a kind offer, but…” Her voice trailed off, and he noticed she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. He was mentally prepared for her refusal when all of a sudden she abruptly nodded. “You’re right. It’s no fun eating alone. You’ve come a long way home, Lieutenant, after dutifully serving our country. I’d be happy to share dinner with you.”

“Really?” He couldn’t hide his surprise. Maybe she was simply taking pity on a lonely soldier, but he wasn’t going to argue. He was thrilled she’d agreed to accompany him. He’d hoped to eat with Lissa, but this was almost just as nice. “Great. Is there someplace we can go that’s close to your home? The only restaurant I’m familiar with is the one where Lissa works as a waitress.”

Tara tilted her head, regarding him thoughtfully. “I know where your sister works. It’s not far from Maplewood, where I live. And I happen to know they serve meals late, including breakfast if you’re in the mood.”

“Breakfast would be great, but I think I’m going to have a large juicy American burger slathered with the works,” he mused. A glance out the window confirmed they were close to the restaurant. “Let’s get off here then, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” She stood, clutching his camouflage jacket closer to her shoulders. He was glad she’d stopped shivering. Taking a step back, he gestured for her to move out in front of him.

The walk to the restaurant from the bus stop didn’t take long. Tara glanced at his duffel, as if worried it might be too heavy for him to lug around, which made him smile. He’d hauled his own gear over many a mile before, riding around the city in the comfort of a bus didn’t even come close to being a burden.

They took opposite seats at a booth. He opened the menu, marveling at the selection, but in the end, he didn’t change his mind about what he wanted. Tara ordered a chicken breast sandwich, and once the waiter left, he took a healthy gulp of his water, enjoying the icy smoothness against his parched throat.

Even the water tasted good.

“Lieutenant, tell me, how long will you be staying in St. Louis?” Tara asked.

“Please, call me Max. I’m home for just a twenty-day leave, but my tour of duty ends in another year. After that, I’ll have to decide whether I’ll reenlist or go back to the private sector.” Not that he had any clue as to what he’d do once he was out. The army had quickly become his life, and his men had become his brothers. He’d lost his best friend, who had died in his arms shortly after their deployment to Iraq, but even that tragedy couldn’t break the bonds he had with the rest of his men.

But his sister obviously needed him, too. More than he’d realized.

“Reenlist?” Tara’s big blue eyes widened. “I’m surprised you’re even considering another tour of duty. You’ve put in your time in Iraq, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” He finished his water and placed the empty glass toward the edge of the table, hoping someone would refill it for him. “But there is still a lot of work to be done there. To be honest, my decision was going to depend on Lissa.” His mouth tightened as he thought of his sister.

“Have you called the police officer assigned to her case yet?” she asked.

Max nodded. “I left him a message. I guess he works the day shift.”

“I’m really glad you’re here for Melissa,” Tara admitted, sitting back in her seat with a sigh. “And I’m relieved to know the police are involved. Gary needs to be arrested for what he’s done, and this time, I don’t think Melissa will be able to protect him.”

He scowled, wondering again why Lissa had even gotten mixed up with someone who’d hurt her. He simply couldn’t understand it. He and Lissa had been raised Christian, but maybe Lissa had fallen away from the church, just like he had. Losing Keith had made it impossible to maintain his faith. What had caused Lissa to lose hers? He shook off the depressing thoughts. “I’ll take care of her, don’t worry. I’ll move in with her and refuse to leave until he’s safe behind bars.”

She laughed, a light musical sound that tightened his stomach in awareness. “Sounds like a great plan to me.”

Their food arrived promptly, diverting his attention from Tara. His mouth literally watered at the wonderful scent of his burger and fries, and he hoped he wasn’t being too much of a pig as he heartily dug in to his meal.

Tara didn’t seem to mind. She was enjoying her grilled chicken just as much. “This is delicious. Thanks for inviting me,” she said between bites.

He knew he was the lucky one, sharing this meal with her. He wanted to savor the food and the time with Tara, drawing them out for as long as possible. But she was nearly finished, so he polished off the rest of his burger quickly.

“Are you up for dessert?” he asked hopefully.

She shook her head with an amused grimace. “Sorry, nothing for me, thanks. I need to get home. My poor dog is going to be sitting at the door wondering where I am.”

He understood she didn’t want to linger and signaled for the waiter to bring the bill. “What kind of dog do you have?”

“A cute little Westie. A West Highland white terrier,” she clarified at his puzzled look. “His name is Beau. I rescued him from the local shelter a couple years ago.”

“Well then, let’s not keep Beau waiting, especially if he’s been home alone all day.” He paid for the meal with cash, and thinking of Melissa living off her tips, he left a hefty sum.

“Well, I do have a neighbor lady, Mrs. Henderson, who comes over to let him out at lunchtime for me. She has a key and lets him out in the early evening too if I’m working late,” Tara said over her shoulder as they left the restaurant.

“Which way to your house?” he asked, feeling much better with food in his belly. Now if only Lissa would get well, he’d be happy. Or at least content. Was it selfish of him to want her home from the hospital in time for Thanksgiving? Maybe. “Should we walk, or do we need to catch another bus?”

“We can walk. It’s only about six or seven blocks from here.” She headed off in the opposite direction from where Lissa’s apartment building was located. She stopped and glanced at him. “If you’d rather head back to the hospital, I’d certainly understand.”

“Ma’am, it might be only six or seven blocks but it’s ten-thirty at night. I’ll walk you home. There’s no way in the world I’m leaving you alone at this hour.”

“If you want me to call you Max, then you should probably stop calling me ma’am,” she pointed out, as they headed down the street. “You’re making me feel old.”

“Old?” he chuckled, a rusty sound even to his own ears. “You’re young, probably the same age as my sister.”

She arched a brow at him. “I’m a couple years older than Melissa,” she corrected in a prim tone.

“Still very young.” Especially when lately he’d felt as if he were a hundred years old. Maybe in part because he’d seen things no man should have to endure. Despite the hardships, he firmly believed freedom was worth the effort.

Tara set a brisk pace, and he wasn’t sure it was because she was cold or because she was anxious to get rid of him. He couldn’t blame her if she felt uncomfortable being in the dark alone with him. After they walked several blocks she lifted her hand and pointed. “My house is over there, the third one from the corner.”

“The little red brick house with the white trim and black shutters?” he asked.

“Yes.” As they approached, she frowned. “I wonder why Beau isn’t barking his head off by now. Usually he hears me coming long before this.”

An icy chill snaked down his spine, and he grasped her arm. “Tara, wait. Maybe I should go up first.”

Tuning in to his abrupt wariness, she sucked in a quick breath. “Why? You think something happened to Beau?”

He couldn’t explain his trepidation, and he held on to her arm, bringing her to a halt. “Give me your key,” he commanded.

She handed it over, and he swept a glance over the area, making sure no one was lurking around.

He put the key in the lock and turned the doorknob, slowly pushing the door open. The house was eerily silent. From where he stood outside, he stretched until he could slide his hand over the inside wall of her foyer, seeking the light switch.

“Stay here.” The area flooded with light, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign that the dog wasn’t lying there on the floor directly in front of the door.

“No way. I’m coming with you.”

He wanted to argue, but then he heard it—a little whimper of sound.

“Beau?” Tara must have heard it, too, and she pushed past him, rushing down the hall into the kitchen, with blatant disregard of her own safety.

“Wait!” He grit his teeth with anger and followed, intent on keeping her out of harm’s way.

“Oh, no. Beau!”

When he rounded the corner, he saw what had caused her cry of distress. Beau was lying on his side—obviously sick, unable lift his white, fluffy head off the floor.

“Beau?” Feeling helpless, he watched Tara anxiously kneel beside her dog, gently gathering his limp body into her arms. She cradled him against her chest, nuzzling his head with her face as she stood. “What happened? Are you sick?”

“Here, let me take a look at him.”

She obviously didn’t want to let Beau go, so Max simply placed his large palm over the dog’s chest to check his pulse, relieved to feel the thready, irregular beat. “I think we need to get him to a vet as soon as possible.”

“The emergency clinic isn’t far.” Tara took a step toward the door but then stopped, her expression stricken. “I don’t have my car.”

No car. And a ride on the bus would take too long, if they even allowed a dog on the city bus. He quickly considered their options. “Does Mrs. Henderson have a car?”

“Yes.” Tara looked relieved and instantly rushed outside, headed straight for the house to the right, a robin’s egg–blue Cape Cod. She lifted her hand and pounded on the door.

After what seemed like a long time, the door was opened by a squat, round woman wearing thick glasses and a bright purple fuzzy robe. “Tara? What is it?”

“Beau is sick. My car has a flat tire, so will you let me borrow yours to take him to the vet?” Tara spoke loudly, making Max suspect Mrs. Henderson didn’t hear too well, and clutched the dog close to her breast as if it were her child. Max understood Beau was important to her. “Please? I promise to bring it back soon.”

“Sure, but what happened?” The woman opened her door and gestured for them to come in. “Beau was fine when I let him out about an hour ago.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he ate something that made him sick.” Tara looked impatient, and Mrs. Henderson must have noticed because she hurried over to her purse and dug out her car keys. Tara snatched them from her grasp. “Thank you so much. I’ll reimburse you for the gas.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just take good care of Beau.” The woman’s expression was one of concern.

Tara nodded. He reached over and took the keys from her. “Why don’t you let me drive?”

She didn’t argue and hurried out to the garage to Mrs. Henderson’s large, ancient green Buick. He closed the passenger door behind her and then hustled around to the driver’s side. He backed carefully out of the driveway. “Which way?”

“To the right, then left at the corner.” Tara gave him directions, dividing her attention between the road and her dog.

Her love and worry for her pet was obvious. He assumed she lived in the house alone with only Beau as a companion. The news that Tara might not have a man in her life made him secretly relieved; yet he knew it shouldn’t matter. Not when her dog was sick and his sister barely clung to her life in the ICU.

This wasn’t the time to think about the pretty social worker on a personal level. Hadn’t he learned his lesson before? He’d discovered the hard way that gratitude wasn’t the path to finding love and commitment. Besides, his future wasn’t his own; he’d be back in Iraq before long. He pushed the inappropriate thoughts of Tara away and centered his attention on the road.

“There, on the right. That’s the emergency vet.”

He saw the building she indicated and pulled into the driveway. He’d barely pulled the Buick to a stop when she jumped out of the car.

“Wait,” he called, but she disappeared behind the glass doors without a backward glance. He sat there, wondering why he was here at the vet when he should be at the hospital sitting beside Lissa. His sister should be his highest priority.

Yet he couldn’t simply abandon Tara. Not until he knew her dog was okay. She’d supported Lissa at the hospital, had tried to help his sister in the past, too. Tara deserved at least a little support.

Besides, he’d left his duffel bag on the floor of her foyer, so he’d have to go back there anyway. Rubbing the exhaustion from his face, he turned off the car and walked into the building.

Tara and Beau were already in the back, seeing the vet. Watching them in deep conversation made him hesitate, but then he decided he’d barged into her life this much, he may as well go for broke. He approached the desk. “I’m with Tara and her dog, Beau.”

“Oh, sure. Come on back.” The secretary/receptionist buzzed him through, and he found Tara, her blue eyes luminous with tears.

“I don’t understand how this could have happened,” she was saying in a low husky tone. “My neighbor Mrs. Henderson lets him outside for me, but she wouldn’t hurt him. And I don’t think she takes him out of the area between our yards. Are you sure he couldn’t have simply eaten something bad? Something poisonous to dogs?”

“I’m sure.” The vet was an older man with a kind, gentle expression. “Leave him with me, and I’ll have him fixed up just fine in a few days. You can call to check on him anytime.”

Tara didn’t say anything for several long minutes but then swiped more tears from her face as she nodded. “All right. Please take good care of him for me.”

“I will,” the vet promised.

She turned and nearly stumbled into him. Max lightly grasped her shoulders, holding her steady. “Tara? What is it? What happened to Beau?”

“He was given some sort of sedative,” she whispered, her voice strained to the point of nearly breaking. “The vet believes someone drugged him on purpose.”

THREE

Numb from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, Tara sat beside Max in the car, her throat thick with overwhelming sorrow. She’d almost lost Beau. Her poor little puppy. Beau wasn’t exactly a puppy, since she’d gotten him from the shelter a few years ago, but he was so cute and still a puppy at heart. He’d always be her puppy, full of fun and energy, constantly happy to see her.

Her eyes filled again. Beau had helped keep her grounded after Ted died. She didn’t know what she’d do without him. Beau just had to survive. She closed her eyes and silently prayed that God would allow Beau to recover quickly.

It took her a few minutes to realize Max had stopped the car and was looking at her expectantly. She glanced outside, realizing with a start they were home.

Or at least at Mrs. Henderson’s house.

“Tara? Are you okay?”

She shook her head but opened the car door and climbed out. Max moved fast. He met her before she could get too far. “Don’t go home yet,” he said, capturing her arm. “Not without me. Give me a minute to return Mrs. Henderson’s car keys.”

It was easier to obey than to think. She nodded.

Standing on the narrow grass lawn between her house and Mrs. Henderson’s, she shivered and clutched Max’s camouflage jacket tighter around her shoulders. Beau had looked so sick. She missed him already.

“Tara, I’m going to go through your house. Wait outside for me.”

She gave another weary nod as she huddled beneath his jacket. She couldn’t even imagine what Max might find. Yet she also couldn’t imagine why anyone would try to hurt Beau, either.

“You can come in now. There’s no one here. But I do want you to take a look around, to see if anything looks out of place.”

Reluctantly, she mounted the steps and headed inside to meet him. Trying to tell herself she was being ridiculous, she started in the living room, seeing nothing unusual, before heading into the kitchen where she’d found Beau. His food and water bowls were empty; she only fed him once a day in the morning. Max stood silently off to the side as she gazed around.

“Everything seems fine,” she said, helplessly lifting her shoulders. “I don’t see anything wrong.”

“Okay, but double-check the bathroom and bedrooms too, just to make certain. I’ll take another quick look outside and then meet you back here.”

She did as Max asked, but there too, everything seemed to be the way she’d left it. She was a neat person by nature, and nothing was amiss. In her room, she collapsed on the side of her bed for a moment, suddenly exhausted. Her feet ached, and she longed to change into more comfortable clothes. She still felt numb, but some of the effect was beginning to wear off. As much as she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and pull a pillow over her head to forget all the troubles of her day, she forced herself to stand and return to meet Max in the kitchen.

His face was somber and she instantly asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I found this outside in the backyard, at the base of your small maple tree.” He gestured to a shredded fast-food wrapper with less than half a hamburger inside. “Somehow, given how neat and tidy your home is, I doubt you left it out there.”

No, she hadn’t. Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed hard, understanding why he’d looked so serious. “You think the vet is right? Someone hid some drugs in the sandwich and left it for Beau?”

“I think it’s possible. Call the police.” His voice held the unmistakable tone of a command. “I’m sure they can test what’s left of this for potential drug residue.”

The police. They already knew about her tire-slashing episode. What would they think now? At first, when she’d thought someone was following her, they hadn’t been too concerned. But then finding her car with all four tires slashed, she’d garnered more attention. And now poor Beau.

Why? How could this happen? What had she done to become someone’s target? She supposed she should be glad that Max had found the fast-food wrapper outside, which might indicate that whoever had tried to harm Beau hadn’t been inside her house.

Yet she still felt very alone and far too vulnerable.

“Tara?” Max’s expression now held concern. “Are you all right? Did you hear me? Beau will be fine, but you need to call the police.”

“I heard you.” She pulled herself together with an effort. She didn’t like taking orders from Max, but she couldn’t afford not to call the police, either. “I will. Thanks for following me home. I don’t know what I would have done without you. But I know you’re worried about Melissa. I don’t want you to feel as if you need to hang around. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated, and she suspected he realized she was kindly trying to get rid of him. She didn’t think Max was the type to push his company on anyone—the way he’d so nicely asked her to dinner proved that. But he had insisted on following her home on the bus. He was the type of man who clearly took his role as protector very seriously.

He was only being nice, yet she suddenly felt very guilty for inviting him into the home she’d shared with her husband.

“Tara, I’d really rather wait until the police arrive. What if whoever did this is still hanging around somewhere close by?”

She bit her lip, wondering what to do. If she allowed Max to stay, then he’d end up hearing the whole story of what had been happening to her. And as much as she appreciated everything he’d done for her up until this point, she didn’t want to burden him with her problems.

She couldn’t help but glance toward her kitchen window over the sink, the one that overlooked her backyard. The image of the man with a ball cap following her as she went out for lunch last week rushed to the forefront of her mind. Was he the one who’d done the damage to her car tires? If she told Max about the guy, he would for sure refuse to leave. The memory of the man made her clench her fists, frightened to be alone.

This indecisiveness wasn’t like her. She needed to pull herself together, to create some sort of plan. Max was right. She absolutely needed to report this new development to the police. “Okay, you can stay for a bit.” She went to the phone and dialed the nonemergency St. Louis P.D. number that she now knew by heart. “Once I’m finished, I’ll make coffee.”

But Max was already shaking his head, making his way to the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen where her coffeemaker was located. “No, I’ll do it. You’ve had a rough day. Sit down. I’ll take care of everything.”

As before, his thoughtfulness brought a lump to her throat. How did his kindness manage to touch her so deeply? She didn’t want to think about Max, so she focused her attention on trying to fix her problems instead.

After giving the dispatcher on the other end of the line her information, she hung up and did as Max suggested, sitting down to put her feet up. She watched him working in her kitchen, realizing she was in danger of becoming too accustomed to Max’s calm, reassuring presence.

He was Melissa’s brother, here to look after his sister, not her. He was home for only a few weeks.

She’d learned a long time ago that it was better to stand on her own two feet rather than to lean on someone else. And despite how Max suddenly seemed to make himself at home in her house, she knew full well it would only be a matter of time before she’d be alone again.

The police arrived on her doorstep mere minutes after she’d placed the call. Either they were having a slow night or the police file on her had grown so thick she warranted a high-level response.

She found herself hoping for the former reason. The latter would indicate she had every reason to be afraid.

The two officers introduced themselves as Officer Anderson and Officer Schimberg. Officer Anderson was tall and thin, while Officer Schimberg was short and stout.

They asked her endless questions, going over the events again step-by-step. They walked through her house and then went outside to look around her back yard. As Max predicted, they took the food wrapper and the remains of the hamburger and promised to test it for residue.

“Ms. Carmichael, it’s highly likely these events, the man following you, the tire slashing and this possible drugging of your dog have all been done by the same perpetrator,” Officer Anderson said with a serious frown.

“Yes, I know.” From the corner of her eye, she caught Max’s scowl as he listened, but thankfully he didn’t interrupt.

“Are you sure you can’t give us a better idea who to look for? Some guy you’ve jilted?” Officer Schimberg asked. “Anyone at work that might have held a grudge against you?”

“I told you before that I’m not seeing anyone. My husband passed away just a little over a year and a half ago. Many of my clients aren’t happy with me, but I can’t think of anyone who would do something like this.”

“Which client has been the most unhappy with you lately?” Officer Anderson persisted.

She hesitated and then reluctantly admitted, “Tyrone Adams.” As much as she didn’t want to think Tyrone was capable of such cruelty, the young man was a different person under the influence of drugs. Could the mystery man with the blue baseball hat be Tyrone? She hadn’t gotten a good look at him to be sure.

“We’ll have a chat with Tyrone,” Officer Anderson said, looking happy to have at least one suspect.

“What about Lieutenant Forrester?” Officer Schimberg shot a suspicious glance at Max. “How long have you known him?”

She felt her face flush. “I only met Lieutenant Forrester tonight. His sister is a client of mine, and she’s sick in the hospital.”

“I just arrived home from Iraq today,” Max spoke up, seemingly not offended to be considered a possible suspect for the second time that evening. “I was on the AirTran Airways flight from Germany to St. Louis, with a layover in New York. My superiors will gladly verify my story.”

“Write down the name and phone number of your commanding officer, if you don’t mind,” Officer Anderson suggested.

Max did as requested, despite her protests.

After Max handed over the information, there was a moment of silence before the two officers exchanged a resigned look as they made their way to the door.

“Ms. Carmichael, we’ll check on Tyrone, but just in case he’s not the guy, you need to go through every single one of your clients, listing every possibility no matter how unlikely,” Officer Anderson said in a serious tone. “Please call us once you have the list.”

“I will.” Tara stood and followed them to the door. “Thanks for coming.”

Officer Anderson and Officer Schimberg left, and she closed the door behind them, warily turning to face Max. His expression was dark, like an impending storm.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re being stalked?” he demanded, in a tone that was soft yet edged in steel at the same time.

“Because I didn’t know for sure.” She didn’t like sounding so defensive. “I didn’t really believe it, not until I saw poor Beau. Regardless, it’s really none of your business, is it? Thanks for staying, but it’s late and I’m tired. I’ll see you at the hospital in the morning.”

Her hint for him to leave was anything but subtle. He silently stared at her for a long moment and then leaned his hips back against her kitchen counter and crossed his strong arms over his chest. “You have fifteen minutes to pack a bag.”

“What?” She gaped at him.

“Tara, I’m not leaving you here alone with some stalker on the loose. I’m going to find a hotel close to the hospital to spend the night, and I think it’s best if you come with me.” He must have read the frank panic in her eyes because he hastily added, “Not in the same room, of course. At least in a hotel you’ll be safe from harm.”

Admittedly, the idea held a certain appeal. Not from a financial perspective, but at least she’d be close to the hospital, able to keep an eye on Melissa. And if she stubbornly insisted on staying in her house, she doubted she’d get any sleep. She’d no doubt lie awake, frighteningly aware of every sound.

But going with Max would be a risk. She was already feeling too close to him. Too grateful for his protection.

She barely knew him.

Her silence was obviously wearing on him, since his tone grew impatient. “This guy knows where you live. He tried to get rid of your dog and probably already knows Mrs. Henderson is hard of hearing. What’s to stop him from showing up in the middle of the night? He almost killed Beau. How do you know he won’t feel more desperate the next time he shows up?”

A shiver racked her body, having nothing to do with the temperature outside. His words, spoken so bluntly, made the entire situation sound that much more sinister.

Max was right. She didn’t know who the guy was, so how could she know what lengths he’d go to get back at her for some perceived wrong she’d committed. She would be better off in a hotel, miles from her house. She needed to think logically, not emotionally.

Ted had loved her. He’d want her to be safe.

Max pushed away from the counter, coming to stand in front of her. “Please, Tara? I don’t feel right leaving you here. There must be something I can say to convince you.”

She could almost hear Ted’s voice telling her not to be foolish.

“I’ll stay in a hotel room for tonight,” she agreed slowly. “But I don’t want you to feel responsible for me. This isn’t your problem.”

He didn’t say anything in response, but as she turned to go down to her bedroom to pack an overnight bag, she suspected Max was incapable of standing aside, allowing her to face her problems on her own.

And deep down, despite her guilt over the prickly awareness she felt around Melissa’s brother, she was secretly glad that she had Max to lean on, at least for a few more hours.

Max ground the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to stay calm and rational and awake as he waited for Tara to return with her overnight case.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met a more stubborn woman. There was a part of him that admired her strength, her ability to weather a shock such as finding her dog hurt or her tires slashed. But at the moment he was more frustrated than anything. Lissa had teased him about being a control freak and his sister might be right.

Someone was stalking Tara. Yet she’d never said a word, hadn’t so much as hinted at her troubles. Most women were more than grateful for a helping hand—but not Tara. She seemed to think she could take this guy on by herself. And, like always, his need to protect others kicked in at the first sign of a woman in distress. He wanted nothing more than to keep Tara out of harm’s way.

But her well-being wasn’t his problem, as she’d so clearly pointed out. He wasn’t responsible for her.

He should be glad she felt that way. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to loosen the tightness of his neck. The thought of anyone hurting Tara made his blood turn cold. Thankfully, she wasn’t stupid enough to stay here by herself.

Not after someone had been at her house.

He’d help her get away from this creep stalking her, but then he needed to leave her alone. He didn’t understand this intense attraction he felt for her. She was beautiful, but he’d never particularly cared about outward appearances. He appreciated her nobility in dedicating her life to helping others—people like his sister. Yet she was also a widow. She’d emphatically denied having a man in her life when the police had asked, and he understood she was clearly stating she didn’t want one.

Which should be fine with him. She was a woman in trouble, and he didn’t really want to be involved in her problems any more than he already was. Especially since he refused to make the same mistake again, misinterpreting gratitude and friendship for something more.

He wasn’t going to be in town for long anyway. Soon, he’d be flown back to Iraq.

A twenty-day leave wasn’t much time. His main concern was to find Gary, Lissa’s abusive boyfriend. He was glad the police were already on the case, although until he talked to them, he wouldn’t know if they were making any progress or not. And if he could give Tara a little protection from her stalker, he would. But he wouldn’t allow himself to get too close.

Tara returned to the kitchen, dressed in comfortable jeans, a sweater and a heavy-duty blue denim jacket. She looked much younger in the casual clothes. The navy blue suit she’d worn earlier had given her a more professional appearance. In her arms she carried a small overnight bag and his camouflage cargo jacket.

He was ridiculously disappointed that she’d taken his jacket off to replace it with one of her own.

“Here,” she said, handing the army jacket to him.

“Thanks.” He took the coat and stuffed it back into his duffel. Then he plucked the overnight bag from her hands, ignoring her protest, and slung both bags over his shoulder. He stepped back so Tara could go out the door first. She threw one last glance over her shoulder, and he understood the regret darkening her eyes. Leaving her home hadn’t been an easy decision.

He followed her outside and then waited until she’d closed and locked her door before they headed back down the road toward the bus stop. They hadn’t quite reached the corner when a loud explosion blasted his ears, rocking the night.

In a heartbeat, he shielded Tara with his body, convinced they were back in Iraq under mortar attack.

What happened? Where was the enemy firing from?

He glanced back over his shoulder and once the flashback faded, he realized Tara’s house was engulfed in smoke and flames.

Someone had tried to kill her.

FOUR

The earth shuddered beneath her feet, throwing her against Max, whose strong arms held her upright, his broad shoulders protecting her as he turned, putting himself in front of her. The explosion reverberated through her head over and over in a deafening echo. The acrid scent of smoke stung her nose.

What happened? She clung to Max’s arms, twisting to search for the source of the sound, not sure what she expected to see. A burning car or truck maybe?

Flickering flames danced in the gaping hole where a corner of her house used to be. Her house. She gasped in horror, unable to tear her gaze from the awful sight.

Her house!

“Tara? Are you all right?”

She could barely hear Max through the ringing in her ears. The destruction seared painfully into her eyes, making them burn.

Her home, the home she’d shared with Ted, was gone.

Max’s arms tightened around her. Dimly, she realized her knees had buckled.

Gone. Her home was gone.

Suddenly Max swept her off her feet, striding away from the wreckage. She clutched his shirt, knowing she should protest, but unable to remember why.

“Mrs. Henderson!” Her hoarse voice sounded far away, as if coming from the end of a long tunnel.

“What?” Max’s steps slowed.

She forced her brain to think, to react. She pushed against him, turning awkwardly to glance behind them. “We can’t leave. Not without checking on Mrs. Henderson.”

He stopped, looking down at her. “No. We’re too exposed out here,” he said in a low, rough voice.

“Please. I can’t just leave her.” Sensing her distress, he set her down gently but kept a hand on her arm to keep her steady. She hadn’t realized she was swaying. Pulling herself together, she tried to make him understand. “The blast was on the side of the house closest to Mrs. Henderson’s. What if she fell? What if the fire spreads to her house? I can’t just leave her. She’s been like a grandmother to me.”

His fingers tightened, and she could tell he didn’t want to go. Finally he relented.

“Stay close,” he ordered in a harsh tone he must have used on his men under his command. He wrapped a steel arm around her shoulders as they retraced their steps, heading back toward her neighbor’s house. People were coming outside, standing and staring in horror. In the distance, she could hear the wail of sirens. “I don’t like this,” Max muttered. “Your stalker could be hiding anywhere.”

Her stalker? It took a moment for his words to sink in to her befuddled brain. First her car, then Beau and now her house.

Her stalker wasn’t just some man who was angry with her, looking for ways to get back at her, to inconvenience her, to frighten her.

Whoever this man was, he’d just blown up her house.

Tiny white dots swirled in front of her eyes, and the blood drained from her head. She bent over, bracing her hands on her knees, feeling like she might faint.

She never fainted. Ever.

There was always a first time for everything.

The idiotic thought came from nowhere. For a moment she feared she was losing her mind. She struggled to breathe, fighting a wave of darkness, and clutched a hand to her heart, seeking guidance.

Lord, I need You. Please give me strength.

“Tara? Come on, hang in there. Don’t pass out on me.”

“I won’t.” She wished she could sound more convincing, but finally she was able to take several deep breaths, pushing herself upright. “I’m fine. We need to find Mrs. Henderson.”

Max’s gaze clung to hers for several seconds before he glanced away. “We’ll find her.”

His confidence helped her to believe, and she forced herself to take several steps toward Mrs. Henderson’s tiny blue house just as her neighbor, wearing the familiar bright purple robe, appeared on the doorstep.

Safe. Sweet, elderly Mrs. Henderson was safe. Her thick glasses were askew, and her tight gray curls were disheveled, but she was moving under her own power, a welcome, reassuring sight.

Dear Lord, thank You. Thank You for keeping her safe.

Relief made Tara dizzy. Max’s arms tightened around her, and she sensed his attention was focused on their surroundings now that they knew Mrs. Henderson was unharmed.

“Tara?” Mrs. Henderson called, as they approached. “What happened to your house?”

“I don’t know.” She cast a warning glance at Max. She would not tolerate him frightening this poor woman with talk about stalkers. Gently, she took the elderly woman’s hand. “Are you all right? You’re not hurt?”

“I’m fine. Tumbled to the floor, but lucky for me,” she said as she smiled wryly and patted her round hip, “I have enough padding to cushion these old bones.”

She gently squeezed the woman’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re not hurt.”

Fire trucks and police cars pulled up moments later, and soon her quiet, sedate, family-friendly neighborhood was overwhelmed in chaos. As the firefighters turned their hoses to the blaze, the police ushered her and Max to the closest police car to take their statements.

She’d never been inside the back of a police car before, but she was too numb to appreciate the novel experience. Max climbed in beside her, amazingly still carrying their bags, which he stuffed on the floor at their feet. Officer Anderson, the taller policeman who’d come to see her earlier that evening, slid into the front seat.

He turned around so he could look at them through the metal grate separating the front from the back. “I guess we know why your stalker drugged your dog,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

She wrinkled her brow, not following his logic.

“He obviously drugged the dog so he could sneak inside her house without causing a ruckus,” Max agreed in a grim tone.

“Exactly.” Officer Anderson’s expression was intense. “The focal point of the blast seems to be centered on the back side of the house.”

“The back side?” Max echoed. “That’s where the bedrooms are located.”

“I’m sure he was hoping she’d be asleep when the explosion hit.”

“And she would have been,” Max ground out between clenched teeth, his anger palpable. “If I hadn’t dragged her out.”

They were talking about her as if she weren’t sitting right there with them, but she couldn’t find the strength to complain. Max was absolutely right. By forcing her to leave, convincing her to go to a hotel with him, he’d saved her life.

And while she’d often wondered why God had taken Ted’s life, instead of hers, she discovered she was profoundly grateful.

Because she very much wanted to live.

A jackhammer pounded behind his temples, anger reverberating through his system. He was furious. At God for allowing this to happen. At Gary for hurting his sister. At the police for not finding the source of the explosion sooner, before the bomb or the gas leak or the whatever had blown Tara’s house to smithereens, nearly killing them.

At himself, for not following his instinct to rip her house apart from top to bottom.

Even now, sitting with her in the cramped backseat of a squad car, he knew Tara was not safe. Her stalker was out there somewhere. The thought of such evil threatening her made his gut churn.

He wouldn’t be satisfied until they were far away from her house, somewhere where this guy harboring such animosity and hatred couldn’t find her.

Bands of fear tightened around his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

She’d almost died. Tara had almost died.

“I have to tell you, the captain isn’t going to pony up police protection,” Anderson warned. “Not without proof that this explosion wasn’t an accident.”

“Accident?” Tara’s trembling voice ripped at his heart. “How could blowing up my house possibly be an accident?”

“I’m not saying I believe it was.” Anderson lifted his palms up in surrender. “But there’s a possibility your furnace or your stove was leaking natural gas, causing the explosion.”

“Accidental explosions are rare,” Max pointed out, knowing the cop’s theory was ridiculous. “I didn’t smell any natural gas when I was inside, and neither did you. We were walking to the bus stop when it blew. I understand the need for an investigation, but with everything else going on—the tire slashing, the dog drugging—it’s obvious someone wants to hurt Tara.”

And they’d very nearly succeeded.

“We haven’t located Tyrone Adams yet,” Anderson admitted. “Have you had time to make a list of all your clients who might hold a grudge against you?”

“No.” Tara brushed a strand of hair away from her face with a shaky hand. Max took her slender fingers and gently held them in his. She didn’t pull away but clung to his hand tightly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t imagine Tyrone or any of my clients doing something like this. Any one of them might get angry with me, but I can honestly say they couldn’t hate me enough to try to k-kill me.”

The slight hitch in her voice made him want to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. The logical part of his brain reminded him she wasn’t his to protect. And even if she was, support and friendship weren’t a prelude for everlasting love. He shoved the logical voice aside.

It didn’t matter.

He’d failed to protect Keith and Lissa. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he failed to protect Tara, too. Keeping Tara safe was more important than insulating his heart.

“Are we finished here?” he asked Anderson. “I’d like to take Tara someplace safe.”

“Where?”

Raising a brow, he pursed his lips and decided not to respond. No one needed to know where they were going, including the police.

Anderson stared at him through the metal grate for a long, hard moment. Max lifted his chin and returned the cop’s glare, refusing to back down. If the police weren’t going to offer protection, fine. He’d handle the task himself.

“I’ll give you my cell-phone number,” Tara said. “That way you can call me if you need to reach me.”

He didn’t even want the police to have that much information, although it was possible her cell number was somewhere in their files. Not that he really suspected someone on the force wanted to hurt her. What would be their motive? Tara was clearly a law-abiding citizen. Still, past experience taught him that not all those who promised to protect and serve took the vow seriously.

Some men thrived on violence.

“Use my cell number,” he said, just to be ultra-cautious. He rattled off the number watching as Anderson wrote it in his small brown notebook.

“Got it,” Anderson closed his notebook, indicating their brief interview was over. “We’ll be in touch tomorrow, after the arson investigator has a chance to go through your house, pinpointing the origin of the blast.”

“Thank you,” Tara said quietly.

“Wait,” Max said swiftly, when Anderson moved to climb out of the squad car.

The cop glanced at him questioningly.

“We need a ride to St. Louis General Hospital. I don’t want to risk taking Tara away from here via public transportation.”

She flashed him an odd glance, no doubt wondering why he didn’t just have the cops drive them straight to the hotel, but he tightened his hand on hers, silently asking her to trust him.

There was no such thing as being too careful, not with Tara’s life at stake.

“Sure. Just give me a minute to touch base with my partner.”

“No problem.” Max waited until Anderson climbed out of the squad car and slammed the door behind them, effectively locking them in.

“Tara, I know you’re exhausted and want nothing more than to get to the hotel as quickly as possible, but I don’t want to risk being followed.” He tried to read the expression in her eyes by the lights reflected inside by the nearby emergency vehicles. “Humor me for a little while longer yet, okay?”

She stared down at their entwined fingers. “Okay.”

She was in shock, quiet, subdued. He wished there was something he could do to bring back the stubborn, feisty woman who’d argued with him.

Within moments Anderson and his partner, Schimberg, were back, climbing into the front seat. Anderson took the wheel.

“All set?” Anderson asked, starting the police car.

“Sure.” He glanced down at Tara, who didn’t answer. She was turned in her seat, staring out the window at the charred remains of her house. He sensed she was barely hanging on to her composure. He wanted to hold her close, to promise to be there for her until this creep was caught and locked up behind bars.

But he couldn’t make any such promise. All he could do was hope and pray the police would capture the guy stalking her before his twenty-day leave was over.

Tara held herself upright with an effort, staring sightlessly out the window as Officer Anderson drove through the night. She longed to rest her weary head on Max’s broad shoulder but told herself his strong hand holding hers was enough comfort.

Poor Max. He’d certainly gotten more than he’d bargained for when he’d insisted on accompanying her home.

The image of her burning house replayed over and over in her mind until she wanted to scream with frustration. She drew a ragged breath, controlling the sense of panic.

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