Protective Instincts Read online

  “What’s going on, Jackson?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d rather try to figure it out after I get you back inside.”

  “In other words, you’re going to escort me to the house and then come back and look around.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What if I don’t like your plan?”

  “I don’t think I asked your opinion.”

  She shook her head, short blond hair fluttering around her face. “That’s not the way this is going to work.”

  “The way what is going to work?” he asked, hurrying her back toward the house. The sooner he got her there, the happier he’d be.

  “This.” She waved her hand around as if that answered the question. “You going off and risking your life, and me cowering in the house, waiting for you to return. That’s not the kind of person I am.”

  “Good to know.” He opened the door, lifted her off her feet and deposited her inside.

  “Hey!” she protested, but he was already closing the door and texting Stella to make sure she kept everyone inside.

  He searched for thirty minutes and came up empty. He should have been relieved, but he wasn’t. Someone had been in the woods with them. He was almost sure of it. He walked across the yard, stood near the back door and stared out into the gnarled orchards.

  “Come on,” he muttered. “Show yourself.”

  “You talking to yourself, Jackson?” Stella yelled through the kitchen window.

  Was he?

  He didn’t think so.

  He thought someone was out there.

  He just needed a little more time to find the guy.

  She opened the door, dragged him into the house. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you’re planning to stick around for a while to figure it out, right?” she responded, tapping her fingers on the counter impatiently. “Which means I’m stuck on the outskirts of some Podunk little town.”

  “I’m escorting Raina and Samuel to the doctor. After that, I’ll bring you back to D.C.”

  “Sure you will,” she said with a sigh.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You don’t know how to keep your nose out of things, that’s what it means. You see a kid and a woman in trouble, and you think you’ve got to drop everything to help.”

  “You’re just annoyed because I won’t bring you home now. If you really want to get back to the city immediately, you can call—”

  “Don’t say it!” she barked.

  “—Chance.” He said his brother’s name just to irritate her, because that’s the way they were together.

  “You’re a pain, you know that, Jackson?” Stella growled. “For your information, I have plans this evening, and if we don’t get out of here, I’m going to miss them.”

  “What plans?”

  “Plans that do not include babysitting a grown woman and a kid and that do not include getting a ride back home with your brother,” she hissed.

  “I’ll try to get you back to D.C. before sundown.”

  “Which means I’m either going to be here for the foreseeable future or going to have to hitchhike home,” she muttered, obviously annoyed.

  “I think you need some coffee.”

  “I think I need a new job and new friends. Maybe even a new life.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t know. Ever since I met your brother, I’ve been in one mess after another. A girl doesn’t always want to be covered with dirt and sweat. Sometimes she wants to wear sequins and heels.”

  “Stella—”

  “Forget it, Jack. I probably do just need some coffee.” She grabbed a mug, filled it with coffee and took a sip. “It’s not very hot, but it’ll do.” She marched from the kitchen with her head held high, but Jackson had a feeling the things she’d said weren’t just the rantings of a caffeine-deprived person.

  She was right, too, and that made him feel guiltier than he wanted. In the years since she’d been part of HEART, Stella had spent more time rescuing other people’s families than she had building relationships of her own. That got tiring. He knew it as well as anyone.

  It was one of the reasons why he’d finally conceded the point and allowed Chance to give him a couple of weeks off.

  He loved his job, but he needed more.

  He needed...

  What?

  That was the question he couldn’t ever seem to answer. Not without taking a long hard look at what he’d built. He’d gone into hostage rescue work because of Charity. He continued because it fulfilled him.

  But there were times when he wanted more than his empty apartment and the quiet evenings alone. There were long days of travel when he wondered what it would be like to have someone waiting for him at the airport when he returned home.

  He frowned.

  Maybe Stella wasn’t the only one who needed a cup of coffee.

  NINE

  Life was spinning out of control.

  That was the conclusion Raina came to as she sat in the exam room waiting for Kent to appear. Samuel sat on the exam table, stoic and silent, his eyes flashing with unhappiness. He didn’t want to be there. He’d made it abundantly clear when she’d tried to get him into his coat, hat and gloves.

  Jackson had finally managed to manhandle him into the coat, but the gloves and hat were still lying on the floor at the house.

  She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to think of something to say. It used to be she had no problem with conversations. As a minister’s wife, she knew how to talk to young people, old people, people in their prime and people near the end of their lives. There’d never been awkward silences or moments where she struggled to think of the right thing.

  Back then, she’d thought she had the answers to lots of life’s toughest questions.

  She didn’t think she had any answers at all anymore.

  “Are you sorry you came to America, Samuel?” she finally asked.

  He met her eyes, let his gaze drift away again. “No.”

  “You seem unhappy.”

  “No,” he repeated, and she thought she heard a slight tremor in his voice.

  “Are you scared?” She sat next to him, put an arm around his stiff shoulders. It felt uncomfortable, but somehow right, too.

  “Yes,” he whispered, his body sagging against hers. He probably weighed fifty pounds soaking wet. She felt every bone, every muscle.

  Someone knocked on the door, the soft tap nothing like Kent’s usual brisk rap.

  “Come in,” she called.

  “Hey.” Jackson stepped into the room. “You guys have been in here for a while. I thought you might be hungry.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two wrapped muffins.

  She knew they’d come from a little diner that rented space in the basement of the building. She met Destiny there for lunch every few weeks. That was the thing about her friend. No matter how busy Destiny’s schedule was, she always made time for Raina. Apparently, she didn’t think Raina would return the favor.

  Maybe she didn’t think Raina could return it. After all, she’d seen Raina at her worst. Seen her huddled under blankets, sobbing into the mattress, hugging piles of clothes that belonged to her husband and son.

  “I need to call her,” Raina said as she took the muffin Jackson offered.

  “Who?”

  “Destiny.”

  “The friend who broke up with her boyfriend and didn’t tell you?” He unwrapped the second muffin and handed it to Samuel.

  “That’s the one.”

  “You want to ask her why she didn’t tell you?”

  “I know why she didn’t tell me. She didn’t want to overwhelm me.”r />
  “Then why bring it up to her?” he asked.

  “Because I want her to know I’m here for her.”

  “She knows.”

  “You’ve never even met her.”

  “I don’t have to.” He snagged a piece of her muffin and popped it into his mouth. “I’ve met you.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It has everything to do with it. Look what you’re doing right now. You’re sitting in a doctor’s office with a boy you barely know. That’s not what someone who isn’t there for her friends does.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe not.”

  “Definitely not.” He took another piece of the muffin.

  “I thought this was for me,” she protested, and Samuel broke off a piece of his and shoved it into her mouth.

  She was so surprised, she laughed, pieces of muffin falling onto the exam table and the floor.

  “What’s going on in here?” Kent peered into the room, a deep frown line etched in his forehead.

  “Sorry. I guess we’re getting a little silly from fatigue.” She used a paper towel to wipe of the crumbs and tossed the mess into the trash can.

  “You know you’re not supposed to have food in here,” he snapped as he walked into the room.

  “My fault, Kent,” Jackson offered, leaning his shoulder against the wall. “They were both hungry, and I wasn’t thinking about rules.”

  “Maybe you should next time. This is a medical clinic. Not a diner.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “You should probably wash your face, Raina. It’s a mess.”

  “Why be rude, Doc?” Jackson said, straightening to his full height and taking a step toward him.

  “I’m not rude. I’m honest. Right, Raina?”

  She didn’t plan to agree, so she just shrugged. She knew her boss. He snapped when things didn’t go the way he planned. Obviously having people eating in one of the exam rooms wasn’t part of his plan.

  Samuel looked up from his half-eaten muffin, cocking his head to the side and studying Raina.

  “You are wrong. She is not a mess. She is very beautiful,” he said solemnly, his eyes the deep black of a moonless sky. He reached out, his fingers almost brushing her cheek before his hand dropped away, and her heart shuddered with the deep need to offer him comfort, security. Love.

  “Like Sari,” he mumbled, blinking rapidly and shoving a piece of muffin into his mouth.

  “Who is Sari?” Jackson asked before Raina could get the words past the lump in her throat.

  “My sister.”

  He had a sister? Raina had been told he was alone in the world, that everyone in his family had died.

  “Is she in the refugee camp?” she asked, wondering if there was any way she could find the girl and bring her to the United States. Samuel might adjust better if he had someone familiar with him.

  “She is dead.”

  “I’m...sorry.” It was such a lame thing to say. Something she’d heard so many times after the accident that hearing it come out of her own mouth made her feel physically sick.

  “I am sorry, too.” Samuel slid off the exam table, tucking the remnant of the muffin into his coat pocket. “I think the doctor is not a good doctor if he thinks you are a mess. Let us return home.”

  “Wait a minute, young man,” Kent said, closing the door before Samuel could escape. “I didn’t mean a mess in the literal sense. I just meant she had muffin crumbs on her face. They’re still there, by the way,” he intoned with a frown in Raina’s direction.

  “You’re right, Doc,” Jackson responded, closing in on Raina and brushing his hand across her cheeks and then her lips. Her pulse jumped, a million butterflies dancing in her stomach.

  “Better?” he asked, shooting a half smile in Kent’s direction.

  “Much,” Kent said drily. “So how about we do what we’re all here for. Take a look at that leg. Hop back up here, young man.” He patted the exam table.

  Jackson expected Samuel to balk, but the kid seemed to have finally accepted the inevitable. He clamored back onto the table, settling in a heap of bone and fabric. Kent frowned and brushed a stray crumb from the table before unpinning the pant leg that covered Samuel’s stump.

  Jackson found the guy supremely annoying, his facetious manners grating. If he’d known what a bottom-dweller the doctor was, he’d have brought some milk with the muffins. Maybe a piece of fruit or two and a few dozen saltine crackers. Just to get under the guy’s skin.

  Chance wouldn’t approve, but he wasn’t there to give a lecture on it.

  Jackson backed up against a wall and watched as Moreland rolled up the pant leg that covered Samuel’s stump. There were two raw wounds there. Both looked infected.

  Jackson winced as Moreland swabbed both with antiseptic.

  Samuel didn’t move a muscle. Not even a twitch.

  Raina, on the other hand, had her hands fisted so tightly the knuckles were stark white.

  “Relax,” he whispered, lifting one of her hands and trying to rub some blood back into it.

  Moreland shot a look in their direction and frowned. “Want to come take a look at this, Raina?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She hurried over.

  “We’ve got two infection sites here,” Moreland said, as if it weren’t obvious to anyone with eyes in his head.

  “I noticed,” Raina responded.

  She didn’t seem any more impressed with Moreland than Jackson was.

  “I doubt it ever healed properly after surgery. I’m going to give him an antibiotic shot and write you out a prescription. I want to see him Monday. If things don’t look better, we may have to have him admitted to the hospital.”

  “No hospital,” Samuel said, his chin wobbling, his eyes filling with tears that surprised Jackson.

  “Don’t worry, sport,” he said. “It’s not going to come to that.”

  “Says who?” Moreland scoffed. “You? Because from where I’m standing that leg is getting close to needing more surgery. The likelihood that he’ll end up in the hospital is pretty high.”

  Jackson hadn’t been all that keen on the doctor when they’d met earlier. Now he liked him even less. Scaring a child who was obviously becoming distraught didn’t speak well of the guy’s character. “You’re forgetting something, Doc,” he responded. “Samuel is a tough kid, and he doesn’t want to have surgery or spend more time in the hospital. He’s going to take really good care of the leg.”

  “He’s a ten-year-old boy. He has no control over the situation,” Moreland said, not bothering to look up from a chart he was writing in.

  “He’s a smart ten-year-old, and he and I are going to make sure that leg heals up just fine. Aren’t we, Samuel?”

  Samuel nodded, but Moreland was still too busy writing to notice.

  “You’re leaving town today, aren’t you, Jackson?” Moreland asked, completely ignoring the comment and offering Samuel no reassurance.

  Which annoyed Jackson even more than he already was.

  “Yes,” Raina said.

  “Maybe,” Jackson responded at the same time.

  Raina frowned and swiped a strand of hair from her cheek. “You have to get back to D.C.,” she reminded him. “You have a job and a house and—”

  “My vacation starts Monday.”

  “Your house—”

  “A one-bedroom apartment. I don’t have a dog, cat or plant that needs to be taken care of.” And he wasn’t in all that big of a hurry to get back to D.C. Lately, he’d been missing the slow pace of rural life. He’d almost booked a flight back home, but his parents had taken their yearly pilgrimage to Cambodia to ask for information on Charity, and there was no one at their little place in North Carolina. He could have visited Grandma Ruth, but she was on a
Disney Cruise with twenty of her closest friends.

  “Whatever your plans,” Moreland interrupted, “I don’t think you can change the course of Samuel’s treatment. I’ll write out the scrip and send Molly in with the antibiotic injection. Give me five minutes, okay?” He smiled at Raina and stalked out of the room.

  “I think I ticked him off,” Jackson commented.

  “That’s not hard to do.” Raina touched Samuel’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “When the nurse comes in you’re going to have to have a shot of medicine. Do you know what that means?” She looked into his eyes when she spoke, her voice gentle, her expression soft.

  He imagined she’d been like that with her son, and he imagined that it must have nearly killed her when she’d had to make the decision to disconnect life support and let Joseph go. There’d been a photo in one of the local papers—Raina saying goodbye to her son. The article had been about a mother’s heart and organ donation, but it hadn’t been able to capture the pain she must have felt as she’d made the choice.

  She must have sensed his gaze. She glanced his way, offering a tentative smile. “If you want to go back to the waiting room, you can.”

  “Is that what you want me to do?” he responded.

  “I—” Her cell phone rang, and she frowned, pulling it from her pocket. “It’s Andrew. I’d better take it.”

  She pressed the phone to her ear.

  “Hello?” she said, her body tensing. “Yes.” Her gaze locked on Jackson, her face losing all color. “Okay. I’ll be there. Yes. I’ll let him know.”

  “What is it?” he asked as she shoved the phone back into her pocket.

  “Butch didn’t die of natural causes,” she said, her gaze darting to Samuel. “He was murdered.”

  TEN

  Murder.

  Raina rolled the word around in her head while she waited in Andrew’s cubicle. He’d already made it clear that she wasn’t a suspect. She wasn’t so sure about Jackson. Despite what Andrew had said earlier, he’d insisted on questioning Jackson behind closed doors.

  They’d disappeared a half hour ago and hadn’t returned. The way things were looking, Jackson might just be the prime suspect.