Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2 (6 page)

“I know that.”

“But?”

“Krista and Otto are different somehow. And before you say it's because I've got a thing for Krista, it's not that.”

“Then what?'

Cash shrugged.

Brady eyed him. “Like I said, figure it out, or you could burn out and that won't help Krista.” Brady turned and strode back to the kitchen.

Cash shrugged into his jacket and went to his car. He tried to concentrate on driving but couldn't get Brady's words out of his head. Brady was right. After losing his team, Cash hated the thought of anyone getting hurt on his watch. He'd done the right thing in requesting the bomb strike in Afghanistan. They'd come under fire, were pinned down, and a strike offered the best chance of saving lives. Cash couldn't have predicted the stupid thing would go astray and he'd be the only team member to survive.

Leaving him to wonder why he'd made it. To question God for eighteen months and not receive a clear answer. Cash usually didn't dwell on things he couldn't change, but he just couldn't shake this. Staying busy was the only way to keep the questions out of his head.

He cranked up the radio. Old favorites on a country station blared through the car until he arrived at Otto's house. Cutting off the headlights, he coasted to a stop well out of view of the rustic place.

Dark and quiet inside, a dim light flashed, then quickly cut off. Suspicious? Maybe. It could be a night-light of some sort, but he wouldn't take any chances.

He tugged his collar up against the cold April wind and strode down the driveway toward the A-frame home, a light drizzle dampening his face. The moon, only a sliver tonight, hid behind dense cloud cover.

He swept his flashlight over the shrubbery abutting the front porch. All clear. He turned the corner heading for the back side overlooking the river swollen from heavy spring rains.

All was quiet. Serene, even.

He'd let his fears make him overreact. Nothing new there. Status quo since he'd left Delta. He turned to go.

A hair-raising scream pierced the air, echoing through the trees.

His blood ran cold.

A second scream split the quiet. Both cries came from inside. A woman.

It was Krista! She was in danger.

Serious danger.

SEVEN

K
rista fought hard. Her fists. Her elbows. Punching. Pummeling. Striking anywhere she could. She connected, catching the masked intruder by surprise and shoving him away. Scrambling, she dropped to the floor. Shadows clung to the wood. She groped around. Frantic, hurried movements, searching for her gun. Finally, she touched the edge of the cool metal.

Yes!
Only an inch more.

A hand came around her ponytail. Jerked hard. Pain screamed through her scalp. He kept pulling, bringing her to her feet. His arm snaked around her waist. He dragged her toward the door as if planning to abduct her.

She couldn't let that happen. Self-defense courses her father had insisted she take came rushing back. She threw herself back, hit him hard and unsettled him. He flailed around, trying to regain his balance.

She dived for the gun.

“Krista, are you all right?” a male called from outside the back door.

Cash Dixon?

“Cash, is that you?”
she yelled, her mind racing to figure out her next steps.

Her attacker paused to listen for a minute. A perfect opportunity to act. She grabbed the gun and scrambled to her feet in front of the door. Lifted the weapon. Aimed.

The intruder held his hands up and inched backward.

“Stop,” she screamed, but even she could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

He kept moving.

She raised the gun higher. He suddenly turned and bolted down the hallway toward the back door. She held the gun at the ready but couldn't shoot. Didn't know if she could ever shoot another person. She stepped into the hallway. A wave of light swept in from the open door leading to the deck. She could see a man with a flashlight standing just outside.

Dear God, please let it be Cash.

Her attacker barreled ahead, plowing Cash to the ground. The light went out.

Terrified to act, Krista waited—the gun still in her hand.

“Krista, it's Cash Dixon.” The worried voice came from the deck. “Are you all right?”

“I am now,” she managed to say.

“Stay there,” Cash called out. “I'm going after the intruder.”

Relief flooded through her, and she collapsed. The gun's heavy weight pulled her trembling hand to the floor.

The gun. No!
She couldn't let Cash see the gun. She doubted her father had gotten it legally. If Cash caught her with it, he'd assume the worst.

“Liebchen,” Opa's sleepy voice rumbled down the hallway. “What is all the noise?”

“Everything's okay,” she called out as she tucked the gun in her waistband and covered it with her shirt. Despite her shaking knees, she counseled herself to act calm as she went to meet him. In his condition, worrying about her was the last thing he needed.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked. “What is going on?”

“A man broke into the house. I fell asleep on the couch but a noise woke me up.” She nodded in the direction of the back door. “Cash Dixon showed up and scared him off. He's still out there, trying to chase the man down.”

Concern tightened Opa's eyes. “The bomber?”

“I don't see who else it would be.”

“Krista.” Cash's voice came from outside.

“Be right there,” she shouted, then turned to Opa. “Would you go meet him? I want to splash some water on my face.”

“Of course.” Opa squeezed her arm. “But then you will let Cash help us. He is a good man.”

“You thought Toby was a good man, too, Opa.” Despite her love for him, she couldn't temper her tone. “He might have been a respected member of your church, but that didn't mean he wasn't a liar and a thief.”

Opa grimaced. “You are upset so I will ignore your hurtful tone and suggest you pray about this. God will reveal what to do.”

“Like he did with Toby?”

“You did not give Him a chance then. You gave up too soon.”

She sighed. “I love you, Opa, and I respect you and your opinions, but this is one area we'll have to disagree on.” Thankful she'd tucked the gun in the back of her jeans, she gave him a quick hug, then released him before he felt her trembling. “Go talk to Cash. I'll be right out.”

She didn't give Opa a chance to argue, but slipped into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. The reality of her attack settled in. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. She sank to the floor. Panic threatened to take her over the edge.

No. Focus on the fact that you survived.

But what if Cash hadn't arrived in time?
Stop.
She couldn't dwell on that. She had to find the strength to hold it together for Opa. The man she'd just verbally attacked in the hallway. The man she would never want to hurt. She had to apologize to him. Not yet. Not while she was still this upset.

She sat for uncounted minutes, crying and waiting until the trembling subsided. She crawled to the bed, slid her gun underneath, then pulled herself up by the thick post. In the bathroom, she splashed water over her face, willing her tears to stop before her eyes became swollen and red. She ran a comb through her hair, her scalp tender from the attack. After a few deep cleansing breaths, she stepped into the hallway.

The aroma of fresh coffee greeted her. She found Cash and Opa sitting at the small table in the kitchen. Opa poured his favorite blend of rich, dark coffee from a popular German company. Cash had hung his jacket on his chair as if he intended to stay for some time. He wore jeans, scuffed cowboy boots and a tan waffle-weave shirt that brought out his dark hair. The casual attire should make him look less threatening, but he seemed even more deadly intense. The weapon holstered at his side added to the look. He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced before grabbing the cream.

“Not to your liking?” Opa's eyes twinkled.

Cash cleared his throat. “In my home state of Texas, they'd think it was the thick sludge from oil wells.”

“But it is good, no?” Opa replied.

“It takes some getting used to.” Krista stepped into the room. “But after a while, you wonder how you could have enjoyed anything else.”

Cash set the cup down and ran his gaze over her. “You aren't hurt?”

“No.” Her legs still shaky, she sat across from him. “When you called out, the guy ran.”

“Any idea who it was?”

She shook her head and took the cup Opa offered. “I was sleeping on the couch when a noise woke me up and I saw him looking in the coat closet. I tried to stop him, but—”

“You tried to stop him,” Cash's words shot out. “Why in blazes would you do that?”

She sat back from his harsh tone.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you, but come on, Krista. The guy could've hurt you. You should have run out the door while you had the chance.”

She didn't like his bossiness, but she had to admit she liked hearing her name tumble off his lips. Despite his frustration, it came out honey warm and smooth in his Southern drawl.

Focus.
“I wouldn't leave Opa behind.”

Opa smiled at her. “As I wouldn't leave you, Liebchen.”

Cash wrapped long fingers around his mug, gripping it tight enough to turn his fingers white. “So what happened next?”

“We fought,” she said vaguely so she wouldn't have to mention her gun. “He dragged me to the front door like he planned to abduct me. You arrived, and he ran off.”

Cash ground his teeth for a moment. “You're sure you didn't recognize this man?”

“He was the right size for the bomber, but it was dark and he wore a ski mask so...” She shrugged.

“I caught a quick look at him as he fled and agree that he fits your description of the bomber.” Cash paused and took a sip of the coffee. He looked as if he wanted to grimace but held it back.

“It is okay if you do not like the coffee, Cash.” Opa smiled. “I will not hold it against you.”

“Hey.” Cash's tone lightened. “I don't give up easily. I'll keep trying it.”

Krista was certain his statement held double meaning, but she was too tired to think about it.

“I called Jake,” he continued. “An officer's on the way to secure the scene and Skyler will be dispatched, too. Plus, Jake issued an alert for the guy and asked for increased patrols in the area.”

Opa settled his hand on Krista's, telling her all was forgiven for her outburst in the hallway. “How likely are they to find this man?”

Cash swung his gaze to Opa. “Honestly, not very likely. The woods are pretty dense along the river, so he could get away without being seen.”

Cash's description of their setting highlighted the dangers that country living brought. As much as Krista didn't want them to see how deeply the attack was affecting her, she couldn't control the shiver that worked over her body.

Cash appraised her. “I've been assuming you were attacked by the bomber, but I should ask if you have reason to think it could be someone else.”

“No,” she said adamantly. “It has to be him.”

“We probably should consider that this could be a random break-in. I haven't heard of any burglaries in the area, but Skyler will look into it and call in the forensic team to process the house.”

“Would a random burglar try to drag me out the door?”

“If he was panicked and wasn't thinking clearly, maybe. But you're right in thinking that would be odd.”

“This bomber,” Opa said. “How do you think he found out where Krista lives?”

“Good question.” Cash eyed Krista. “I suspect he heard her name on the news like I did, then went to the internet. But before I came over here, I searched and found nothing. Not even a Facebook account. Maybe he's better at searching than I am.”

Cash had dug into her past. Of course he had. This was just the beginning, and she doubted he was the only one looking. The time of her discovery was coming closer.

Her stomach cramped, but she forced her expression to remain neutral. “I'm a very private person. I doubt anyone will find much.”
At least not using the name Krista Curry.

“Hey, don't get me wrong. I'm all for privacy. As a deputy, I see people all too often who have gotten into trouble for sharing things on the internet. ”

“Fortunately, this house is in my name,” Opa said. “But I guess it doesn't matter as somehow the bomber made the connection.” He paused and stroked his whiskers. “I suppose he will try this again.”

Cash nodded. “It's likely he'll come back.”

Krista jerked her head to look at Cash. “You really think so? Even after he was almost caught?”

“It's a strong possibility.”

Her heart fell and a terrified, “Oh, no,” slipped out of its own accord.

“Don't worry.” Cash met her gaze. “I'll be sticking to you like glue until the bomber is brought in and you're safe.”

“What? No.” She sat forward. “I'm sure that's not necessary.”

He studied her for a few minutes before he crossed his arms, the corded muscles straining the fabric of his shirt. “Trust me. It's very necessary. We have a guy running around who wasn't afraid to kill countless people in the stadium. You think he'd hesitate to kill one more person?”

“He is right.” Opa locked gazes with Krista. “Not only will you say yes to his help, but you will smile and thank him for it.”

Fine. She got it. She needed Cash Dixon's help to stay safe—if not for her own sake, then to protect her grandfather, who would also be at risk if tonight's attacker returned. Cash would keep them safe. At least physically safe, but trusting him with anything else? That was another matter.