A Promise to Protect (Logan Point Book #2): A Novel (10 page)

The first order of business had been TJ’s bath, and now Leigh climbed the stairs behind Marisa with the rest of their Walmart purchases. There’d been no gracious way not to leave him with Ben in the kitchen, the two of them eating peanut butter and jelly
sandwiches. Tom Logan had already gone to bed before they arrived, so that was one meeting that would wait until morning.

Marisa led her down the hallway. “You can stay here as long as you need. With Tom in the wheelchair and not able to talk, this big old house gets mighty quiet sometimes when the grandkids aren’t here.”

That would be Emily’s twins, Josh and Jacob. The two boys at the funeral with Marisa. She’d heard a lot about them from TJ and imagined when they left it’d be like the quiet after a storm.

Marisa placed her hand on Leigh’s arm. “I know you’re hurting, and it’ll get a lot worse before it gets better, but it will get better. Just remember, over and over the Bible says ‘and it came to pass.’” She squeezed Leigh’s arm.

If only God didn’t seem so far away right now. Sometimes when she saw TJ’s excitement for all things God, she missed the closeness she’d had when she first came to know him. But after TJ came, she’d had to fit raising a baby alone and finishing college and then med school into her schedule, and there were only twenty-four hours in a day.

Leigh’s conscience pinched her heart. If she was honest with herself, she’d admit she quit reading her Bible after she discovered the verse in the New Testament about lying: “Do not lie to one another, since you laid aside the old self with its evil practices.” It’d been a memory verse for a Bible study, one she quit not long afterwards to bury herself in med school. As the distance between her and God grew, it became easier to tell herself she was doing the right thing by letting everyone believe Matthew had been TJ’s father. She looked up and caught Marisa studying her.

“You’ve lost so much for one so young. Your parents, your husband in that terrible accident, now Tony, but God has given you the precious gift of your son.”

Leigh blinked back the tears that stung her eyelids. TJ was all that mattered now.

Marisa pushed open the first door they came to. “This is where TJ will stay. It’s Ben’s old room, and I’m afraid it’s still decorated in ‘Early Ben.’ We’ll put TJ’s things in the chest, and then I’ll show you to your room.”

Marisa crossed to the bed and turned back the khaki and brown striped sheets. As Leigh’s gaze traveled around the room, she understood the comment about the decor. Ben’s plaques lined one wall and trophies sat on every available surface. One trophy towered above the others, a baseball perched on a pedestal. She tilted it so she could read the plate. MVP University of Mississippi.

In high school Ben had always excelled at anything he tried, and TJ had gotten his athletic genes. Evidently, Ben’s winning streak had carried over into college. Was there anything he didn’t do well?

Leigh placed Bear on the bed, then emptied the Walmart bags into the chest, neatly arranging them—one drawer underwear, one drawer shorts and T-shirts, another one socks. Even though they weren’t staying long, she wanted things neat. Not that they’d remain that way.

“When you and Ben were dating, I thought . . .” Marisa sighed and straightened one of the plaques. “I don’t think he’s ever gotten over you.”

Marisa’s admission stunned her. “He recovered pretty quickly. When I came back for my grandmother’s funeral that fall, I heard he was engaged.”

“That was rebound.” Marisa shook her head. “And that girl was all wrong for him. She did some pretty conniving things to land that engagement ring. When Ben discovered she’d lied about something, that was it for him. One thing he can’t abide is dishonesty.”

Leigh’s breath caught in her chest.

Marisa beamed at her. “But you’ve done so well, Dr. Leigh Somerall. We’re all so proud of you.” She bit her lip. “Even Tom.”

Leigh jerked and widened her eyes.

“When he told me how he’d broken you and Ben up, I wanted to strangle him.”

“You’ve known all these years?”

Marisa shook her head. “If I’d known when it happened, I would have done something about it. No, he only told me a couple of years ago—right after the article came out in the paper about our homegrown girl graduating from med school—too late to do anything about it. I’m not defending what he did, but he’s always been consumed with Ben following in his footsteps and becoming sheriff of Bradford County.”

“And a person with my reputation back then would have hurt his chances.”

Marisa’s lips quirked in a sad smile. “Tom was wrong, and I wish he could tell you how sorry he is for what he did. I just wished you had told him no.”

“I couldn’t. Tony . . .” Leigh blinked back tears.

“You must have loved your brother very much.”

“I did.”

Marisa patted her arm. “Come and let me show you where you’ll sleep.”

Leigh turned and followed the older woman down the hall.

“This was Emily’s room. I think you’ll enjoy being in here.”

Indeed she would. Moss-green walls, ivory window coverings, and a poster bed with a coverlet that matched the curtains. Such a restful room.

“Put your things in the drawers, and then come downstairs for a cup of hot cocoa. Might help you sleep.”

“Thank you, I will. I need to collect TJ, anyway.” Leigh hesitated. “I don’t know how to thank—”

“Shush. I’m just glad you decided to come.” Marisa gave her a smile that would melt glass.

After the older woman left, Leigh placed her lingerie in the top drawer, then found the bathroom and put their toothbrushes in the holder. She rolled her shoulders, and pain shot up her neck. A cup of cocoa did sound good.

Voices came from the kitchen as she descended the stairs. When she rounded the corner, her heart skipped a beat. Tom Logan was supposed to be in bed. Instead he sat in his wheelchair, his gaze intent on TJ as her son held his hand out.

“Hi, Mr. Sheriff. I’m TJ Somerall. I’m gonna be stayin’ here. Did you know somebody set fire to our house?”

Tom’s hazel eyes burned bright, sending an icy shiver down her back. Now she knew where TJ’s eye coloring came from. Would anyone else notice?

“He can’t use his right hand, TJ.” Ben’s soft words bridged the deathly quiet of the room. “And I’m afraid he can’t talk, either.”

TJ shifted to the left hand. “That’s okay. He can use the other one.”

Leigh held her breath as Tom lifted his left hand, and her son grasped it. “We’re gonna be friends. I can tell.” TJ cocked his head. “Can you play checkers?”

Turtle-like, Tom nodded.

“Good! Maybe we can play in the morning, but I’m warning you, I’m good, Mr. Sheriff.”

“TJ,” Marisa said. “why don’t you call the sheriff Pops, like Josh and Jacob do?”

Leigh’s heart hung in her throat, her mouth so dry she couldn’t swallow. She couldn’t do this. She had to get TJ and get out of this house, but one look at the glow in her son’s face rooted her to the floor.

TJ’s eyes widened. “Can I?”

Marisa hugged him. “I think Pops would like that. And you can call me Granna. All the kids at church do.”

Leigh shrank back as Tom lifted his gaze over TJ’s head and pinned her with his intense stare. She thought her heart would stop when he flicked a glance at Ben then TJ.

He knows.

A
rmero, cuándo enviará los rifles?”

“Dos semanas.” Armero drummed his fingers on the desk as the comprador ranted. No amount of cursing could change the date. The comprador wanted 150 AR-15 rifles, and he only had 130. He switched to English. “I’m sorry, compradre. Perhaps you would like to find another source.”

“No. If two weeks, two weeks.”

“Bien.” They talked briefly, and then he hung up.
Armero
. Gunsmith.
He’d liked the name so much, he’d come to think of himself by it. Except he didn’t actually make the guns. He just knew where to steal the parts.

Armero turned to his computer and tapped into the inventory for today. It had been a good day on the line. Then he checked the shipping schedule. There were several deliveries of raw ceramic material going to Mexico in the next two weeks. Next, he checked the list of drivers then typed in Gordon Roberts’s name for the last shipment—he’d see that the guns were ready. Then he’d let Roberts know to drop the shipment at the Blue Dog Company. Roberts never asked questions, simply dropped cargo where he was told.

He leaned back in his leather chair and tented his fingers, tapping the forefingers against his lips. His thoughts traveled to other problems. Like the location of Tony’s flash drive. He’d slipped back into the house the day of the funeral and still hadn’t found
it, but there were so many places to look in the small house. And now most of the house was gone, and he’d never know if it had been destroyed in the attic.

He hated working with a partner. Especially one with an agenda. It took some of the fun out of the game. But he’d needed help assembling the guns. Armero shook his head. His partner was a problem he could do nothing about tonight. What he could do was walk out to the building where the lower receivers were milled and pick up a couple. It was the only part he lacked for the remaining twenty rifles. If there were no problems on the line, he’d get them in the next two weeks. The problem was getting them before they were stamped with the Maxwell logo and serial number.

He opened the daily inventory sheet for the receivers. Good. Today’s pieces had not made it to the stamping line. He reduced the daily productivity count by three. Perhaps tomorrow he could pick up a couple more, and by the middle of next week, he’d have enough for his order.

Even this reminded him of Tony’s flash drive. Why in the world Tony had to get religion was beyond his imagination. The old Tony would have looked the other way. After all, who cared if the drug cartels in Mexico wiped each other out as long as they paid good money for his rifles to do it? A grim smile stretched across his lips. The price he set had never been a problem, and a tidy sum was drawing interest in an account in Switzerland.

It had to be that border agent who was killed that did it. But the agent wasn’t killed with one of
his
guns. He just hadn’t been able to make Tony see that.

His watch chimed an alarm, and he checked the time. The guard should have just left the receiver building. If he hurried, he’d get in and out before he made the rounds in the building beside it.

Fifteen minutes later, Armero’s fingers shook as he opened his briefcase and placed three of the dark gray aluminum rifle pieces in it. Then with adrenaline still thrumming through his veins, he hurried
to the door, unbolted the lock, and after exiting, relocked it. This is what he lived for. The rush of not getting caught. He understood how a gambler felt as he waited for the dice to land or a card to come up. It wasn’t about winning. It was about those seconds of anticipation.

A shout halted him at the end of the building.

“You, there! Stop!”

His blood roared in his ears as he turned around, rehearsing the story he’d devised. The guard approached. Black? No . . . Names raced through his mind. Jett. Richard Jett. “Good evening, Richard. How’s the family?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you. Working late again, I see. My family is fine. Thank you for the tickets to see the Redbirds play.”

“Well, it was really the company. It appreciates the job you’re doing here.”

“Thank you, sir. I try.”

With a nod, Armero turned and strode toward the parking lot. He had won again.

Ben set the empty cup of cocoa on the kitchen counter and ruffled TJ’s copper hair before he thought. He’d set boundaries on just how close he’d get with the boys in Emily’s Sunday school class, and he didn’t want to cross that line. It was the only way to avoid a panic attack. But somehow, TJ seemed different. Different even from his nephews. For a second when TJ looked up, he reminded him of someone, but then, most boys his age looked alike. “It’s been fun hanging out together, but I have to go.”

“Are you going to catch the bad guys that burned our house?”

“I’m not sure that’s what happened, but if someone did, I’m going to try.” So far he hadn’t done too good of a job. Ben hugged his mom. “See you tomorrow morning.”

He turned to Leigh, and her gaze was on TJ. Ben wished he could erase the worry lines from her face. She raised her head and
caught him watching her. Her face flushed, and his heart betrayed him, beating erratically as her emerald-colored eyes made him think of a particular warm summer afternoon by the lake.

“What’s the game plan?” she asked. “I’m not scheduled to work, but I have a ton of paperwork I need to catch up on.”

Ben glanced at TJ. The boy’s face knit in a frown as his gaze bounced back and forth between them. Evidently Ben’s mom saw it too.

His mother turned to TJ. “Would you like to help me?”

TJ’s gaze lingered on his mom, and Leigh squeezed his shoulders. “It’s going to be fine.”

“And afterward, I’ll take you up to your room,” Marisa said. “It was Ben’s when he lived here, and you can see all his trophies.”

“Mom, I thought you stored those things out in the barn.” He hoped Leigh didn’t think displaying the awards was his idea.

“Why would I do that? One day you’ll have a son, and I’d just have to go dig them out,” Marisa said.

Before she wheeled his dad out the door, Ben hugged him. “See you tomorrow, Dad.”

Tom Logan moved his left hand, touching Ben’s revolver. “Rila.”

Ben suppressed a groan. He’d forgotten to take off his service revolver. About a month after his dad’s stroke, he’d gotten upset whenever Ben wore it.

“Rila!” Tom gripped Ben’s arm.

He winced at the strength in his fingers. “Yeah, Dad, I have my gun. It’s okay.”

His dad’s eyebrows pinched together, and his shoulders sagged. “Rila.”

He was almost in tears. TJ patted his dad on the leg. “What’s he trying to say?”

“I don’t know,” Ben said.

“Maybe I can help him.” TJ looked into Tom’s eyes. “Tomorrow, we’re going to play a game, Pops. I’ll show you how to talk.”

“TJ, go brush your teeth and leave the sheriff alone,” Leigh said. “Your toothbrush is in the holder in the bathroom. I’ll be up to tuck you in.”

“Aw, Mom!” TJ ducked his head. “Okay, Pops, looks like I gotta go to bed.”

Ben noticed he didn’t say for her not to come. Leigh swayed slightly, and he steadied her. She’d gone about as far as she could for one day. “Why don’t you sit down while I get you a cup of cocoa?”

“I thought you had to leave,” she said, sinking into the kitchen chair Marisa had vacated.

“I can spare a few more minutes.” He put marshmallows in a cup and poured cocoa from the carafe. Winter or summer, cocoa was a staple in the Logan house.

When he turned around, Leigh had crossed her arms on the table and was resting her head. She looked up and laughed. It was a soft laugh.

“I didn’t know I was so tired,” she said, stretching. “About tomorrow . . . is it necessary for a deputy to accompany me to the hospital?”

“Can you do the paperwork here?”

“Here? I don’t want to pack it all up and bring it to your parents’ house. Can’t I just go to the hospital by myself?”

“But Leigh, I don’t—”

“You don’t know for sure the fire was set—it could’ve been lightning, Sarah could’ve been mistaken.
I
didn’t smell any kerosene.”

He tried to stare her down. “I don’t remember you being this stubborn when we were in high school.”

“You don’t remember a lot of things.” Her eyes darkened. “You’re not in charge of me, and I have a job to do. No one, not even some lunatic, is going to make me a prisoner.”

When she stopped to catch her breath, he said, “Having someone escort you is not treating you like a prisoner.”

“I know that, and it’s not that I don’t appreciate your folks
taking us in and what you’ve done. But I’m going to live my life as normally as I can. Besides, we have armed security in the ER.”

“I’d still feel better if you go along with me on this.”

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she gave him the barest of nods. “I give up. If you think it’s absolutely necessary, one of your deputies can escort me to and from the hospital.”

“I’ll take you myself.”

She rolled her eyes.

“We need to explore who and why someone is after you. If you want to look for your insurance papers, I’ll take you to the house and then drop you off at the hospital.”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital smelling like a chimney. Pick me up at nine. Then I’ll have time to come back here and shower and change. And when I do go to the hospital, if you insist on escorting me, you can follow me so I’ll have my car.”

At least she’d agreed to something. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Mom!” TJ’s voice drifted down the stairs. “Where’s my toothbrush?”

“Coming,” she yelled back. She heaved a sigh. “He’s like all men, couldn’t find something if it was about to bite him.”

Fatigue etched its lines in the slump of her shoulders, the planes of her face. “You finish your cocoa. I’ll go find it for him.” Too late, a warning pierced Ben’s brain. This was no way to keep his distance from the boy.

“No, I’ll go.”

He should let her, but he hated for her to climb the stairs again. And did she have to fight him on everything? “What, you think I can’t find it?”

Leigh’s mouth opened in protest, and he cut her off. “Sit there and rest a minute. I won’t hurt him.”

She held herself very still, almost rigid, and then her body sagged against the chair. “Thanks.”

Ben climbed the stairs, taking his time. This was one argument
he should have let her win, but he was only finding TJ’s toothbrush . . . just like he would his nephews’. He was fine around them, for the most part, but they had their dad. He took a deep breath. This was doable. Except . . . with TJ’s father dead, the boy only had Leigh. He topped the stairs. Tommy Ray Gresham flashed in his mind, and a cold sweat broke out on his face. He swallowed down the familiar tightness in his throat.
Not now.

“Mom—” TJ stopped short when he saw him. “Hey, Ben. Do you see my toothbrush?”

Ben took a deep breath, and calmness spread through his chest. “Your mom said it would be close enough to bite you, so let’s see . . .” He looked in the toothbrush holder by the sink and picked up a small brush. “Is this it, maybe?”

“Thanks! Can you tell me about that stuff in my room?”

Ben ended up not only helping TJ find his toothbrush but also telling him about each trophy. He even helped him into his pajamas. Once TJ was in bed, Ben asked, “Do you want Bear?”

The boy darted his eyes toward the stuffed toy Ben held out. “Nah, that’s for kids,” TJ said. His eyes said otherwise.

Ben pulled Bear’s flopped ear up straight. “You know, I had a blanket that I slept with every night until I was twelve. Sometimes I kind of wish I still had it.”

TJ’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Ben nodded. This wasn’t so hard.

“I’m just nine.”

The boy was already nine? He didn’t think the twins were but eight. “Then I expect it’d be all right, don’t you?”

The boy reached for the bear. “Wouldn’t want Bear to get lonesome.”

Ben thought he detected a tear in the corner of his eye. TJ took a shivering breath. “Is my mom going to be okay?”

His stomach lurched. He should’ve left while he was ahead. “She’s going to be fine.”

“But what if someone hurts her, I mean,
really
hurts her.”

He patted TJ’s leg. “I told you before. I won’t let anyone hurt her.”

“You promise?”

Ben faltered. What if he couldn’t keep Leigh safe? He hadn’t kept Tony safe, and so far, he hadn’t done too good a job with Leigh. He swallowed. “I promise I’ll do my best.”

TJ’s gaze locked into Ben’s. Finally he nodded. “Okay,” he whispered and hugged the bear to his chest. “I like it here. I wish we could stay forever, and y’all could be my family.”

A board creaked behind Ben, and he turned. Leigh stood in the doorway, her face ashen.