Lone Defender (Love Inspired Suspense) (14 page)

“He taught archeology, right?” Kane asked.

“That and ancient studies. His ex-wife said he had doctorates in both.”

“Smart guy.”

“Not smart enough to stay out of trouble.”

“Or to stay alive. Does anyone in Cave Creek know who would want him dead?”

“Not anyone who is willing to admit it. Yet. Tomorrow, Jonas and I are going to question his coworkers. The way I figure it, someone somewhere knows something. It’s just a matter of finding out who.”

“Just be sure you don’t make more enemies in the process.”

“That would be hard to do, seeing as how I’m sweet as sugar and twice as nice.”

“Right.” Kane snorted, and the soft sound of a baby’s cry
drifted into Skylar’s ear. “Now you’ve done it, Skylar. You’ve made me wake up the kid.”

“Don’t blame me. You’re the one who snorted loud enough to scare her out of a sound sleep.”

“Hold on.” He murmured something Skylar couldn’t hear, and she could imagine him looking down at his baby girl. Imagine the son he’d thought he’d lost standing beside them. His wife hovering in the background, waiting for him to get off the phone.

Kane had changed in the years since he’d been reunited with his little boy. He’d married, had another child, softened in an indefinable way. It was the stuff dreams were made of, and Skylar didn’t want to take away from his contentment, didn’t want to add worry to his life.

“Sorry about that.”

“No problem. Why don’t I let you go back to your family and—”

“Not so fast, Skylar. Like I was saying, I have plenty to worry about. You’ve stepped into something messy, and until we know what it is, we’ve got no way of cleaning it up. I don’t want you taking needless chances. I don’t want you hurt.”

“I’ve been hurt before and lived to tell the tale, Kane. You know that.”

“I also know you’re not a cat. You don’t have nine lives, and that second chance you got last time? It might have been your last.”

“You worry too much.”

“Only because I’m good at it. And now I do have to go. Be careful and check in with me when you have new information.”

“I will.”

“And don’t kill Jonas. I’m trying to talk him into joining the team.”

“Yeah?”

“He’d be good at it.”

“He’d be better at his old job.”

“If you two are planning to talk about me, I’ll take the phone and help you finish the conversation,” Jonas spoke up, his head bent over a chopping board as he sliced onions and green peppers.

“No need. We’re done.” Skylar said goodbye to Kane and handed the phone to Jonas, her stomach growling as she caught a whiff of onion. “Thanks.”

“For lending you the phone?”

“For cooking. Assuming you’re planning to share whatever you make.”

“I’m starving, so I’d like to refuse and keep it all for myself, but my grandfather raised me right.”

“Your grandfather, not your father and Debby?”

“I moved in with them when I was fifteen. I didn’t even know my father existed until then. Pops died. My mother was arrested for drunk and disorderly, and the next thing I knew, I had a father, a stepmother and a baby sister.”

“Must have been shocking.”

“You could say that.” He cracked eggs into a bowl, scrambled them. “You want to toss some bread into the toaster? I’m making omelets.”

“It seems like things worked out pretty well for all of you.” She grabbed a loaf of bread and a stick of butter, sidling past Jonas as she headed for the toaster, realizing too late just how close that brought them. Hip to hip. Shoulder to shoulder. Arm to arm.

“They did. Thanks to Debby. She’s one of the most understanding people I’ve ever met, and she was eager to make us into a family. She was more a mother to me than mine was before she died.” He poured the eggs into a hot pan, lean
ing close as he grabbed a spatula from the drawer in front of Skylar.

Galley kitchens weren’t made for two.

The longer she stood next to Jonas, the more sure of it Skylar was.

One person alone. Fine.

Two people together.

Not good.

She abandoned the toast, ready to escape to the living room, but Jonas blocked her path. “No need to run away, Skylar. I’m not going to bite.”

“It’s not biting I’m worried about,” she muttered, grabbing hot toast and buttering it.

“Then what are you worried about?”

“You. Me. Standing in a kitchen that is only big enough for one.”

“It feels plenty big enough to me.” He slid an oversize omelet onto a plate, cut it in half. “But then, I’m not all that concerned about how close we’re standing.”

“I’m not, either.” Not much anyway. “I just don’t think this is a good idea.” She dropped slices of toast on plates, shoved them toward Jonas.

“What?”

“Us cooking together. Being domestic. It feels too…”

“Intimate?”

“Something like that.”

“Maybe you’re just thinking about things wrong.” He slid half the omelet onto each plate.

“Jonas—”

“Look, I’m not going to claim that I know where this is going, but I’m not going to deny that there’s something between us, either.”

“There’s no—” She stopped short of denying it. Stopped short of looking him in the eye and lying.

To protect herself.

Her heart.

“Thanks.” He patted her hand, lifted one of the plates.

“For what?”

“Not denying it, because ignoring it won’t make it go away any more than acknowledging it will make it more than what it is. Maybe neither of us is ready for anything serious, but maybe we are. How will we know if we don’t take the chance and see where this is going to lead?

“This—” Skylar lifted her plate, smiled past the sudden lump in her throat “—is going to lead to a full stomach.”

“Do you always joke when you’re afraid?” He didn’t move aside when she tried to leave the kitchen. Just stood where he was, blocking her path, demanding that she face the same truth he had.

“I’m not afraid.” This time, she did lie. He knew it. She knew it. She dropped her plate onto the counter, frustrated with herself, with him, with all the things that she shouldn’t be feeling. “Okay. I am. Very afraid. I don’t want to pull out all those old dreams, dust them off, start to believe in them again and then have them crushed.”

“How do you know they will be?” He placed his plate next to hers, the food forgotten and going cold.

“Every dream I’ve ever had has been. Why would this time be any different?”

“Because this time, it’s you and me and those dreams, and maybe we can make them come true.” He cupped her face in his hands, leaned down so that their breath mingled, their gazes locked. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t move away.

Didn’t even want to.

It felt so right standing there with him.

So good.

She could almost believe that things
would
be different with Jonas.

Almost.

Someone moved. Skylar. Jonas. She didn’t know which. Didn’t care. Their lips met, his hands drifting to the back of her head, sliding through her hair. She wound her arms around his waist, let herself be lost in the moment, because this was Jonas, and as much as Skylar didn’t want to be hurt, she wanted to know
this.
How it felt to be in his arms, to touch silky hair, to feel the cold empty place in her heart fill until there was no room left for doubt, or worry, or nerves.

“I better go.” He stepped back, his eyes blazing, and Skylar nodded. Didn’t try to stop him as he opened the apartment door.

“I’m setting the alarm. If you need to leave, the code is 0-3-3-1, but call me before you go out. I don’t want you wandering around outside without protection. My number is on the phone’s contact list.”

“You didn’t eat your omelet.” She picked up a plate, held it out.

Didn’t eat your omelet?

It was only one of the lamest things she’d ever said.

He’d kissed her.

Or she’d kissed him.

Or, maybe, they’d kissed each other.

And now he was leaving, because what was between them was more than either of them had expected.

That being the case, Skylar figured the occasion deserved a lot more than mindless chatter about an omelet.

“I’ll make another one at home.” He didn’t take the plate, and she knew what he was thinking.

One touch, one brush of hand against hand, and they’d be back in each other’s arms, rushing headlong into something neither of them was quite ready for.

“Okay. Have a good night.”

Lame.

Lame, lame, lame, lame.

Lame!

She could almost hear Tessa’s chiding laughter, imagined her older sister rolling her eyes at Skylar’s attempt at easy conversation.

Jonas stepped outside and closed the door, left her standing with the plate held out to an empty room.

She set it on the counter, disgusted to see that her hands were shaking.

Shaking!

Because of a kiss.

She needed to pull herself together.

Sure, Jonas had saved her life. Sure, he was one of the most compelling men she’d ever met. Maybe
the
most compelling man she’d ever met. That didn’t mean she should lose her mind over him.

Too late. I already have.

The thought whispered through her head, and she tamped it down, grabbing one of the plates and diving into the omelet. She’d eat, sleep. When she woke up, she’d have a clearer perspective, a little more control.

She hoped.

Because the cold empty place in her heart, the one that had grown larger with every betrayal, emptier with every broken promise, it
was
filling. With a man who was larger than life and too good to be true, and all the things she knew made for a bad ending. Because larger than life usually meant small inside, and anything that seemed too good to be true, probably was.

Besides, she’d never come out on top in matters of the heart.

But maybe this time she would.

Because she’d grown up a lot in the past two years since she’d broken up with Matthew. She’d learned a lot. And
maybe she was ready to try it all again. Reaching for the dream, striving for the happily-ever-after.

Maybe.

But she was too tired to know, too worn out to make any decision, and Jonas’s kiss was still on her lips, warm and gentle and undemanding, all the things a kiss had never, ever been before.

She sighed, unzipping her suitcase and pulling out her cell phone. She plugged it into the charger, then spent a few minutes going through her notes on the case. Her mind refused to focus, though, and she grabbed her Bible, hoping to lose herself in scripture.

Hoping, but unsuccessful.

Her vision blurred, and she gave up, placing the Bible back in her suitcase and dropping onto the bed. She closed her eyes, thanking God for seeing her through another day, praying for guidance and protection, praying that she’d understand His will. Praying until her thoughts spun away, the silent words spinning with them as she tumbled into sleep.

Jonas stared out the living-room window, the soft tick of the grandfather clock he’d made for Gabriella the year they were married a rhythmic backdrop to his thoughts.

Three in the morning, and he was awake.

No light.

No television.

Nothing to distract him.

For once, that was the way he wanted it.

Kissing Skylar wasn’t something he’d planned, but it had happened, and it had shaken him.

Deeply.

The heat, the passion, the connection he’d felt had been as unexpected as her response, her easy sinking into the embrace. He’d wanted more of her, more of that moment, more
of what was building between them. Wanted it enough to know that he had to step away, give them both some space and some time to think.

And he
had
been thinking.

About the past.

About the future.

About possibilities that he couldn’t have entertained a year ago.

He walked to the fireplace mantel, lifted a framed photo, stared down into Gabriella’s face. “I know what you’d say, Gabby. You’d say, ‘Be happy, Jonas. Live your life with joy. Don’t hold my memory so close to your heart that you can’t let anything else inside.’”

He could almost hear her voice, could almost feel her standing beside him, smell her flowery perfume. She had loved without reserve. Always. And she would want him to do the same.

Always.

He sighed, set the photograph back in its place.

Four years, and he still loved Gabriella, still mourned her and Simon, but maybe there was room for other things.

Contentment.

Peace.

Love.

Maybe there was room for other people.

Room for Skylar.

Maybe.

Probably.

Acknowledging that hurt, but not as much as ignoring it would.

He couldn’t ignore the truth. No matter how difficult it was to swallow. He turned away from the photo, dropped
onto the sofa, bowed his head and prayed as he hadn’t done in years. For wisdom, for peace, for courage as he walked into whatever future God had planned for him.

THIRTEEN

S
kylar’s phone rang at four a.m., the sound seeping into her nightmares, pulling her from restless sleep. She jumped from the bed, nearly slamming into the wall as she raced into the living room and pulled her cell from the charger.

“Hello?” Still half-asleep, she shouted into the phone, wincing at the raw, rough sound of her voice echoing through the silent apartment.

“Skylar? It’s Samuel Mitchell. Sorry for calling you so early.”

“It’s okay. What’s up?”

“We’ve been able to match dental records and fingerprints, and we’ve confirmed our murder victim’s identity. It’s Daniel Redmond.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” She turned on a light, started the coffeemaker. She needed caffeine and she needed it fast, because Samuel Mitchell’s early morning call wasn’t making sense. They’d all assumed the identity of the victim. It wouldn’t have hurt for him to wait a few more hours to give her the news.

“That’s not why I’m calling, though.”