Thanksgiving Target Read online

  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 brushe
d 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.

  What was wrong with her? Here she was, feeling sorry for herself over losing the home she’d shared with Ted when Melissa Forrester was right now fighting for her life in the ICU.

  Max was alive and so was she. Melissa was getting the best possible care to enable her to recover from her injuries. Beau was safe within the veterinary hospital. Maybe she didn’t completely understand the Lord’s plan for her, but she needed to count her blessings.

  Material things could be replaced.

  People couldn’t.

  Calmer now, she glanced at Max, his facial expression drawn into deep lines as he stared straight ahead, watching the officers in the front seat.

  Never once through this long night had he so much as hinted at growing tired of being with her. Instead, she had the impression that he was almost as worried about her well-being as he was about his sister’s.

  She looked away, fearing she was reading far too much into his kindness. Ted had once been as strong as Max. Not as military savvy, but Ted had been a good man, too. He was a carpenter, running his own home improvement business, slowly gaining a decent clientele and somewhat steady work until he’d been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

  They’d had health insurance through her social worker job, but without his income and no life insurance, the bills had quickly swelled to the point she’d had to refinance their mortgage to make ends meet.

  And then, when she’d known the end was near, she’d taken a leave of absence from work in order to provide palliative care for Ted at home.

  He’d died in her arms on the eve of their first anniversary.

  She’d wanted to die, too.

  But God had other plans for her, not that she’d fully understood them. She still didn’t. Overwhelmed with grief and sorrow, she’d found it difficult to seek solace in prayer. But tonight her faith in God had been restored. He must have sent Max to keep her safe.

  So what if her house was gone and her precious photographs destroyed? She’d always hold her memories of Ted deep in her heart.

  And she needed to be strong, to help carry out God’s mission of continuing to help others, like Melissa. She certainly owed Max the return favor, after everything he’d done for her.

  “Where do you want to be dropped off?” Officer Anderson asked, breaking the silence.

  “At the front entrance,” Max instructed.

  She didn’t argue, understanding Max wanted to walk to the hotel from the hospital. When Officer Schimberg opened her door, she let go of Max’s hand and forced herself to get out of the car under her own power.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Officer Schimberg gave her a polite nod. She turned and waited for Max, who’d pulled their bags out of the police car, as if he’d instinctively hung on to them as a result of his military training.

  “Come on,” he said, taking her hand in his.

  She liked the feel of his hand on hers—a little too much. They stood, waiting for the police to drive away, before he tugged on her hand.

  “This way.”

  She followed the way he indicated, realizing he was drawing her away from the bright lights of the front entrance, around to the side of the hospital where they could blend into the darkness next to the building. It had to be close to four in the morning, but there was no sign of dawn breaking over
the horizon yet.

  He stopped, and she bumped into him, squashing her nose against his muscled arm. After several seconds that seemed like an eternity, he began walking again, finding the nearest sidewalk and finally leaving the relative safety of the hospital building to move toward the street.

  There were several hotels on the highway. At this point, she didn’t even care which one he chose. She stumbled a bit, catching herself before he decided to carry her. Again.

  When they entered the hotel lobby, they must have looked like a pathetic pair with their disheveled smoke-tinged clothes and drawn faces. The lights were painfully bright, and she squinted at the young man reading a chemistry textbook behind the desk.

  “We’d like two connecting rooms please,” Max said, dropping their bags to the floor so he could pull out his wallet.

  When she reached for her purse, he put a hand over hers, stopping her.

  “No, I’ll put the rooms on my credit card.”

  She was tired and she was thirsty, and as much as she knew she owed Max her life, she was getting mad. “Absolutely not. I insist on paying for my own room.”

  The muscles around his mouth tightened, and she watched in fascination, sensing he was reining in his own patience. “That’s not an option. I don’t want your name in any way associated with your room. Do you understand?”

  Of course she understood—now that he’d explained. Feeling like a fool, she realized he was once again only trying to keep her safe. Being on the run like this, hiding from someone who wanted to hurt her, didn’t come naturally. At least, not the way it seemed to for him.

  Max was a soldier. She needed to listen to his wisdom.

  She dropped her purse with a sigh. There was no reason to worry. As soon as she could find an ATM, she could pay him back with cash. “Yes. Sorry.”

  He slid the credit card over to the college student. “Two connecting rooms,” he repeated.

  The kid eyed them warily. “Is the second floor okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  Five minutes later, they’d climbed the staircase to the second floor and found their rooms. Max tucked one key in his pocket and held the other in his hand as they paused outside the second door, located farther down the hall.