His Touch. Mary Baxter Lynn
she got behind the wheel, feeling like a child who had been reprimanded, a feeling she abhorred and wouldn’t tolerate. But now was not the time to have a confrontation with Brant. Her home would suffice.
Twenty minutes later, she drove into her garage. Once they were inside, he didn’t waste any time. “Who were those guys?”
She told him.
He gave her a hard stare. “Do you realize they could have harmed you?”
“No. They might be stupid, but not that stupid.”
“Are you always this mule-headed?”
Jessica didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
For an instant she thought she saw a flash of humor in his eyes. That couldn’t be. If this man ever smiled, his face would probably crack. What had she gotten herself into?
“Well, someone’s out to harm you, Mrs. Kincaid, and it could very well be one or both of them. If I were betting, I’d say the big one, the one who was looming over you, wouldn’t think twice about doing whatever it took to get his job back.”
“That’s Wesley Stokes. If I have my way, he’ll be off the force permanently.”
“I think he knows that, which is all the more reason why he’s been elevated to the top of the suspect list.”
Jessica frowned. “It’s possible, of course. But I doubt he has the intelligence to pull off the threats. Dick Wells might be a different story. I know he’s computer savvy.” She paused and took a deep breath, already so tired of this situation she could scream. But that wouldn’t do anything. She simply had to get through these bumpy spots in the road, then maybe she could get on with her life.
“His computer expertise sends up a red flag,” Brant said. “As far as the Stokes character goes, I wouldn’t put anything past him. He’s street smart, the most dangerous kind of smarts.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” she admitted on a sigh.
“Good. So from now on, when I suggest something—anything—that’s in your best interest, I expect you to do it.”
She threw her head back to look at him. “I’m not a child, Mr. Harding. And I resent being treated like one.”
“Then I think we’re both wasting our time.”
A hostile silence descended over the room.
“You mean there can’t be a happy medium?”
“Not with me. If I’m to do my job, then it’s my way or no way.” He paused as if to let those words sink in.
Damn his stubbornness. More to the point, who did he think he was? It wasn’t too late to fire him. It was on the tip of her tongue to do just that, but the words stuck in her throat. “Look, maybe we should postpone this discussion for another time. It’s been a long day for both of us.”
Brant shrugged his shoulders. “It’s your call. Tell me where I can bunk in for the night, then I suggest you give what I just told you serious thought.”
“Follow me,” she said through tight lips.
A short time later, Jessica was still harboring ill will toward her unwanted houseguest. She had taken a hot bath, hoping to relieve her tension and chaotic thoughts, to no avail. If anything, she was more agitated than ever. Just his presence was responsible.
After she was in her robe, it dawned on her that she hadn’t had anything to eat, nor had he. The thought of food was as unappetizing as going downstairs and running into him, but she wondered if he was hungry. Manners should have prodded her to tell him he was welcome to use the kitchen.
Too late now. Anyway, she wasn’t sure she could have uttered those words. What an impossible situation. Her gaze went to the computer, but she dared not boot it up for fear of what she would read. She would have loved to e-mail Veronica, but she couldn’t deal with anything else this evening.
When the phone rang, whether it was her land line or her cell, her instinct was to answer it. But unless she knew for sure who the caller was, she wouldn’t do it. Life was definitely too short to live like this.
All the more reason not to relieve Brant Harding of his duties.
Following their earlier conversation, she’d had every intention of doing just that, deciding she definitely couldn’t subject herself to such an invasion into her privacy. And while the thought remained tempting, her sound judgment once again came to her rescue. If she refused Brant’s help, she would be doing herself a grave injustice.
After all, this was indeed a dangerous game she was playing. And before the game came to an end, the stakes could escalate even more.
Jeopardizing her very life.
The ringing of her cell phone jarred her from her thoughts. Only after the caller ID registered a familiar number did relief wash through her.
“Hey,” she said.
“So how are things going, friend?”
“You don’t want to know.” Jessica eased onto the bed, then propped her head on a stack of pillows.
“Uh-oh,” Veronica said. “Not so good, huh?”
“I was just about to call you.”
“More harassment, I’m assuming.”
“That and—” She broke off, deciding not to blurt out her feelings concerning Brant.
“Go on,” Veronica urged in a seemingly innocent tone.
Jessica wasn’t fooled for a second. She would bet her friend either knew exactly what was going on or had a pretty good idea. “I don’t want to do this,” Jessica admitted at last.
“I know you don’t, but what choice do you have?”
“Isn’t there someone else in Thurmon’s office who could do the job?”
Silence hummed through the line.
“Not as well as Brant.” Veronica sighed. “Do you just not like him or what?”
Jessica was reluctant to admit that, fearing it might lead to much more probing questions, questions she wasn’t prepared to answer. Yet she had no intention of lying to her friend, not now, not ever.
“For some reason, he just rubs me the wrong way.”
Veronica chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Then why on earth did Thurmon pick him?”
“He’s told you already. Brant’s the best at what he does. And since you’re my dearest friend, I’m determined that you have the best.”
Jessica sighed. “While I love you dearly for your care and concern, I’m just not sure I can handle his strong personality.”
“You’re one to be talking. I can see why you two would butt heads.”
“It’s just that he’s so…” Jessica’s voice faded as she realized how whiny and childish she must sound. Veronica, of all people, shouldn’t have to bear the brunt of her dilemma.
“Bossy and strong-willed? Was that what you were going to say?”
“Yes.”
“Look, you’ll get adjusted, but not in one day. You’re expecting too much, too soon.”
“You’re right, I know. Still…” Again Jessica’s voice faded, while her frustration rose.
“Still nothing. Just chill and go with the flow. It’ll all work out, maybe much sooner than expected. If Brant’s as good as my better half says, and I have no reason to believe otherwise,