The Thanksgiving Target. Laura Scott
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.
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