Renegade Protector. Nico Rosso
I don’t know who you are, but saying thanks doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He took a step forward, as if to speak, but she continued, “You did an amazing thing.”
“My name is Tyler Morrison.” He maintained a distance and spoke calmly. “Call me Ty.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Ty.” She wished there was some light to examine his face. “I’m just going to disappear now and find a life where I’m not in someone’s crosshairs.” If she could find her purse, she could get her keys and drive home to dig up all the paperwork to transfer the deed of her orchard to the Hanley Group and they could stop ruining her life. “I’m fine, and you can go back to your vacation or road trip or whatever it is that brought you to Rodrigo, California.”
He spoke evenly. “I’m here for you, Mariana Balducci.”
Danger immediately clutched her again. She held her pepper spray and got ready to run. “What the hell does that mean?”
A pool of light flicked across the ground. Ty held a small flashlight on a key chain. She was able to make out the shape of his nose and serious mouth, but his dark eyes remained unreadable. The light landed on her purse and remained there. Neither she nor Ty moved.
Adrenaline continued to rack her body, amplified each second he didn’t answer her question. She raised the pepper spray higher in her fist. “Explain,” she demanded.
He nodded easily. “In exchange for me helping you out just now, you can do something for me.”
“So this whole attack was a setup for you to show up, play hero, then get something in return.” For months there’d been threatening phone calls, unexpected letters and unwelcome presences in her store. And here was another man thinking he could push her around.
“This was no game. Those guys were dead serious.” Ty shook his head, and the light glinted off his eyes, revealing their depth. “Here’s what you can do for me—stay.”
She squinted at him, trying to piece together his meaning.
“Make a stand,” he continued with a passionate fire growing in his voice. “Fight back.”
She barked an incredulous laugh. “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but I’m down to my last twelve dollars, my last hour of sleep and my last nerve. Looks to me like the best way to stay alive is to sell out.”
“You’re not alone in this fight.” His jaw was set.
She lowered the pepper spray but stayed on guard. “Yes, you were absolutely there for me just now, but this has been going on for months. Are you going to stick around that long?” She jabbed her finger toward him. “And what do you get in return?”
He bared his teeth. “I get the satisfaction that a good person won her fight.”
She swept her purse off the ground. Ty talked tough, but confidence alone wasn’t going to win this struggle. “You make it sound so easy.”
His flashlight pointed at the door of her truck now, bathing him in reflected red light. “I know it isn’t.”
“You seem to know a hell of a lot.” It was crazy to collect any hope from Ty’s conviction. “And all I know is the name you gave me.” Which could easily be fake. “How did you find me? I haven’t gone public with any of this.”
He explained slowly, “But you did go to the police when the extortion started. And that puts things on record.”
“So you’re a cop?” That might clarify parts of this, but not everything. Ty certainly had authority in his presence, but if he was here on any official capacity, he would’ve flashed some identification. Not that she had much trust in the police these days. Pete toed the line with the rest of the local cops, explaining that they couldn’t do anything without proof. The goons who’d been coming around had been too slick to get caught.
Ty dropped his voice, sounding like he had a secret only for her. “I’m part of an organization—”
Shattering glass interrupted him. He immediately ran in the direction it came from. Her store. She chased after him toward the back of the building. More glass broke. A car tore away down the street in front of the row of stores.
A yellow light flickered in her shop, making the shadows in the back door dance awkwardly. The light deepened to a dangerous red. It silhouetted Ty as he skidded to a stop at the door. He turned to her, face deadly serious. “Call 911.”
She pulled her phone and her keys from her purse as she pressed the emergency-dial button on her phone, Ty took her keys, unlocked the back door and rushed in without hesitation. A wave of heat hit her, and she could only stand and stare at the fire that spread across the floor of her shop. Beyond it were the broken windows, gaping, jagged and dripping with flames.
The emergency operator answered and Mariana implored the fire department to show up as soon as they could.
Ty’s shape hurried through her field of view. He moved purposefully, opening drawers in a desk behind the register. “Where’s the important paperwork?” he barked over the sound of the growing fire.
She burst into action and ran into the shop. Shouldering him aside, she unlocked the file drawer on the desk and pulled out the fire safe containing her business license, her inspection reports and the archival information she’d collected on the historic building all the shops shared.
Ty held his large hand out to her. “Cash?” She found the key for her register and handed it to him as the heat intensified. An automatic alarm system blared. “Get to safety.” He pointed to the back door. She sped in that direction, losing sight of him as he moved toward the register.
The fire grew and the ceiling sprinklers finally hissed to life. She swung out the back door, put the safe down and turned to see the steam from the blaze as it crept up her wooden display tables. Water would kill the fire, but nothing could quench the rage that shook her. The intimidation had been wearing her down for months, but tonight was a direct attack. Her body had been threatened. Her work was burning.
A hunched and wet Ty blasted from the back door, carrying her cash drawer. He handed it to her. The undiminished fire revealed his grim face. “Homemade napalm,” he explained. “It’s like jelly. The water won’t put it out.”
The fury felt like it would consume her. “This is how badly they want me gone.”
“But they don’t know who they’re fighting against. The answer’s still inside.” Instead of backing away from the growing blaze, he sped back through the rear door.
Sirens cut through the night in the distance. She hung up her phone, dropped the cash drawer and rushed to the door. Ty moved through the deadly blaze, one arm curled across his face for protection. He was collecting something, but she couldn’t tell what.
“Leave it,” she shouted to him through the door. “Leave it! It’s not important.” Her merchandise was a loss by now, and none of it was worth his hurting himself. He disappeared completely in the flames. She threw the door open. Despite the heat, cold panic raced through her muscles. “Ty!” She crouched low, beneath the choking smoke. “Ty!” Water from the sprinklers splashed on her as she pressed forward toward the flames. He’d helped her, stepped into her fight, and she couldn’t just leave him in the fire.
He burst through the flames in front of her. The two of them retreated for the back exit as relief washed over her. Once they were outside, she saw that he held a stack of the old framed photos from her shop walls. The same photos he’d been examining when he was there earlier.
“It is important,” he said. “This is why you’ve got to keep standing up.” He shuffled the antique pictures until he got to one of a group of nineteenth-century cowboys and frontierswomen of different ethnicities, posing along a ridge next to a sprawling oak tree.
She laughed without any joy. Her shop burned. Exhaustion dragged her down. “I can’t stand up anymore.”
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