Hidden in Shadows (9 page)

The second rush hit just about the time Tatum showed up. Thanks goodness for the teenager's arrival, and her efficiency.

Someone tapped on the back door. Good grief, if it was Alan again she was going to lose it. He'd called her every hour to make sure she was okay.

Instead, Chief Cunningham stepped into the kitchen. He nodded at Krista.

“Hey, chief,” Krista said. “Need some lunch?”

“No, no, just stopped by to bring some crutches for gimp here.” The chief offered the crutches to Luke.

“Thanks.” Luke pushed the chair aside and stood on one foot, adjusting the crutches under each arm.

“Should fit about right. My son broke his leg a few years ago. He's about your height.” He motioned to the door. “You mind giving those a spin outside?”

Krista didn't miss the chief's subtle nod. She suspected he had news about the case and didn't want anyone overhearing. Still, Krista should be kept in the loop, shouldn't she?

Luke glanced at Krista. “I'll be right back.”

Another group of four wandered into the shop, keeping Krista distracted from the goings-on outside. A good thing. Although she wanted to know what was happening with the case, and if someone had really taken a shot at Luke, she had to stay on top of her game if she was to serve customers.

Making delicious food presented in a beautiful manner, served in a charming setting was her ministry in life. Just like catching criminals was Luke's.

She wondered how many drug dealers or murderers he'd put away in his career as a federal agent. Well, she thanked God
for people like Luke, men who were dedicated to justice and protecting innocent people.

She also thanked God for bringing Luke into her life at this tumultuous time. She realized that after knowing him only briefly, she'd miss him when this was over: his surly nature, teasing tone and protective attitude. But that was the way of things. It's not like she could ever have a relationship with a man who thrived on the rush of violence. She'd had enough violence in her life, thank you very much.

And once this drug-smuggling case was closed, she hoped to go back to her old, normal life. She sighed as relief washed over her. Or was it melancholy?

 

As she and Tatum cleaned up at the end of the day, Krista puzzled over Luke's mood. The chief had told him that the gunshot sound was actually a car's backfire. Dispatch received four calls about the same time Luke fell off the roof.

Luke didn't seem convinced.

“Dining room's done, sinks and coffeemaker are rinsed,” Tatum said, planting her hands on her hips, waiting for orders.

“Then we're good.” Krista untied her apron. “Not bad for just two of us.”

“Cool.” Tatum pulled out her cell phone. “And it's only four. Awesome. I've got plenty of time before my date.”

“Gabe again?”

Tatum smiled. “Yup. Pizza and a movie in Muskegon.”

“A movie.” Krista leaned against the counter. “I haven't seen one of those in ages.”

“I'll let you know if it's any good.” Tatum grabbed her jacket and stepped into the doorway. “It's a romantic comedy called
Sugar and Spies
.”

“The kid must really like you to sit through a chick flick,” Luke interjected, closing his folder and leaning against the table to stand.

Krista rushed over to assist, but he put out his hand to stop
her. She tried not to feel offended. Why wouldn't he accept her help?

“Bye, guys.” Tatum breezed out the back.

“So, you hungry?” Krista said.

“Got a stop to make first.”

“Where?”

“Surprise. You want to drive?”

He must be in more pain than he was letting on.

“Sure. Your car or mine?”

“Mine, if that's okay.” Using the crutches, he managed his way to the door and scanned the surrounding buildings.

Krista set the alarm and locked up. “Where are we going?”

“The pound.”

“But I can't have—”

“Look,” Luke interrupted. “I've made up my mind on this. We could use the added security at your house.”

It did no good to argue with him. The man was determined to get her a watch dog.

Wentworth didn't have a pound, so they ended up at an animal shelter one county over where, of course, she wanted to rescue all of the twenty-plus dogs barking and shivering and begging to go home with someone.

That is why she avoided these places. She couldn't stand the pain of seeing abandoned animals. She hugged her midsection and glanced down the center aisle at the poor creatures, God's creatures.

Luke touched her arm. “This upsets you. I'm sorry.”

She shrugged. Luke placed his forefinger and thumb to her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Look at it this way, we're saving one of these dogs tonight, right?”

She nodded. “But how do you choose?”

Luke scanned the row of barking dogs and a slow smile curved his lips. “That's him.” He pointed his crutch at a barrel-chested, big white dog with a small, black-and-white head.

“Why him?”

“He's stubborn, he's a survivor. I can tell.”

Krista wondered if Luke was describing the dog or himself. She wondered what else Luke had survived and how he'd managed to make it without the comforting hand of Jesus.

“What's his name?” she said.

They ambled toward the black-and-white dog.

Luke tilted his head to read the chart. “Roscoe.” Luke leaned his crutches against the cage and kneeled down. “You wanna come home with me, buddy?”

Roscoe crouched low and barked, wagging his tail.

They checked out quickly thanks to Luke's federal ID. Krista suspected there would usually be a lot more paperwork and screening involved to make sure the people adopting the pet were qualified.

An hour later they pulled up at Krista's house. Luke and Roscoe headed for the garage. “Wanna check out your new home, buddy?”

Suddenly it dawned on Krista that Luke would have to manage the loft stairs on crutches. He must have read regret on her face.

“What?” he said. “I told you I'd keep him in the garage with me.”

“The stairs.”

“What about them?”

“Your crutches.”

“Enough already. You need to stop worrying about me. Now, come on, help us get set up in the garage.”

Krista couldn't stop worrying. She moved boxes around to make room for the dog kennel, and stacked more wood for the stove in case it turned bitter cold. Sure, the garage was heated, but it never seemed to get as warm as the house because of the peaked roof.

She was on her way back in with a pile of wood when something dropped from the loft. She shrieked and jumped back. Luke had tossed the mattress over the railing.

“You're going to freeze down here,” Krista said.

“First you don't want me doing the stairs, now you don't want me sleeping down here.”

He was right, everything coming out of her mouth sounded like an argument. She couldn't help it. She was worried about Luke, and more than she should be for a man just doing his job.

As she built a hearty fire, he came up behind her and touched her shoulder.

“Hey, relax for a second.” He led her toward the stairs with a hand to the small of her back.

His hand felt warm and solid against her body, not itchy like whenever Alan touched her.

Alan. Drat.

“What time is it?” She pulled out her cell phone. It was only six.

“You late?”

“I told you, I had a dinner date, but I'm not going,” she said, cutting off his protest. “Still, I need to call Alan.”

Luke adjusted himself on the stairs and patted his leg. “Come here, buddy.” Roscoe trotted over to him.

Krista walked to the doorway and made her call. Alan's voice mail picked up and she breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't going to be easy letting him down.

“Hey, Alan, it's Krista. I'm sorry but we're going to have to reschedule dinner. I ran into a problem tonight.” She glanced at Luke, who studied her with intense blue eyes. “But everything's okay, no worries.” She turned away from Luke. “Call me and we'll figure out another time. Thanks. And I really am sorry.”

She slipped her phone into her pocket.

“So, I'm a conflict?” Luke raised a brow.

“Well, it is a problem that you're hurt and need someone to look after you and since there's no one else in town—”

“I don't need looking after, but I don't want you going out with that guy alone, either.”

“Come on, Alan's harmless.”

“That's debatable.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Even so, you and I are joined at the hip, remember? At least until this case is closed.”

“And then you're gone, off to save some other damsel in distress.” She smiled at him.

Luke wasn't smiling. He clenched his jaw and his blue eyes darkened. Her heart raced at his intense expression.

With a tennis ball in his mouth, Roscoe nudged Luke's knee to play.

Luke broke eye contact and she had to remind herself to breathe. What had just happened?

“Where'd you get that, buddy?” Luke said.

“We've got all kinds of treasures in here,” Krista recovered. “Boxes and boxes of family stuff.”

Luke glanced at the shelves stuffed with boxes marked by year. Mom and Gran kept nearly every art project, every handmade Christmas ornament, Mother's Day projects and birthday presents Krista made them.

“I'm envious.” Luke patted Roscoe's furry mane. “I mean, to have this kind of history of your life, to have family and friends.”

“Surely you have friends.”

“Had one.”

She suspected his one friend was the partner who was killed by Victor Garcia. She said a silent prayer to the Lord to help open Luke's heart to people again.

To risk loving again.

“Brothers and sisters?” she tentatively asked.

“Nope, just me.”

“What about your parents?”

Luke snapped his attention to her and her breath caught at the pain in his eyes. She wanted to reach out, touch his cheek and tell him everything was going to be okay.

How crazy was that?

She glanced at his lips, just for a second, and found herself wanting to kiss him to warm the chill from his eyes.

“Krista,” he whispered.

Did he sense her thoughts? Would he…kiss her? She'd kissed
a few other men, sure, but never a man like this, a broken warrior bent on exacting justice.

Suddenly a low, menacing growl rumbled in Roscoe's throat.

L
uke grabbed Roscoe's collar so he wouldn't bolt, and leaned close to Krista. “Take Roscoe and hide under the stairs until I tell you to come out,” he whispered. He inhaled her floral scent, so incongruous to the danger hovering outside the garage.

“But—”

He placed his forefinger to her lips. Not a good idea.

“Go on,” he ordered.

She nodded and led the dog beneath the stairs. Once they were out of sight, Luke slipped his off-duty revolver from his ankle and started for the door.

He didn't like waving a gun around in Krista's presence. It upset her and the look in her eye made him feel like a monster.

Luke hobbled out of the garage into the night, barely noticing the pain of a sprained ankle thanks to the adrenaline rush. The chill cleared his focus and he made his way along the side of the house to the front.

The sound of pounding made him hesitate. Someone was trying to break into her house in the front.

Luke turned the corner and aimed his firearm at a tall, skinny guy, mid-twenties with spiked red hair.

“Freeze!” Luke ordered.

“Don't shoot!” The guy stumbled backward.

Luke flashed his badge. “I'm a cop. Who are you?”

“Flower delivery for…for…” He looked at the gift card. “For Krista Yates.”

“Bring it down here.”

With a nervous nod, the guy walked down the stairs toward Luke.

“ID,” Luke said.

The guy blinked, staring at Luke's gun.

“Put the flowers down and show me some ID.”

With trembling hands, the guy put the flowers on the ground and pulled out his wallet. His license read Brent Baker of Wentworth.

“Hands against the porch, Brent,” Luke said. He wasn't taking any chances.

Brent turned around and grabbed the porch railing. Luke shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans and patted down Brent. He didn't find a firearm, but found a multifunctional pocketknife clipped to his belt.

Luke snapped it off and waved it in the guy's face.

“Come on, man, everyone's got one of those,” Brent protested.

“Luke?”

Luke snapped his attention to Krista who was peeking around the house.

“I told you to stay in the garage,” Luke snapped.

Brent took a few steps away from Luke.

“Where are you going, kid?” Luke said.

The guy put his hands out. “I don't need a tip, it's fine, really, it's okay.”

The guy stared at Luke's gun, tucked in his waistband, then glanced up at Luke, terrified.

Luke was losing it, suspecting everyone and their sisters of being involved in the Garcia conspiracy. Brent was an innocent kid who'd crossed paths with a crabby agent thanks to a sprained ankle and lack of sleep.

“Sorry.” Luke pulled a five-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to the guy. Brent took another step back.

“Go on, take it,” Luke said as pleasantly as he could.

Brent dodged forward, snatched it and ran. He jumped in his van and peeled out.

“Your knife!” Luke called after him. But he was halfway down the block. Luke slipped the knife into his jeans pocket.

“What's this?” Krista approached Luke, Roscoe following close behind. She kneeled beside the flowers and pulled the card from the outside of the package.

“Hang on, let me check it out first,” Luke said.

She looked up and smiled. “You're kidding, right?”

“No, ma'am.”

“It's just flowers.” Her expression was a cross between disbelief and anger.

“We can't be too careful—”

“Okay, fine. Take it.” She shoved the card at his chest and went around back.

He couldn't blame her for being upset. Her life had been turned upside down and crooked, all because she'd gone on the mission trip, done something selfless and good, without expecting anything in return.

She certainly didn't expect danger to follow her back to Wentworth.

Luke picked up the flowers and hobbled around to the back porch. The mutt pranced beside him. “Good boy, Roscoe.”

The dog had done his job, alerting them to potential danger.

Luke sat on the back porch and put his weapon back in his ankle holster. He carefully unwrapped the flowers to reveal a colorful bouquet in a glass jar with a red ribbon. He fingered the card feeling a bit like a jerk, but he had to be suspicious of everything and everyone.

Except Krista. Her innocence and compassion was the only truth he knew for sure. That, and he wouldn't let anyone hurt her.

He ripped open the card. It read: Looking forward to tonight. Love, Alan.

Love? Did the guy really think she loved him when it was painfully obvious she didn't have strong feelings for the guy?

He shoved the note into the envelope and blew out a slow, deep breath. Alan definitely knew what he wanted and wasn't giving up.

Well, that made two of them. Luke wasn't going to let Garcia's men get to Krista. So Alan and Luke had something in common: They both cared about Krista.

Cared about her?
Only in relation to the case, buddy. Don't lose your head.

Luke stood, picked up the flowers and started for the back door. The adrenaline rush from their unexpected visitor had worn off, and the ankle pain was back, irritating him, making him feel weak and dependent. He tapped on the glass window of the back door with his knuckles.

Krista took her time answering. When she finally opened the door she wouldn't look at him.

“I'm sorry,” he said. He hadn't a clue how those words slipped out. “The flowers are fine. I wish I could say they're from me.” He joked, holding them out to her.

She took them and went into the kitchen. “Who are they from?” She turned to him. “You read the card, right?”

“Alan,” he said.

She shook her head. “Oh, boy.”

With a burst of excitement, Roscoe bolted past Luke into the kitchen.

“Roscoe, no!” Luke lunged for the dog and tripped on the threshold, grabbing for a chair, table, anything as he went down. Instead, he completely lost his balance and hit the kitchen floor with a thud.

Lying flat on his back, humiliation flooded his chest. Then the dog rushed him and started licking his face.

“Enough!” Luke said, grabbing him by the collar.

Luke scrambled to get control of the situation, pushing the dog away with one hand, while trying to sit up against the wall. It was more of a struggle than it should have been, and he was breathing heavily by the time he got control of things.

“Sit!” he ordered. Roscoe obeyed, his tongue hanging out, ready for more action.

Krista closed the back door and put her hand to her lips, covering up a smile that made her green eyes sparkle.

“What's so funny?” he said, with more edge than necessary. But he didn't like being out of control, looking like a fool.

“Sorry, you just, for a second you seemed like—”

“What, stupid?”

“No, human.”

Which meant she thought him nonhuman before?

“Wait, that's not the right word,” she corrected, kneeling beside him. She pinned him with her green eyes and he couldn't look away. “I guess the word is relaxed, laid-back, you know, not so uptight.” She smiled, and he found himself wanting to brush his thumb across her lips to absorb her warmth. The thought created an ache in his chest for something he thought cold and dead.

“How about dinner?” She stood, breaking the spell.

“I should take Roscoe outside.”

“No, I can gate off the kitchen so he won't terrorize Anastasia.”

“Are you sure it won't be the other way around?”

“Very funny.” She pulled an expandable gate from the pantry and set it up between the living room and kitchen.

“That should work.” She pulled out a pot and filled it with water.

“Hang on, you've been cooking all day,” Luke protested.

“I still have to cook for myself. Besides, I don't think it's a great idea for you to be standing at the stove, do you?”

“Guess not.”

“What time did you take your last pain reliever?”

“Why, do I look that bad?”

“You do that a lot.” She turned on the gas burner.

“What?”

“Avoid the question with a question.”

“I'm used to asking questions, not answering them.”

“No kidding.”

He didn't miss the sarcasm in her voice.

“One-thirty,” he answered.

“Five hours ago. You're due. I'll get the ice first.”

She filled a dish towel with ice and put it in a plastic bag.

“Try not to leak this time.” She winked and shifted the ice bag in place, studying his expression, probably to determine if she was hurting him.

He snapped his attention from her brilliant green eyes to his ankle, where she carefully adjusted the ice pack. He couldn't stand much more of this, her tending to him, icing his injury, making him dinner. It made him…edgy.

“What else can I get you?” she said, sounding like she really cared, like her goal in life was to take care of Luke.

He wanted her out of his space. Out of his head.

“You've done enough.” He stared at the ice pack.

“Okay.” She went to the stove and got out another pot. “Spaghetti sound good?”

“Anything's fine.” He really needed to get out of here and away from the illusion of a woman cooking for him, nurturing him.

Loving him.

It wasn't real. It was all part of the job.

Her cell phone rang from her coat pocket and she glared at it.

“Not answering it?” Luke asked.

“It's probably Alan. This is going to be messy.”

She filled a glass with water and brought him a few pain reliever tablets.

“You don't have to wait on me,” he said.

She stared him down. “Okay, what's with you? You obviously don't want me helping you. With anything. Why? What's the big deal?”

“I'm supposed to be protecting you.”

“And you are.”

He swallowed back the pills and stared at the dog.

“Look,” she said. “People have been taking care of me my whole life. Now it's my turn. That's why I do the mission work, volunteer at church and run the tea shop. It's my way of returning the favor. I like doing it. I'd like to take care of you.”

“No. Thank you.”

“Why not?”

He snapped his gaze to meet hers. “I'm just not comfortable with it, okay?”

“Tough marshmallows.” She went to the stove.

She wasn't going to give up and he wasn't sure how much fight he had left. He couldn't remember anyone ever taking care of him. Well, maybe Mom, before she got sick and their lives fell apart. But somewhere, deep down, he knew he didn't deserve someone's compassion, someone's love, and that was what caring for someone was about, right?

Krista's wall phone rang. “This can't go on all night or I'll go bonkers.” She picked up the receiver. “Hello…yes?”

She turned her back to Luke and he suspected it was Alan.

“I know…okay. I can't tonight. No, it's really not necessary. I understand but… Okay. Bye.”

She sighed and hung up the phone.

“Bad news?”

She turned to him. “Alan. He wants to check in on me. I tried talking him out of it.”

“No problem, I'll go back in the garage.” Luke started to get up.

“You will do no such thing.” She adjusted his arm around her shoulder to help him stand. “But you should probably sit in a chair instead of on my floor.”

“I was getting used to your floor.”

“Ha, ha.” She pulled out a second chair and lifted his ankle, putting the ice pack on it. “Good, stay.”

“Arf.”

“See, how do you do that?”

“What?”

“One minute you're incorrigible and mean, and the next, you're joking around.”

“I'm…” he paused. “Mean?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” She planted her hands to her hips.

He glanced at his ice pack. She'd been good to him even though he'd ripped through her life like a lightning storm, blasting everything apart. “Sorry.”

That was the second time he'd said that word tonight. Not like him. Not one bit.

Her wall phone rang again. “Oh, drat.” She grabbed it. “Hello,” she snapped. “Oh, hey, Nat. I thought you were…oh, no, I'm sorry. Hang on.” Krista put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Can you give me a ride to and from work tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

She turned back to her friend. “No problem, but it's at the shop, so you'll have to… I'm at home. No, I had to cancel, but I have a feeling he's coming over anyway…. Because I have to make sure Luke is okay.”

“Luke can take care of himself,” he called out.

She flashed her hand like a stop sign to silence him. It was a small, cute hand, one he realized he'd probably crush if he tried to hold it.

Still, he'd like to try.

He rolled his neck. Man, he needed a good workout, something to get his balance back. Being around this woman made him go to strange places in his head, places he most certainly didn't belong.

“Sure, come over,” she said to her friend. “Very funny. I'll see you later.” She hung up and went back to the stove.

“More company?” Luke asked.

“Nat's Volvo died and she's supposed to meet Timothy in Muskegon for a romantic dinner, so she asked to borrow my car.”

“And of course, you said yes.”

“That's what friends are for.” She opened a box of pasta and dropped it into the boiling water.

Friends. A foreign concept.

The slamming of a car door echoed from outside.

“Speaking of friends, that must be your boyfriend,” Luke said.

“Could you watch the pasta?”

“Aren't you going to invite him in for dinner?”