Violet sipped iced tea and watched the dimming daylight from her grandma’s back porch, thankful Wyatt had insisted on coming home before hurrying over to the hospital. She hadn’t realized at the time how much the day’s events had worn on her, but she felt it now, even all these hours later. She’d even fallen asleep sitting up at the kitchen table while Maggie took an afternoon nap. Violet smiled against the rim of her glass, enjoying the sight of Maggie on the porch at her feet, gnawing on her favorite plastic pony. She couldn’t seem to decide which she enjoyed more, cuddling the bulbous pink horse or biting its head.
The back door opened and Wyatt appeared, filling the frame as he passed. “You ladies doing okay out here?”
Maggie stopped to smile a moment before going back to work on her pony’s rounded ears.
Violet did her best to look at ease, though she doubted he’d believe the facade. Wyatt seemed to see past everyone’s smoke and mirrors, his mind always at work, processing, evaluating. He studied people when they spoke, watched their hands as they moved. If only she’d had more insight when it came to love. She might not have spent the first half of her pregnancy crying tears of heartbreak over Maggie’s father’s rejection and the second half angry she’d been so stupid. She might’ve even known that he wouldn’t matter at all once she saw Maggie’s sweet face in that delivery room. After that, Maggie was the only thing that had mattered. She couldn’t help wondering if Wyatt saw past all her other pretenses, too. Did he know the way her traitorous heart flipped and floundered at the sight of him, or the way he appeared in her fantasies? First the dirty ones, then lately, the ones about being a family?
Wyatt tilted his head, zeroing in on her in his trademark style, sending gooseflesh up her arms and coiling a spring in her stomach.
Violet cleared her throat. “Pull up a chair. There’s a beautiful view, but it’s going fast.”
Wyatt lowered his large frame onto the porch beside Maggie and made a goofy face at her.
She squealed.
His cheek kicked up on one side. “I doubt this view ever goes bad.”
Violet fought the blush warming her cheeks. Lines like those weren’t helping her quest for clarity. “Any luck with your research?”
“No. I’ve put Sawyer on it, though, and he’s excellent at finding things that others have tried to bury.” He locked his jaw and averted his gaze. Frustrated? Violet tried and failed to read him the way he seemed to so easily read her.
“We can ask a few questions at the hospital,” she suggested, wishing she had more to offer. “I wish I knew what Grandma had planned while you were here. I’d happily pick up the torch for her if I could find it.”
Wyatt adjusted his long legs, bending one knee to his chest and dropping the opposite foot off the porch’s edge. “You and me both.”
Wyatt had spent the day hunched over his laptop, using his cell phone hot spot for internet service. He’d researched Henry Davis, the Masterson family and Violet’s grandparents. So far, he hadn’t found a clear link between the Mastersons, the Ameses and Mr. Davis. “I’d like to know what Mary Alice thinks she gave your grandma,” he said. “She lost her mind when she thought it was lost, whatever it was.”
“I know,” Violet said. “I figure that’s what the burglar tore the house up looking for, but I haven’t seen anything unusual around here. Just Grandma’s stuff and now a bunch of our luggage.”
They needed Grandma. “Feel like going for a drive?” Violet asked.
“Hospital?”
“Yeah. I know someone would have called if anything had changed,” Violet began.
“But you’d like to see her,” Wyatt finished. “I don’t blame you.”
Maggie shoved her toy against his hand. “Po.”
Wyatt raised a brow. “Pony?”
“No!”
Wyatt laughed. “Come on, short stuff.” He pulled her into his arms and stood fluidly, then offered a free hand to Violet. “Might as well make that trip now and get as much as we can out of evening visiting hours.”
“Thanks.” Violet ignored the electricity climbing her arm to her chest as Wyatt pulled her onto her feet.
The hospital was quieter in the evening than it had been during Violet’s previous morning visits. She supposed folks had already headed home for dinner by now. It was after seven and they’d be kicked off Grandma’s floor at eight.
Violet veered across the hall to the nurses’ station when she spotted Tanya’s blond head tilted over a computer screen. “Excuse me, nurse?” she said sweetly.
Tanya lifted her face. “Yes?” Her smile doubled at the sight of Violet. “I hoped I’d see you tonight.” She rounded the desk and pulled Violet into a hug. Her pale blue scrubs had tiny American flags on them. “How are you doing? I’m sorry I missed you yesterday. I’m covering so many shifts this week, I don’t know which way is up.”
“Don’t forget to rest when you can,” Violet warned.
“Always the mama,” Tanya said. Her brows lifted. “Where is Maggie?”
Violet looked behind her. “There.” She pointed across the wide hall where Wyatt was doubled over at the waist, gripping Maggie’s tiny hands in his as she attempted to walk. Her dimpled arms stretched high over her head as she swung clumsy legs out before her.
Violet laughed softly. “She’s barely managed to pull herself up,” she told Tanya. “I think it’s safe to say he’s getting the cart before the horse over there.”
“I could be training the next Ninja Warrior,” Wyatt said, clearly eavesdropping. “An Olympian, a professional bull rider or…” He swung her into his arms and made a gravely serious face. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
She clapped and smiled proudly, showing off both of her new bottom teeth.
He headed for Violet and Tanya. “She’s undecided. I don’t think we should rush her.”
Violet rolled her eyes, utterly enjoying Wyatt’s ease and comfort with Maggie. “Wyatt, this is my cousin, Tanya. Tanya, this is Wyatt.”
“Ah,” Tanya said. “This is the boyfriend folks have been talking about.”
“Nice to meet you,” Wyatt said.
Tanya gave him a long once-over.
“Anything new with Grandma?” Violet asked, forcing Tanya’s attention off of Wyatt’s fantastic torso.
“No. Nothing, but the doctor thinks she’s through the worst. He expects she’ll be waking up soon. There’s no physical reason that she wouldn’t.”
Violet’s shoulders drooped in relief. “Really?”
“Yeah. It’s just a matter of time now. Everything post-op looks really good. Grandma’s strong, Violet,” Tanya said. “She’ll get through this, and she’ll probably have one heck of a story to tell.”
Violet’s smile grew. “No doubt.”
The desk phone began to ring and Tanya frowned. “I’ve got to get that, but I’m on shift until eleven, so don’t worry about the posted visiting hours. I’m not about to kick you out.” Her gaze turned back to Wyatt as she changed directions.
Violet felt a sliver of jealousy. Fake boyfriend or not, she was beginning to feel extremely, illogically, stupidly attached.
“Tanya?” Wyatt asked, stalling her cousin’s retreat.
“Yes?”
“Do you know Mary Alice Masterson?”
“Sure. She’s a good friend of Grandma’s.”
“How’s she doing?” he continued. “We’ve heard she took a turn for the worse recently. Any idea what happened there?”
Tanya lifted a finger, then grabbed the phone long enough to put it on hold. “Mary Alice has been struggling for a long while,” she told Wyatt. “She came in a few weeks ago after a fall in her kitchen. The doctors ran a bunch of tests that showed her dementia had significantly advanced. They recommended Mr. Masterson look at nearby assisted living facilities, but he was determined to keep her at home, so no one pushed.”
Wyatt frowned. “He didn’t have to take the doctor’s advice? Do what was best for Mary Alice?”
“No. He’s in good health and retired, so he can be with her all the time,” Tanya said. “If her needs become too much, he can hire an in-home nurse or look into facilities then. Moving can be confusing for patients in Mary Alice’s situation, and the transition can be tough. Each family has to make decisions based on their own timelines and abilities.”
Wyatt’s lids drooped. “Right.”
Tanya smiled. “Sorry. I’ve got to take that call.”
Violet leaned against his side. “Of course.” She led the way to her grandma’s room and settled into the chair beside her bed, then quietly whispered the story of everything she and Wyatt had seen, heard and experienced since she’d first received the call about her accident. Some people believed that coma patients were aware of the things going on around them. Violet hoped those people were right. “If you hear me, Grandma, I need you to wake up and tell me what all this means.” She stroked hair off her grandma’s forehead. “We need you,” Violet whispered. “And I’m scared.”
Wyatt’s palm slid protectively over her shoulder, offering his peace and confidence.
Violet tipped her tear-dampened cheek against his finger, accepting the offer.
* * *
WYATT OPENED THE passenger door to his truck and waited as Violet fastened Maggie into the rear-facing car seat. Her dark curls were wild from static electricity. He waited while Violet climbed inside, then shut the door behind her. It had been a long day. One of many, but possibly his worst so far. Not knowing where Maggie had disappeared to this morning, then seeing her headed for a busy road… Wyatt’s stomach fisted at the memory. A wave of nausea rolled through him as he climbed behind the wheel. He wasn’t sure how Violet hadn’t completely lost her mind. He could see the way it had worn on her, but she kept moving forward.
The silence in the truck was deafening. The night around them, suffocating. Violet’s troubled expression reflected in the glass of her window.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked.
“I wish she’d wake up,” Violet said. “Grandma’s the key to all this, whatever this is, and she needs to wake up.” She fiddled with the fraying hem of her shorts. “I have a theory. Want to hear it?”
“Of course.” He caught her gaze briefly before refocusing on the dark road.
Violet wet her lips and angled her body toward him in the shadows. “I think Mary Alice said something that didn’t sit well with Grandma, so Grandma started asking questions. I think whatever it was bothered her so much she couldn’t just let it go or chalk it up to Mary Alice’s confusion and nothing more. And I think it has something to do with Henry Davis.”
Wyatt couldn’t disagree. Violet’s idea was as good as any he’d had, but hers worried him. If Violet was right, it would be dangerous for her grandma to wake up. Whoever had hurt her before would likely be back to finish the job.
“And I think Mr. Masterson knows Mary Alice has a big secret,” Violet went on. “I think her condition scares him because there’s no way of knowing if she’s forgotten it completely or if she’s five seconds from announcing it to the mailman. He keeps her under his thumb so she doesn’t tell, and the stress is getting to him. That’s why he’s drinking at eight in the morning, and that’s why he wants me to go home.”
“You think Mr. Masterson drove the derby car?” That was something Sawyer could research. Even if the car wasn’t registered to Masterson, Sawyer could look at Masterson’s local network, his friends and neighbors, and find the link if one existed.
“I do, and if I’m right, he knows he’s in trouble. Either Grandma’s going to wake up and take him down, or I’m going to uncover Mary Alice’s secret while I’m looking for answers about what happened to Grandma.”
“It’s a solid theory,” Wyatt said. “Maybe it’s time we focus on the derby car. Find out who’s behind the wheel, and we find out who wants you gone. Then we can figure out why.” The car had no plates, but Wyatt had gotten a decent look at it as it sped away from the house. There had to be a register, photograph or something they could use to link the car to an owner.
“Thank you,” Violet said. She sank straight white teeth into her bottom lip and turned wide blue eyes on him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Wyatt forced his gaze back to the road. Remembering his place in her presence was harder all the time. He was too attached. Too attracted. He’d been hired by her grandmother to do a job, and so far he was failing. He’d gotten distracted playing house and entertaining ideas he hadn’t had in a very long time. He wasn’t husband or father material. If he ever had been, the military had carved it out of him. Even if he had heard the granite shell of his heart cracking when Maggie offered him her favorite pony. Even if Violet had trusted him to hold and comfort her. Even if he thought being loved by them might be all he needed to become the man he’d started out to be, it wouldn’t matter if Violet didn’t want another soldier in her life. Because no matter how long Wyatt lived or how many years eventually separated him from his active service days, he would forever be a ranger. There was no separating the two.
Blue and white flashers illuminated the darkness behind him, pulling him back to the moment.
“What?” Violet twisted and turned on her seat, craning for a look through the rear window. “Is that for you?”
“No.” Wyatt eased his foot off the gas and drifted closer to the berm, providing the deputy with ample room to get around him on the winding country road. “I’m not speeding. I’ll just get out of his way.”
The cruiser stayed on his tail several seconds more, then added a siren to the flashers.
Violet scoffed.
Wyatt pulled over. He got out his driver’s license and truck registration, then stacked them with his license to carry a concealed weapon. He powered his window down and waited. Fingers gripping the wheel at ten and two, he caught the cards between his fingertips.
“This is ridiculous,” Violet complained. “They haven’t done enough to scare and harass us? Now we’re going to get run off the road or pulled over every time we get in a vehicle?”
A bright light hit the side of Wyatt’s face and he grimaced. “Everything okay, Officer?”
Deputy Santos turned his light on Wyatt’s hands. “Points for being prepared.”
“What seems to be the problem?” Wyatt asked. “I’m sure I wasn’t speeding.”
Deputy Santos shone his light on the pieces of identification. “This is your truck?”
“Yes, sir. Bought it new the same month I was discharged.”
“Any reason this truck might’ve been reported as stolen?”
Wyatt felt his jaw drop. He snapped it shut. “No, sir.” Wyatt had worked damn hard for the money to buy this truck, and the vehicle had practically been his second home since opening Fortress Security. Yet someone had said he’d stolen it? His grip tightened on the wheel.
“Do you have a concealed weapon with you now?” Santos asked.
“Yes, sir. I’ve got a piece at my ankle and another in the glove box.”
“Any reason for that? Two handguns seems like a little overkill for your average weekday evening.”
“You’d think,” Wyatt muttered. He locked eyes with the deputy, weighing a major decision. Had he been right about him? Was he a potential ally?
“He’s protecting Maggie and me,” Violet answered suddenly. She leaned across the bench for a better look at the deputy.
Santos shifted his weight, returning the IDs to Wyatt. “I’m glad you’ve got someone here to help you feel safe, Miss Ames. I’m just not sure this is a two-gun town.” He worked up a smile, possibly an attempt to lighten the mood.
“That’s not what I meant,” she said.
Wyatt leaned over the door frame, making the decision to confide in someone who could possibly help them and hoping the quick background check he’d run on Santos revealed all he’d needed to know. “Okay, here it is. I’m not her boyfriend. I’m a personal security agent from Lexington, hired by her grandma just days before the woman took an unexpected fall that’s put her in a coma. Now I’m here to find out what had her so scared that she felt she needed outside protection instead of just contacting the local sheriff and his crew.”
Santos rocked back on his heels. He looked toward his car, then up the road before returning his attention to Wyatt. “Go on.”
“You know as well as I do that in the few days since I came to town, Violet’s been run off the road, I’ve been accused of harassment, my truck got a busted window, her car was scratched to hell with the clear message, ‘go home.’ The house has been burgled, her baby was set outside and left alone this morning near a road. We found her ten yards from a busy street, and now my truck has been reported as stolen. I’ve got reason to be extra cautious. It feels like a two-gun town to me.”
Deputy Santos narrowed his eyes, then swore beneath his breath. “I’ll contact dispatch, let them know the truck is clear.”
“Thank you.”
Santos rubbed his forehead. “I’ll pull up the reports on Mrs. Ames’s fall and see if anything seems off.”
Wyatt tipped his hat in appreciation and the deputy was gone.
Violet watched as he drove away. “Do you think he’ll tell anyone?”
“No, but we need someone in law enforcement who will stick up for us if we’re right about the corruption.” He eased onto the road and smiled at Violet, hoping to look more confident than he felt. “Try not to worry.”
She peeked over her shoulder at Maggie, then settled back in her seat. “That’s not going to happen.”
Wyatt divided his attention between the road before him and the darkness reflected in his rearview. He pressed the gas pedal with a little more purpose. The sooner they were home, the better.
“Who do you think reported your truck stolen?” Violet asked. “Can anyone do something like that?”
“I don’t know.” His attention returned to his rearview.
Another car had pulled in behind them at the last crossroads, and the silhouette, though masked by the blinding headlights, looked a lot like another deputy’s cruiser.
The blue and white lights began to spin on top before he could tell Violet to be prepared.
“You’re kidding,” she grumbled, twisting for a better look at the lights.
Wyatt pulled over, gathered his identification and put his hands where they were easily visible once more. “It’s fine,” he assured her. “We’re less than a mile from your grandma’s house. We’ll head straight there from here and call it a night.”
She crossed her arms and frowned. “This is ridiculous. How can they get away with this?”
“They’re just doing their jobs.”
“This is not okay,” she said. “Someone lied to the sheriff’s department for the sole purpose of causing you trouble.”
Sheriff Masterson strode up to the window and sucked his teeth. “License and registration.”
Wyatt handed him the papers he hadn’t had time to put away since his last stop.
Sheriff Masterson glanced at them, uncaring. “You want to step out of the vehicle for me?”
“Sir.” Wyatt spoke before touching his door handle. “I handed you my license to carry a concealed weapon, and I have a gun on my person.”
The sheriff pulled his chin back and rested a palm on the butt of his sidearm. “Are you planning to use your weapon tonight, son?”
“No, sir.”
“Then get out.”
Wyatt cast a look in Violet’s direction. “Be right back. Stay in the truck.”
“Come on,” the sheriff urged, impatient.
Wyatt moved to stand outside his truck, keeping a respectable distance from the sheriff. The air was warm and thick around them and filled with night sights and sounds. Stars, fireflies, owls and crickets.
No witnesses.
The sheriff stared. “I got a notice that this vehicle was stolen. You know anything about that?” He pointed his flashlight into Wyatt’s eyes.
“Yes, sir. Your deputy just pulled me over for that five minutes ago. He read the registration I gave him. This is my truck.”
The light moved away and Wyatt blinked furiously, bringing the sheriff back into view. His face was masked in a disbelieving look. “Are you giving me an attitude?”
“No, sir. I’m explaining.”
“Complaining sounds more like it,” the sheriff said, cutting him off. “Do you have a problem I need to know about?”
Wyatt bit down hard on the insides of his cheeks. He couldn’t let himself be baited. He needed to get Maggie and Violet to safety.
“I hear you visited my mother today,” the sheriff continued. “How’d that go?”
Wyatt squelched a groan. The conversation had taken an ugly, and probably unavoidable, turn. “Not well.”
Sheriff Masterson nodded. “My dad told me all about it when he called asking for a restraining order. You want to tell me what you were doing over there bothering my sick mama?”
“Violet and I were paying a respectful visit to her grandma’s best friend. Nothing more. We thought she might want to be updated about what happened to Mrs. Ames.”
The sheriff crossed his arms. “Dad says you made her cry. Seems to me you’re a nuisance. A harbinger of trouble. Have you considered taking your vandal’s advice and seeing your way back out of town?”
Violet’s head and shoulders popped through the open driver’s-side window. “We are not leaving town until we know my grandma’s okay. Period. I don’t care what else happens. You know,” she seethed, “as far as sheriffs go, you’re pretty horrible at your job.”
Anger flashed in the sheriff’s eyes, and he took a step toward Wyatt’s truck. “You shut your face. No one asked you, you—”
Wyatt thrust himself between the sheriff and Violet. “Watch it now. You want to think before you finish that sentence.” His blood boiled and his fingers curled into fists at his sides. “And you’d be best to find a respectful tone when you speak to her again.”
The sheriff took a step back. He looked at Wyatt’s steaming face, then at the fists, still clenched tightly on both sides. “Are you threatening me?” He reached for the cuffs on his belt and shook his head. “Threatening an officer gives me cause to haul you in.”
“That’s crap!” Violet said. “That’s an abuse of power.”
Wyatt turned to stare at her. He moved his head in a tiny warning. “Keys are in the ignition. Call Fortress. Talk to Sawyer. He can be here in an hour. Lock up tight until he gets here. Trust him when he does.”
The cuffs pinched, cold and angry around Wyatt’s wrists as Sheriff Masterson crammed them on, yanking each arm behind his back. He forced Wyatt to the cruiser, then pressed his face against the warm hood to pat him down. He removed the gun from Wyatt’s ankle strap.
Sheriff Masterson clucked his tongue as he towed Wyatt upright. “I sure hope Miss Ames and that baby are going to be okay without you.”
“Son of a—” Wyatt yanked himself around and towered over the sheriff. “You keep your hands off her.”
“Another threat? You’re on a roll tonight, huh, big guy?”
“If anything happens to either of them before I get out of these cuffs, I’m going to hold you personally responsible, and I won’t care how long you want to lock me up when I’m done with you.”
The sheriff’s face was bloodless as he pushed him back. “Go on. Get in.”
Wyatt dropped onto the cruiser’s back seat, anger roiling in his chest. He nodded to Violet as the cruiser passed her window.
She pulled his truck into line behind them and took the turn toward her grandma’s home.
Wyatt prayed Sawyer could get to River Gorge before the next bomb fell.