Defender for Hire. Shirlee McCoy

the deep woods that separated her from home. Sweat cooled on her cheeks and she shivered. Early November, and the temperature was already in the thirties. This would be her first winter in eastern Washington. If she stayed.

      Five years. Five towns.

      Soon, it would be six, then seven and eight.

      How many before she could finally stop running?

      Bentley growled low in his throat, tugging furiously against the leash. It almost slipped from Tessa’s grip, and she tightened her hold.

      “What is it, Bentley?”

      The dog growled again, his muscles taut, his body angled to the left. The night was silent and heavy, the woods and path still, but something whispered through the darkness, a quiet breath of movement that rustled the thick carpet of dry leaves.

      “Hello?” Tessa called, her heart slamming against her ribs, her body numb with terror. She’d never felt as if she were in danger before—the roses had always seemed like a reminder of what would happen if she ever told the world the truth, which of course, she wouldn’t. She had Daniel’s legacy to protect. The work they’d done together, the children and villagers that they’d helped. She wouldn’t risk those things.

      Bentley let out a sharp warning, and she knew she’d better heed it. She pivoted away from the deep shadows, racing down the path toward home, Bentley lunging against her hold, snarling as he tried to get at whatever was coming up behind them.

      Branches snapped, leaves crackled, feet pounded. Hers? Someone else’s?

      Pop!

      Something whizzed through the darkness and Bentley yelped, stumbling. Tessa turned and saw something coming toward them. Black and broad against the navy sky, swooping in. She screamed, dropping the leash as Bentley snarled again and tried to run.

      Another high pitched yelp, and then silence except for Tessa’s ragged breaths and the thud of her pulse in her ears. Something slammed into her back and she fell hard, her hands and knees skidding across leaves and dirt, her mind sliding back five years. A tiny hut on the outskirts of a Kenyan village. Screams and terror and Daniel whispering for her to run.

      She tried to shut it out, shut it off, force her mind and her body back to the present moment and the fight, but hands were around her throat, lips pressing close to her ear.

      “I haven’t forgotten. Have you?”

      How could I? She wanted to ask, but she had no air, no thoughts. Blackness edged in, and she bucked against her captor, trying to use her weight to throw him off.

      She had no strength.

      Bentley snarled, the sound echoing in Tessa’s ears.

      Run! she wanted to shout. Go home!

      Her attacker’s hands tightened, then released. Gone. As if he had never been there at all.

      Tessa wasn’t sure if she was in the past or the present. In Africa or Pine Bluff. Didn’t know if she was hurt or okay. Silence settled as thick as the darkness that pressed in all around her. She drifted in it, cold seeping through her clothes and settling in her bones.

      Bentley whimpered, his nose nudging her cheek before he collapsed beside her.

      She reached for him, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Warm fur, and something sticky and wet. Blood?

      She had to get him home.

      Had to call the police and get help.

      First, she had to move.

      She rolled to her side and pushed up to her knees, touching Bentley’s silky head. “We need to get out of here.”

      She stood, her legs shaking, and Bentley struggled to his feet, huffing quietly in the darkness. He limped beside her as they maneuvered down the steep path.

      She pulled out her cell phone and called 911, her voice raw as she explained the situation and gave her address. Her throat ached, her head pounded and she shivered with cold and fear, but Bentley was her first priority.

      She disconnected, cutting the 911 operator off midsentence and dialing Bentley’s veterinarian. Dr. Amy Spenser was almost as new to Pine Bluff as Tessa was. Neither of them had family or kids, and it had seemed natural to strike up a friendship. They’d gone shopping for furniture together, accepting that each had her secrets and a limit to how deep a connection she wanted to make.

      “Hello?” Amy answered on the first ring, her voice soft and smooth with just a hint of an accent.

      “It’s Tessa. Bentley’s been hurt.” Tessa didn’t have time for long explanations. Sirens were already blaring through the quiet night. Tessa’s house loomed ahead, lights shining out from every window. Since Daniel’s murder, she always left the lights on. Tonight, she was more than grateful for the habit.

      “What happened?”

      “I don’t know. We were out on a run and someone attacked me. Bentley tried to help...” She recalled the pop and Bentley’s whimper. Tried to make sense of it. “He may have been shot.”

      “Are you okay?”

      “Yes.”

      “I’ll be at your place in ten minutes.” Amy hung up, and Tessa shoved the phone back into the pocket of her running vest.

      “You’ll be okay, boy,” she murmured, more to reassure herself than Bentley. He limped beside her, slower than usual, but still moving.

      That had to be a good sign.

      Didn’t it?

      The woods opened out into her backyard, the long expanse of grass unobstructed by trees or shrubs. No sign of anyone lurking nearby, but her heart raced as she urged Bentley across the half-acre lot.

      She rounded the side of the house and froze as Bentley barked.

      A man sat in the old porch swing, his dark blond hair gleaming in the porch light, his scarred face familiar.

      Seth Sinclair.

      “What are you doing here?” she asked, taking a quick step back.

      Seth watched Tessa back away from the porch and from him. The sirens he’d been hearing for the past few minutes grew louder, the sound blaring though the darkness.

      “I brought the tarantula to the pet store.” He held up the white envelope he’d come to deliver. “I thought you might want this.”

      “Just leave it on the swing.” She eyed him warily, her hand clutching the leash of an oversize dog. Loose hair fell across her cheeks but didn’t hide what looked like bruises on her neck.

      Something was wrong. Very wrong.

      Seth stood slowly, afraid if he moved too quickly, she’d run. “What happened?” he asked, walking down the porch stairs, the sirens still screaming.

      “We ran into some trouble in the woods.”

      Seth thought they’d run into more than “some trouble.” Tessa’s running pants were ripped at the knee, her vest covered with dead leaves. “You need to sit down before you fall down.”

      He touched her arm, and she jerked back, her eyes wide with fear. “Who gave you my address, Seth?”

      “I asked around. It wasn’t difficult to find you in a town this size.” He took her arm as gently as he could and tried to urge her up the porch stairs, but she held her ground.

      “You can go home. Bentley and I will be fine.” She tugged at the dog’s leash, calling to him as she tried to walk to the house.

      The dog whined but refused to move.

      “He’s hurt,” Seth pointed out, though he was sure that Tessa already knew it.

      “The vet is on the way.” Her voice sounded hollow, her face so white, he thought she might collapse.