Protecting Her Own. Margaret Daley

had. That memory had kept her away for thirteen years.

      “And I’ve been here for how long?”

      “Since before noon. As I said, Gramps did ask you about coming here.”

      “And I answered?” Memories of earlier began to leak back into her mind. She remembered the deep, gruff voice saying something to her. Then, because her ears were still ringing, Mike had written something on a piece of paper. The blast must have affected her more than she thought if she’d agreed to come here.

      “Yes. Gramps and I brought you here.”

      “How?”

      “I carried you to the car and then to the house.”

      That was what she’d been afraid of. Her heartbeat sped at the thought of being in Connor’s arms, cradled against him—twice in one day. Another memory of being in his arms cloaked her. Of him kissing her. A lifetime ago. “I don’t need to be protected. I didn’t thirteen years ago, and I don’t now. I’m not the one in danger.” At least she didn’t think so, and she would do her own checking into that. “My dad must be. I need to call the center to see how he is.”

      She flipped open her cell and punched in the stored number of Sunny Meadows, then asked to speak to the nurse on duty. When she came on the line, Cara asked, “How’s C. J. Madison doing? This is his daughter.”

      “Cara, this is Kathy. Your dad is fine, but the doctor wants to keep him at least through tomorrow.”

      “Is the deputy sheriff with him?” she asked, vaguely recalling Sean writing something to that effect on a piece of paper.

      “Yes. In fact, after the sheriff came a while ago and told your father what happened, he got quite upset at the news. It took us a while to get him settled down. Doc had us give him his sleeping pill early tonight. I think he’s down for the night. Are you all right? Everyone heard what happened at the house.”

      Cara had known Kathy in high school and was glad she was one of the nurses looking after her father. “I’m fine. So you don’t think I should come see him tonight?”

      “No. Get a good night’s sleep and come tomorrow morning.”

      Cara snagged Connor’s gaze while she said goodbye to Kathy. “I may have agreed to come here because Mike asked, but I’m not staying here, Connor.”

      He surged to his feet and strode to the sink to pitch the rest of his coffee. “I tried to tell Gramps and the sheriff you wouldn’t want this, but they were sure you would see the wisdom in being here in an environment a little bit easier to control than a hotel. They just don’t remember how pig-headed you are.”

      “Well, then I’ll have to tell them after you take me to the house.”

      “No can do.”

      “What do you mean? I need some clean clothes. You can’t keep me here against my will. I’m not in any danger. Besides, I know how to take care of myself.” Her training and survival instinct had gotten her out of the kitchen before more of the ceiling had come down on top of her.

      His smile tilted up the corners of his mouth, but that was all it did, as though he was trying valiantly to be patient. “It’ll be dark before we can get to your house, and there’s no electricity. It’s not safe at night.”

      Again he was making decisions for her. “Haven’t you heard of flashlights?” Standing, she gripped the edge of the table with both hands then leaned into it.

      “Haven’t you heard of patience? Oh, I forgot that was never one of your strong suits. You always wanted things right then and there.”

      “Because I left Clear Branch? I didn’t want to stay here and settle down. There were things I wanted to do before I married.” If she ever married. After seeing her parents’ marriage, she wasn’t sure that was something she should do. That opinion hadn’t changed in thirteen years.

      For a few seconds something flickered in and out of his gaze. Hurt? It was gone so fast and quickly replaced by anger that Cara couldn’t tell.

      Connor’s jaw set in a hard line. “You can rummage around in the house tomorrow at first light if you want. I’ll even take you now that I’m working the case. The crime scene guys have processed the scene.”

      Dread rose in her. “Why do you want to work the case? Aren’t you here for a visit like I am?”

      “Yes, but I’m going to because Sean asked me to help and I’ve already cleared it with headquarters. So sit and get comfy.” He waved his hand toward the chair behind her. “I have some questions for you. Then if you want, I’ll take you to the hotel. The house isn’t an option for tonight. Personally, I didn’t want you here, but Gramps and Sean just might have a point. We don’t really know what’s going on. Who the target is.”

      His words hurt, and she tried not to feel that. She didn’t love him anymore. She was a totally different person from that twenty-one-year-old who’d left Clear Branch to travel, try her hand at reporting like her father. She’d seen the world, and it had chewed her up and spit her out. Few people knew what had really happened in Nzadi near the Congo River in Africa—only what was splashed all over the news for a day and minus her name connected to it—but she did and she had to live with it.

      “I’ll try not to trouble you for too long.” Cara sank onto the seat, exhaustion deluging her. She needed at least another twenty-four hours of sleep.

      He remained at the sink, lounging back against the counter. “So as I asked before, in case you’re the target, who would want to kill you?”

      “I’ve irritated a few people through the years.” Riding to the airport after the attempt on client’s life had been the longest thirty minutes of Cara’s life. All the crowd gathered at the airport had known was that the woman who should have died was alive in the limousine and Obioma Dia, who they revered, was dead in her place.

      “I’m not surprised.” He chuckled.

      The sound, a familiar one from her past, eased the tension that left a trail of knotted muscles along her shoulders and neck. “Where should I begin?”

      “Just how many do you think there are?”

      “We could start with the president of Nzadi. Although he would deny it, he was the one who had me kicked out of his country.” Along with the businessman and his wife.

      “Yeah, I’ve read about the riots in Nzadi. All Americans were asked to leave. Let’s start closer to home. Who have you ticked off in the U.S.?”

      “Besides you?”

      An eyebrow arched. “Yeah.”

      “I’ve been responsible for putting some people behind bars. I may not be a law enforcement officer like you, but I’m good at my job. I’ve prevented several people from being hurt and apprehended the person behind the threat. Someone could be upset with me over that.” She tilted her chin up a notch. “If you want my cooperation, it will be a joint investigation.”

      Ignoring her statement, he scowled and said, “I’ll need a list of those people you helped put behind bars.” His hands flat on the table, he leaned across it. “Why are you visiting now? I know there isn’t any love lost between you and your dad unless things have changed since I last saw you.”

      They hadn’t, and in fact they had gotten worse between her and her father, ever since she quit being an investigative reporter. But the unfounded accusation in Connor’s voice caused her to straighten her shoulders and stiffen her spine. “There might not be any love lost between my father and me, but I will protect my own. Contrary to what you think, I’m not heartless.” The trouble was her heart was filled with too many emotions, laid shattered by all that she’d seen around the world while doing her job, first as an investigative reporter, and then as a bodyguard. The incident in Nzadi sent her home to the States to piece together what little was left of her life. She couldn’t keep running