The Defender's Duty. Shirlee McCoy

why she’d broken into his house.

      She was fast, but even with pins and rods in both legs, Jude was faster. He snagged the back of her coat as she pulled open the door of a beat-up Mustang convertible.

      “Let me go.” She rounded on him, slamming her open palm toward his nose.

      He just missed getting a face full of pain, and that irritated him. It used to be he could take down a three-hundred-pound man with ease. Now he was barely managing to restrain a hundred-pound woman.

      He grabbed the woman’s arm, tugging it behind her back but not exerting pressure. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted answers. “Sorry, lady. You can’t go anywhere until you tell me why you were in my house tonight.”

      “Your house? But…” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced over her shoulder, frowning. “You’re Jude Sinclair.”

      “Were you expecting someone else?” He kept his grip light as he urged the woman back to the house.

      “I wasn’t expecting anyone. I must have mixed up the house numbers somehow. I’m sure the key had my name on it.” She seemed to be talking to herself and used her free arm to reach into her coat pocket. To get keys? Or something a lot more deadly?

      Jude pressed his gun lightly into her back. “Don’t.”

      She froze. “I heard you were difficult, but nobody told me you were crazy.”

      “Not crazy. Cautious. Who are you?”

      “Lacey Carmichael.”

      “That’s your name. I want to know who you are.” He nudged her up the porch stairs, past a suitcase he hadn’t noticed when he’d run out the door.

      A suitcase?

      Was the woman planning to kill him and then move in?

      “I’m a home-care aide. Your brother hired me—”

      “My brother?” He stopped in the brightly lit foyer, lowering his gun and letting the woman turn to face him.

      Her features were delicate, her jaw sharply angled, but it was her eyes that held Jude’s attention. Deep-green and flecked with brown and gold, they begged a second look and a third.

      He scowled.

      The woman could be plotting his death, and he was gazing into her eyes?

      Smart. Really smart.

      “Grayson Sinclair. He contacted my employer. Helping Hands, Incorporated. They provide full-time caregivers to people who are recovering from trauma or illness. The company was founded twenty years ago by—”

      “No need to give me an oral report on the company’s history. Just tell me how you ended up in my house tonight.”

      “My company sent me keys to both sides of the duplex when I signed the contract. I’m sure they said I was going to be staying in two-fourteen. Let me just get the case file out of my suitcase and take a look.” She tried to scoot past Jude, but he shifted so that he was blocking her exit.

      “Have a seat in the living room. I’m going to call my brother and see if your story checks out.”

      “You mean he didn’t tell you I was coming?” She cocked her head to the side, studying him, her gaze touching the scar on his temple and dropping to his bare feet before moving up to his face again.

      “No. He didn’t. My brother knows how I feel about having another home-care aide.” But that wouldn’t have stopped Grayson from hiring one. When they were kids, Grayson had always thought he knew best. Time hadn’t changed things.

      “He told me you wouldn’t be happy. He just didn’t tell me you wouldn’t know.” She smiled, a dimple in her cheek there and gone so fast Jude almost missed it.

      He ground his teeth and raked a hand over his hair, acknowledging a truth that didn’t make him happy—Lacey Carmichael wasn’t the one who’d attacked him, which meant that he was right back where he’d been before she’d walked through his door. Empty-handed and waiting while his would-be murderer walked free. “Now that you know, you can grab your suitcase and head out. Thanks for coming. I’m sure my brother will compensate you for your time.”

      “I thought you wanted to call Grayson and check on my story?”

      “I’ll do it after you’re gone.”

      “Great.” She moved to the door. “It’s been a long drive. I guess I’ll head next door and be over first thing in the morning to work out the details of our business relationship.”

      He grabbed her arm before she could slide past. “I don’t think so, lady. You’re going to get your suitcase, get back in your car and go home.”

      “This is home for the next thirty days. I’m staying in the rental unit next door while I help you recuperate from your accident. It’s in the contract.” She flashed her dimple again.

      “And I guess that was Grayson’s idea, too.”

      “He wanted to sweeten the pot. Helping Hands wasn’t eager to send someone out here, seeing as how you’ve been through four home-care aides in the past six weeks.”

      “Five if I count you.”

      “You can’t. I’m still here.”

      “Not for long. Stay put for now. I’m going to see what my brother has to say for himself.” Jude limped into the kitchen, irritated with his brother, with the woman in his living room, but mostly with himself.

      He lifted the phone, punching in his brother’s number, his throbbing legs making him more aggravated by the minute. He’d been hoping and praying he would finally have a chance to confront his attacker face-to-face. Instead, he was dealing with another of Grayson’s attempts to take charge. Not to mention the pretty young woman who’d just walked into his life.

      How old was Lacey, anyway? Seventeen or eighteen? It wouldn’t surprise him to find out she was still in high school. Way too young to be wandering around by herself in the wee hours of the morning.

      “You’d better have a good reason for calling me at two in the morning.” Grayson’s harsh greeting pulled Jude away from thoughts of Lacey Carmichael and back where they should have been—on his brother’s frustrating need to stick his nose in Jude’s life.

      “I do. She’s about five-two and a hundred pounds.”

      “A hundred and three.” Lacey had the nerve to walk into his kitchen and butt into the conversation, her cheerful announcement doing nothing to ease Jude’s irritation.

      He turned to face her, ready to let her know exactly how he felt about the intrusion, but she’d grabbed the coffee grounds he’d left out on the counter and was starting a fresh pot, so he decided it wouldn’t do any harm to let her finish.

      “You’ve got woman trouble and you want to talk to me about it? That’s a first.” Grayson still sounded annoyed, but Jude didn’t miss the hint of amusement in his voice.

      “I’ve got another home-care aide standing in my kitchen. She says you had something to do with that.”

      “She’s there now? She wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow night. I figured I’d ring you in the morning to let you know she was coming.”

      Jude tensed at the words, and he studied Lacey more carefully. Arriving a day early was suspicious enough. Add in the way she’d shown up in the middle of the night and gone to hisdoor instead of her own…She didn’t look like a threat, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t one. “What’s her name?”

      “The home-care aide?”

      “Who else?”

      “Lacey Carmichael.”

      That matched. “And her description?”

      “I’ve