A Promise to Protect. Liz Johnson

that Matt needed another look. Those words had been seared into his memory from the moment he read them. He didn’t see how they could be read as anything other than intimidation toward Ashley and someone else at Lil’s Place.

      The chief continued, “Yes, it could be construed as threatening. But it could also just be a reminder that someone wants his lawnmower back.”

      “I have my own lawnmower.”

      “That’s not the point. It could be anything that’s been borrowed from a neighbor.” Donal ran his hand over his grease-slicked hair. “The point is, the burden of proof on these things is on us. Even if we figured out who was behind this, the newest lawyer in the public defender’s office could get the writer of either of your notes free. And because there’s nothing here that confirms violent intent, my hands are tied.”

      Ashley opened her mouth to speak, but Matt cut her off with a hand on her shoulder. “Will you at least look into it? Check for fingerprints?”

      “Absolutely.” The round man heaved himself from his burgundy leather chair, his stance a silent invitation for them to leave. “Tell you what. I’ll ask my guy Frank to drive past Lil’s Place a few times a day and keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”

      Matt stood, reaching for Ashley’s elbow, but she beat him out of her chair, offering her hand and a half smile to the chief. “I’d appreciate anything you can do.”

      Before either of them could say something else, Donal looked hard at them. “Let my guys do their jobs. Don’t get in our way. We’ll handle this.”

      Matt bit the inside of his cheek and forced a smile. “Thank you, Chief.”

      They weren’t going to get any more of a commitment from the police force than that, and it would only hurt Ashley’s case to be at odds with them.

      As they stepped back into the afternoon sunshine, Ashley shot him a glance through narrowed eyes, her nose wrinkled and lips pursed. “What do you think?”

      He shot her a smile. “I think we’re going to have to fly under the radar.”

      “What does that mean?” But the flash of her grin told him she already knew.

      “Someone thinks they only have to contend with the Charity Way Police Department. They’re in for a nasty surprise.”

      Ashley frowned. “What if Chief Donal is right? I mean, this all could just be a misunderstanding.”

      Of course she’d say something like that. She wanted a fight with an unknown threat about as much as she wanted that shattered windshield. But wanting the fight and getting it anyway were two different things.

      “Are you willing to take a chance like that—not just for yourself, but for the families at the shelter?” He was manipulating her, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. She might take chances with her own safety, but she’d never risk anyone at Lil’s Place. The only way to keep her safe was to remind her that she wasn’t the only one at risk.

      “You’re right,” she said with a sigh. “We’ll do things your way—for now.” Matt noted the clear warning in her glare but chose not to respond. He couldn’t argue with her, not when he needed her cooperation. Her knowledge was his only chance at identifying the threat. This wasn’t his usual assignment—he had no mission parameters, no assigned and carefully researched target, no backup from his team.

      And with Ashley at stake, there was absolutely no room for failure.

      THREE

      Ashley blinked against the sun reflecting off the spiderweb of her windshield, hands on the wheel and chin on her chest. Who would do such a thing? And why? Abuse usually took place behind closed doors, when there was no one around to witness it. Abusers were very, very good at protecting themselves from the consequences of their violence. An open attack like this seemed so strange, so out of character. And that made her nervous. If her attacker was willing to go this far, what would he do next?

      She rolled her window down as Matt leaned a forearm on the roof of the car, towering over her little coupe.

      “Do you want to leave the car here and call a tow truck? I can drive you back to your place.”

      She managed to offer him a slightly off-center smile. “I’m okay. I won’t run anyone over. I promise. The glass place is right around the corner.” And there was no way she could afford to pay for a tow truck either. But he didn’t need to know that.

      “You sure? You’ll be driving right into the sun. It could be kind of hard to see. Would you rather drive my truck?”

      She glanced down the street at the SEAL-approved vehicle of choice. The truck was tall enough to accommodate his long legs, but not so big that it drew undo attention.

      Besides, she didn’t need him to hold her hand in this. She’d accept his help safeguarding Lil’s Place—he was much better qualified in that arena. But driving her car a couple of blocks wasn’t a mission only a SEAL could do. He was capable, but so was she. “That’s all right. I’d rather drive mine.”

      “Fair enough.”

      Why did his words sound just the opposite?

      “I’m fine. Really.”

      “If you’re sure.” She nodded. “Okay. I’ll follow you over there, and then take you home.”

      “Thanks. I appreciate the ride.”

      “I won’t leave you stranded.” There was something deeper to his words, like he was going to give her more than a ride. Like he was promising to see her through this whole ordeal.

      Even if she didn’t need it. She’d been just fine on her own for the last three years.

      She glanced up just in time to catch Matt’s reflection in the rearview mirror as he walked behind her car toward his truck. He favored his left leg ever so slightly, his gait just a bit off, but despite his uneven stride, he was in his truck and pulling out of his parking spot—leaving room for her to pull out in front of him—before she’d even turned her car on.

      * * *

      As she pulled into the empty street, the cracks turned her windshield into a kaleidoscope, which proved harder to see through than she had anticipated. She fought to stay between the barely visible lane lines.

      “Just keep going straight.” She repeated the mantra several times before another driver blasted his horn at her for crossing the middle line. She swerved back into her own lane, drawing dangerously close to a car parked along

      the curb.

      Her breathing picked up speed to match her pulse until she pulled into the gravel parking lot of the glass-repair shop.

      True to his word, Matt came in right behind her, parking beside her coupe as she ducked into the front office.

      Ten minutes later she hurried up to Matt’s truck, clutching her purse. Getting up to the seat could have been part of a training regimen to climb Everest.

      “Need a hand?” Matt turned to open his own door, but she clawed at the bench seat until she gained enough of a grip to scramble all the way up.

      “Nope. I’ve got it.”

      He nodded, slamming his door closed at the same time she settled into her seat, hands clasped in her lap.

      “Where to?”

      She directed him toward Lil’s Place and settled in. The heater kicked out lukewarm air, taking the chill out of the Northern California winter afternoon. She rubbed her hands together and held them in front of the vents.

      “What did they say?”

      She sighed. “They’re closed tomorrow, and they have a backlog. So it’ll take at least a couple days. They said they hope it’ll be done by Saturday morning.”