Serve ‘N’ Protect by Tee O’Fallon

Chapter Seven

The entire time Cassidy exchanged cell numbers with everyone, including Markus, she kept weighing the pros and cons of the deal. Pro, she needed the money. Con, time was not on her side. Workwise, today had been a total bust. Playing nursemaid to a grouchy cop would suck even more precious time from her calendar. But again, pro, the money. And he needed her help.

So, at McMurray’s insistence, she’d reluctantly provided her date of birth and social security number to Matt who, fifteen minutes later, had declared her to have no criminal history and not be wanted by the police, the FBI, or any other agency on the planet that employed badge-carrying, gun-toting guys and gals. She’s clean, Matt had declared. Good to know. She had, after all, showered this morning.

“Don’t let him do anything stupid again that might tear open his stitches.” Captain McMurray might be talking to her, but he was glaring at Markus, telling her that this particular marching order was as much for Markus as it was for her.

Markus’s eyes were half closed. “Yes, sir.”

“If he gets hurt again,” McMurray continued, “you call me. If I don’t answer, call Matt or Kade. The only reason to take him to a hospital is if he’s not breathing and his heart has stopped. Other than that, you call me. No more unplanned road trips. You check in on him, care for him, feed him. If there’s anything he needs that he can’t get for himself, you get it for him. If you can’t get it, you call me. If you see anyone skulking around here that shouldn’t be, you—”

“Call me,” Cassidy interrupted. “I get it. Aye, aye, captain.” She saluted and was rewarded with a frosty stare.

Kade snorted. Matt’s lips twitched. McMurray’s, on the other hand, pressed together in a tight line. The man was all business, no fun at all. He and Markus had to be cut from the same grouchy cloth.

“Uh, sorry.” She rolled her lips inward, addressing Captain McMurray. “I assure you I take this job very seriously. I was only trying to lighten the mood.”

“Well, don’t!” McMurray barked. Ghost lifted his head from Markus’s lap, his ears erect as he searched the room, presumably for another dog. “Someone tried to kill one of my men and did kill another. We don’t know who, and we don’t know why. Do you know how to shoot a gun, young lady?”

“I’m not completely helpless,” Markus grumbled.

She ignored him. “Not really.” The only time she’d ever held anything resembling a gun was at the county fair at one of those games where you had to shoot a stream of water through a hole in the center of a target to win an enormous stuffed prize. Last year, she’d won a polar bear.

“Markus,” McMurray said. “Teach her.”

“Yes, sir,” Markus replied groggily.

Looked like she’d be getting Annie Oakley lessons whether she liked it or not.

“Do you have any questions?” McMurray asked. When she shook her head, he added, “Good,” then stood and headed for the door.

“Wait.” Markus’s eyes snapped fully open. “Can one of you guys swing by the hospital on the way out? See if there are any video cameras facing the back parking lot. The timeframe you’re looking for is around four p.m. Unless the police picked them up, there could be some empty shells on the ground, probably from a 9mm. And there was a red sedan parked on the road right behind the lot. Good place for a quick getaway.”

Cassidy blinked. How did he remember all that detail? Everything had happened so fast. Duh. He’s not only a cop, he protects the White House. Of all the possible professions, never in a million years would she have seen that coming.

“Will do,” Kade said.

“And check with hospital security and the local PD,” Markus went on. “See if there were any witnesses who might have gotten a description of the car or a tag.”

“Markus, we’ve got this,” Matt assured him. “Your only job is to get well.”

“Sitting on my ass isn’t in my genetic makeup.”

“It is until you’re cleared by a doctor.” McMurray gave him yet another pointed look, something Cassidy was coming to realize he did a lot to get what he wanted. “That could be months from now.”

Markus made a groaning sound that was more of a growl. Clearly, he wanted to get back in the saddle.

“Speaking of videos,” Kade said, “we reviewed the footage from the security cam in front of your house, just in case the local PD missed anything. It was dark outside, but it shows a guy about six feet tall, average build, wearing a face covering. No identifying marks or jewelry visible. There were no other cameras in your neighborhood close enough to pick anything up.”

“Barnes was also attacked in his driveway the second he got out of his car,” McMurray said. “Unfortunately, Jack didn’t have any cameras.”

“No witnesses there, either?” Kade asked.

“None.” McMurray shook his head.

“Professional hits?” Matt suggested.

“Hard to say,” McMurray answered. “Unless we can figure out a motive and why this guy picked you and Barnes, we’ve got nothing to go on. I know we talked about this before, but is there anything outside of work you can think of that ties you to Barnes?”

“There’s nothing. I barely knew the guy.” Markus sat up straighter, his face contorting as he struggled to get comfortable. Cassidy grabbed a throw pillow from the end of the sofa then leaned over Ghost and wedged it behind Markus’s back. “Thanks,” he said, their gazes meeting briefly.

“Sure,” she said, realizing that his hair wasn’t black, as she’d originally thought. Now that it wasn’t damp with perspiration, it was actually a dark reddish-brown. Mahogany.

“The only time Barnes and I have had contact was that one shift two weeks ago,” Markus continued.

“The Saudi party,” McMurray said rather than asked.

“You get to go to parties for work?” Cassidy asked. “I thought all you did was protect the President.” The second the words flew from her mouth, she realized how stupid they sounded, as if protecting the ruler of the most powerful nation in the world was a cake walk. “Sorry,” she added quickly. “Didn’t mean for that to come out the way it sounded.”

Rather than look at her like she was an idiot, he only shrugged. “Most people think that’s all we do. Sometimes we work protection for visiting diplomats in the D.C. area. This was a party the crown prince was hosting. All we did was patrol outside.”

McMurray leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “And you’re sure nothing unusual happened during your shift? Nothing that’s come to mind while you’ve been out?”

“Just a lot of rich people coming and going.” When Markus massaged his forehead, Cassidy wondered if he had a headache or was just tired. He dropped his hand to Ghost, giving the dog a belly rub. “It’s probably a waste of time, but if they still have footage from those cams, I can review it. Since I’ll be sitting on my ass for a while, what else have I got to do?”

“I can check on that after my shift tomorrow,” Kade offered.

“Thanks, man,” Markus said.

Cassidy listened, fascinated by the investigative process. It was like being in a real live episode of Law and Order, and she was grateful they’d let her stay to hear it. She began to stroke Ghost’s thick coat when her fingers touched Markus’s. They both yanked their hands away. Ghost made a huffing sound, miffed at no longer having his belly rubbed.

“By the way”—McMurray pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to Markus—“the Saudi embassy sent over a letter commending you, Jack, and the midnight shift, and thanking you for your service. Signed by the crown prince himself.”

Markus read the letter then crumpled it into a ball and threw it on the table.

“All right, then.” McMurray stood. To Cassidy, he said, “He’s in your hands. We’re counting on you.”

Not wanting to be the focus of any more Sourpuss glares, she resisted the urge to snap another sharp salute.

“Thanks, guys,” Markus said.

“You got it.” Kade bumped fists with Markus. Before following McMurray to the door, Matt did the same.

It was obvious the three men were incredibly close, although in an entirely different way from the closeness she shared with her family. She imagined Markus’s closeness with these guys came from forging a soldierly bond in the criminal battlefield while bullets whizzed over their heads. She winced inwardly. Today, the bullets had been flying over her head, too.

Cassidy accompanied the men to the door, unable to keep from grinning like a foolish girl when Kade winked at her. His dimples really were sexy and adorable. As adorable as dimples could look on a tough-looking, six-foot-plus federal agent. Both Markus’s friends were tall and handsome. So was Markus, once you looked past the stern stoicism, leaving her wondering if “hotness” was in their job descriptions. She’d thought that was just a TV thing, but if Captain McMurray was the gauge, Markus and his friends would age really, really well.

She returned to the living room to find Ghost had rolled completely onto his back with his legs in the air while Markus continued with his belly rub. Ghost kicked his legs as Markus hit on a nerve. “Do you want to sleep on the sofa tonight or go upstairs to bed?”

“Neither.” It was then that she noticed his eyes were no longer groggy but sharp. “I need to think.”

“In that case, are you hungry? It’s dinner time. We left for the hospital around one o’clock, and you haven’t eaten since at least before then.”

“No, but thanks.” His eyes narrowed, although he wasn’t really looking at her so much as he was lost in thought. “And you can go home, by the way. You don’t really have to play nursemaid. I only said that so McMurray would leave me alone.”

“What?” He had to be kidding. Didn’t he?

“I said you can go.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

“Uh, no. I can’t. I have a job to do, and I take my duties seriously.” From what she’d seen today, Markus really did need her help, even if he didn’t want it. Plus, there was that teensy-weensy other little thing she didn’t want to miss out on. A thousand dollars a week. According to McMurray, that could be for as long as two months, until Markus was cleared for duty. Can anyone say cha-ching?

He made a derisive scoffing sound that grated on her patience. “Don’t worry, you’ll still get paid.”

“That’s not the point.” Well, not all of it anyway. “You’re hurt, and you need me. It’s not my family’s way to abandon someone in need.”

“I’m not in need.”

“You are.”

“Not.”

She fisted her hands on her hips. “God, you’re stubborn. You can barely walk. At least, let me make you dinner. You need to eat.” Someone’s stomach grumbled, although she couldn’t be sure whether it was hers, Markus’s, or Ghost’s. “So does Ghost.”

“Fine,” he growled. To his dog, he said, “Ghost, bowl.”

Ghost hopped off the sofa and trotted into the kitchen. A moment later, he returned, proudly displaying a metal dog bowl clamped between his teeth.

“That’s a neat trick.”

“Before he became a K-9, he was a service dog.”

“Did he get fired?” It was hard to imagine Ghost as some little old lady’s service dog.

“People thought he was too big and scary.” Markus pointed to Cassidy. “Give it to her.”

Ghost trotted over, presenting her with his bowl. She took it from his mouth. “Thank you. Now, where is your food, and how much do you get?”

“Plastic bin near the kitchen table,” Markus said absently, as if his mind was still somewhere else. “There’s a mug inside the bin. He gets a full one.”

“You relax here, and I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready. I hope you don’t mind if I eat with you. I’m starving.”

Without waiting for a reply, she trailed Ghost into the kitchen. The dog’s nails clicked on the wood floor and his tail wagged expectantly. The second she’d scooped out his dinner from the bin and set the bowl on the floor, the kitchen filled with the sound of a happy dog crunching noisily on kibble. At least one of them was appreciative of her efforts.

Ten minutes later, she had a small pot of sauce heating on the cooktop, another filled with water for spaghetti, salad fixings on the cutting board, and a loaf of garlic bread in the oven. Clearly, someone had stocked up on food. The refrigerator and freezer were crammed with steak, chicken, fish, and vegetables. Although, she’d had to search for the spaghetti and dig deep into the bottom of the freezer for the garlic bread. Carbo-licious here we come.

While waiting for the water to boil, she prepped the salad. When the water was ready, she opened the box of spaghetti and dumped it in, stirring it a few times until it went limp. She turned, bumping into her cane where she’d hooked it on a corner of the counter, and shrieked louder than an alley cat.

Markus had come into the kitchen and she hadn’t heard a sound. Even injured, the man moved as quietly and stealthily as a ninja. Must be all that secret agent training. Maybe he could teach her how to not sound like a peg-leg pirate clumping all over the neighborhood.

Ghost lifted his head from where he’d been slurping water. Satisfied there was no crisis he needed to respond to, he lowered his head and resumed slurping.

“Don’t do that.” She took a deep breath to slow her pounding heart.

Somewhere, he’d procured a shirt—a long-sleeve black T-shirt with USMC in big yellow letters on the front. The shirt wasn’t tight but snug enough to showcase thick pecs and outline some pretty well-defined abdominals.

“Sorry.” Using the table for balance, Markus leaned over, reaching for her cane.

“No, don’t. I’ll get it.” They grabbed for the cane at the same time. Much as it had when they’d been petting Ghost, their hands touched. This time, he didn’t pull away. Neither did she. Eyes Cassidy had thought were obsidian and darker than the night sky were actually a very deep shade of brown but with tiny specks of gold she hadn’t noticed before. “You, uh, shouldn’t be exerting yourself.”

He released the cane, grunting as he tried to stand. Pushing up on her cane, she used her other hand to assist him to his feet. “Sit.” She pointed to a chair at the round oak table. “Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes, and why aren’t you lying down? I was going to bring dinner into the living room for you.”

He pulled out a chair, slowly lowering into it. “I’m not good at sitting still.”

“Is that how you broke open your stitches?” She popped open the top door of the brand-spanking-new, drool-worthy double ovens to check on the bread.

“Yeah.”

As she closed the oven door, Cassidy waited for him to elucidate exactly what he’d been doing that tore open his stitches. Naturally, Mr. Monosyllabic didn’t offer up any information. “So, what were you doing?” She opened the refrigerator, surveying the choices of salad dressing in the door. “Chopping wood? No, that I would have heard. Trimming the hedges? Nope, woulda heard that, too.” She chose the Italian vinaigrette then closed the door.

Dark brows bunched, calling attention to the scar on his forehead. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Yes.” If you only knew. She began drizzling dressing over the salad. “So what were you doing?”

His jaw clenched, emphasizing high, sculpted cheekbones and the leanness of his face. She wondered if he had any American Indian heritage.

“Changing a lightbulb,” he said in a voice so low she thought she’d misheard him.

She stopped tossing the salad and turned. “Did you say changing a lightbulb?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah.” She held up one of the salad spoons. “That explains the ladder. Did you fall off the ladder?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you ever answer a question with more than one word?”

“I try not to.”

She snorted. “That was four.”

“Don’t get excited.” He tugged a cell phone from his pants pocket and started scrolling, pausing when the sound of a passing car on the street filtered into the kitchen. Leaning over, he pulled down the shade. “Did John give you the alarm code?” he asked without looking up.

“Yes.” She turned back to the sauce, stirring before it exploded all over John’s new and equally drool-worthy cooktop. Using a fork, she hooked two long noodles from the pot, jiggling them so they’d cool. Ghost walked over and sat, watching her wave the noodles back and forth. “Let’s check for al dente, shall we?” She ate one of the noodles then held the other above Ghost’s snout, lowering it into his greedy mouth and smiling as it reminded her of that famous scene in Lady and the Tramp.

Markus looked up from his phone. “Did you just feed my dog spaghetti?” The look on his face was one of utter horror.

“It was one noodle. What’s the harm?” She took the bread from the oven, setting it on a trivet on the table. Markus might take surly to an art form, but Ghost was already turning into a fantastic companion. For a cop, that is.

“He doesn’t eat carbs. Usually neither do I.” He pointed to a corner of the kitchen. “Ghost, go lie down.”

With a huff, the dog went to a bed in the corner, circled twice, then lay down.

“Forgive me.” Cassidy grabbed two mitts and began pouring the spaghetti into a strainer in the sink. “I’ll do better next time.” She should have figured that Markus wasn’t a carb fan, given what wasn’t in the freezer or pantry. The spaghetti and garlic bread were probably something John had bought and never got around to eating. “I’m guessing that means you don’t like cookies, either.”

“I love cookies. I just don’t eat them.” He resumed scrolling through his messages.

“Really?” Cassidy set the salad on the table. She could turn anyone into a cookie aficionado and resolved to turn Markus into one before he left and went back to White House duties. “My favorite cookies in the whole wide world are Mallomars, the ones with the soft cookie base and the marshmallow, all covered in dark chocolate. What’s your favorite?”

“The ones with the Hershey’s Kisses stuck in the middle.” The corners of his mouth lifted, ever so slightly but still a million miles from being a full-fledged smile, and his eyes lit with something she couldn’t decipher. “My mother used to make them for me.” Something about the way he said it made her think it was a fond memory.

“Does she still make them for you?”

The light in his eyes died instantly, turning to one of sorrow, if she wasn’t mistaken. “She passed away when I was six.”

“Oh.” Idiot. “I’m sorry. What about your father?”

Markus’s eyes went cold. “He’s dead, too.”

“Again, I’m sorry.” There was definitely a story there, one he clearly wasn’t about to expound on. The man barely talked about anything as it was.

“Forget it,” he said, tearing off a hunk of bread.

To cover for the awkward moment, she set the table with plates, napkins, and silverware she dug from a cabinet. After putting out the rest of the food, she sat opposite Markus. She expected him to dig right in, but he didn’t.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said. “But thank you. For dinner and for taking the deal. I didn’t think you would.”

“The money was too good to pass up.” And she really did like helping him, even if he was a sourpuss. The garlicky smells wafting from the bread were making her mouth water, so she pulled off a slice. “Not that I’m a penny pincher or anything, but I’ve got bills to pay and a house that needs a lot of work. Hugh and I were going to—”

An icy lump formed in the pit of her stomach. She took a bite of the bread, which now tasted bitter and dry. She could talk the pants off a preacher but didn’t want to talk about Hugh, not even to her family. The pain was still too raw.

She chewed then swallowed. “Uh, anyway… After I finished paying off all my medical bills, I was completely tapped out, and I refuse to take charity from my family. They shouldn’t have to be my personal bank. They were there for me every step of the way, and that’s what matters most. You know?” She didn’t know how she would have gotten through all the surgeries without their love and support. Love and support Hugh hadn’t been there to give.

He stared at her a moment longer then reached for the salad.

“No, let me.” She served up dinner so Markus wouldn’t overreach and stretch his new sutures. As they munched in silence, she looked around the beautiful kitchen, admiring all the other new stainless-steel appliances, granite counters, pretty tile backsplash, and couldn’t stop the sigh escaping her lips. Being single as John was, now she knew what he spent most of his paycheck on.

“What?” Markus asked.

“This is my dream kitchen.” After John had shown it to them, Hugh promised to renovate her kitchen to look just like this one. Being a general contractor, he could have made that happen. Her chest tightened as she thought of all the plans they’d made. And canceled.

The rest of their meal passed in relative silence. Every now and then she caught Markus looking at her, as if expecting her to launch into another monologue. Thinking about Hugh had pretty much sucked the life out of her.

By the time they were done, Markus’s eyelids were drooping and no wonder. It was nearly eight o’clock.

“Would you like me to take Ghost out for you?” she asked, carrying their plates to the sink.

“No, thanks.” He stood cautiously then unlocked the kitchen door to the backyard. Ghost scrambled up and shot out the door.

“You’re not worried about him out there all alone?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Right, I keep forgetting.” She scraped off their plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. “He’s a cop, too.”

She expected a one-word quip in response, but when she glanced over her shoulder, Markus had sat down again, his eyes closed. “As soon as Ghost is back, you’re going straight to bed.”

“Yes, Mother.”

She laughed softly. “I can see you don’t like being taken care of.”

“That’s not in my genetic makeup, either.”

Scratching came from outside the door, and she could make out the tips of Ghost’s ears through the glass panel. “I’ll get him.”

Minutes later, she followed Markus up the stairs. Ghost walked close beside him, periodically glancing up. Now that she knew he’d been a service dog, Cassidy understood the source of his attentive behavior. That, and it was obvious how much Ghost loved his partner.

Between Markus’s injury and her cane, it took a while before they hit the landing on the second floor. The back of his shirt had a damp spot, and she couldn’t be sure if it was perspiration from the exertion of climbing the stairs or blood.

“I’m going to look at your stitches before you lie down. You might have torn one of them.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m on the clock, and that’s what I’m getting paid for. Besides, Captain McMurray will have my head if I don’t.”

“You’re probably right.” Markus looked at her over his shoulder. “You’re not squeamish, are you?”

She uttered a dismissive sound as she followed him and Ghost down the hall. “After all the deep cuts and abrasions I had from the accident, not much makes me squeamish anymore. Besides, I already saw your injuries.” And they’d scared her to death. Not because of the blood. Because they’d come from a knife.

At the end of the hall, he turned right into a bedroom and flipped on the lights. Against one wall was a king-size bed with a tufted brown headboard. At the foot of the bed and sitting on the brown duvet was a folded cream-colored blanket. Two large bureaus sat against the side walls, while two bedside tables flanked the bed. On the nearest table sat a holstered handgun, similar to the one Matt had worn on his belt. To complete the homey ensemble, a giant flat-screen TV took up a big chunk of the wall opposite the bed.

Ghost sat on the rug next to Markus’s feet, watching as if he was waiting for a command to fetch something.

“Sit down and take your shirt off,” she ordered, heading to the master bathroom for a clean towel. She flipped on the lights, momentarily awed by all the white marble and pretty beige crackle tile surrounding the shower and giant tub. After finding what she was looking for beneath the sink, she turned and was about to go back into the bedroom. Instead, she froze in the open doorway.

Markus had stripped off his shirt. Earlier, she’d been so consumed with getting him to the hospital that she hadn’t taken the time to look at him. Really look at him.

All those muscles she rightly assumed he had beneath his shirt rippled and bunched as he tossed the shirt onto the bed. That kind of body took years of discipline to achieve, let alone maintain. Once upon a time, she’d had that kind of discipline. The accident had pretty much obliterated both her willpower and her self-image.

“You okay?”

“Huh?” Cassidy blinked. “Yeah, I was just thinking.” About the improbability that she’d ever be fit or feeling good about herself again. With a terrycloth towel draped over her shoulder, she clumped across the rug and sat beside Markus. “Let me look.”

Rather than unroll all the gauze wrapped around his waist, she gently tugged it aside, first examining the taped bandage on his back and searching for blood. As her fingers contacted his skin, he flinched. “Did I hurt you?”

His chest expanded as he inhaled. “No.”

Markus’s broad back glistened with perspiration, so she used the towel to wipe him dry. “So… Your job sounds pretty incredible. What’s it like working in the White House?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Like I said, I only patrol the outside.”

For someone with such a prestigious job, he was sure downplaying its importance. “You must know the President, right? Is he a nice guy?” Before looking at the bandage beneath the gauze on his abdomen, she ran her fingers over and across his back to verify he was indeed dry. Catching a chill wouldn’t help him heal any.

“No idea. I’ve only met him in passing.”

O-kay. “You’ve never talked to him?” As her fingers grazed his back, his skin puckered with goose bumps.

“I protect the President. It’s not my job to make friends with the guy.” He twisted his neck to look over his shoulder at her. “How’s it looking back there, doc?”

Alrighty then. He wasn’t about to give up any presidential gossip, and she respected him for that. “There’s no blood, so that’s good, and your stitches are still intact.” As close as they were, his warm breath blew across the top of her head. “You were just sweating. Can you lie down so I can check the wound on your abdomen?”

She stood so he could stretch out, hooking her cane on the side table so she could help him swing his long legs onto the mattress. Grimacing, he eased back and lay down with his head on the pillow.

Cassidy made quick work of examining the bandage. “Looks good here, too. Do you want me to get you your jammies?”

“I sleep in the nude.”

Cassidy opened her mouth to say something, but the only thing that came out was a choked gurgle. “In that case, I should be going.” A naked Markus York was not something she needed to see. She stood to leave. “Like I said, I know the alarm code and still have the spare key, so I’ll—”

His eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell evenly. He was fast asleep. Cassidy reached for the blanket and draped it over him. He didn’t budge.

“Take care of him, Ghost.” She leaned down to pet the dog on his head just as he curled up and lay down on the rug. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”

Ghost gave her hand a quick lick.

On the way out, she turned off the lights then headed downstairs. Before leaving, she finished cleaning up the kitchen and turned off most of the other lights. The day certainly hadn’t turned out as she’d planned. Now, in addition to her accounting work, she had a patient of sorts to care for.

Moving as quietly as possible, she went to the hallway and put on her jacket. After setting the alarm, she locked the door behind her, waiting outside on the porch until the system stopped beeping. The cool night air felt good on her face, and she inhaled a deep breath, unable to stop thinking about the man asleep upstairs.

Most people couldn’t imagine being in the kind of pain Markus must have endured, but she could. When she’d blurted out that her leg had nearly been severed during the accident, she hadn’t been kidding. At least she no longer had nightmares about it.

As she made her way slowly across the grass, she couldn’t keep from wondering if Markus really slept in the nude or whether he’d just said that to gauge her reaction.

As it always did, the wood railing on her porch steps jiggled as she leaned on it. Like so many other things on her house, that needed repair, too. Headlights lit the road as a car came around the bend. Normally, when they hit the straightaway in front of her house, cars sped up. This one didn’t and actually slowed as it drove past. Odd.

Or was it?

Traffic was sparse in her neighborhood to begin with, let alone this late at night, one of many reasons why she’d bought her bungalow in the first place. Peace and relative quiet. Given what had happened to Markus and the fact that someone tried to murder him again today, maybe she was seeing things that weren’t there.

She watched the car closely, waiting until it continued past and she could no longer see its red taillights. Before today, it never would have occurred to her that someone driving by could be a cold-blooded killer.

Now, it did, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d just put herself at risk, too.