renewedrush of terror as something struck her. âWhat do you know?â she asked on a whisper. âWhat do you know that I donât?â
His hand hesitated, then resumed stroking her hair. âIâm not sure I know anything.â
âTell me!â Her hands balled into fists, and she pounded one of them against his chest, not hard, but enough to make a point. That chest yielded to her fist about as much as cement.
He sighed, tightening his arms around her.
âWade, donât do this to me. You either know something or you donât.â
When his answer seemed slow in coming, she stiffened, ready to pull away. âYou canât do this,â she said, anger beginning to replace fear, and weakness with strength. âYou canât! You canât just waltz into my life and then do things to make me afraid all over again. Not without a reason. I wonât stand for it.â
âAll right. Just keep in mind this may be meaningless.â
âJust tell me.â
âThat man we met at the store yesterday morning? The one we ran into later in the aisle?â
âYes? What about him?â
âEarly this morning I realized he was driving the car behind the woman who waved to us as we were walking back to the house.â
She hardly remembered the incident and had to make herself think back. Yes, a man had driven past them, right after that woman. She tipped her head back, trying to look at him. âBut it was a different car.â
âYes, it was. But it was the same man. Maybe he just owns two cars.â
No matter how hard she tried, she couldnât rememberthe face of the man in the car during their walk. âHow can you be sure? I canât even remember what he looked like.â
âTraining. If I hadnât gotten so lazy over the last six months, Iâd have picked up on it right away. And he might just have two cars. A lot of folks do.â
He looked down at her at last, his obsidian eyes like chips of stone. âI canât ignore it. Coincidence or not, I cannot ignore it.â
She bit her lip, then said, âThatâs what made you come down so early this morning. Why you went out to jog. You were looking for him.â
He nodded. âI didnât find him.â
âSo it could be coincidence.â
âMaybe.â
She shook her head a little, trying to sort through a bunch of conflicting thoughts. Finally she came up with one question. âThat phone call couldnât be part of it, could it? I meanâ¦â She wanted to believe it was all random chance, but the phone call kept rearing up in her mind, some part of her insisting it was no prank. âIt doesnât make sense. Why call me if you know where I am?â
âBecause maybe you donât know exactly which of a handful of women is your target.â
âAnd how would that prove a damn thing?â
He loosened his hold on her, giving her space, but she didnât move away. She didnât want to. Odd considering that he was busy ripping her newfound courage to shreds. Not that it had been much to begin with.
He spoke finally. âSometimes the only way to identify a target is to do something that makes them take a revealing action.â
She searched his face, but it remained unreadable. âYouâve done that?â
âA couple of times.â
âIt works?â
âIt did for me.â
âBut I havenât done anything since the call! So that canât be whatâs going on.â
âMaybe. Maybe not.â
âStop being so elliptical. Just tell me what youâre thinking. Please!â
âI moved in here right before you got the call. What if the person trying to locate you saw me only after the call?â
Her stomach sank, and right along with it her heart. âBodyguard,â she whispered. Then she had another horrifying thought. âMarsha got a dog.â
âIf I were them, I doubt
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