was no way he could walk away without helping to keep her safe.
His gaze strayed to Cara, still pale with a fine layer of dust covering her, her hand not quite steady as she held out her palm for a pill from Doc Sims. A wet streak down her face stirred feelings in Connor he’d kept locked away for thirteen years. Cara never cried. Living with her iron-willed father had made her tough. The sight pricked his conscious. He couldn’t turn his back on her, and all the protests in the world weren’t going to change that.
“Okay, I know when to admit I’m defeated. She can stay at Gramps’s.” He swallowed the lump lodged in his throat and muttered through clenched teeth, “And so can C.J.”
Sean slapped him on the back. “That’s great. Then we’re set.”
“Are we? You’ve forgotten one important piece in all of this.” At his friend’s raised eyebrow, Connor continued, “You have to get Cara to agree to stay there.”
TWO
The softness beneath her cheek tempted Cara to surrender again to the dark void of sleep. She shifted, aches protesting the move. Slowly she raised one eyelid and stared at an unfamiliar chest of drawers.
Where am I?
The last thing she remembered was Connor coming into the clinic to check on her. At least that was what she thought. Or was it a dream? When she tried to think about the morning, everything blurred, as though she were looking through sheers into a room and not quite seeing it clearly.
Her head throbbing where she’d struck the refrigerator, she cautiously rolled over, opening both eyes to stare at a white ceiling. She searched the dimly lit room. The beige blinds were closed. Little gave away where she was. A hotel room? Still at Doc Sims’s clinic?
She eased up on her elbows to get a better look, conscious of not moving too fast. The room didn’t spin. Her world was stable. Then she zoomed in on a sound coming from her left. A rhythmic ticking. She glanced at the nightstand, which had only a lamp and a clock on it.
7:00? She glanced toward the window, muted light leaking through the slats in the blinds.
What happened to the past eight hours? Is Dad all right?
She jerked up straight in bed and immediately regretted that sudden movement. After the dizziness passed, she swung her legs to the floor and rose slowly, glad she was still dressed in her dust-covered jeans and a University of Virginia T-shirt that Doc had at his clinic. The room held nothing personal in it, only the bed, two nightstands on either side of it, a chest of drawers and a comfortable-looking maroon chair near the one window with a little round table next to it.
The room is void of any feeling—like my life of late.
Cara pushed that thought away. She had more important concerns than piecing her life back together. She needed to discover who wanted her dad dead. And that meant getting answers from the sheriff.
But first, is Dad okay at Sunny Meadows? She looked around for a phone since she’d left her cell back on her father’s kitchen floor. No phone.
Needing to find out where she was and call the rehabilitation center, she limped toward the door, the pain in her hip and head a nagging reminder of what had happened earlier. Out in a hallway of what appeared to be a house, vague memories of the past tugged at her. Seeing a bathroom door open, she slipped inside and washed off what grime was left on her face and neck then finger-combed her hair into a semblance of order. Cuts on her skin emphasized the ordeal she’d gone through.
She heard voices coming from her right. Heading that way, she soon entered a kitchen she had known all too well as a young woman and came to a halt when her gaze fell upon Connor Fitzgerald. So she hadn’t dreamed him. He had been at her dad’s house earlier, and she was at his grandfather’s now.
Connor fastened his hard, slate-gray eyes on her. The chill from that look went straight to her bones.
“I was getting worried about you, child.”
Cara shifted her attention to the wiry, old man with bright alert eyes. Mike Fitzgerald sat opposite his grandson. A warm welcome spread across his features as his assessing survey took her in. He rose, still thin with a fit body for his age and a full head of stark white hair. He moved a little slower than she remembered, but with the assurance she’d known, and enveloped her in a bear hug. She winced at the welcoming embrace.
“I’m so glad you’re okay and staying here. Me and Connor can keep you safe.”
Staying at Connor’s grandfather’s house? Did she forget something from the morning? All she could remember was lying on Doc’s examination table after he took some X-rays. Totally exhausted and hurting, she’d taken something to help her rest. Then Connor had come in and talked with Doc. When she’d closed her eyes, weariness pulling her down toward the dark, another voice, deep and gruff, joined the two men’s. Mike’s? He’d asked her something and she’d answered. Then she’d drifted off to sleep to the sound of their murmured voices, too tired to care.
What had been Mike’s question and my answer?
The scent of coffee floated on the air. She needed caffeine and her brain functioning at one hundred percent before she tackled the man across from Mike Fitzgerald.
“May I have some coffee? Actually, a whole pot full?”
“Sure, child. Anything I have is yours. You know that.” Mike wrapped his calloused hand around hers and guided her toward the table and a seat next to his grandson.
Connor’s coldness continued to flow from him and drape her in a blanket of ice. Mike set a big mug of black coffee, the way she took hers, in front of her. She cradled it between her hands to heat her fingers while she waited for it to cool down enough to drink.
“Well, I’ll leave you two younguns alone. I imagine you have some catching up to do.” Mike hurried toward the hallway as though he knew he needed to escape or risk getting caught in the cross fire.
She itched to drag Connor’s grandfather back into the chair on the other side of her, but he could move surprisingly fast when he wanted. Taking a sip of her coffee, she stabbed Connor with what she hoped was a piercing look. “Why am I here?”
“You heard Gramps. Until the person who sent the bomb is caught, you’re in danger. The sheriff asked me to watch out for you. Gramps and I brought you here after Doc gave his okay, so long as we kept an eye on you and let him know if there’s a problem.”
“His okay! How about mine?” Her voice rose as her temper did. “Maybe I’d rather stay somewhere else. Did you think to ask?”
“My grandfather did. You can’t stay at your dad’s house. The damage is extensive in the dining room, foyer and kitchen where part of the doorway and wall blew out.”
“You’ve been inside and seen it?”
He nodded and delved into his pocket, then presented her cell phone to her. “After the bomb squad okayed the premises, I accompanied the sheriff and ATF agents. I found that on the floor and saw it was yours.”
“What did they find?” She chanced a sip of the still hot coffee because she needed something to drive the fuzz from her brain. To deal with Connor she had to be clear-headed.
“It
