Season of Danger. Jill Elizabeth Nelson
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She narrowed her eyes at him, raising one brow in threat.
Sean forced himself to stop laughing. Since he and Gerard had first been assigned as partners in the Corpus Christi police force ten years ago, he’d been undeniably drawn to Gerard’s younger half sister. She was like a fiery angel with hair and eyes the color of shiny onyx. She’d been able to make him smile when nothing and no one else could, especially these past months.
“You’re just so doggone cute when you glare like that,” Sean told Tess.
Her dark eyes flared, and he was tempted to taunt her a little—tell her outright that she should stop trying to deny her attraction to him, because he wasn’t buying it. But he knew better. Tess had been different ever since Tanner’s death. He knew she still blamed herself, though she never talked about it.
“Cruel,” she said to him. “That was cruel.” Her eyes darkened further as she pushed past the fear that seemed to cling to her. She’d been startled. He could see that now.
“I know. Sorry. What’ve you got?” he asked, nodding at the straw and whatever else she held in her hand.
“Did you hear the noise out here a moment ago?” she asked.
“Yeah. Thought it was you, so I stepped out for some company, and lo and behold, there you were, showing me a whole ’nother…um…side of yourself.” He bounced his eyebrows in an attempt at a leer.
“I meant, before I came out.”
The leer vanished. “I take it you weren’t the one running, banging around out here. I mean, remember the time we had that infestation of mice, and you chased—”
“Not mice. Not this time.”
“Tess, what happened?” He was suddenly a cop again.
She held up the straw. “The running, banging on the door, it was someone else. Someone tried to break—and I mean literally break—into my office. Who could have gotten up here? Where’s Gerard?”
Sean felt himself go cold inside. He reached beneath his coat for his sidearm.
“No.” She touched his arm, shaking her head. “It may be nothing. No need for guns.”
“You’re sure?”
She hesitated, took a deep breath, and Sean knew she was much more spooked than she wanted to let on.
“Gerard’s been gone for hours,” Sean told her. He reached for the material in her hand, sniffed it, wrinkled his nose. “Manure and mud. Someone come up here from a feedlot?”
She shrugged.
“Did you lock behind you when you came upstairs?” he asked.
“I always do. You?”
“Sure did.” Gerard had told Sean he’d purchased this building in this district of town because he knew this was where they would find the most people in need, but he also knew that calling it a mission didn’t protect this place from danger more than any other place of business in the area. The secondhand store they operated in the connecting building kept money, and this time of year they brought in a lot.
“How long have you been here?” Tess asked.
“Half the day. I’m working on year-end accounts for the station, and I can’t get anything done there. Too many interruptions.” Not that he didn’t have plenty of interruptions here…and distractions just down the hallway. The beautiful lady’s presence could be very distracting.
Tess took a deep breath, let it out slowly. She flexed her shoulders and met Sean’s gaze again, as if looking at him made her feel safer.
He stepped closer. “Maybe we could share an office for a while, at least until things slow down after the holidays.”
She hesitated for a moment, obviously thinking about it, but then she shook her head. “You just want the office with the bathroom in it,” she said, as if she, too, was teasing. But he could hear the tremor in her voice.
“Not true.” He followed her as she stepped back into her small office. “There’s no room for two desks in here. You’d have to move in with me.”
“Not happening. I like my private bathroom.”
“We could change the locks to our upstairs sanctuary.”
“Good idea. Tomorrow?”
“First thing in the morning.” He glanced again at the clump of strange evidence in his hand. “Got a plastic bag?” he asked.
She reached into the set of trays on the wall and pulled out a self-sealing envelope. “That’s the best I can do.”
He dropped the straw, mud and manure into the envelope, took it from her, sealed it and set it on the corner of her desk. He then went into the small half bath and washed his hands. She joined him. No telling where that stuff came from.
Though Sean and Gerard had both left the police force more than three years ago—Gerard to join their brother in an extremely successful start-up, a green-manufacturing plant to help support this mission, and Sean to take over his family-owned radio station—they both retained the instincts of policemen.
He believed that was one reason Tess felt safe working here for the time being, living in the back wing of Gerard’s house, never too far away from either Sean or Gerard. For the first time in her adult life, this past year she’d allowed herself to be protected by her older brothers. And Sean.
The men had made a pact to keep watch over her and protect her at any cost. That wasn’t always easy, because Tess was independent to the point of arrogance at times. Sean wasn’t going to tell her that. At least not at this point of their non-relationship.
Sean had seen pictures of Gerard and Hans’s mother, and of Tess’s. Lawrence Vance’s first wife was of Swedish descent, blond hair nearly white, and the men favored their mother. Tess’s mother, Maria—who had named her daughter Theresa and was the only one who still called her that—had moved to Austin from Mexico City six months after Lawrence’s first wife was killed in a car wreck. Maria had met Lawrence in church and had fallen in love with his two children. After thirty-three years of joyful matrimony, the loving couple continued to live west of Austin. Maria was the only mother Gerard had ever known.
Tess stretched her hands and arms as she walked to the window of her office and closed the blinds. “What a day this has been. My back aches, my head hurts, and my neck is as stiff as a starched, new rope. Breakfast was a long time ago.”
“I thought I saw a long line outside the soup kitchen this evening,” he said.
“Gerard told me they fed nearly twice as many as usual. A hundred and fifteen at last count, with many more teens and children than usual. I wonder if the other kitchens are as overwhelmed.”
“Maybe we’re serving the best