Chapter Six
Dalton slept in fits and starts over the next four hours until sun streamed in through the windows.
He rolled out of bed, fired off a couple dozen push-ups, and then headed to the shower after making a quick trip to his truck to retrieve his emergency supply backpack.
In it, he kept a change of clothes and a travel kit with toothpaste and a toothbrush, a comb, deodorant.
Pretty much all the basic supplies to get him through a night or two on the road if he couldn’t get back home.
There was a backup weapon inside, just in case.
On the ground floor of Blakely’s home sat the living room, kitchen and dining area.
A short hallway to the right of the front door led to a full bathroom and a bedroom that, true to her word, had been converted to a home office.
The whole downstairs had a comfortable but minimal feel to it.
The place was filled with cream-colored furniture with just the right amount of color worked in.
He was no decorator and would never claim to be one.
But this space felt welcoming. Like it invited you to sit down and get comfortable so you could stay for a while.
Unlike its owner, who seemed like she couldn’t get him out of her home fast enough. Blakely was a study in contrasts.
Dalton had no patience for someone who spent most of their time pushing him away despite needing him more than ever.
Of course, she wouldn’t see it that way.
The determined set to her chin said she’d rather eat nails than admit she needed a bodyguard.
She was also intelligent enough to accept his help, which he appreciated about the good judge.
And a growing part of him wanted to know more about her.
Where did she grow up? What happened to her parents?
Did she have any other living relatives other than her sister and nephew?
Of course, all those questions were off-limits since they didn’t help solve who attacked her last night.
On the other hand, they weren’t totally out of bounds considering this was an investigation.
His job might be to act as bodyguard to the judge, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t put his investigator hat on.
Working with Houston PD was out. They wouldn’t share information unless they deemed it relevant to protecting Blakely.
A shower and fresh clothes were the best attitude adjustment he could think of after sleeping on the couch.
Since Blakely and her sister were upstairs, he didn’t figure a little noise in the kitchen would wake them.
His stomach growled, reminding him that he’d skipped supper last night, and he needed caffeine to think clearly.
As he moved into the kitchen and flipped on the light, he heard the creak of a floorboard at the top of the staircase.
It was windy outside. Might be the wind.
Older homes had a language of their own, creaking and groaning with the weather.
Then again, this house wasn’t too old. Was someone coming down? Blakely?
He checked cabinets until he found a coffee mug.
Then moved to the general area of the coffee maker.
She had one of those machines that took pods.
Wa-la! A colorful carousel filled with pods sat on the opposite side of the black-and-chrome machine.
He grabbed a purple pod, popped it into the machine and set the mug underneath the spout.
All these pod machines worked pretty much the same.
The noise was worse than he anticipated, drowning out the floorboard creaks, the machine hissing as it spit out coffee.
He figured this was meant to replicate the coffee shop experience.
As long as the coffee didn’t taste burnt, he could care less what kind of noise the machine made.
His only hope was that he wasn’t waking anyone up.
“Hello,” a female voice he recognized as Bethany’s said.
“Hey,” he answered without turning around. “Do you want a cup of coffee?”
“No,” she said, sounding half asleep. “Thanks, though. I just came down for water.”
“I can make that happen for you,” he said, retrieving a glass and filling it with water from the fridge door before she could plop onto a bar chair pushed up to the granite island.
“Thank you,” she said after taking the offering.
“I’m a regular barista,” he quipped, laughing at his own joke.
Bethany laughed too. Dark circles cradled her eyes.
Stress lines were etched into her forehead.
She and Blakely looked like sisters. The family resemblance was strong.
To his liking, Blakely was the more beautiful twin, but he admitted that he was biased because there was something about her smile—the few times he’d gotten to see it—that sent a tornado whirling around inside his chest.
“Should I know who you are?” Bethany asked, and he realized she’d been studying him as he retrieved his mug and then joined her, standing across the island.
“What makes you ask that question?”
“You seem at home here,” she said on a yawn.
“First time,” he said before she could spin a yarn in her mind that had him shacking up with her sister. Not that he’d mind all that much. But he couldn’t offer anything more than temporary, and Blakely Adamson was not the temporary kind.
“Really?”
“Don’t seem so shocked,” he teased. “Kitchens all pretty much work the same. It’s not hard to figure out where coffee supplies are, or a glass for that matter. Most folks keep them in similar places. Glasses near the dishwasher and coffee supplies on the counter.”
“True,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “Do you go into a lot of homes in your line of work?”
“I do,” he said a little too enthusiastically. If he wanted to convince her that he didn’t know Blakely intimately, he needed to calm down. “It’s my job to protect judges like your sister when there’s a threat present.”
Bethany covered a gasp with her hand. “My sister is in real danger, isn’t she?”
He gave her a second to let those words sink in because the question was rhetorical. Besides, there was an obvious threat to Blakely. Had she told her sister the perp was specifically after her? He didn’t think so because Blakely wouldn’t want to worry her sister more than she had to.
“She’s been through so much already,” Bethany said. “She’s a good person too. She doesn’t deserve any of what’s happened to her.”
“The horse-riding incident that left the scar?” he asked, knowing in his heart the explanation had been flimsy at best. He hadn’t asked follow-up questions or quizzed her.
He’d been in the brain fog that always accompanied being lost in desire.
Being with Blakely had felt a whole lot like what he imagined being in love would be like.
Couldn’t say he would ever let himself go down that road with anyone.
Not with his genetic disaster waiting to happen.
For a time, he considered only dating single mothers because the pressure to have a kid wouldn’t be a constant undercurrent as he approached thirty.
Biology took over with many of his dates, and he found himself being assessed as a potential life partner and father material over dinner when he’d barely eaten the first course.
Bethany stared at Dalton. “Is that where she told you the scar came from?”
“Yes,” he confirmed.
She clamped her mouth shut as she shook her head. “Then I sure don’t want to be the one to tell you any different.”
“She’s guarded with me,” he explained, hoping to gain a better understanding of the reason while he had her sister alone.
“Not just with you,” Bethany said without hesitation. “Although, to be honest, she’s more relaxed around you than anyone else I’ve seen.” Bethany’s face twisted. “In fact, I thought there might be more between the two of you than an assignment.”
“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly? It would be unprofessional as hell for him to be in a relationship with someone from work. The consequences of a fling with a judge ending badly were…
Already crossed that bridge, dude. Not on purpose. Looking back, the secrecy had been a mistake—a mistake he couldn’t bring himself to regret.
Bethany’s eyebrow shot up. “You sure about that? Cuz I could have sworn…” She swatted like there was a fly in front of her face.
“Never mind. You don’t have to answer that.
I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, and I’m probably off base anyway.
Of course, my sister would be more relaxed with extra security in the house.
Makes sense.” She heaved a sigh. “It’s just that…
she deserves a break. You know? Not some random creep attacking her in her driveway.
” She caught herself again. “This was random, right?”
“It’s too early to tell,” he said. “Blakely didn’t recognize her attacker, which rules out anyone close to her.” Unless…there were others involved.
“She sends people to prison in her job,” Bethany continued. “That has to count for something.”
“We’re looking into that angle,” he confirmed.
“I knew it,” Bethany said on another sharp sigh. “She has gone to great lengths to be ready for the next…” Bethany flashed eyes at him. “You know…to be ready.” She chose her words carefully, which meant there was a whole lot more to the story with Blakely’s forehead scar.
Dalton had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the reason any more than he liked the judge being attacked so close to her home. Given this was personal, someone had to have been monitoring her activities. Waiting for the right time to strike.
His ego wanted to blame the source of the scar for the way she’d treated him. An abusive relationship would make her far less trusting of the opposite sex.
Less trusting of him.
* * *