The Doctor's Defender (Protection Specialists Book 3) (7 page)

“Stay low and keep your head down,” he said, drawing her out of the building and curling his body over hers.

The loud retort of gunfire blasted adrenaline through Kyle’s system. The ping of bullets hitting the SUV rang in his ears. Brenda let out a yelp of distress.

The shots were close. Too close. He searched for the sniper. On the store rooftop he spotted the silhouette of a man and the unmistakable outline of a long-barreled rifle.

He’d known danger was near. Had felt that stirring of alarm that had never let him down. His commanding officer used to say it was God’s way of keeping His soldiers out of harm’s way. Kyle believed it with a deep certainty.

But how had they been found? He was sure they hadn’t been followed. The only thing he could figure was Brenda’s cell phone. She most likely had a GPS app loaded on it.

“Get in,” Kyle shouted and pushed her through the open rear passenger door before slamming it shut. “Stay down!”

A bullet rammed into the side door panel. Kyle dived through the open front passenger door, his hand snagging the handle and jerking it closed behind him. He slid into the driver’s seat, threw the car into gear and stomped on the gas. The rig shot forward. He swerved to avoid colliding with an oncoming car.

As cautiously as possible, he sped out of the parking lot, hung a quick right and quick left, hoping the evasive moves would thwart any attempts at tailing them. He sped through several intersections, bombed across the on-ramp to the freeway and drove north.

“Can I get up now?” Brenda asked from the floor between the seats.

“Yes. You’re good.”

Brenda sat up. The shock on her face squeezed Kyle’s heart in a tight vise.

“How did he find us?” she asked.

“I assume you have a cell phone on you.”

“Yes. I always carry it.”

He’d underestimated their adversary. “Take the battery out of your phone.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Have you downloaded any applications that help you find your phone if it’s lost?”

“Yes.” Realization dawned on her face. “You think that’s how whoever is after me found us?”

“I do.” Which meant whoever was after her had access to her cell network. They weren’t dealing with an amateur here. That rifle he’d seen was military grade.

She held up the battery. “Now what?”

“You should also take out the SIM card and tuck it away. We’ll dump the rest as soon as we find a place. I don’t want to alarm you, but whoever tracked us also has access to everything on your phone.”

“There’s not much on there. A few phone numbers, mostly take-out restaurants, and my work calendar.”

He let go of the steering wheel with one hand and took out his cell phone and popped out the battery. Just in case. He’d have to wait to inform Detective Lebowitz. “Most people live by the info on their cells.”

His had all his contacts in the device. He’d be sunk if he’d lost the SIM card.

She shrugged. “I use it to make calls and keep track of my time.”

“No texting, no email?”

“I use my office computer for email, and I don’t text. My parents still have older-generation cell phones.”

Her earlier comment about not having friends suddenly didn’t sound as ludicrous as it had when she’d first said it. He was good at keeping people at arm’s length, but even he had buddies he shot hoops with occasionally, pals to windsurf with. And of course a sister, as well as the other protection specialists at Trent Associates. They were a team. If any of them needed something, they’d all respond. It made him sad to think the doctor didn’t have anyone in her life like that. It had to be awfully lonely.

Twenty minutes later, the highway sign indicated Winthrop Harbor was the next exit. He moved over to the right-hand lane, watching the traffic behind him to see if anyone else moved over. No one did.

He took the exit. A large wooden sign with bright blue letters welcoming travelers to Winthrop Harbor marked the beginning of the village nestled along the shore of Lake Michigan. He pulled into the first gas station he came to. While the gas was pumping, he dumped Brenda’s phone and battery in the waste bin. She got out and used the restroom inside the small quick mart. When she returned, she carried bottles of water and a bag of chips.

“Please tell me you paid cash,” he said with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Yes. I watch enough TV to know credit and debit cards can be traced.” She handed him a bottle of water. “Thought you might be thirsty.”

Pleased by her thoughtfulness, he accepted the water and downed half the bottle in one long drink. He finished with the gas, paid and got back behind the wheel. Brenda offered him hand sanitizer before holding out the bag of sour cream and onion potato chips.

After rubbing his hands together, he took a handful of chips. “Thanks.”

“One of my unhealthy pleasures,” she stated and popped a chip into her mouth.

“Only unhealthy if not eaten in moderation.”

“True. Which is why I rarely buy them. I could eat the whole bag in one sitting.”

He laughed. “I’ll have to remember you have a weakness for chips.”

“Only this flavor. I can do without any others. Well, I do like ranch flavored, too. Oh, and salt and vinegar.”

“Duly noted.”

After the couple of days she’d had, it was good to see she wasn’t wallowing in self-pity or so frightened she couldn’t function. He hoped the police discovered who was after Brenda soon so she could get back to her life.

They passed through the main part of town, past residential houses on tree-lined streets with sidewalks and unfenced lawns. A very idyllic place. The kind that Kyle had never lived in. They passed the North Point Marina, the largest one on the lake with well over a thousand slips, and from the look of it most were occupied. There were large fishing boats, yachts of various sizes, sailboats and schooners. The water was dotted with boats of people out enjoying the beautiful fall day.

The road wound along the shore. A sign on the shoulder read they were passing the state border into Wisconsin. Ten miles later he turned down a gravel drive that led to a nice-size house tucked away among the trees. He’d visited Felicia’s cabin only once before, many years ago. The place looked as he remembered. He parked and got out, breathing deep, taking in the fresh, pine-scented air. Felicia may not be here, but he knew where she kept a hidden spare key.

Brenda climbed out of the rig and gathered her purchases. “This place is lovely.”

“It is. Peaceful, too.” Kyle grabbed his duffel bag from the back and then followed Brenda up the wood-plank stairs. He knocked.

Felicia answered the door. She had long silver hair spilling over her shoulders, glasses perched on her nose and a round face. She wore a white puff-sleeved shirt and multicolored skirt that stopped at her ankles to reveal bare feet. A beaming smile broke out on her face. “Kyle. What a pleasant surprise.”

Tenderness and affection for this older woman squeezed Kyle’s chest. “Hi, Felicia.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but we need a place to stay for a few days.”

Felicia’s gaze bounced between him and Brenda. Curiosity and pleasure lit up her gray eyes. “Of course you can stay here. Please come in.”

She moved aside so they could enter. The smell of meat simmering made his stomach grumble. He set their belongings on the bottom stair of the upper floor.

“This is my client, Brenda Storm,” Kyle said. “Brenda, Felicia Brewster.”

Felicia’s eyes widened as she took Brenda’s hand. “Client? Oh, dear. That must mean you’re in trouble of some sort.”

“Yes, I am,” Brenda said. “I hope we aren’t imposing too much.”

“Not at all. I will do whatever I can to assist you,” Felicia replied.

Kyle knew Felicia would do anything she could to help. She was that kind of woman. He quickly explained the situation to Felicia, who listened with rapt attention. When he was finished, she turned to Brenda. “You did the right thing in hiring Kyle.”

Brenda shot him a glance. “I’ve come to realize that.”

Her pretty eyes held a cache of emotions in the swirling depths. Trust and attraction held him enthralled as something intense flared between them. The moment stretched. The sound of Felicia’s chuckles jerked him back to reality.

“Something smells delicious,” he commented, needing something to say to redirect them all.

“Beef stew. I had a craving.” Felicia smiled and shrugged. “I think God knew I would be having company. There’s plenty. Come eat.”

“May I use your restroom?” Brenda asked.

“Of course you may,” Felicia said with a smile. “First door on the left down that hall.”

Brenda hurried away.

When Brenda had shut the door behind her, Felicia turned to Kyle. “The doctor is a beautiful woman. And single, I take it?”

He laughed. “Yes on both accounts.”

She grinned. “Good.”

“There’s nothing there, Felicia,” Kyle assured her. “She’s a client. Nothing more.”

“If you say so,” she countered and walked into the kitchen.

He did say so. Yes, Brenda was beautiful. Attractive. She was also determined, focused and competent. Compassionate and empathetic. All good traits for a doctor. For a woman.

He tried to remember why he’d ever thought the doctor prickly, but couldn’t. Brenda was so much more than what she appeared, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself knee-deep in emotions he wasn’t prepared to deal with.

A romantic relationship wasn’t part of his assignment.

He had a job to do.

A client to protect.

Anything else would only be a distraction. He had to shore up his defenses for the long haul.

SIX

B
renda leaned against the bathroom door, the knob digging into her hip. She forced herself to breathe. The way Kyle had looked at her, the way she’d felt all shimmery inside, had her off balance. It was only attraction, she scolded herself. A biological response to a handsome man. Not anything to get all freaked out about.

Of course, add in out-of-kilter emotions. Look at all she’d been through lately. She’d been targeted for murder. Two people were already dead. She’d learned of her father’s illness. All of which turned her senses upside down and made her judgment wacky.

No doubt what she was feeling was gratitude to Kyle for rescuing her and getting her to safety. Nothing more.

There couldn’t be anything more.

He was only temporarily in her life.

She had her career to think about. Her life to think about. A romantic relationship wasn’t part of the equation. At least not yet. Someday, she’d be ready to try again. But Kyle would be long gone by then.

After splashing some cold water on her face, she squared her shoulders and joined Kyle and Felicia in the kitchen.

“Brenda? Are you okay? You look a bit pale,” Felicia said as she set a bowl of savory stew on the table in front of her.

“It’s been a rough couple of days,” she answered and took a sip of the tart lemonade Kyle had poured for her.

Felicia studied her. “You don’t know who’s behind these attempts on your life?”

Shaking her head, Brenda said, “No. I can only guess that it has something to do with the lawsuit.” At Felicia’s raised eyebrows, Brenda explained, “I am being sued. Or rather me and the hospital. I had a patient die during a routine procedure. The autopsy couldn’t provide answers. The machines didn’t register a problem until he stopped breathing.”

“It was his time to go,” Felicia said with certainty lacing her words.

Brenda’s gaze shot from Felicia to Kyle and back to Felicia. “But he didn’t have a heart problem. Had no signs of distress. Nothing.”

“We can’t always explain the things that happen in life,” Felicia said, her voice gentle. “You have to trust God. He has a plan for each of us. Even this man and his untimely death.”

Brenda drew circles in the thick stew with her spoon. She wasn’t sure she believed in God, let alone trusted Him. Even though she’d attended Sunday school and church with her parents, she’d had a hard time understanding. The only Bible story she related to was Doubting Thomas. But he got to touch the scars. Frustration pounded at Brenda’s temples. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Life doesn’t always make sense,” Kyle interjected.

A truism she had a hard time accepting because it grated on her need for logical cause and effect. She’d gravitated toward surgery because it made sense to her. Unexplained death and disease didn’t make sense. God didn’t make sense.

But who was she to argue that when these two clearly relied on God?

She envied them their faith. What would it take for her to believe?

She was almost too afraid to find out.

* * *

The next morning came too soon for Brenda. Sunlight streamed through the open curtain of the bedroom. She covered her eyes with one hand, hoping for a few more moments of sleep, a few more seconds of not having to face the reality that someone wanted her dead.

She hadn’t realized how exhausted she’d been until she’d crawled into the comfortable bed last night and fallen into a dreamless sleep. A welcome surprise. She’d have figured a few nightmares for sure, given the events of the past few days.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Yes?”

“You up?” Kyle called.

“Just a minute.” She scrambled out of the bed and threw on the clothes she’d taken off last night before padding barefoot across the room to open the door.

Kyle stood on the threshold, looking handsome in a long-sleeve blue chambray shirt, which made his eyes look bluer than the lake outside. One corner of his mouth tipped upward. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

She blinked. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept past eight.

“When you’re ready, come on down for breakfast,” he said. “Oh, and wear jeans and a long-sleeve shirt.”

“Why?”

With a slow grin, he said, “Now, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

She made a face. “I’ve had enough surprises lately.”

“You’ll like this one,” he said.

With that he disappeared, shutting the door behind him. For a moment she stood there undecided. She didn’t normally follow orders blindly. She liked to know the reason behind decisions, behind procedures. Liked step-by-step instructions. But it seemed her life was in chaos and would be for the foreseeable future. Maybe learning to go with the flow would be a good thing.

She showered in the adjacent bathroom and put on the plain jeans, tucking her pager inside her waistband. Then she selected a deep emerald-green long-sleeve shirt that had three little buttons at the neckline. Not wanting to take the time to blow-dry her hair, she twisted the damp strands into a chignon and fastened the mass with a hair clip before heading downstairs.

Kyle smiled as she entered the kitchen. “Hope you like oatmeal.”

“I do. I haven’t had oatmeal since I was a kid.”

“As heart-healthy as oatmeal is, that’s hard to believe.”

She shrugged. “Just not something I make for myself.”

“I’m glad I could,” he said and set a steaming bowl in front of her.

She poured a liberal amount of warm syrup over the top of the hot cereal and savored every bite. “This brings back memories. My dad loved oatmeal.” Sadness invaded her good mood. “I’d like to call my parents.”

He nodded and handed her his cell phone. She dialed their house. No one answered. She frowned and hung up. “Not home.”

“You can try again later,” Kyle said, taking the phone back.

“Thanks.” Worry made her breakfast churn in her stomach. Where would they have gone on a Saturday morning with her father so ill? Maybe they were just out taking a walk. Getting some fresh air. Hoping that was the case, she took her empty dish to the sink. “Where’s Felicia?”

“She went to the post office.”

“Could we go into town? I need a few things,” Brenda said.

He arched an eyebrow. “You need more clothes?”

She cut him a sharp glance. “No. I need a toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, razor, face cream—”

He held up a hand as if warding off a disaster about to happen. “Okay, okay. I get it. We’ll go to the store while we’re out.”

After cleaning up their dishes, they left the house. Once Brenda was settled in the SUV, she said, “So are you going to tell me now where we’re going?”

“Not yet.”

Holding on to her impatience, she took in the scenery as he headed them into town. She’d never been to this little part of the state. It was quaint and very different from her world in Chicago. When he pulled the SUV into a parking spot in front of a store, she stared.

The outline of a hunter aiming a rifle at a big-antlered
moose was painted on the outside of the store. “The Rifleman?”

“For all your hunting needs,” he said and climbed out.

As he came around to the passenger door, she tried to make sense of why he’d bring her here. Did he plan on taking her out in the wilderness?

He led her into the store, past all the various outdoor gear and supplies to the back of the building. The muffled retort of gunfire coming from the other side of a windowed wall sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine and made her quake in her new tennis shoes. There were five spaces set up with targets at one end. Three spaces were occupied. “A shooting range?”

Kyle stopped before a case of small handguns. “How’re you doing?” he said to the guy behind the counter.

“Good. Yourself?” the big, burly man replied.

“Great.” He studied the case. “Let’s try that twenty-two.”

Brenda touched Kyle’s arm. “Why are we here?”

“You need to know how to handle a gun.”

“Why? Isn’t that what you’re for?” she whispered with a pointed look.

“Just in case.”

“Just in case what?” She stared at him in horror. In case he died and she was left to defend herself alone? The thought ripped a wide crevice of fear through her.

He shrugged. “Things happen. Situations can get out of control. I want you prepared.”

Swallowing was suddenly hard. “Is this normal procedure? For you to teach your clients to shoot?”

“Sometimes,” he said, picking up the small-caliber handgun the store clerk had set on the glass-case top and testing the weight. “This will work. I’ll buy a box of ammo.”

Heart pounding with adrenaline and a good dose of trepidation, Brenda followed Kyle into the shooting gallery like a sheep being led to slaughter. With each step, her anxiety kicked up, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Part of her wanted to know how to shoot. Wanted to be capable of defending herself with a firearm if need be. She just hoped the need never came. She wished she had faith like Kyle. Had it in her to pray and ask God for help. She just couldn’t quite bring herself to that place.

After she donned the protective eyewear and earphones, Kyle said, “The first thing you have to know is always handle a gun with the thought that it is loaded.” His voice sounded muffled through the earphones. “Second, always point the gun away from yourself and away from anyone else. Keep the weapon pointed downrange or down at the ground.”

She nodded, staring into his eyes. She didn’t want to look at the weapon he was so easily loading.

“Third, always keep your finger off the trigger and outside the trigger guard until you’ve made the decision to shoot. Fourth, always beware of the target, backstop and beyond. In here it isn’t a concern. But out in the real world, a bullet meant for a bad guy could just as easily find its way into an innocent bystander.”

With each word, her anxiety ratcheted up. She hoped she’d never have to use a gun in the real world.

“When you hold a gun, a two-handed grip is best. Take your dominant hand and place it high on the backstrap.” He positioned his right hand on the back part of the gun. “This gives you more leverage and will help control the recoil.

“Place your support—” he waved his left hand “—so
that it is pressed firmly against the exposed portion of the grip not covered by the gun hand. All four fingers of your support hand should be under the trigger guard, with the index finger pressed hard underneath it. Like this.”

She stared at his strong, capable hands and wondered how many times he had shot at someone. How many times had his aim been true?

“Got that?” he asked.

She blinked and nodded her head. “I guess so.”

With a smile, he set the gun down on the platform in front of them, separating them from the shooting range. Then he took her by the shoulders, spun her so she faced the target—the silhouette of a man.

Moving in close behind her, he nudged her knees. “Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent.”

Awareness of his hard chest pressed against her back robbed her brain of any coherent thought. It took a second for her to adjust her stance.

“Now, pick up your weapon.”

With hands that shook, she lifted the handgun, fitting her palm against the handle but keeping her finger away from the trigger just as he’d demonstrated.

He slid his hands down her arms to cover her hands. Pleasant little tingles spread through her system. Her breath hitched.

“Extend your arms all the way,” he said. “This baby has a front sight and a rear-sight notch.” He pointed to them with his index finger. “Aim at your target and align the top of the front sight so that it lines up with the top of the rear sight. There should also be equal amounts of empty space on both sides of the front sight. Do you have it sighted?”

She licked her lips then nodded as she gazed down the sight at the target’s head.

“Aim for the heart.” He lowered her hand slightly. “Good. When you’re ready to shoot, you’re going to press on the trigger, not pull. You want as little movement on the sight as possible, and that requires steady pressure on the trigger. Keep pressing all the way to the end. You’ll be surprised by the discharge, but that’s okay.”

She didn’t like surprises. “Is it going to hurt?”

He chuckled. “It shouldn’t. The recoil might jolt you a bit, but you’re strong. You can take it.”

His confidence made her want to believe him.

“Take a deep breath and slowly exhale as you apply pressure on the trigger.” He nudged her finger onto the trigger mechanism.

She inhaled until her lungs nearly burst. Then curling her finger, she squeezed the trigger; it was slack at first then seemed to catch with resistance. She pressed harder. The weapon fired with a jerk and muted boom. Her arms reverberated with the shock wave of recoil.

She’d fired a gun. A heady sense of exhilaration overwhelmed her. “That was...was...” Words escaped her.

“Awesome?”

Pleased that he knew how she felt, she nodded vigorously. “Yes, awesome!”

Kyle gently took the weapon from her and laid it back on the platform with the barrel facing downrange. “Well done.”

He pressed a button on the wall next to them, and the target began sliding toward them. As it got closer, she saw where the bullet had torn through the white part of the paper right of the silhouette’s head.

Disappointment subdued the rush of firing a weapon. “I’m not a good shot.”

“You hit the paper. That’s good for a first time.” He sent the target downrange.

“You’re just saying so to make me feel better.”

“No. I’m telling the truth.” He stepped back. “Do it again.”

She felt exposed without him covering her hand, his warm chest pressed against her back. Squaring her shoulders, she decided she could do this. She picked up the weapon as he’d taught her, sighted, took a deep breath and, as she slowly exhaled, squeezed the trigger. This time the recoil wasn’t as bad, though just as surprising.

Grinning, she laid the gun down. “Can I do it again?”

He grinned back. “Have at it.”

When she’d expelled the last shell, she’d finally managed to hit the black part of the target just slightly left of center.