Guardian. Terri Reed
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“I’ll have patrol officers searching for the car and driver. Keep Alicia and Charlie safe, Agent Gallagher,” Jarrett instructed with worry in his tone.
“Count on it.” Leo hung up and followed Alicia when she turned off onto a long gravel drive that led past rolling grass pastures populated with horses. A solid-looking log-and-brick house sat at the end of the drive, along with two other outbuildings and a large barn.
He drew the SUV to a halt beside Alicia’s smaller vehicle. She sat there not moving. Concern arced through him. He quickly got out and released True. The dog took a second to assess the area before racing off to a patch of grass.
Leo opened the driver’s side door of Alicia’s car. Her fingers were wrapped around the steering wheel and her breathing was shallow. Her long, wavy dark hair created a veil that blocked her face from his view. He touched her shoulder. “Alicia, it’s okay. You’re home. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She leaned her head back against the headrest. “If you hadn’t been with us...”
“But I was,” he said gently. He held out his hand. “Let’s get Charlie inside.”
She peeled her fingers from the steering wheel and took Leo’s hand. Her skin was soft but cold as she curled her fingers around his. “Can you get him?”
He swallowed back the terror the request sent spiraling through him. Two decades had passed since he’d last held a child in his arms. The last one had been his little sister the day she died. Guilt clawed up his throat. He took a shuddering breath and opened the back passenger door.
After releasing the buckle on Charlie’s car seat, he cautiously lifted the sleeping boy into his arms, careful to keep the child’s leg from catching on the holstered gun at his waist, and held him close to his chest with one arm. His heart hurt but he pushed through the pain to wrap his free arm around Alicia to help her toward the front door. True trotted over and stayed at his side.
The front door opened before they could climb the four stairs to the porch. True growled and positioned himself in front of Leo.
A grizzled man with gray hair, dressed in a plaid flannel shirt, jeans and cowboy boots, stood there with a shotgun in his gnarled hands. No doubt Harmon Howard, Alicia’s father.
Leo stiffened. He’d been an agent long enough to recognize the protective gleam in the man’s eyes, and he knew better than to make any sudden moves or the situation could get out of hand fast.
“Who are you?” The old man’s jaw jutted forward. “What are you doing with my daughter and grandson?”
“Dad! Put that thing away. You’ll scare Charlie,” Alicia admonished in a hushed tone to the man consuming the doorway of the ranch house, his shotgun leveled at Leo’s chest.
The old man was doing a good job of setting Leo’s nerves on edge, too. Tension knotted in his gut. Even though Alicia’s father didn’t have his finger on the trigger, Leo handed the sleepy child to his mother and then tucked them both behind him.
He’d rather take the hit square in the chest than allow anything to happen to anyone in his care. He wished he’d thought to wear a flak vest, but he hadn’t anticipated facing down the barrel of a shotgun.
His elbow nudged his sidearm, but he kept his hand from reaching for the weapon. Best to take a less threatening stance. Keep things calm. He held up his hands, palms out. “Sir, please, lower your weapon.”
True’s menacing growl echoed in the stillness of the evening air.
“Leave it,” Leo instructed. The last thing he needed was for True to tangle with Mr. Howard.
“Mister, you didn’t answer my question,” Harmon Howard grumbled, but lowered the barrel toward the floor. His gaze bounced between True and Leo. “Who are you?”
“Agent Leo Gallagher of the FBI.”
Harmon’s lip curled. His dark blue gaze jumped to Alicia. “Another one? You don’t learn from your mistakes, do you?” With that proclamation, Harmon did an about-face and disappeared inside the house.
Relief eased the stranglehold of tension in Leo’s body and allowed his curiosity to pique. He glanced at Alicia. A blush tinged her cheeks. Her late husband had been a police officer in Tacoma, Washington. “Is your father against law enforcement in general?”
Alicia grimaced. “Not normally. Only my late husband.”
Apparently her father wasn’t a fan of Jeff Duncan’s. Why?
Leo forced the question and the curiosity aside. No matter how attractive and compelling he found the pretty Alicia, he had no intention of letting anything get personal between them. The family dynamics here weren’t any of his business.
His job was to protect the lady and her son and bring a criminal to justice before he killed anyone else. Then Leo could get back to searching for his friend Jake and for the low-life criminal Angus Dupree.
Alicia sighed. “I’m sorry. He’s not the friendliest of men.”
“He’s protective. That’s a good thing in this situation,” Leo returned gruffly, glad that she had someone in her life that was willing to stand up on her behalf.
Everyone deserved a champion in their life. And the fact that it was her father pleased him for her sake. He didn’t have any good memories of his own father.
Leo put his hand to the small of her back and urged her up the steps. “Come on. Let’s get you two inside.”
True’s nails clicked on the wooden porch planks. They crossed the threshold and entered the house. The savory aroma of beef coming from a pot simmering on the stove made Leo’s mouth water. He hadn’t eaten anything since before his run that morning. The toast with almond butter and coffee had sustained him until now.
True sniffed the air and licked his chops. “Lie down,” Leo commanded. He’d retrieve True’s food supply after he settled everyone in the house.
The canine lay down across the threshold of the door, but his gaze remained alert.
A warm blaze in the brick fireplace at the far end of the room chased away the evening chill. Plush leather chairs faced a wide-screen television. Harmon sat in one chair watching a baseball game, the sound turned way down. Leo was thankful the shotgun was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully the weapon was locked safely away. Leo would have a chat with the older man about it later.
The living room was decorated with Western paraphernalia. A large wagon wheel with small flickering votive candles on the horizontal beams dangled at the end of a thick rope from the tall ceiling. Several woven Native American blankets in bright colors hung on the large walls, giving the space a homey feel.
Stairs led to a loft area filled with toys and where Leo assumed the bedrooms were located. To the left was a nicely appointed kitchen with blond cabinetry and a dining table with four lattice-back chairs.
“I’ll take Charlie upstairs for a short nap before dinner,” Alicia said in a soft voice.
“I don’t want a nap,” Charlie groaned, sounding eerily similar to his grandfather, though his yawn belied his words.
So cute. Leo melted a little inside.
Before Alicia could move away, Charlie reached out his arms for Leo, snagging him around the neck and making a deft maneuver from his mother’s embrace to Leo’s arms. Charlie nestled his head against Leo’s chest. Emotion constricted Leo’s breath. The slight weight of the boy barely registered, but the warmth spreading through his chest made him ache. He attempted to pry Charlie away but the child hung on.
“Charlie, honey, let go of Agent Gallagher,” Alicia said gently.
“Did