The Reluctant Hero. Lenora Worth
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verify this for me. Just verify that his occupation is landscaper and that his address is Flowery Branch, Georgia. That’s all I need.”
Stephanie hung up, then waited. If this hunch panned out, she’d save herself and Alonzo a whole lot of trouble in the morning.
The phone rang five minutes later, jarring Stephanie out of her erratic musings.
“Derek Kane—that’s K-a-n-e. Thirty-two years old, owns his own landscaping business in Flowery Branch. Gave a complete statement at scene and then again at headquarters, and has requested to remain anonymous.” There was a pause, then the voice said, “So you never heard this from me.”
“Of course,” Stephanie replied. “Thanks.”
She ignored the little twinge of guilt she felt at having forced her friend to delve into police files.
“I only asked for verification,” she reminded herself as she grabbed her suit jacket and headed to the elevator.
“And now I have it.”
And now, why bother calling ahead? The element of surprise always worked best in these situations.
First thing in the morning, Stephanie intended to take a little road trip up to Lake Lanier.
To a place called Flowery Branch.
Where she hoped she’d come face-to-face with a man named Derek Kane.
Chapter Four
Derek couldn’t believe it. She’d gone and told the entire story on the evening news, complete with an interview of Walter Griffin from his hospital bed. Thankfully, Walter didn’t know that Derek had sat outside his room most of the night. Thankfully, the hospital staff had not divulged that someone had taken care of the man’s medical bills.
So all she had was her own eyewitness account and Walter Griffin’s undying gratitude for her and “the other angel” who’d saved his life, according to him.
Great. Now Derek was being billed as an angel, too.
This morning, as he stood on the deck watching the sun come up, Derek couldn’t seem to find that sense of peace waking up here had always brought him. Maybe because last night he hadn’t been able to find a peaceful sleep. He’d tossed and turned, reliving Stephanie Maguire’s vivid account of the mugging she’d witnessed in downtown Atlanta.
Her words, spoken from a voice that was half innocent, half calculating, still remained as fresh in Derek’s overworked mind as the strong brew at the bottom of his cup.
“And so, a happy ending to what could have been a tragedy. All because one man dared to step out of the shadows and help a fellow human being. Wherever that stranger, that Good Samaritan, is tonight, we thank him.”
She hadn’t told the world his name, at least.
Derek didn’t know if that omission made him glad or mad. Women like Stephanie Maguire always had good reasons for doing the things they did. Now Derek was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe it was the way she’d said it, as if she were sending out a challenge, or maybe it was the way she’d stared straight into the camera, as if she were staring straight at him, straight into his wounded heart.
“You’re getting downright morose,” he mumbled to himself.
Lazarus grunted, thinking that was his cue to get ready for their run.
The morning was calm and sweet with the scent of emerging wisteria and honeysuckle blossoms from the nearby woods. Out in the pines and oaks, splashes of stark white flowering trees could be seen here and there.
Dogwoods.
Derek knew the legend of the dogwood, how their blossoms represented Christ dying on the cross. Even now, from this distance he could see the white, cross-shaped flowers waving to him, comforting him. Derek needed the gentle reminder. He wasn’t alone in this struggle.
Lazarus whined again, bringing Derek’s attention back from the forest.
“I know, I know, Laz. I’m imagining things. I’m getting all worked up about nothing. She could have told the world my name. But she didn’t.”
That one act, whether intentional or out of kindness, made Derek think that maybe he was wrong about Stephanie Maguire. Maybe she wasn’t like other reporters.
Too many maybes. Too much on his mind.
“Let’s get going, boy.” Hopping down off the deck, Derek did a few stretches, then jogged in place.
Lazarus, however, was more than ready for their run. The dog started barking and twirling in circles, anxious for his master to issue a command.
“What ails you?” Derek said, his eyes following the direction of the dog’s nose. Lazarus was alert and sniffing at something.
And that’s when Derek saw her.
Stephanie Maguire. In the flesh. Walking up the winding dirt drive to his lake house. She was wearing jeans, a lightweight tailored blazer and dark sunglasses.
She looked great for seven o’clock in the morning.
Lazarus apparently thought so, too. The big dog barked loudly, then turned back to Derek with beseeching eyes. Derek quickly issued a command, then watched as the dog took off running down the lane toward his lovely quarry.
Stephanie looked up just in time to see the huge dog flying toward her. She’d heard him barking, but it was too late to run now. The big animal was coming for her.
Big dog. Big teeth. Her life flashed before her eyes as she wondered why she hadn’t done the sensible thing and tried calling first.
“Okay. I can handle this,” she told herself as the animal galloped down the dirt lane. A German shepherd. Was he trained to kill on sight? Could she remember how to protect herself—she’d done a story on how to avoid dog bites just last year.
“Avoid eye contact,” she told herself as she braced for the animal’s attack. “Roll into a ball and cover your head.”
Even as she went over the list of protection tips, Stephanie knew this animal could maul her permanently with one bite.
And then she saw Derek, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, walking casually toward her.
Surely he would call off his attack dog.
Too late, Stephanie realized he wouldn’t. She could only stand there, frozen to the spot, waiting and wondering why this man would be so mean-spirited as to sic a dog on her. She didn’t make eye contact with the dog, but she sure gave the man a good, long stare.
And then, because she was so distracted by the look in Derek’s eyes, the big dog was on her, knocking her down to the ground before she could even manage to roll away. Gritting her teeth and closing her eyes tightly, Stephanie heard her own scream.
Her heart pounding as the animal’s giant paws held her down, she waited for the sure pain of teeth sinking into her skin.
And got a wet tongue in her face instead.
“Ugh!” Opening one eye, Stephanie faced wet black-and-tan fur and another slap of wet tongue across her cheek. And a beautiful set of the darkest dog eyes she’d ever seen.
“Why, you’re just a big old baby,” she said, laughing from the sheer relief of not being eaten alive. Bringing a hand up, she rubbed the big animal’s silky fur and heard his grunt of pleasure. “Ah, that’s so sweet. So sweet. But, hey, fellow, could you let me up? This ground’s cold on my backside.”
Then she heard feet crunching on the rocks. Human feet.
“Some watchdog you are,” Derek said to the animal, his eyes on Stephanie, his expression just short of highly amused. With something next to a grunt, he told the dog to sit.
Reluctantly, the big animal did just that.
While