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Keeping Guard
Christy Barritt
You can't hide from me. Her anonymous stalker's threats are getting scarier and scarier. Now Kylie Summers fears for her life. She flees her home for the protection of a former military man in a small Virginia town. But her brother's handsome best friend already has a long list of obligations.Kylie knows she's intruding on Nate Richardson's life. Even though he promises to keep her safe, Nate's keeping her at arm's length emotionally. Until her stalker emerges from the shadows, forcing Nate to choose between keeping guard over his wary heart - or Kylie.
“I hope Suzy’s okay.”
Nate grabbed Kylie’s hand and squeezed it. “The police are working on it.”
She squeezed his hand in return. “Nate, do you think…”
He knew exactly where her thoughts were going. “Do I think Suzy’s disappearance is linked to your stalker? It’s doubtful, Kylie, but we can’t rule anything out.”
Kylie’s eyes seemed to search his for answers, for comfort. He wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, but that was a promise he couldn’t make yet.
They climbed out of the truck and Nate placed a protective arm around her as they walked toward the back entrance to the Revolutionary Grill.
Just as they reached the door, a crash sounded in the alley.
Kylie clutched at his shirt. Her heart hammered against his arm.
“Get inside. I’ll check out the noise.” He pushed Kylie behind him.
As he stuck his key into the lock, the clatter sounded again. Nate jerked his head to the left as a figure stepped from the shadows. He braced himself, ready to protect Kylie no matter the cost.
CHRISTY BARRITT
loves stories and has been writing them for as long as she can remember. She gets her best ideas when she’s supposed to be paying attention to something else—like in a workshop or while driving down the road.
The second book in her Squeaky Clean Mystery series, Suspicious Minds, won the inspiration category of the 2009 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Suspense and Mystery. She’s also the co-author of Changed: True Stories of Finding God in Christian Music.
When she’s not working on books, Christy writes articles for various publications. She’s also a weekly feature writer for the Virginian-Pilot newspaper, the worship leader at her church, and a frequent speaker at various writers’ groups, women’s luncheons and church events.
She’s married to Scott, a teacher and funny man extraordinaire. They have two sons, two dogs and a houseplant named Martha.
To learn more about her, visit her website at www.christybarritt.com.
Keeping Guard
Christy Barritt
Guard my life and rescue me;
let me not be put to shame,
for I take refuge in You.
—Psalms 25:20
To my new baby boy, Silas Timothy,
who gave me a good kick in the ribs
whenever I started to slow down
while working on this book.
Thanks for keeping me going…
now and for many, many years to come.
I also want to thank the many people
who gave me insight into the Coast Guard,
being a rescue swimmer, living in Yorktown
and running a restaurant. Pamela Tison,
Lorna Poston, Stephanie Adams, David Dolloff,
Carrie Pagels, Paul and Courtney Schaefer
and Butch Slytce—thank you!!!
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
EPILOGUE
LETTER TO READER
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
The cold rain felt like daggers penetrating Kylie Summers’s skin. She tried to escape its torrent, but the drops kept chasing her, even as she retreated under the awning of the brick-fronted restaurant.
She pounded on the glass door again, desperate to get out of the storm. “Hello?”
The red neon sign above read The Revolutionary Grill. Yes, this was the place where her brother had instructed her to come to hide out. So where was Nate Richardson, her brother’s best friend and the restaurant’s owner? She shielded her eyes from the overhead streetlight and peered through the door. Inside, the place looked dead. Lights out, chairs on tables, staff gone.
It was almost midnight. She sighed and kicked the door. What now? She knew no one else in the historic town. She’d dropped her cell phone in a puddle of water two rest stops ago and she had exactly twenty-six dollars in her wallet.
A chill that had nothing to do with the weather crawled up her arms, an all too familiar feeling. She swung around, her wet hair slapping her in the face. She backed up against the rough brick wall that flanked the door. Her gaze frantically searched the black nighttime landscape. Lightning streaked across the sky over the river beyond the parking lot. Thunder boomed. A lone pier stretched like a decrepit arm into the night. Lights from houses across the water stared at her.
Kylie pushed herself harder against the wall, wishing she could sink into it. Her gaze continued to dart across the landscape. What if the man who’d given her nightmares for the past six months was out there? The darkness and rain might cloak him, make him disappear. He could have followed her.
He always followed her.
Fear clenched her spine. Her breathing became rapid, un even. She couldn’t have another panic attack. Not now. Not here.
She had to find another entrance to this building. She had to figure out a way to find Nate. That, or she’d spend the night soaking wet in her car.
Nate had been expecting her to arrive three hours ago, a reasonable time for stores and businesses to still be open. But the treacherous weather had put her behind schedule, and he must have closed up shop and headed home for the night. She couldn’t blame him.
March rain pelted her as she darted from the front of the building. Her foot sank into a deep puddle, splashing icy water up her pant leg. Her shivers intensified. An alleyway lurked between the restaurant and gift shop next door. If she could cut through, maybe she’d find a back entrance to the grill.
Her throat went dry at the thought. Still, she had no choice.
Besides, the man couldn’t have followed her here. She would have noticed.
Right?
She stepped onto the cobblestone street, dodging past trash cans, old buckets and a ladder.
She looked behind her. No one. Her heart continued to race.
Maybe all of this had been a bad idea. She should have stayed in Kentucky.
But she’d been hunted there and felt like a deer in the middle of an open field. No, her old life had to be put on hold. She couldn’t continue living as she’d been for the past few months. Yet even here in Virginia she couldn’t shake the feeling of unseen eyes watching her every move.
Pictures of the man flashed through her head in sync with the lightning around her. Pictures of his shadowed face, his hooded profile.
Her heart rate quickened. She tried to push the thoughts aside.
The end of the alleyway neared. She picked up her pace. Sheets of rain plastered her hair to her face.
She rounded the corner and spotted a black door with an alcove. She ducked into the space and pounded her fist against the door. Please be there, Nate! The thought of going through that alley again caused fear to slither up her spine.
She waited. The only sound she heard was that of the rain hitting the ground like bullets. Occasionally, thunder shook the air.
Nothing.
She knocked again. Why wasn’t he answering?
She needed a Plan B. Only she didn’t have one. She barely had a Plan A.
She clenched her eyes closed. How could one person control her life like this? Why did she let him have this power?
She waited in silence, hoping—praying—Nate would hear her.
He didn’t. No one did. Not even God lately, it seemed.
She’d have to run back to her car, her only shelter. She could do that. She had to. Once protected behind locked doors, she’d figure out a plan. She took a tentative step into the rain.
A figure appeared around the corner from the alley. A hood concealed his face. A hood. It couldn’t be…
He had found her.
The man who’d haunted her nightmares for months had finally caught her. Alone.
Nate Richardson spotted the woman at his back door. His relief instantly turned to a mix of worry and irritation. He’d been expecting her three hours ago and she hadn’t bothered to call or answer her cell phone. About thirty minutes ago, he’d called her brother, and now Bruce sounded ready to drive out to Virginia himself.
