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She lowered the pepper spray but stayed on guard. “Yes, you were absolutely there for me just now, but this has been going on for months. Are you going to stick around that long?” She jabbed her finger toward him. “And what do you get in return?”
He bared his teeth. “I get the satisfaction that a good person won her fight.”
She swept her purse off the ground. Ty talked tough, but confidence alone wasn’t going to win this struggle. “You make it sound so easy.”
His flashlight pointed at the door of her truck now, bathing him in reflected red light. “I know it isn’t.”
“You seem to know a hell of a lot.” It was crazy to collect any hope from Ty’s conviction. “And all I know is the name you gave me.” Which could easily be fake. “How did you find me? I haven’t gone public with any of this.”
He explained slowly, “But you did go to the police when the extortion started. And that puts things on record.”
“So you’re a cop?” That might clarify parts of this, but not everything. Ty certainly had authority in his presence, but if he was here on any official capacity, he would’ve flashed some identification. Not that she had much trust in the police these days. Pete toed the line with the rest of the local cops, explaining that they couldn’t do anything without proof. The goons who’d been coming around had been too slick to get caught.
Ty dropped his voice, sounding like he had a secret only for her. “I’m part of an organization—”
Shattering glass interrupted him. He immediately ran in the direction it came from. Her store. She chased after him toward the back of the building. More glass broke. A car tore away down the street in front of the row of stores.
A yellow light flickered in her shop, making the shadows in the back door dance awkwardly. The light deepened to a dangerous red. It silhouetted Ty as he skidded to a stop at the door. He turned to her, face deadly serious. “Call 911.”
She pulled her phone and her keys from her purse as she pressed the emergency-dial button on her phone, Ty took her keys, unlocked the back door and rushed in without hesitation. A wave of heat hit her, and she could only stand and stare at the fire that spread across the floor of her shop. Beyond it were the broken windows, gaping, jagged and dripping with flames.
The emergency operator answered and Mariana implored the fire department to show up as soon as they could.
Ty’s shape hurried through her field of view. He moved purposefully, opening drawers in a desk behind the register. “Where’s the important paperwork?” he barked over the sound of the growing fire.
She burst into action and ran into the shop. Shouldering him aside, she unlocked the file drawer on the desk and pulled out the fire safe containing her business license, her inspection reports and the archival information she’d collected on the historic building all the shops shared.
Ty held his large hand out to her. “Cash?” She found the key for her register and handed it to him as the heat intensified. An automatic alarm system blared. “Get to safety.” He pointed to the back door. She sped in that direction, losing sight of him as he moved toward the register.
The fire grew and the ceiling sprinklers finally hissed to life. She swung out the back door, put the safe down and turned to see the steam from the blaze as it crept up her wooden display tables. Water would kill the fire, but nothing could quench the rage that shook her. The intimidation had been wearing her down for months, but tonight was a direct attack. Her body had been threatened. Her work was burning.
A hunched and wet Ty blasted from the back door, carrying her cash drawer. He handed it to her. The undiminished fire revealed his grim face. “Homemade napalm,” he explained. “It’s like jelly. The water won’t put it out.”
The fury felt like it would consume her. “This is how badly they want me gone.”
“But they don’t know who they’re fighting against. The answer’s still inside.” Instead of backing away from the growing blaze, he sped back through the rear door.
Sirens cut through the night in the distance. She hung up her phone, dropped the cash drawer and rushed to the door. Ty moved through the deadly blaze, one arm curled across his face for protection. He was collecting something, but she couldn’t tell what.
“Leave it,” she shouted to him through the door. “Leave it! It’s not important.” Her merchandise was a loss by now, and none of it was worth his hurting himself. He disappeared completely in the flames. She threw the door open. Despite the heat, cold panic raced through her muscles. “Ty!” She crouched low, beneath the choking smoke. “Ty!” Water from the sprinklers splashed on her as she pressed forward toward the flames. He’d helped her, stepped into her fight, and she couldn’t just leave him in the fire.
He burst through the flames in front of her. The two of them retreated for the back exit as relief washed over her. Once they were outside, she saw that he held a stack of the old framed photos from her shop walls. The same photos he’d been examining when he was there earlier.
“It is important,” he said. “This is why you’ve got to keep standing up.” He shuffled the antique pictures until he got to one of a group of nineteenth-century cowboys and frontierswomen of different ethnicities, posing along a ridge next to a sprawling oak tree.
She laughed without any joy. Her shop burned. Exhaustion dragged her down. “I can’t stand up anymore.”
The sirens grew louder. He glanced in that direction. “You’ve got to.” He held up the picture. “This is us. This is my organization.”
Maybe she’d hit her head during the attack. Maybe this was all a dream. “So you’re a cowboy from the past who’s come to help me?”
The continuing fire etched Ty’s serious face as he pointed to a man in the group. “This is my ancestor. These people formed a group to protect anyone without a voice. People like them. Poor. Immigrants. Women. Workers.” He looked again to where the sirens were coming from. He’d fought a man, saved her from the speeding car and dived into her burning shop, and still he stood strong before her. “That job isn’t finished.”
“Look what they did.” Tears burned her eyes as the flames mocked her. A fire truck finally pulled up in front of her store, firefighters rushing out before the wheels stopped.
“I know you’re under the gun.” He put a hand on her shoulder, and his energy radiated into her. “That’s why I’m here.”
She winced as more glass shattered. The firefighters raked it out of the frames so they could access the fire. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
His gaze held hers. “We’re going to turn around and take the fight to who’s doing this.”
“Why?” There had to be a catch.
“This is what we do.” He handed her the picture of the group of people. “This is who I am.” Red and blue police lights flickered into the parking lot. Ty’s eyes narrowed as he watched the approaching car. “Don’t tell them my name.”
“You’re not leaving.” She tried to hold him with her voice. Ty had been the only good in this terrible night. Hell, he’d been the only good she’d seen since this ordeal began.
He looked back from the approaching police car and into her eyes. “I’m with you all the way. Until it’s over.” His broad shoulders straightened. He radiated power. “You are not alone.”
The police car stopped and its searchlight swept over the back of the shop, then onto her. She blinked. Ty was gone. As if he’d never been there. But his impact was clear. He’d protected her and saved what he could from the shop, including the old photo she held. The stern-faced people stared at her with the same strength and determination Ty had. But he’d disappeared somewhere into the deep shadows.
She needed him back, to feed on his strength if this fight was to continue. And to chase that spark of a connection she’d felt when they’d first glanced at each other in her store. Somehow, they were tied together in all this. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel alone.
Chapter Two (#u260d2ae5-b5c4-5ae8-a955-c0d6c009d043)
His lungs burned, his knuckles were scraped and bleeding, his damp jacket soaked a chill toward his aching muscles, and Ty still wanted to chase down those two bastards and make them pay for what they just did to Mariana Balducci.
It had been harder to leave her alone in the parking lot just then than it was to run into her burning shop. But he wasn’t ready to try to explain himself to any local cops, and it was best if he stayed off everyone’s radar until he had a better handle on who exactly was threatening Mariana and her property.
One detail he picked up tonight: the bald man could fight. His moves were from the street, not a cardio class, and intended to do maximum harm. Ty knew that Mariana had to be tough to run an orchard and her shop alone, but if the bald man had got ahold of her... Ty couldn’t consider that outcome.
He watched her interact with the two officers, both white men, from the patrol car, reassured by how she stood strong, gesturing more with anger than defeat. He stood in the deep shadows between an old tree and a cinder block wall on the far side of the parking lot, hidden from the cops’ view, even when they looked around to follow the story she described.
But the officers’ search of the asphalt with their flashlights wasn’t as thorough as Ty wanted. If he’d been in his jurisdiction, every resource would’ve been in that parking lot working inch by inch, then in the shop once the fire was out. As it was, his San Francisco badge probably wouldn’t get him more than a polite cup of coffee with the chief and little more info than a press release.
According to any county and city authority, his business in Rodrigo was unofficial. But when it came to the underground organization he was working to establish, he was on a focused assignment. The mission was Mariana, and he wished he’d had a chance to really explain who he was and why he’d shown up to help.
Hell, when he’d first walked into her shop, he’d wished that he was in her town for completely different reasons. The scents of apples and spices had surrounded him, warming the moment he locked eyes with her. All the data he’d collected from the police report and internet searches didn’t prepare him for the strength of her presence. He knew the woman had been under the pressure of intimidation for months, and still she wasn’t crushed. Her quick assessment of him revealed a sharp mind. Cautious, yes, but also ready to absorb the world around her. And there was the spark in her eyes. Heat, deeper in her glance. He wanted to know what it was that lit her brown eyes up like that. But he was in her shop for the mission, not to chase down a possibility of a connection with a woman he’d just met. Instead of finding out just how deep the light in her eyes went, he spent the evening scraping his knuckles on another man’s face and running headlong into a fire.
The police officers in the parking lot with Mariana finished their insufficient search and motioned for her to follow them around the front of the building. The angriest flickering of the fire had diminished and it seemed like the firefighters were close to putting it out. Ty tensed, watching Mariana walk away and out of sight. He unclenched his fist. That magnetic pull he felt toward her must’ve just been his professional protective instinct. The bad guys had already made two tries for her tonight. They’d definitely be back.
Now that the parking lot was empty, Ty took out his phone and thanked his diligence in getting a waterproof case. It wasn’t until he tried to key in the code for his phone that he noticed how much his fingers shook. Still cold. And the adrenaline continued to urge him into action. He calmed his fingers as much as he could to unlock his phone and dim the screen. But his thirst to fight only increased as he typed a brief text outlining what had happened this night. Those bastards had come after Mariana and if he hadn’t been there...
The text went to two people in his nascent organization. Vincent and Stephanie would distribute the information further if necessary. Helping Mariana was the number one priority. His secondary goal would have to wait until he knew just how bad things were. But there would be no quitting. He’d told himself that before showing up in Rodrigo. Seeing his ancestor in that photo on her shop wall had steeled his resolve. Standing along the ridge in the old picture were the men and women who had founded Frontier Justice over 120 years ago. They’d banded together to help the abandoned, forgotten and hated people the system ignored. Frontier Justice had to be revived. Mariana’s life depended on it.
* * *
THE FIRE WAS OUT, but the trouble was far from over. Mariana stood outside the broken windows of her shop, nose stinging with the smell of damp burnt wood and plastic. Two police officers stood close by, one of them her ex, Pete. He’d been professional and attentive during his questions, but she still felt his reserve, a by-product of her breaking up with him last year. He hadn’t even been the one to offer her the blanket she had draped over her wet shoulders. His partner, Jones, had done that with an apologetic look in his eyes. In the store, firefighters wrapped up their gear, boots sloshing in the water pooled on the floor where her customers were supposed to be walking. Hot, angry tears welled in her eyes. Her work, her life and her history were being destroyed. Ty had asked her to stand and fight, but now that he’d disappeared, taking his confidence with him, she wasn’t sure how.
“Over here.” Miguel, the lieutenant firefighter, waved her and the two police officers into the shop. Small-town living. She’d graduated high school with both Miguel and Jones, Pete being one year older than all of them.
It was ridiculous to open the front door of her shop while the windows were completely broken out, but she had to maintain some normalcy. Flanked by Pete and Jones, she stepped to where Miguel pointed at the floor. The firefighter indicated a long dark object. “They probably threw this first to break the window.” It was a crowbar. “Then this came through with the fuel.” Melted glass gaped like a screaming mouth. “Most likely a mason jar with some kind of wick. There’s another over here.” He waved his hand over the floor a few feet away, next to one of her half-burnt display tables.
Jones pulled out his phone and took pictures of what Miguel had indicated. The firefighter nodded to Mariana. “You should get pictures, too, for insurance.”
Her damp phone still worked so she framed up the crowbar and melted glass on the floor. A tear rolled down her cheek and she didn’t wipe it away. Her shop had been reduced to a crime scene. If Ty hadn’t shown up tonight, someone might’ve been taking a picture of her lying on the concrete in the parking lot. Cold shudders ran up her spine. She forced herself to stay on task, taking more pictures of everything Miguel had pointed out, jumping in once Jones got what he needed. Pete maintained his distance.
The blanket did little to keep her warm. Ty’s steady presence would’ve been welcome, but he’d lit out like he was a criminal. And what was that organization he’d said he was with? It was somehow tied to the old photos he’d rescued from the walls.
“Mariana! Mariana!” A woman’s voice called from the front sidewalk. Mariana turned to see her friend Sydney craning her neck to see into the dark, burned-out shop.
“I’m here.” Mariana had recorded all the photos she could and walked toward Sydney.
“Are you all right?” Concern etched the black woman’s face. She clutched a hastily thrown-on sweater across her chest and didn’t hesitate to step into the puddles on the sidewalk in her untied sneakers.
“I’m fine.” Mariana hadn’t meant it when she’d told Ty after the attack. She tried to put as much truth in it now to reassure her friend.
“I heard the sirens and jumped on the community loop. They had the address from the scanners.” Sydney slowed her progress once she reached the broken glass on the ground.
Mariana separated further from the police and firefighter activity, opened the door of her shop and stepped into the embrace of her friend. A long breath racked her, releasing some tension. “It was them.”
Sydney squeezed harder around her. “The developers?”
“It had to be.” Mariana stepped from the hug and looked Sydney in the face. “They attacked me...in the parking lot.”
Worry mixed with fury in Sydney’s eyes. “I’m going to take a wrench to every one of their heads.”
Mariana whispered, “Someone helped me.”
“Who?” Sydney shot a suspicious glance at Pete. She’d had less choice things to say about him and the police department when Mariana’s concerns had been dismissed because of lack of actionable evidence.
“I don’t know.” And what details she did have weren’t quite adding up yet. “I mean, I have a name, but not much else.”
“Not local?” Sydney looked about, as if they were being watched.
“Definitely not.” Mariana would’ve remembered if she’d ever seen him before he walked into her shop that day.
“He didn’t stick around, though.” Sydney couldn’t hide her skepticism.
“He’s kind of...shady.” When Sydney shook her head and took a breath to voice her concerns, Mariana took her friend’s hand and continued, “But he was there all the way. And he rushed into the fire to save things from my shop.”
Sydney squeezed her hand tighter, looking at the broken-out facade of Mariana’s store. “I’m so sorry about what they did.” Her friend swung her gaze across the street, to her own shop that sold candles and honey and other by-products of Sydney’s beekeeping. Mariana understood. Anyone could’ve been targeted by these attacks. But it was only her. And it was for her land.
Jones approached respectfully. “We’re wrapped up here for now. Can you come down to the station to put all the details down?”
Mariana nodded and let go of Sydney’s hand. “I can do that.”
Sydney stepped to her side. “I’ll go with you.”
“You showed up here,” Mariana reassured. “And that’s exactly what I needed. You can go home now. I’m good.”
Miguel was the last out of the shop and closed the door behind him. “Moretti Construction has a twenty-four-hour number for boarding windows. I’ll give them a call.”
“Gracias, Miguel.” Mariana shook his hand. “Thanks for everything.”
He held her hand an extra beat. “I’m really sorry about what happened.”
“We’ll find them.” Jones stood straight, but Mariana couldn’t draw from his confidence. The crooks had been too slick to leave a solid trail before. What could the police do now?
Miguel dropped her hand and headed to his fire truck. Mariana patted Sydney’s shoulder. “Seriously. I’m good.”
Sydney’s concern didn’t diminish. She waved her cell phone. “Call me for anything.”
“You know I will.” Mariana smiled a goodbye, but wasn’t sure how convincing it was. Sydney kept watch as Mariana moved up the sidewalk with Jones and Pete. Rounding the corner at the end of the building brought relief from the flashing lights of the fire trucks. But a new anxiety arose when Mariana stepped into the dark parking lot.
The attack still shook her, cold fear knotting between her shoulder blades. “Maybe now we can convince the city to fix the light back here.” Her voice rang tight. If she could just see Ty and know if he was still around, it might unwind the tension. She thought she felt him watching her, standing by to spring into action again, but it might’ve just been a fantasy. Maybe she’d just imagined him in the first place and this whole thing was a delusion created by her assault.
Pete offered up only “Yeah.”
Jones opened the door to the police cruiser. “We’ll follow you there.” He turned on the headlights, illuminating her truck and half the parking lot. If Ty had been lurking in the shadows, there would’ve been nowhere to hide now. She tried to search as casually as possible for him. No sign.
She’d already seen his skills in a fight. There was no question he could stay hidden if he wanted. But she didn’t know how to sort her disappointment at not seeing him. It could’ve been just a matter of safety. He’d been the one to save her this night. There was something more, though. A curious yearning to find out more of who this mysterious man was.
The automatic motion of taking her keys from her purse brought her back to the moment. This was where her night had changed. She unlocked the truck, then walked to where the rescued items from her store were still scattered on the ground. Everything stacked easily, with the photos on top. Serious and determined, the people in the old picture watched her walk back to the truck and load them in the passenger seat.
She was back behind the wheel of her truck but couldn’t erase what had happened. The engine turned over, and pop music sprang out of the radio, way too cheerful. She killed the radio and pulled away, leaving her burned-out and soaked store. The police car followed her out of the parking lot, but she didn’t see any other cars join the caravan, even from a distance. Ty talked a good game about being with her every step of the way, but his absence left her starkly cold.
Seven blocks later, she parked in front of the police station and went inside with Pete and Jones. Her skin had been so chilled from the wet clothes she didn’t even feel it anymore under the heavy blanket. Hot coffee didn’t help, nor did the hard plastic seat next to Jones’s desk in the large room past the front desk of the station. The lights were so bright she couldn’t tell if it was night or day. Jones typed on a computer and Pete sat close. Together they sent questions to her as she recounted the night. Now that she was off her feet, exhaustion dragged her bones heavy.
“I don’t know who he was. He didn’t say.” Most of the questions swirled when she mentioned the man who’d helped her. “It was too dark to really see him in the parking lot.” She left out the detail that Ty had been in her shop, and that his deep gaze had inspired an unexpected blush on her chest and cheeks.
“And in the fire?” Pete asked pointedly.
She shot back, “I was a little preoccupied.”
Jones looked over his screen. “So we have a black man, over six feet tall, and that’s it.”
“But I know that the guy who attacked me in the parking lot was white, shaved head, in his twenties, no facial hair.” Pete tilted his head and smoothed the back of his blond hair, a move she recognized as frustration. Before he asked, she answered, “The headlights of the car that tried to run me over lit that guy up pretty good, but not the man who helped me.”
Pete seemed unconvinced. Jones stepped in. “I think we’ve got everything you remember.” He took a business card from the desk and handed it to her. “Anything else comes back to you, call anyone here. We’re all working on this, Mariana.”
“Thanks, Jones.” Her legs felt like rusted steel as she stood. She shook his hand and nodded to Pete. He tipped his head in return.
Jones stepped with her toward the front door. “You want us to escort you home, check out the place?”
She shook her head. “I’ve got Toro there.”
“Dog?” Jones asked.
