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Laura raised the gun, her heart beating a prayer for strength. And a prayer for good eyesight. She’d come across the state to save Paco, not watch him die. She would have to shoot the intruder.
Paco knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. Matched in sheer strength by the other man, he fought for control—and his life. With each grunt, each surge of renewed energy, he wrestled and pushed his fingers against the stranger’s thick throat muscles. If he could just find the right amount of pressure—
The room shook with a thundering roar and then the man holding Paco in a death grip went limp, his hands loosening and falling away, his expression going from determined and enraged to a surprised tranquility. Paco watched while the intruder’s bulging, hate-filled eyes closed and he fell back on the floor with a heavy thud. For a minute, Paco didn’t let go of his own frozen grip on the man’s throat. But the silence and his own fast-moving breath brought him out of his stupor.
Looking up and around, he caught at a hitched breath. “Laura?”
She stood with the shotgun aimed high, her whole body trembling. “I’m okay.”
Paco hopped up and stared down at the blood flowing from the stranger’s side. The man wasn’t breathing. Then he hurried to her. “Laura?”
“Your grandfather,” she said, pointing a shaking hand toward the floor. “Go check on him!”
Paco took the gun, prying it away from her white-knuckled fingers to carefully lower it to a table. Then he went into action.
“Grandfather?” Paco felt for a pulse, relief washing through him when he found a faint beat pumping inside his grandfather’s wrinkled neck. “Wíago, talk to me!” Turning Walter’s head, he saw blood on the floor then felt around until he found the deep gash on the old man’s skull. “He’s bleeding from his nose and he hit his head. We need to get him to a doctor.”
“I’ll call 911.”
Paco lifted up, torn between getting the dead man out of the way and taking care of his grandfather. He didn’t have a choice. His grandfather could die. They had to call for help.
“I’ll do it,” he told Laura. Thinking about the implications of the scene, he said, “I’ll have to explain this was self-defense.” He pulled out his phone and dialed, telling the operator to hurry. “My grandfather was attacked by an intruder and when he fell, he hit his head. He’s not responding. Yes, he has a pulse, but it’s weak.” He hurried to the man lying near the door and felt his pulse.
“And the intruder is dead. Yes, from a gunshot wound. Can you please send someone?”
After giving the dispatcher their location, he brought a blanket from the small den in the back and wrapped it around his grandfather, then checked him over again to be sure there were no other injuries. After doing everything he could to make Walter comfortable, Paco left the dead man where he was—afraid to disturb the scene. Then he finally turned to Laura.
And saw that she was about to fall into a heap on the floor.
“Laura,” he said, hurrying to her, wishing the nearest hospital wasn’t so far away. “Laura, are you sure you’re all right?”
She bobbed her head, her arms crossed around her midsection, her gaze locked on the gruesome site of the man by the door. “Is that man dead?”
He pulled her close, leveling his gaze on her until she looked at him. “Yes, he is. You saved my life.” He was as amazed by that as she seemed to be.
“I…I didn’t know what to do. I had to stop him…and I thought I’d shot you at first. Is your grandfather going to be okay?”
With each word, tears brimmed in her eyes until one lone drop moved down her right cheek. Paco reached up and caught the tear, keeping his gaze locked on her. “I hope so. I think he’s got a concussion and he’ll need stitches for the gash on his head. I’ve made him comfortable and the paramedics are on the way. But it’ll take them a few minutes. Let me check you over.”
She tried to push away and stumbled, her face deadly pale. “I’m okay. I…Paco, I think I’m going to be sick.”
Paco hurried her to the tiny bathroom in the back and waited at the door, keeping watch on his grandfather while he paced. When she came out a few minutes later, her skin was whitewashed with shock and she held a damp paper towel to her mouth.
“Better?” he asked, guiding her to a chair.
“I think so.” She looked up at him, her eyes as blue as a desert sky at midnight. “I’ve never killed anyone before. Now I know how you must feel.”
That statement punctured Paco’s heart. How could such an innocent woman ever know or understand the way he felt? How could she be so brave, coming here to find him simply because she was worried about him? How could she get herself caught up in something that was probably of his making, put herself on the line like that for him, when she didn’t even know him?
Before he could speak, she touched a trembling hand toward his heart. “I know what you were searching for that night, Paco.”
Paco swallowed back the lump in his throat, the sound of distant sirens echoing inside his head right along with the rising echo of his pulse. She’d called him Paco. That meant she trusted him now, meant he’d allowed her to get that close already.
“What then?” he asked, unable to stay quiet, unable to comprehend this whole morning.
“You were looking for your heart. You wanted your soul back.” She cleared her throat, her delicate hand warm on his chest, her gaze full of understanding and redemption. “I read a poem once where there was this heart hunter. He was searching for his own heart. He wanted to feel that warmth in his soul again. You know, that warmth that comes from faith and love and grace. And forgiveness. And so do you, I think. That’s something we can all understand, something everyone longs for.”
Paco lifted away, his head down. Grandfather always said there were no coincidences in life. He believed the Father knew all and saw all. Had God seen Paco’s pain that night, the struggle for his soul, the struggle he’d battled through between the Bible he’d clutched and the bottle that was trying to clutch him, all night long and well into the early light?
Had God sent Laura to him?
“We have to get you out of here,” he said in response, his thoughts too raw and fresh to express right now. He didn’t know how to voice his thoughts, even on a good day. “They’ll want a statement. Let me do all the talking. If they do ask you questions, just answer as briefly as possible. And be completely honest.”
She dropped her hand away. “I have to tell them I shot that man.”
Missing her warmth and needing to protect her, Paco said, “We could tell them I did it.”
“No, I won’t lie to them. And you said to be honest. I shot him because he was trying to kill you. That’s the truth.”
Paco knew she was right. They couldn’t lie. But he had a very bad feeling about this whole situation. And he knew this wasn’t over. Someone had sent a killer here two different times this morning. And they would keep coming until they hit their target.
He headed to the door to show the paramedics where to go and to greet the two officers pulling up outside. Then he glanced back at Laura to make sure she was holding up.
She gave him a wobbly half smile, her eyes still moist. Then she pushed at her hair and straightened her clothes, her head lifting as her eyes met his again.
And Paco had to wonder who in the world would want to hurt this woman?
She’d come here to help him, but in doing so she might have put herself in danger. Then she’d somehow managed to shoot a man in order to save Paco, which meant she was stronger than she looked. But that also meant she was now Paco’s responsibility.
He had to get his grandfather to a safe place and he had to protect this woman no matter what. Maybe in the process, he just might find that heart she thought he was searching for.
Or lose it completely to the woman who’d come with such an unexpected determination into his life.
FOUR
Paco went into action after the ambulance and the sheriff’s deputies left. Good thing the deputies knew his grandfather and him well enough to access the situation and keep it under wraps for now.
“I have to call my brother.” Touching a finger to his phone, he waited, his eyes never leaving Laura. “Hey, Buddy. It’s me, Paco. There’s been a break-in at the café. Grandfather was hurt.”
“Hurt? Is he okay?”
His brother’s worried question filtered over the line.
“He’s unconscious. Got knocked on the head. Listen, they took him to the regional hospital near Jacob Lake. I have a situation here, so I need you to go to the hospital and call me with a report.”
“What kind of situation?”
Paco huffed a breath. “I can’t explain right now.” Then he said on an urgent whisper, “I’m on the job.”
His brother’s silence told Paco Buddy was processing this. His older brother would understand and take action. “Can you talk?”
“Negative.”
“Will you call me?”
“Yes. Just go to Wíago and stay with him. Call me when you hear anything from the doctors. Or I’ll call you when I get things straight here.”
“Got it. I’m on my way to the hospital.”
Paco turned toward Laura. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t explain. He had enough to think about without having to report every detail to her. Seeing the distress in her eyes, he gently lifted her up. “You’ll be okay. This has become official now.”
She followed him without protest. Getting an argument from her would have eased Paco’s mind even if he didn’t want to hear it. She might be going into shock and that was the last thing he needed right now.
“Do you think the sheriff believed us?” she asked.
“I mean, he didn’t take me away. I thought he’d take me into custody after I told him what I’d witnessed and what happened.” She didn’t finish, didn’t state the obvious.
Paco did a scan of the road and the desert, careful to shield her by keeping her behind him. “I explained things to the sheriff. Self-defense. He’s a good friend of my grandfather’s and for that reason he trusted me and he’ll keep a lid on this for as long as possible. We both gave a statement and we’ve been cleared for travel.”
“Cleared?”
He shoved her into his truck and closed the door. Once he was inside and feeling confident that they weren’t being watched, he turned to her. “CHAIM clearance. For your safety, you’re in my custody until we figure this out. The sheriff knows how to reach me if he needs to talk to us. We always alert the locals when we’re on a case.”
“Oh, of course.”
Paco didn’t like her quietness but he let it ride for now while he watched the long, flat road and did a couple of quick searches of the desert on either side. When they turned off the dusty lane to his trailer, he slowed the truck.
“I live there,” he explained, pointing to the tiny white home on wheels. “I need to get some equipment and then we’re going to your hotel room to check it out.”
“All right.” She studied the travel trailer, her gaze moving between the RV and his face. “That’s not very big.”
“I don’t need much space.” Except the emotional kind, he thought, refusing to elaborate out loud.
She went silent again.
“Stay right here while I get some things,” he told her. Then he handed her a loaded handgun he kept in the glove compartment, removing the safety before he handed it to her. “Use this if you have to.”
Before she could protest, Paco was out the door and running toward the trailer.
Laura sat staring down at the gun. She’s just shot and killed a man and now she was holding a gun. What had become of her life, of her plans to help Luke Martinez?
Paco.
The man frightened her as much as he intrigued her. He was all muscle and male, all mad and mysterious. Not the kind of man to whom she was attracted. No, she went more for the button-down, preppy type. But then, that type hadn’t exactly been working out for her lately, come to think of it. Her last boyfriend hadn’t taken their break-up very well. And why was she even thinking along those lines anyway? She’d come here on a mission of mercy, her faith intact, her concern real.
And now, in the span of less than two hours, she’d been shot at and she’d killed a man. And she still didn’t understand who these people wanted to kill—her or Paco.
She looked out across the Painted Desert toward the mountains. They looked misty and solid as they hunched in watercolor shades of orange and mauve like sleeping giants off in the distance, the saguaros and fan palms stark and scattered across the arid vastness.
Who was out there?
Laura felt a chill in spite of the rising heat. She had to get out of this truck. She didn’t want Luke to be alone. And she didn’t want to be alone. They should stick together. She opened the door and hurried around to the back of the tiny trailer, her gaze taking in the canvas covered tented porch, a small grill and one lonely scarred lawn chair.
He didn’t need much space.
Except the desolate emptiness of a desert.
What had she gotten herself into?
Paco whirled when he heard footfalls on the rickety steps, his gun trained on the door.
“I told you to stay in the truck,” he shouted, relief washing over him. Relief followed by remorse. Laura was standing with one foot inside the door and the other one lowered on the steps, her gun shaking in her tiny hand.
“I was worried about you,” she said, her gaze sweeping the cramped kitchen. Lowering the gun to the step, she asked, “Are you always this messy?”
“I didn’t do this, sweetheart,” he replied, disgust making him harsh as he looked over the ruin of his home. Someone had gone through ever nook and cranny, without regard for clothing, dishes or paperwork.
“Apparently, I had a visitor this morning.” He touched a hand to something on the counter. “And they left yet another one of your business cards.”
She stepped away. “What? But why?”
At least that shocked her out of her fear again. Good. She needed to clear her head because they were just getting started with this thing.
“Good question,” he replied as he strapped on knives and guns, tugging weapons in his boots and underneath his shirt. “Either you have a fan, or someone is stalking you.”
She looked up at him then, her eyes coloring to a deep blue. “Oh, no. No, it can’t be.”
She fell back and turned to sit on the metal step. Paco quickly slid out the door and hopped around her then turned to face her. “Talk to me, beautiful.”
Laura put her head down in her hands. “I dated a guy for a few months, a while back. On the surface, he was a successful nice guy who said all the right things. But after a few months, things got weird and I broke it off. He started harassing me and I had to take out a restraining order. But he stopped bothering me about a month ago.”
Paco leaned down, one hand reaching to lift her head up. “Define ‘weird.’”
“After we broke up, he’d still call me and text me all day and night. He got really angry when I didn’t call him right back. I got a funny feeling—instincts I guess. I told him to quit pestering me. He didn’t take that very well. When he turned violent, I knew I’d made a big mistake. I think he suffered from paranoid delusional disorder.”
“Did he hurt you? Hit you?”
She looked away. “He slapped me once.”
Paco couldn’t tolerate men who hit women. “And?”
“And I reminded him that we were over, he left a note on my apartment door, threatening me, calling me a tease.” She looked up at Paco. “I never teased him or led him on about anything. I thought we were having a friendly relationship that might turn into something else. It didn’t turn into anything but…creepy. I told him he needed help. I even offered to find him a therapist, since I certainly couldn’t deal with him.”
“You think this might be the guy?”
