be ringing her bell at eight-thirty on a Sunday morning? She looked through the peephole, and the tension dissipated. When she swung open the door, Tyler stood on her front porch.
He wasn’t smiling. In fact, his jaw was tight, and vertical creases of concern marked the space between his eyebrows. When he spoke, the concern in his features came out in his tone. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, other than the fact that someone just applied for credit in my name.”
Of course, Tyler wouldn’t have known about her identity theft concerns. Something else must have put those creases of worry on his face. “What’s going on?”
He held out a folded sheet of paper, which she hadn’t noticed until that moment, and a chill passed through her. “What is it?”
“Whoever has been harassing you has apparently decided to carry it next door. I don’t think this is aimed at my brother, even though he’s the one who retrieved it from the front door a few minutes ago. It wasn’t there when I walked Sasha this morning.”
She took what he held and unfolded it. Like the other note, it was written in all caps with bold, angry strokes that could belong to almost anyone.
WATCH THE COMPANY YOU KEEP. IT CAN GET YOU KILLED.
Her blood turned to ice and her heart almost stopped.
She looked up at Tyler, her jaw slack. Her heart had resumed a frantic pace, and moisture coated her palms. “He was watching us. He saw us leave for Home Depot together.” She took a step back, shaking her head. “You have to stay away from me.”
He moved closer until he was standing at the threshold. “Do you really think I’m intimidated by this creep who’s too much of a coward to show his face?”
“Maybe you’re not intimidated, but I am. I’m not willing to risk you getting hurt. This is my battle, not yours.” Although she had no idea what she’d done to get drawn into it.
He took a step closer and put both hands on her shoulders. Now he was inside her entry area. “It’s our battle. Friends stick together. Or have you forgotten that?”
She dropped her gaze. No, she hadn’t forgotten. When some of the snooty rich girls at school had given her a hard time about being adopted, he’d gone to bat for her. And she’d returned the favor when those same girls and their boyfriends had egged the principal’s house and tried to pin it on Tyler.
He laid a finger against the underside of her chin, encouraging her to look at him. His eyes held a warmth that had never been there before. Or maybe it had and she’d been too young and naive to recognize it.
When he finally spoke, his tone was low, the words heavy with meaning. “I never run from danger. Especially when it involves someone I care about.”
She swallowed hard, unable to look away. His words suggested more than simple friendship. So did his tone.
The thought scared her more than anything had as yet.
* * *
Tyler moved through the darkness at a brisk walk, the beam of his flashlight illuminating the road ahead of him. It was 1:00 a.m. on a Monday morning, and Hodges was deserted, all the houses dark except for the soft glow of porch lights shining from a few of them. Gulf Boulevard didn’t show any more signs of life than Hodges had. According to Andy, a lot of his neighbors escaped the heat and humidity and spent summers up north. In the wee hours of the morning, that sense of isolation was even more acute. Most sensible people were in bed.
He’d tried. For almost two hours, he’d chased sleep. Finally he’d grown tired of tossing and turning and had slipped out into the quiet night.
He should have been tired. Actually, he was. Physically, anyway. He’d worked hard all afternoon and evening, pushing to get Nicki’s new sink and vanity installed and the plumbing hooked back up. He’d even started on the shelves in the master bedroom closet. But when he’d dropped into bed at eleven, his brain had gone into overdrive.
The note Andy had pulled off the front door that morning was in the hands of the police. But they probably wouldn’t be any more successful lifting the intruder’s prints from it than they had been from the first one. Or from Nicki’s house, for that matter. All the viable prints belonged to her. Her intruder had apparently worn gloves.
Tyler slowed his pace to catch his breath and cross to the other side of the road. He’d walked about a mile and a half. Maybe by the time he got back, he would be ready to sleep.
But the tension that had coiled through him as he lay staring into the darkness was still very much there. The second note had disturbed him as much as the first. Not because of what it meant for him. He wasn’t afraid for his own life. The note was likely an empty threat. But he understood the purpose behind the words. Whoever wrote them was trying to isolate Nicki from her friends. To weaken her and make her a better target.
It wasn’t going to work. It would take more than a written threat to tear him from Nicki’s side. It would take mortars, RPGs and a couple of Abrams tanks. And even that wouldn’t stop him if he could help it.
As he neared her house, he cast a glance in that direction. Light trickled through the trees that bordered her yard. She would be sound asleep inside, Callie nearby. The dog’s presence brought him a measure of relief. Otherwise, he would insist on loaning her Sasha to stand guard. Or move in himself.
He dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his mind. The nightmares were too frequent. Too real. He’d gotten pretty good at waking himself up before the scream building in his throat escaped. But sometimes the terror refused to release its grip until it was too late. Though it hadn’t happened yet, it was only a matter of time until he jarred Andy and Joan from a sound sleep. That was going to be embarrassing enough. He wasn’t about to show Nicki how messed up he was.
He rolled his shoulders, then ran his hands through his hair. When he reached her property line, he again shifted his gaze toward the house. To the right of the front door, a rattan rocker sat bathed in soft yellow light. A short distance away, an American flag hung from a short pole attached to the corner post. Further to the right, her Ram sat in the carport.
In total darkness.
He drew his brows together. When he’d headed out thirty minutes ago, both the porch light and the carport light were on. Had she gotten up and turned the second one off? Or had someone else extinguished it, not wanting to be seen?
He clicked off the flashlight and squinted into the night, worry coiling in his gut. But beyond the glow of the porch light, everything was black. Clouds obscured most of the stars, and the sliver of moon he’d seen early yesterday morning wouldn’t be visible until just before daylight.
He retraced his steps, then slipped into the trees bordering her yard. A twig snapped beneath his foot, the sound amplified in the silence. He hesitated. He had a gun. It just wasn’t with him. With his flashbacks and nightmares, he’d figured it was best to leave his weapon with a friend for safekeeping. Only a week and a half had passed, and he was already rethinking that decision.
Staying within the tree line, he continued to move away from the road, eyes on the carport. Once he was even with her truck, he stopped, listening. The skin on his arms prickled. Someone was there, or had just been there.
Dropping to his hands and knees, he clicked on the light and shone it under the truck, then swept the beam side to side in an expanding arc. Seeing no one, he sprinted to the back of the truck, then crept around it.
When he shone the light on the door of her house, he heaved a sigh of relief. It was undisturbed. He shook the tension from his shoulders. Of course it was undisturbed. No one was getting past the lock he’d installed. At least not without an ax or sledgehammer.
So maybe no one had been there. Maybe the light had burned out. He reached into the fixture. The bulb was still hot. It was also loose. He rotated it a quarter turn and light flooded the carport.
His stomach tightened as he stepped back from the