sixteen hours of driving, she’d thought she’d slip into the duplex she’d be staying in for the next month, eat one of the packs of crackers she had in her suitcase and then get a few hours of sleep. She’d never imagined she’d find herself staring down the barrel of a gun.
Someone had made a mistake and given the wrong house number. Whether it was her supervisor or Grayson Sinclair, Lacey didn’t know. All she knew was that it could have cost her her life.
“Before we discuss whether you’re staying or going, I’d like the key to my place.”
“I’ll need it so I can get back in tomorrow morning. I wouldn’t want to have to wake you.”
“Hate to break the news to you, but it already is tomorrow morning, and you’re already in my house.” He held out a hand, and Lacey dropped the key into it. “Thanks. Coffee?”
“No. Thanks. I’ve already had a dozen cups today.”
“I guess that explains your shaking hands.” He smirked, his deep-gray eyes almost as unnerving as the gun he still held.
“Looking down the barrel of a gun will do that to a person.”
“Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting company.” He limped across the living room and sat down, his dark hair falling across his forehead and partially concealing a scar that ran from his temple into his hairline. He’d been close to death but had survived. In that, she and Jude were alike.
“Do you always point guns at unexpected guests?”
“Only when they walk in uninvited. Grayson said you weren’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow. You said you’re here early because you didn’t want to waste money on a hotel room.”
“That’s right.”
“I was thinking it wouldn’t be wasted money since your company is probably paying for your travel expenses, so I’m wondering why you decided to drive straight through.”
Jude was a homicide detective. Lacey had learned that from the client information she’d received before she’d left Chicago. She just hadn’t expected him to use his interrogation skills on her. “Are you always this suspicious?”
“Only when someone breaks into my house at two in the morning.”
“It’s not breaking in if that person has a key.”
“Which doesn’t answer my question.”
“Too much coffee. There was no sense wasting money on a room I wasn’t going to be able to sleep in. Even if it was Helping Hand’s money.” It was the only excuse she could come up with. The truth was much too complicated to tell and wasn’t something she planned to share with a stranger. No matter how handsome and compelling he might be.
Handsome?
Compelling?
She was a lot more shaken than she’d thought if she was using those words to describe one of her clients.
“You’ve been on the road a long time. Where were you coming from?”
“Chicago.”
“You were working there?”
“Yes. I had an elderly client who suffered from dementia. I’ve been living with her for the past eight months.”
“And you left her to take the job my brother offered?”
“I never leave clients until they don’t need me any more.”
“People don’t recover from dementia.” Jude pressed for more information. Lacey didn’t mind giving it. Part of building a good working relationship required sharing a few tidbits of personal information. It had taken a few years for Lacey to realize how important that was, but once she had, she’d been able to pick and choose the information she’d shared, offering just enough to make her clients feel comfortable without giving too much of herself away.
“Mrs. Simpson passed away four days ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I am, too, but she lived her life well until the end. And now I’m here for you.”
“Actually, you’re here for my family. Like I said before, I don’t need a home-care aide.”
“Are you trying to fire me?”
“I’m just stating a fact. I don’t need help. You’re here because it makes my brother feel like he’s in control of things.”
“Your brother is concerned about you.”
“My brother is a typical oldest child. He thinks the world is his to command. I’ve spent most of my life trying to prove him wrong.”
Surprised, she laughed, her tension easing. This she could handle. A client talking about his life? Piece of cake. “I take it you haven’t succeeded yet.”
“Not quite, but I’m still working on it.”
“Good luck with that.” She stifled a yawn. Despite too much coffee, exhaustion stole her energy and made her want nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a week.
“Looks like that drive really wore you out.” Jude studied her face as if she were a mystery he had to solve. The thought made her uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be studied, and she certainly didn’t want to be solved.
“It did. I think I’ll go next door and get settled in. I really am sorry for waking you.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.” He stood, walking to the front door with her, his slightly hitched stride speaking of the injuries he’d suffered.
“Can I get anything for you before I go next door? Something to eat? Medicine?”
“Lacey, I’m a grown man. If I need any of those things, I’ll get them myself.”
“Not while I’m around. Your brother hired me—”
“To be a home-care aide. Yeah. I get that.” He ran a hand down his jaw and shook his head. “But you need to get that I don’t need you here. Go next door. We’ll talk more about why you’re not staying after we both get some sleep.”
“Just so you know.” Lacey stepped outside, shivering in the cold winter air. “I’m planning to stay.”
“Just so you know, I’m the one who will be making that decision.” Jude scowled, his eyes flashing with irritation.
“We’ll see.” She offered her best smile, pulled her suitcase inside the other half of the duplex and closed the door, blocking her view of Jude and his deep-gray eyes.
Her heart beat a little too fast and a little too hard, but at least her legs weren’t shaking anymore. Dealing with difficult clients was something she did well, but Jude wasn’t like any client she’d ever worked with before. He was younger. Better-looking.
Lacey frowned.
A client was a client. Jude was no different from any other man she’d worked with over the past few years.
She ran her hand along the foyer wall, flicking on the light as she had in Jude’s house. She half expected to see a man standing in the living room pointing a gun in her direction. There wasn’t one. Just a sofa and a chair, both in decent shape. A coffee table and an end table. A fireplace.
It was a cozy room and perfect for Lacey. She hummed as she walked down a short hallway and into a roomy kitchen, filling the silence and distracting herself from the fear that hadn’t quite let her go. It was a remnant of a past she preferred to forget. After all, what was in the past couldn’t hurt her anymore. All it could do was teach her how to live her life today.
The kitchen appliances were dated but serviceable, the floor faded linoleum. A sliding glass door led out into the backyard. Lacey opened it, stepping outside and shivering in the cold. A full moon peeked over