both. Then it had been a matter of survival. Now it was simply a matter of curiosity. Something unsettling was in the air. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she couldn’t ignore it. She glanced around the dark yard. It was small and hid nothing from view.
A few straggly plants butted up against a tall fence. A white bench stood close to the house and two gates offered entrances and exits to the yard, one at the back of the property, the other on the side of the fence that separated Lacey’s yard from Jude’s. There was nothing else. She stepped back and closed the door, locking it and pulling the bolt. Whatever she’d felt, it was outside, not in the cozy house she was going to be living in for the next month.
Her own place.
It had been a long time since she’d had that. There’d been a few times over the past ten years when she’d rented an apartment, but most of her assignments came with free board. That usually meant living in the spare room in a crowded apartment or cluttered house. Having a two-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath duplex to herself was sheer luxury. Lacey planned to enjoy it.
The thought made her smile, but it didn’t chase away her unease. Maybe the long ride and lack of sleep had gotten to her. Or maybe seeing Jude glaring at her over the barrel of his gun had knocked her off balance. Either way, Lacey was sure she’d feel better after a few hours’ sleep. First, though, she needed to eat.
She searched through her suitcase, sure that she had a few packages of crackers there. When she didn’t find them, she went to the front door, hesitating for a moment before she opened it. Outside, the heaviness of the air had lifted and the silence seemed more natural. Still, she wasn’t sure she wanted to step across the threshold and walk outside.
Then again, she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the next few hours hungry.
Her Mustang was parked a few feet from the porch and it would only take seconds to grab the duffel bag she’d left in the passenger’s seat. She knew she had pretzels and a Coke in there. Her stomach rumbled, cementing her decision.
She hurried down the porch stairs and opened the car door, grabbing the duffel and locking the car again. “We wouldn’t want someone to steal you, Bess. Another hundred thousand miles and you’ll officially be a relic. Don’t worry, I won’t get rid of you. I’ll just get you a nip and a tuck and a brand-new engine.”
“Do you always talk to your car?” The voice was as deep and rich as dark chocolate, and Lacey recognized it immediately.
She pivoted, searching the shadows until she caught sight of Jude’s tall, rangy form near the corner of the house. His shoulder was pressed against the siding as if he needed the support to stay on his feet.
That concerned Lacey, and she walked to his side, studying his face in the moon’s reflected light. “Bess isn’t a car. She’s a personality.”
“She looks it. How long have you had her?”
“I bought her when I was a senior in high school.”
“So, that was what? Five years ago?”
“I’m flattered, but high school was a few more years ago than that.”
“Seven, then. Or eight.”
“Try eleven.”
“That makes you, what? Twenty-nine?”
“Twenty-eight. Soon to be twenty-nine. Not that I’m counting or anything.” She smiled, wishing she could see his face more clearly.
Why was he outside leaning against the house instead of inside sleeping?
If she’d known him better, she would have asked. Lots of her clients suffered from insomnia. Some because of pain. Others because they knew the end was near and didn’t want to miss a minute of time. She had a feeling something else had Jude up wandering around outside in the wee hours of the morning.
“Why wouldn’t you want to count? You’re still a babe in the woods.”
“Not even close.” She unzipped the duffel and pulled out the bag of pretzels, opening it quickly and eating one. What she really wanted was chocolate. Lots of it. Based on what she’d seen so far, working for Jude was going to be a three-chocolate-bar-a-day job. She should have grabbed her emergency supply from the glove compartment, but there was no way she was going to do it now. Not while Jude was watching with dark, curious eyes.
“Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Let me guess. You didn’t want to waste money stopping to eat on your way here.”
“Something like that.” And she hadn’t wanted to stop until she’d reached the assignment. She liked being busy. Downtime wasn’t something she handled well. Fortunately, Helping Hands had plenty of business, and Lacey never had more than a day or two when she wasn’t working.
“Then I wouldn’t want to keep you from your early-morning snack. Enjoy it.” He straightened and limped toward the back of the house, dismissing Lacey with an abruptness that other people might have found rude.
Lacey found it telling.
Pain often made people want to hide away from the world. According to his client file, Jude had been living with intense pain for two months. Who knew what was on his mind or in his heart because of it?
She fell into step beside him.
“Pretzel?” She held out the bag, but Jude ignored it.
“Go inside, Lacey. I didn’t need you an hour ago, and I don’t need you now.”
“Who said anything about need? You’re awake. I’m awake. Why not spend some time getting to know each other?”
“I’m not in the mood for company.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t need some.”
“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that much.” He smiled, the grim turn of his lips doing nothing to ease the harsh lines and angles of his face.
“That’s why I’m good at what I do.”
“I’m sure that’s what the other four aides my brother hired thought. They lasted a total of two and a half weeks.”
“You sound proud of that.”
“Do I?” He turned and headed back to the house, the long-sleeved T-shirt he wore not nearly enough protection against the cold. At least he’d put on shoes when he’d come outside this time.
“I’ve worked with a lot tougher clients than you, Jude.”
“You sound proud of that.”
Lacey laughed, surprised that the grim-faced man beside her had any humor in him at all. “We’re all good at something. I’m good at dealing with people like you.”
“Like me?”
“Difficult people. People no one else wants to work with.”
“I think I’m insulted.”
“Why? You created your reputation.”
“True, but I didn’t expect you to tell me what it was to my face.”
“Just because I look like a pushover doesn’t mean I am one. As a matter of fact—”
“Shh.” He put a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place.
“What—”
“I hear a car.”
“There are lots of them around.”
“Not on this road.” He pulled her to a shadowy corner outside the house. “Don’t move. Okay?”
She nodded, fear pulsing sharply in her chest.
Who did Jude think was coming?
The car rolled into view, turning onto the long