Deadly Cover-Up. Julie Lindsey Anne

sorry I didn’t answer.”

      “You need to save my number. When I call, I need you to answer.”

      Violet nodded. “Of course. I will next time.”

      “Did you get a look at the driver or the license plate?”

      “No plate, and I couldn’t see the driver through the tint and glare. It was crazy, though. He came out of nowhere,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice. “He kept honking. Gunning his engine. Maggie was screaming.”

      Wyatt stepped closer and raised one tentative arm, an offering of comfort, hers to accept or deny. Violet hesitated. She didn’t want to cry on a near-stranger’s shoulder, but she needed the comfort, and she’d never see Wyatt again once this was over. So maybe she could be a little bit of a mess if she needed to be.

      She fell against the strength of his chiseled chest and wrapped her arms around his back. His heart pounded strong and steady beneath her ear. His clothes and skin smelled of cologne and body wash, and Violet inhaled deeply.

      A very long moment later, his arms circled her back, engulfing her, drawing her close in a powerful embrace. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re okay.”

      She rocked her cheek against his soft black T-shirt. “Thank you. For being here. For coming to help Grandma and for staying now. I don’t know what I would do here alone. I don’t know if it’s safe to stay, or if it’s safer to go. If I leave, what happens to Grandma? If I stay, what might happen to Maggie?”

      Wyatt curved his tall frame over her, lowering his mouth to her cheek. “I will protect you, your grandma and your daughter. You can trust me on that, and when I find out who is behind these violent acts, he will wish I hadn’t.”

      Violet shivered. The words were flat and controlled, not spoken in anger, just statements of fact and strangely horrifying. Still, she wanted the promise to be true. “Thank you.”

      The bark of a police siren jerked her upright. She loosened her grip on him as she attempted to disentangle her arms from his waist.

      Wyatt held her firm, locking his fingers against the small of her back. “I told the sheriff we were a couple,” he whispered. “We shouldn’t ruin the facade.”

      Violet tipped back, arching to study his blank soldier face and pressing their torsos tighter still. “What? Why?” Was that something he’d actually considered?

      “He had a lot of questions,” Wyatt said. “I ran into him in town, and I didn’t want to out myself as private security.”

      “Right.” She nodded. This wasn’t about her. He simply needed a cover story. He didn’t want to be her boyfriend. That was a fantasy she’d already let go too far. Besides, she knew firsthand that when men swept in to save the day, they were always gone in the morning. And Violet didn’t need drama in her life. She needed stability.

      The deputy marched in their direction, one hand at the brim of his hat. “Miss Ames?”

      “Yes.” Violet stepped away from Wyatt. She wrapped an arm across her middle, defending against the coolness that settled in his absence. She shook the deputy’s hand. “This is Wyatt Stone, my boyfriend.” She cleared her throat as the last word lodged there awkwardly.