Page 55 of Protect My Heart

“Patty changed after serving. He had always been a stand-up guy back then. A natural born leader. I think the counseling he received in prison helped him deal with the demons that haunted him.” He shook his head. “The things we saw... we did. Well, it takes a piece of a man’s soul.”

Liz understood more than he would ever know. Flashes of her brother’s blood on her father’s hands flooded her.

Light crowded the edges of her vision. She wobbled.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Warden Finden steadied her with a hand to her elbow.

“Yes.” Liz took in a cleansing breath and held it before letting it out in one long, slow exhale. She blinked up at the warden. He was so close. Too close. She forced a weak smile and stepped back. “It’s been a long day.”

She glanced in his cart. Until her balance returned, eye contact was out of the question. Steak, frozen dinners, a prescription bag, and a case of water. No vegetables. All single servings. Single man food. She wondered what emotional scars his days in the service had left. Did he sleep with a gun on his night stand? Never leave home without a knife in his pocket?

“I know the process of dealing with the death of a family member isn’t easy, but if I can help in any way, feel free to reach out.” He gave her a sad smile. “I know a collector if you decide to sell your father’s military items.”

“You might be able to help me with something, Warden. My father talked about a knife in the letter he left me. Did he ever mention anything about this?”

He straightened, and shook his head. “No, I can’t say. We always carried one in the military.”

She caught a tremble in his fingers before he shoved his hands in his pockets. Definitely emotional scars.

“You know your father wasn’t well for many years. He took the death of your brother very hard.”

He should. He was the one who killed him.

“I wouldn’t put too much stock in his ramblings.” Warden Finden’s eye twitched as he spoke.

Strange. She cocked her head. She hadn’t noticed him having a tick before. The possible causes ran through her mind. Stress. Sleep deprivation. Nerves.

His gaze dropped to his cart before coming back to hers.

This conversation, hell this whole situation, was messing with her. He was probably right. “Thank you, Warden Finden. I better let you get going before your food melts. Nice seeing you again.”

“Yes, dear. It was.” He wheeled around the corner.

Liz knew he was probably right but she couldn’t dismiss it just yet.” She grabbed the pork chops and kept moving. Time to push thoughts of her father to the side and focus on another grumpy man. One worth the effort.

Somewhere between the second and third hour of The Bachelor, Jim realized he was whipped. How had this happened? Two weeks ago, he didn’t even know Doc. Now, he was sitting in the dark room with only the light of the television watching a chick show.

Curled around his side, her leg absently stroked up and down his calf. Damn woman. If this kept up, he would have to turn in his man card.

“I hope Ashley doesn’t get a rose. She’s not there for the right reasons.”

Jim shut his eyes and counted to three. He almost asked if anyone could be in love that fast, but he caught himself. He didn’t think this thing with Doc was love, but he wasn’t ready to examine it yet. So he kept his mouth shut and pulled her a little closer, wanting to enjoy the moment.

Tigger’s ears perked up and a deep low growl filled the room.

“What is it, boy?” Jim scooted to the end of the couch cushion and put a hand on the dog’s head. Usually it calmed him, but Tigger let out a loud bark and jumped to his feet.

Doc started to rise, but Jim nudged her down as he rose. “Tig stay. You, too.”

He grabbed his sidearm from the end table.

She nodded.

With his gun in one hand, he dropped low and entered the kitchen. He passed the newly replaced patio door, still intact. A cold breeze blew through the window over the sink. Eyes shifting side-to-side he moved to the window and slid it closed. Doc had opened it a crack while cooking.

The backyard was dark. The motion sensor lights hadn’t come on. He crept to the wall with the back porch light switches. Gun ready, he flipped them on. Bright lights illuminated the screened-in room and the deck beyond. Empty. No footprints in the snow, nothing.

A blood curdling scream set off a rapid round of barking from Tigger.