One Good Man. Julie Miller

picked up the receiver. “Commissioner Reed.”

      A smooth, politic voice answered. “Mitch. I’ll forgo the pleasantries. We need to talk.”

      “You’re damn right we need to.”

      “WHO THE HELL does he think he is?” Casey muttered to herself, still stewing over her computer conversation with Mitch Taylor earlier that morning. The words on her monitor blurred together as her eyes glazed over. She removed her gold-rimmed reading glasses and rubbed at her tired eyes.

      Normally, she found the content of medical articles an interesting read. But today it was simply a jumble of technical jargon that made little sense. Knowing she was ahead of her deadline, she saved the text she was editing and turned off the screen. Her clients shouldn’t be penalized for her inability to concentrate.

      She slipped into her shoes and tied them, adjusting the platformed boot on her right heel before shifting onto her feet. Needing the extra support after last night’s uncustomary stress, she tightened the Velcro closures of her leg brace and walked over to the row of windows that gave a panoramic view of the backyard.

      Judith’s husband, Ben, tended the pool house with efficient regularity, just as he had in her training days. But what had once been a symbol of her family’s success and personal triumphs now stood like a glass-domed testament to all she had lost.

      Her dreams. Her family. Her faith.

      She’d worked hard after the attack to get her body into shape. To teach herself how to walk again. Months of physical therapy in her private gym and in that pool had put her body back together as much as the shattered remnants of it would allow.

      But no amount of training could restore her trust or heal her wounded heart.

      Casey breathed in deeply and exhaled, fogging up the window in front of her. She rubbed the spot clear, acknowledging that her restlessness wasn’t entirely Mitch Taylor’s fault.

      She missed the color that had once been part of her life. She missed the activity. She missed the demands she used to make on herself, the anticipation and reward of setting goals and achieving them.

      But it could never be any other way. Especially now. She had to keep a lower profile than ever or he’d find her. Though he’d be smarter to run in the opposite direction, she knew Emmett Raines would come looking for her. She’d made a mistake once he wouldn’t allow her to make again.

      The jangle of the front-gate buzzer made every muscle in her body tense until she looked over at the clock on the mantel—it was 12:10. The McDonalds were still here. She breathed again, consciously forcing herself to relax. Shoulders first. Biceps. Elbows. Wrists and hands.

      Almost as soon as Casey was breathing normally again, Judith entered the library and announced, “Mr. James Reed is here to see you.”

      Casey’s dread changed into a cautious smile. “You don’t have to be so formal.”

      “Some habits die hard. Should I fix him lunch?”

      The drawn look that had haunted Judith’s face eased a little with the arrival of company. For that, Casey was glad, even though she knew Jimmy’s visit would include a painful discussion on the subject of Emmett Raines. “I’ll ask. Go ahead and let him in through the kitchen.”

      Minutes later, Police Commissioner James Reed, looking fit and dapper with his silver hair and charcoal suit, entered the library with a broad smile. “Cassandra.”

      He met her halfway and gave her a stiff hug and a pat on the back. Holding herself on her good leg, Casey kissed his cheek and tightened her arms around his neck. “I’m glad to see you.”

      He pushed away from her, holding her elbows in his palms. “I can only stay a few minutes. But I didn’t want to disappoint my favorite girl.”

      He made her feel all of ten years old. She tried to match his smile but failed. “I thought you’d be here…sooner.”

      From across the room, another voice answered in a dark, taunting baritone.

      “We shouldn’t be here at all.”

      Casey looked over Jimmy’s shoulder to the man filling the doorway. Mitch Taylor was even bigger than she remembered. The room shrank as he strode in. He stood a couple of inches taller than her Dutch uncle’s six feet, and she suspected the imposing dimensions of his chest and shoulders could be attributed more to the man than to the tailoring of his suit.

      She lifted her chin to ward off the impact of his raw masculinity. Jimmy stepped aside, allowing Mitch’s whiskey-brown eyes to peruse her from head to toe. The warmth she experienced under his scrutiny left her feeling much more grown up than her uncle’s reassurances had.

      Unaccustomed to having any man besides her doctors study her so thoroughly, and even more unfamiliar with the responding tension tingling along the surface of her skin, she angled away from him, automatically shielding the weak side of her body. “Captain.”

      “How badly did I hurt you?” He spoke in a hushed rumble that shivered along her spine. The unexpected softening of his hard-edged expression did funny things to her pulse rate. She felt her own features relax.

      “I’m a little…” Stiff and sore, she would have finished. But Jimmy’s patience with polite conversation had ended.

      “You didn’t. She requires her cane or leg brace to walk.” His crude explanation shattered the illusion of compassion, and reminded Casey of the real problem at hand. She threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin.

      Without making direct eye contact herself, she saw Mitch look at Jimmy, then back at her. His on-the-job mask returned.

      “You should be in a safe house. Or at the very least, under around-the-clock police protection.”

      His back-to-business mode made it easier for her to summon her defenses. “I asked you not to come here.”

      “No, you ordered me not to, princess.” He swung his gaze over to Jimmy. “But a higher authority prevailed.”

      Acknowledging his cue with a nod, Jimmy took Casey by the upper arm and guided her toward the sofa. “We want to talk to you, Cassandra.”

      Once she was situated, he sat beside her and clasped her left hand between both of his. Not a good sign. “I didn’t want you to know about Raines’s escape so soon, but now that you do, I want you to know that I’m taking care of everything. I put him away once, and I’ll put him away again. He won’t get any satisfaction coming after my family.” He climbed off his soapbox and gentled his tone. “I promised your father that I’d look after you. And I trust that Mitch is the man to help me do that.”

      She glanced over at Mitch, who struggled to make himself fit in the brocaded wingback chair across from her. He shook his head as though he already doubted the wisdom of this so-called plan.

      Definitely not a good sign. She looked back at Jimmy, only half-joking with her question. “What, you’re going to send him over to the house and have him scare me to death every night?”

      Jimmy’s hands tightened around her own. “No, dear. I’m assigning him to be your bodyguard.”