Their father.
Everything in her wanted to duck behind a tree and curl into a ball, maybe even lose what was left of the breakfast bar she’d crammed down before her run. No one had manhandled her in years, not since the night her father had pulled a knife on her mother, held the blade to Kristin’s throat, then slashed his own wrists.
Cold sweat sheened her hot skin. Her attacker was no threat. She wouldn’t let him be. Kristin had enough confidence in her physical condition to take on most men who didn’t suspect her of being capable. But the memories? They threatened to bring on a full-fledged panic attack.
And she didn’t panic. Ever.
Drawing in lungfuls of cool morning air, she tried to find comfort in the rhythm of her feet on the trail. Left, right, left, right. Breathe. It was over. If this guy returned, she could handle him.
And her father was dead. He couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.
But he sure did have a way of reaching out of the grave to reignite her grief. Grief that had intensified when a sniper’s bullet found her brother in Iraq.
Kristin scanned the trees, trying to find something, anything to focus on. The sky, the breeze, the chilled morning air...anything but what lay behind her, emotionally and physically.
Without turning around, Kristin knew Lucas and his friend would be close. From the brief couple of months they’d been running together, she had no doubt. Lucas was the kind who would protect even when he wasn’t wanted.
She absolutely hated the comfort she felt. Knowing someone had her back unwound the tension. The smallest sliver inside wanted to stop and let them catch up, to not be alone.
That was scarier than anything else. In the face of the morning’s events, seeing Lucas without time to prepare herself had sent a shudder through her insides. Every time they ran together, she’d had to school herself not to notice the way he made running seem effortless, the way his biceps peeked out from the sleeves of his T-shirt.
Man, she hated reacting to him. She usually didn’t have a reaction to any guy at all. She’d always managed to stay detached, never engaging emotionally. She’d never had the dream of getting married, not after watching her parents claw and fight their way through their nasty, alcohol-fueled relationship. They’d stayed together out of some twisted kind of passion for one another. It was good in spurts. But when the passion flamed into anger, it was ugly for everybody within fist’s reach.
Things in their family had grown uglier after her mother got sober and walked out when Kristin was sixteen, fighting to make life better for her children. But her father came at them again and again, was arrested and released over and over. Not even the law could save them. Her father had violated restraining orders until the day he ended everything.
That was all the proof Kristin needed. Being on fire for anybody was a bad thing. Emotions out of control led to lives out of control. She’d never wanted any part of feelings like those, had always avoided them.
But when it came to Lucas...he was a tough man to resist, and she’d tried her best. Those deep brown eyes had seen something inside her from the moment they’d crossed paths during a local half marathon and silently battled to the finish. Kristin had edged him out at the tape, but the conversation with Lucas after—and the realization he was responsible for the moving truck on her street a few days earlier—had solidified a friendship played out in long runs through their neighborhood when Kristin didn’t run solo on the trails.
Runs that gradually grew longer as they started to talk. Surface things at first, but lately she’d come dangerously close to feeding him information about her past. He’d layered something soothing over her heart, something that touched her insides every time she talked to him, edging closer to things she’d never shared with anyone else. They’d never done anything but train together, yet he made her feel like allowing someone else inside her head was a good thing.
And everything had to stop. The morning’s brutal reminder of her father’s cruelty coupled with the mention of her brother tore at her, chased her, drove her heart into hiding. Her feet pounded harder, her breathing growing more ragged as emotions drove the pace until she couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t even hear the outside world over the thumping of her pulse in her ears. By the time she hit the parking lot, her whole body hammered in time with her heartbeat. She’d pushed too hard, but the emotional and physical cleansing had been worth it.
Slowing to a fast walk, Kristin scanned the area, glancing under her car in the distance to make sure no one was beneath it. She shook it off, glancing at the head of the trail.
Two military police vehicles stood blocking the entrance.
Kristin wanted to turn and run into the woods. Since the night her mother had been murdered, she’d avoided the police, even drove like a grandmother to wipe out any possibility of a speeding ticket. The thought of answering their pointed, dispassionate questions swirled bile in her stomach.
Besides, talking to them wouldn’t change a thing. The justice system hadn’t saved her mother.
She wouldn’t talk to them. Lucas had made the call. He’d seen as much as she had, and he could do the talking.
Kristin whirled toward the woods, but only got an eyeful of Lucas and Travis coming off the trail.
Trapped. There was nowhere to go. Kristin marched for her small green SUV, wishing she were invisible, guilt biting at her heels. Lucas was right. Even though the man had mentioned Kyle, with her brother dead, they certainly couldn’t ask him for his real motives. She ought to at least give a description to the police in case he tried to go after a woman who couldn’t feed him his nose for breakfast.
Not that it would do any good to involve the law.
The debate raged as she stared at her SUV parked at the edge of the lot, but her feet slowed. Something wasn’t right. There was no reflection from the driver’s window. Surely she hadn’t rolled it down.
Ignoring her rapidly tightening muscles, she jogged to her SUV, slowing as she neared. The window was shattered, glass littering the driver’s seat. She punched the unlock code into the keypad and rounded the vehicle, ripping the passenger door open and scrambling across the seat. She jerked open the console to stare inside. Her wallet was where she always left it, but her keys were gone.
She dropped back, staring at the space where they’d been. That man had asked about her brother. Probably knew where she lived. And now he had her house keys. For the first time, the magnitude of the attack tackled her.
Feet pounded behind her. She didn’t have to turn to know whom they belonged to. While she wanted to drop to the ground beside the car and curl into a fetal position, she swallowed her fears and stiffened her posture as she turned to meet Lucas Murphy head-on. “You can tell your cop friends someone stole my keys.”
Behind him, Travis waved at the officers and detoured, jogging toward the military policemen at the head of the trail.
Lucas’s eyebrow lifted. “Your keys were in your car?”
“It has a keypad lock. I lock them in when I run. It’s better than dropping them in the woods somewhere.” She slid out of the car and angled away from him, balling her fists and staring at the trees bordering the parking lot.
He was too close. His brown eyes too dark, his muscles beneath his T-shirt toned after his stint slogging through the desert overseas. The last thing she wanted to think about was how tempting it would be to let those arms hold her right now.
She ripped the headband from her hair and dragged her fingers through the tangle, probably standing it on end. She didn’t care. This day had skidded into a ditch, and it wasn’t even seven in the morning. Attacked on the trail. Stranded with only Lucas or the cops as her options for rescue. A strange man with her house keys.
Really. It couldn’t get any worse.