Page 7 of A Veteran's Desire
I head outside, and Hannah is two steps behind. “What are you talking about? I don’t need a bodyguard.”
I reach the cone at the same time as Owen with a furious Hannah behind me. Her eyes blaze and she can be angry with me all she likes, but she’s the one who’s here on her own starting atfour in the morning baking. There is no way in hell I’m letting her do that alone.
“What have you got?” Owen asks.
Hannah folds her arms across her chest. “I’d like to know what the hell is going on.”
I can’t protect her any longer from the truth. She may as well hear it. “This wasn’t the storm. This was deliberate.”
“What do you mean?” Hannah’s voice is shaky.
“I mean someone broke into your cafe during the storm, tore down your family photos, and chucked a stone through your window. They used the storm as cover, but it was a targeted attack.”
Hannah’s expression changes, and the anger turns to something else: fear. She’s scared, and that makes me more determined to protect her.
“Who would do that?”
I have my suspicions. Someone’s trying to buy up the land where the Baxter farm is. Several property owners have been approached. Some small holdings are selling up, but the Baxters are the second owners to turn down the offer. It can’t be a coincidence that their main source of income then got targeted.
“Hey!” Owen strides toward a woman with dark bushy hair pulled back in a ponytail which swings as she moves. She has her phone up taking pictures of the damaged cafe. “Put that goddamn phone down.”
The woman spins around, and I recognize Daphne. She writes for the local paper and news site, and I’ve seen her at the cafe sometimes.
“Did you hear any of that?” Owen barks at her.
“Did I hear that someone vandalized Sweet & Strong during the storm, or did I hear that you’re still a shouty asshole blocking me from doing my job?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m serious, Daphne. This is all speculation, and I don’t want any of it to get printed anywhere, not even on your gossipy local Facebook groups.”
“Ouch.” She looks mock offended. “That’s where most of this town gets their news.”
“That explains a lot,” Owen mutters.
Daphne raises an eyebrow. “It was one of those ‘Gossipy Facebook groups’ that mobilized all these volunteers you’re seeing, so...”
Owen huffs out a breath. “I don’t have time for this. Don’t print, or post, anything about what you just heard. This is serious, and it could impede the investigation.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “I won’t say anything, sheriff, on one condition. You come to me when you have the whole story.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t negotiate with journalists. Don’t mention this, and that’s an order.” Owen strides toward the cafe, and Daphne calls after him.
“And I don’t take orders from uptight men.”
Daphne narrows her eyes at him, and I notice how her gaze tracks down to the sheriff’s ass once his back is turned.
But someone else’s secret crush is not my concern. Hannah is speaking with Rachel, and they both glance over at me. Hannah’s expression is still annoyed, and I’ll take that over her fear any day. Owen will have questions for them so I head up the road, giving Hannah a little time to cool off. I bet she hasn’t eaten, so I grab another two hot dogs from the guy running the grill and take one apiece down to Hannah and Rachel.
As I hand Hannah her hot dog, our fingers touch. It’s a small contact, but that warmth from her little finger is enough to remind me why I need to keep vigilant. I missed something one day, and someone ended up dead. I won’t make that mistake again.
I turn away before she can see my hands trembling and stuff them in my pockets. I can’t change the past, but I will not let anything happen to Hannah.
3
HANNAH
The mountain looms in the darkness, a cold, constant presence against the still night. The heater hums, filling the car with warm air, but I shiver as I pass the sign for Hope. A branch tore into it during the storm, leaving a dent in the metal and one side hanging askew.
I slow to the town speed limit and cruise through the empty streets.
