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“Why didn’t you tell me you were being stalked?” Max asked.

“Because I didn’t know for sure,” Tara said. “I didn’t really believe it, until I saw…my dog.”

Max stared at her intently for a long moment, then leaned his hips back against her kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “You have fifteen minutes to pack.”

“What?” She stared back at him.

“Tara, I’m not leaving you here alone with some stalker on the loose. I’ll find a safe haven.”

Admittedly, the idea held some appeal. She’d be closer to the hospital, able to keep an eye on Max’s sister. And if she stubbornly insisted on staying in her house, she doubted she’d get any sleep. She’d lie awake, frighteningly aware of every sound.

But going with Max would be a risk, too. She was already feeling too close to him. Too grateful for his protection.

LAURA SCOTT

grew up reading faith-based romance books by Grace Livingston Hill, but as much as she loved the stories, she longed for a bit more mystery and suspense. She is honored to write for the Love Inspired Suspense line at Steeple Hill Books, where a reader can find a heartwarming journey of faith amidst the thrilling danger.

Laura lives with her husband of twenty-five years and has two children, a daughter and a son, who are both in college. She works as a critical care nurse during the day at a large level-one trauma center in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and spends her spare time writing romance.

Please visit Laura at www.laurascottbooks.com as she loves to hear from her readers.

The Thanksgiving Target
Laura Scott

In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From His temple He heard my voice; my cry came before Him, into His ears.

—Psalms 18:6

To my husband, Scott, with love—thanks for a truly

blessed twenty-five years of marriage. I look forward

to many more cherished years together!

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

“Wait a minute. Stop right there,” a female vice commanded. “Who let you in?”

Lieutenant’s Max Forrester’s head snapped up, and he belatedly realized there was a woman at his sister Lissa’s hospital bedside. A chair with a discarded blanket on the seat was tucked in the corner where she must have been sitting.

Who was she? The ICU clerk had told him Lissa’s visitors were restricted.

“Are you Gary?” she asked sharply, a dark scowl marring her otherwise dainty features. She was young, about Lissa’s age, her long dark hair pulled back in a braid that hung down to her shoulders. She was dressed in a conservative navy blue jacket and skirt, with an official-looking ID pinned to her lapel. Her radiating anger caught him off guard. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

Gary? Who was she talking about? He lifted his hands palm forward, hoping to calm her down. “I’m not Gary. I’m Lissa’s brother, Max Forrester. The woman at the desk checked my ID before letting me in.”

“Her brother?” The petite woman eyed him suspiciously, not giving him an inch. “Melissa didn’t mention a brother.”

She hadn’t? The news hurt. Why hadn’t Lissa said anything about him? True, they didn’t chat often, but she’d been happy to know he was coming home on leave to spend the Thanksgiving holiday together.

Glancing down at his sister, with her bruised and battered face, he realized this woman, who must be a friend of Lissa’s, had every right to be suspicious. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. Lissa couldn’t even breathe on her own because she wasn’t conscious. His sister must have been mugged to end up here like this.

“Here’s my ID,” he said, handing it to her. “I’ve been in Iraq the past three years and just arrived home on leave today. When Lissa didn’t meet me at the airport, I went to her apartment and her landlord told me she was here.”

The woman stared at his ID for a long moment, then handed it back with a weary sigh. “I’m sorry. I should have known Gary wouldn’t go so far as to disguise himself in army fatigues.”

“Who are you?” Max asked, putting his ID back in his wallet. “And who’s Gary?”

“My name is Tara Carmichael. I’m Melissa’s social worker.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gazed down at Lissa, with sorrow and despair. “Unfortunately, Gary is the man who did this to her.”

Tara Carmichael eyed the handsome stranger warily. Melissa’s brother cut an impressive figure in his camouflage fatigues, and she imagined he’d be even more so in action. Right now though, his tormented gaze was riveted on his sister, his face drawn into harsh lines of anger.

“What’s Gary’s last name?” he asked, his low voice vibrating with suppressed anger. “Where can I find him?”

She suppressed a sigh. “I wish I knew. Melissa never told me his full name. In fact, the last time she left him, she refused to go to the police to press charges. Even when I drove her to a women’s shelter, she stayed for only a few days before going back home.”

“What?” Max whirled on her, pinning her with his stark gaze. “Are you telling me this happened before?”

She swallowed hard, knowing his anger wasn’t directed at her. Besides, she had to admit, he was showing remarkable control. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Not this bad, just a few bruises but enough to make me concerned.”

He was silent, and she watched a myriad of emotions playing across his features: fury, despair, agony, helplessness. Finally he turned away, letting out a harsh sound as he tightened his fingers around the side rail of Melissa’s bed. His tortured expression of self-recrimination tugged at her heart. “I didn’t know,” he murmured, his tone full of anguish. “I honestly didn’t know.”

Tara wasn’t sure what to say. Melissa had obviously kept secrets. From both of them.

“She didn’t mention Gary or that she had a new boyfriend?” she asked, hesitantly. It did seem odd to her that Melissa hadn’t mentioned her brother during any of their meetings. Although maybe it was because he was so far away, stationed in Iraq, Melissa hadn’t seen him as a true support system.

For a long moment, Lieutenant Forrester stared down at his hands. “A few months ago, she did mention meeting a guy but didn’t really say much about it. I don’t always have a chance to respond to e-mails, especially once the fighting heats up. Weeks can pass before I’m able to return messages.”

She could only imagine how difficult it must be for the men and women who fight overseas. Even if Melissa had mentioned Gary, what would it matter? The damage was already done. Clearly, this time Gary had gone too far.

“I understand.” She tried to smile, but it wasn’t easy. Melissa’s situation was grim. When the hospital had called, letting her know about Melissa’s admission and suspected abuse, she’d immediately rushed over. Seeing Melissa in such bad shape had shaken her. Especially when Melissa had begged for her to keep Gary away, right before she’d slipped into a coma. There wasn’t much she could do at that point, other than pray for her safe recovery. But sitting there, watching Melissa fight for her life, she’d vowed to stay close, supporting Melissa’s escape from her boyfriend once and for all.

At least having Lieutenant Forrester here eased one of her concerns. Melissa wasn’t alone, not any longer. Between her brother and herself, she was convinced they could pull Melissa through this crisis.

“You’re Lissa’s social worker?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts. “That’s why you were allowed in?”

She hesitated, knowing she couldn’t tell him much about Melissa’s history of substance abuse without breaking her client’s confidentiality, before nodding. “Yes. The hospital called me when she was admitted.”

“I see.” Max Forrester stood ramrod straight, his military bearing ingrained to the point she wondered if he ever relaxed. A spurt of sympathy nudged her heart. This couldn’t be a very nice homecoming for him. After fighting for three years in Iraq, coming home to find his sister in the ICU had to be a shock.

“Have you spoken to Melissa’s nurse?” she asked, wishing there was more she could do to help him.

“Not yet.”

“I’ll get her for you.” Grateful for something constructive to do, she stepped out into the hallway, glancing around for Natalie, the young woman taking care of Melissa. Natalie was in by another patient, but as soon as she saw Tara hovering there, she finished what she was doing and stepped out. “Do you need something?”

“Melissa’s brother is here, having just arrived home from Iraq, and he would like some information on Melissa’s injuries.”

“Sure. I’ll be right in.”

Tara returned to Melissa’s room, and Natalie followed a few moments later. She introduced herself to Lieutenant Forrester.

“Melissa has two cracked ribs and a fairly serious head injury. The doctors have ordered another CT scan of her head for first thing in the morning, which should tell us if the injury is getting worse or better.”

The lieutenant paled. “Will she wake up?”

Natalie offered a gentle smile. “So far her head injury is serious, but if it doesn’t get much worse, she should recover just fine. I wish I could tell you more, but right now we can only wait and see how things go.”

He swallowed hard. “Thank you.” He looked so grim, his face drawn into harsh lines, that Tara had the insane urge to step closer and take his hand, offering him her support. But she kept her hands tightly clasped in front of her.

“I’ll need your contact information,” Natalie said, picking up a clipboard. “Have you spoken to the police yet?”

“No. But I’d like to,” Max said.

Tara was surprised to hear the police were involved this time. “Do they have Gary in custody?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” Natalie said with a tiny frown. “Officer James Newton gave me his card and asked me to call him when Melissa woke up so he could question her.” She turned to Max. “What’s your phone number?”

She wrote the information as Max rattled it off. “Can I have the police number, too?” he asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Natalie gave him the information and then glanced up when a shrill beeping echoed from across the hall. “Excuse me,” she murmured before dashing away.

With a grim expression, Max tucked the phone number into the pocket of his camouflage shirt. Silence hung heavily between them.

Smoothing her hands over her wrinkled jacket, Tara glanced at him. “Well, it’s late and I really need to get home. But I’ll be back in the morning to check on your sister.”

He stared down at Melissa. “I’ll stay here.”

She sensed his exhaustion and understood the desire to stay near his sister, but it was obvious that he needed some rest. Her social worker training kicked in. “Lieutenant, you should really find a hotel nearby to spend the night. Melissa is in good hands. The nurses here are wonderful. We’ve limited her visitors to protect her. You need your rest, too. She’s going to need your strength and support over the long haul.”

He remained silent, but she could see the emotional tug of war on his face. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted finally. “I’ve been on a plane since yesterday. Are there cheap hotels nearby?” His troubled gaze cut back to his sister. “I’d like to be close, keeping in touch regarding Lissa’s progress.”

“Of course.” Tara folded away her own problems and concerns, trying to remember which hotels offered the best prices. “The family center has brochures for all the nearby hotels, and I’m pretty certain a few offer discounts for families with loved ones here at the hospital.”

“That would be great.” He smiled, and she was struck by how his harsh features softened with the gesture. His eyes were the same bright green as Melissa’s. With his broad shoulders and chocolate-brown hair cut military short, Lieutenant Forrester was a very handsome man.

The realization made her stomach clench, sending her back a step. How could she notice Melissa’s brother in that way? She’d loved Ted, her husband, with her whole heart and soul. Her love hadn’t changed when he died. She’d vowed to love him forever.

“It’s no problem.” She worked hard to ensure her tone portrayed only the utmost professionalism. Turning, she led the way out of the ICU, taking the elevator back down to the main level, acutely aware of Max walking silently at her side.

She found the brochures in the family center, quickly pointing out several options before leaving. She needed some distance from the tall, handsome stranger. The bus stop was right outside the main doors of the hospital, so she walked in that direction.

Remembering why she was forced to take the bus, rather than her car, made her shiver as she stepped outside. When she’d left for work earlier that evening, she’d discovered someone had maliciously slashed all four of her tires, rendering her car useless. She’d called the police and waited while they dusted for fingerprints. Since she was in a hurry to see Melissa, she’d left her disabled car in the parking lot and had taken the bus to the hospital, rather than deal with the hassle of getting her car towed.

She couldn’t help wonder if the man with the navy blue jacket and baseball cap who’d followed her the other day was the same person who’d slashed her tires. His baseball cap had been pulled low over his eyes, and the collar of his jacket was pulled up to cover his face so she hadn’t gotten a good look at him.

Now that it was so late, she couldn’t help but glance around, searching for anyone wearing a baseball cap as she made her way to the bus stop.

The shelter outside the bus stop wasn’t deserted, as she’d hoped. There were two men standing there—neither wore a baseball cap—but one of them looked extremely disheveled, taking deep drags off a cigarette despite the signs declaring the area as nonsmoking. Her steps slowed as she hesitantly approached, and she glanced up the street hoping the bus would arrive soon. After her tire-slashing incident, it was difficult not to look at everyone around her with uncertainty.

She gathered her courage and lifted her gaze heavenward. Please, Lord, keep me safe.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she did her best to remain warm in spite of the chilly night temperatures. She didn’t have her coat; she’d left her office in such a hurry she’d forgotten it.

“Ms. Carmichael?”

The sound of her name had her spinning around in a rush, her heart thumping in her throat. Lieutenant Max Forrester stood a few feet behind her, his face etched in a deep scowl.

“Oh, no, did something happen to Melissa?” Fearing the worst, she took several steps toward him. “Is she…?”

He held up a hand. “No, she’s fine. Not fine, but her condition is unchanged.”

Relief flooded her. “You had me worried.”

“Ma’am, why are you out here waiting for the bus?” He swept a gaze behind her, noticing the two men sharing the bus stop with her. “It’s late, half past nine at night. You’d be much safer in a taxi.”

Her pride was stung by his somewhat condescending tone. She welcomed the surge of annoyance. Obviously if she’d wanted to take a taxi she would have. Maybe she didn’t normally take the bus, but she wasn’t about to tell this stranger her problems with vandalism. “Thanks for your concern, Lieutenant, but I can take care of myself.”

“Ma’am, I’m sure you can, but since I grew up in St. Louis, I know the crime rate isn’t something to brag about.”

“I grew up here, too, so I’m well aware of the crime rate.”

The fact they had something so minor in common shouldn’t have made a difference, but she couldn’t help feel a sense of kinship with Melissa’s brother.

“Fine.” He gave her a brisk nod that was more like a salute, widened his stance and crossed his arms over his broad chest, reminding her of a human shield. “If you’re going to ride the bus home alone, I’ll ride along with you.”

TWO

Her jaw dropped, and she gaped at him in surprise. While she appreciated his gallantry, his protection wasn’t necessary. There was no reason for her to spend any more time with him. Besides, he needed to stick close to the hospital for Melissa. “I thought you wanted to stay in one of the hotels nearby? There’s no need to go out of your way.”

“I’ll find a hotel room on the way back. There’s no rush.” He frowned, and his voice grew soft and slightly grim as he added, “Lissa’s not going anywhere. As you said earlier, she’s in good hands.”

Biting her lip, she pondered her choices. If she simply gave in and took a cab, she knew the lieutenant would step back and go about his own business. If she stubbornly took the bus, she had no doubt he’d ride along with her.

Trying to hide a shiver, she turned away, reaching into her purse to subtly check her pocketbook. She hadn’t spent any money on lunch, having packed some leftovers from home, but she had filled up her gas tank earlier in the week. She didn’t think there was much cash left and verified the dismal amount rather quickly. With a sigh, she closed her purse with a quiet snap.

There was no choice but to strengthen her resolve and take the bus home. Borrowing money from the stranger would be much worse than enduring a protective shadow on her ride. If the lieutenant wanted to ride the bus she couldn’t stop him. Besides, she didn’t have the energy to fight.

A heavy fabric dropped over her shoulders, carrying the enticing, musky scent of man. Startled, she glanced up at Max, who was straightening the camouflage jacket over her shoulders.

“You were shivering,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, dropping his hands and refastening his duffel bag. “And I appreciate your help in lightening my load.”

She wanted to smile at how he’d tried to make her believe she was really the one helping him, but sudden tears pricked her eyes. When was the last time anyone had noticed if she was tired, hungry or cold? Ridiculous to so grateful for a chivalrous gesture, and she swiped the moisture away with an impatient hand trying to pull herself together.

“Thank you, but I really wish you wouldn’t do this,” she told him. “I hate taking you out of your way.”

In that instant, the bus lumbered up to the stop. With a sigh, she took her place behind the man who’d been smoking, grimacing a bit when he tossed his cigarette butt directly in front of her before he boarded the bus. There weren’t many occupants at this time of the night, and most of them were men. One passenger wore a baseball cap backward on his head, but he looked too young to be the man she’d seen following her.

She slipped into an empty pair of seats taking the one closest to the window, not at all surprised when Max chose the seat right next to her. His broad shoulders brushed lightly against hers, and she found she was grateful for his reassuringly protective presence.

Safe. For the first time in three weeks, her underlying sense of fear melted away. If anyone was following her, he’d certainly think twice about approaching her now.

And for that small favor, she owed Lieutenant Forrester a huge debt of gratitude.

Max tried to ignore the rumbling in his stomach and slid a sideways glance at Ms. Carmichael, hoping she hadn’t heard the betraying sound.

He’d stop for something to eat after he’d seen her home.

Just then, her stomach let out a low gurgle, a grumbling sound that was even louder than his.

She blushed and let out a small chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m hungry. I skipped dinner.”

Max stared at her, realizing with a start how pretty she was. Her cheekbones were high, her skin translucent. In his anxiety over Lissa he hadn’t really noticed her mesmerizing blue eyes. Not that he had time to think about a pretty woman, especially since he needed to get back to the hospital to see Lissa. Even taking this much time away bothered him, but he couldn’t ignore Tara’s plight, either. Besides, he planned to be there for his sister, offering strength and support for the duration of his leave.

He didn’t want to think about what would happen once he returned to Iraq.

This wasn’t the time to worry about the future. Right now he was hungry. He’d already figured out that Tara didn’t have much money, especially when she’d subtly checked her purse for cab money.

They were both hungry and needed to eat.

“I haven’t eaten in several hours myself. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but seeing as this is my first night on American soil in three years, would you do me the honor of allowing me to buy you dinner?” He couldn’t help but produce a wistful smile. Did she have any idea how much he’d looked forward to his first American meal? The food they’d given them on the plane hadn’t counted, since he could barely recognize what it was. “It’s no fun eating alone.”

“That’s a kind offer, but…” Her voice trailed off, and he noticed she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. He was mentally prepared for her refusal when all of a sudden she abruptly nodded. “You’re right. It’s no fun eating alone. You’ve come a long way home, Lieutenant, after dutifully serving our country. I’d be happy to share dinner with you.”

“Really?” He couldn’t hide his surprise. Maybe she was simply taking pity on a lonely soldier, but he wasn’t going to argue. He was thrilled she’d agreed to accompany him. He’d hoped to eat with Lissa, but this was almost just as nice. “Great. Is there someplace we can go that’s close to your home? The only restaurant I’m familiar with is the one where Lissa works as a waitress.”

Tara tilted her head, regarding him thoughtfully. “I know where your sister works. It’s not far from Maplewood, where I live. And I happen to know they serve meals late, including breakfast if you’re in the mood.”

“Breakfast would be great, but I think I’m going to have a large juicy American burger slathered with the works,” he mused. A glance out the window confirmed they were close to the restaurant. “Let’s get off here then, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” She stood, clutching his camouflage jacket closer to her shoulders. He was glad she’d stopped shivering. Taking a step back, he gestured for her to move out in front of him.

The walk to the restaurant from the bus stop didn’t take long. Tara glanced at his duffel, as if worried it might be too heavy for him to lug around, which made him smile. He’d hauled his own gear over many a mile before, riding around the city in the comfort of a bus didn’t even come close to being a burden.

They took opposite seats at a booth. He opened the menu, marveling at the selection, but in the end, he didn’t change his mind about what he wanted. Tara ordered a chicken breast sandwich, and once the waiter left, he took a healthy gulp of his water, enjoying the icy smoothness against his parched throat.

Even the water tasted good.

“Lieutenant, tell me, how long will you be staying in St. Louis?” Tara asked.

“Please, call me Max. I’m home for just a twenty-day leave, but my tour of duty ends in another year. After that, I’ll have to decide whether I’ll reenlist or go back to the private sector.” Not that he had any clue as to what he’d do once he was out. The army had quickly become his life, and his men had become his brothers. He’d lost his best friend, who had died in his arms shortly after their deployment to Iraq, but even that tragedy couldn’t break the bonds he had with the rest of his men.

But his sister obviously needed him, too. More than he’d realized.

“Reenlist?” Tara’s big blue eyes widened. “I’m surprised you’re even considering another tour of duty. You’ve put in your time in Iraq, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” He finished his water and placed the empty glass toward the edge of the table, hoping someone would refill it for him. “But there is still a lot of work to be done there. To be honest, my decision was going to depend on Lissa.” His mouth tightened as he thought of his sister.

“Have you called the police officer assigned to her case yet?” she asked.

Max nodded. “I left him a message. I guess he works the day shift.”

“I’m really glad you’re here for Melissa,” Tara admitted, sitting back in her seat with a sigh. “And I’m relieved to know the police are involved. Gary needs to be arrested for what he’s done, and this time, I don’t think Melissa will be able to protect him.”

He scowled, wondering again why Lissa had even gotten mixed up with someone who’d hurt her. He simply couldn’t understand it. He and Lissa had been raised Christian, but maybe Lissa had fallen away from the church, just like he had. Losing Keith had made it impossible to maintain his faith. What had caused Lissa to lose hers? He shook off the depressing thoughts. “I’ll take care of her, don’t worry. I’ll move in with her and refuse to leave until he’s safe behind bars.”

She laughed, a light musical sound that tightened his stomach in awareness. “Sounds like a great plan to me.”

Their food arrived promptly, diverting his attention from Tara. His mouth literally watered at the wonderful scent of his burger and fries, and he hoped he wasn’t being too much of a pig as he heartily dug in to his meal.

Tara didn’t seem to mind. She was enjoying her grilled chicken just as much. “This is delicious. Thanks for inviting me,” she said between bites.

He knew he was the lucky one, sharing this meal with her. He wanted to savor the food and the time with Tara, drawing them out for as long as possible. But she was nearly finished, so he polished off the rest of his burger quickly.

“Are you up for dessert?” he asked hopefully.

She shook her head with an amused grimace. “Sorry, nothing for me, thanks. I need to get home. My poor dog is going to be sitting at the door wondering where I am.”

He understood she didn’t want to linger and signaled for the waiter to bring the bill. “What kind of dog do you have?”

“A cute little Westie. A West Highland white terrier,” she clarified at his puzzled look. “His name is Beau. I rescued him from the local shelter a couple years ago.”

“Well then, let’s not keep Beau waiting, especially if he’s been home alone all day.” He paid for the meal with cash, and thinking of Melissa living off her tips, he left a hefty sum.

“Well, I do have a neighbor lady, Mrs. Henderson, who comes over to let him out at lunchtime for me. She has a key and lets him out in the early evening too if I’m working late,” Tara said over her shoulder as they left the restaurant.

“Which way to your house?” he asked, feeling much better with food in his belly. Now if only Lissa would get well, he’d be happy. Or at least content. Was it selfish of him to want her home from the hospital in time for Thanksgiving? Maybe. “Should we walk, or do we need to catch another bus?”

“We can walk. It’s only about six or seven blocks from here.” She headed off in the opposite direction from where Lissa’s apartment building was located. She stopped and glanced at him. “If you’d rather head back to the hospital, I’d certainly understand.”

“Ma’am, it might be only six or seven blocks but it’s ten-thirty at night. I’ll walk you home. There’s no way in the world I’m leaving you alone at this hour.”

“If you want me to call you Max, then you should probably stop calling me ma’am,” she pointed out, as they headed down the street. “You’re making me feel old.”

“Old?” he chuckled, a rusty sound even to his own ears. “You’re young, probably the same age as my sister.”

She arched a brow at him. “I’m a couple years older than Melissa,” she corrected in a prim tone.

“Still very young.” Especially when lately he’d felt as if he were a hundred years old. Maybe in part because he’d seen things no man should have to endure. Despite the hardships, he firmly believed freedom was worth the effort.

Tara set a brisk pace, and he wasn’t sure it was because she was cold or because she was anxious to get rid of him. He couldn’t blame her if she felt uncomfortable being in the dark alone with him. After they walked several blocks she lifted her hand and pointed. “My house is over there, the third one from the corner.”

“The little red brick house with the white trim and black shutters?” he asked.

“Yes.” As they approached, she frowned. “I wonder why Beau isn’t barking his head off by now. Usually he hears me coming long before this.”

An icy chill snaked down his spine, and he grasped her arm. “Tara, wait. Maybe I should go up first.”

Tuning in to his abrupt wariness, she sucked in a quick breath. “Why? You think something happened to Beau?”

He couldn’t explain his trepidation, and he held on to her arm, bringing her to a halt. “Give me your key,” he commanded.

She handed it over, and he swept a glance over the area, making sure no one was lurking around.

He put the key in the lock and turned the doorknob, slowly pushing the door open. The house was eerily silent. From where he stood outside, he stretched until he could slide his hand over the inside wall of her foyer, seeking the light switch.

“Stay here.” The area flooded with light, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign that the dog wasn’t lying there on the floor directly in front of the door.

“No way. I’m coming with you.”

He wanted to argue, but then he heard it—a little whimper of sound.

“Beau?” Tara must have heard it, too, and she pushed past him, rushing down the hall into the kitchen, with blatant disregard of her own safety.

“Wait!” He grit his teeth with anger and followed, intent on keeping her out of harm’s way.