Page 3

CHAPTER 3

LARK

Even though the initial shock has subsided, it still doesn’t feel real.

Someone broke into my house. Shot me. Could have been trying to kill me.

If that’s not unnerving enough, I actually fired back at him. Hit him, as far as I could tell.

In all the classes and practice sessions over the years, I never imagined actually using my gun as a weapon. I never thought I’d actually need to.

I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I let myself think that by keeping the gun in my nightstand, it was almost a guarantee I’d never need it. Like buying liability insurance when you rent a car—if you cave and get it, you’re pretty much guaranteed not to use it. But the one time you pass, that’s when you get into a fender-bender in the grocery store parking lot and end up on the hook for the repairs.

I took pride showing off my shooting skills at the range. I took satisfaction in the startled expressions of the guys around me as I hit one bullseye after another. My overachieving self rejoiced at the small victory, proving that a woman could do it just as well as the men.

But actually shooting a living person? Even though he was trying to hurt me, I still feel sick at the thought of it.

I feel sick, period.

My arm is throbbing, even though the actual wound was numbed up before the doctor stitched it up—the ten stitches in my upper arm sticking out like a tiny row of caterpillar legs. The feeling has finally come back to my feet, but they’re still cold even with two layers of socks and a warming blanket over them.

The lingering fear and disbelief has my stomach twisted in knots. One of the nurses offered to get me some crackers or chips and something to drink, but the very thought of food made my throat feel like it was closing up.

I know I’m incredibly lucky, really. All it would have taken was one different decision, and the night could have ended much differently.

If I hadn’t stayed up late to read my book, I would have been asleep, and might not have heard the man in my house. If I hadn’t grabbed my gun, I wouldn’t have been able to defend myself. To slow him down long enough to make an escape. And if I’d gone a different direction instead of heading through the woods, I could have run into the intruder instead of Knox.

So I’m lucky. I know I am. I lost a chunk of flesh from my arm, which was extremely gross to look at but not a serious injury. My feet got some frostbite, but the snow cushioned them from further injury. And the most important thing—I escaped.

I just don’t feel very lucky right now.

And I feel very alone. The doctor and nurses are gone, my dad can’t get here yet because his driveway is completely blocked by snow, and I’m not sure where Knox is. The last time I saw him was as I was being loaded into the ambulance and he said he’d come to the hospital, but what if he changed his mind? What if he’s pissed I basically brought my crap directly to him? Possibly put him in danger?

Groaning—not in pain, but frustration, this time—I flop back on my pillow. Glancing out the window, I notice the snow has tapered to light flurries, and the sun is just starting to peek above the horizon, casting a pink and amber glow across the blanket of crisp white.

What if I ruined my friendship with Knox in all of this?

“Ugh.” I squeeze my eyes shut as tears threaten to escape. Again. “This sucks.”

“Lark?” Knox steps into the doorway, a look of deep concern on his face. “Are you alright?” He pauses. “What am I saying? Of course you’re not alright.”

“I’m okay.” Struggling to push myself up, I stupidly forget about my injured arm and try to use it for leverage. As pain sears through my arm, I wince and hiss out a low curse.

“Oh, Lark.” Knox rushes into the room, coming to my side and sliding his arm behind me to help me up. “Be careful. I don’t want you to hurt yourself—” His gaze drops to the white bandage on my arm and his brows pull into an unhappy V. “Well. More than you already are.”

“I…” But I can’t seem to form more words than that. Not with Knox touching me. Not with his strong arm holding me up and his intoxicating scent wrapping around me, a blend of citrus and cedar and something else that’s uniquely him. And his face is so close to mine I can see the flecks of silver in his dark blue eyes and the tiny scar just below his hairline.

He held me on that terrifying trip back to his house, and he sat next to me on the couch while he wrapped up my arm, but that was different. The shock was still so intense, I couldn’t register anything else clearly.

But now… I’m struck by this wild desire to fling myself into Knox’s arms and beg him to hold me. To plead with him to stay.

“Lark.” Worry darkens his eyes so they’re nearly black. He leans down to inspect my face. “How much pain are you in? Have they given you anything yet?”

“I thought you left.”

Oops. That’s not what he asked. “I mean?—”

“No, of course not.” He reaches behind him to drag a chair to the side of the bed and drops into it. His gaze still on mine, he adds, “I had to wait until the doctor said it was okay to come in. Did you really think I’d just leave you here?”

My cheeks heat. “I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if you were mad at me.”

“Mad?” His eyebrows shoot up. “Why would I—” Voice gentling, he continues, “I told you before, but I know things were crazy. I am not angry. At all. I was coming to look for you. After I heard the gunshots. So if you hadn’t found me, I would have found you.”

Oh.

The band around my chest releases. “You were?”

“Absolutely.” Knox brushes a piece of hair behind my ear, his fingers sending little tingles as they brush my skin. “But I am so glad you came to me. Thought of me.”

After a beat, he casts a quick look around the small hospital room, his eyes narrowing as he takes it all in. “How long do you have to stay here?”

“I think I can leave later this morning. With all the paperwork, it takes a while to process everything.”

“Okay. That’s good. And the police?”

“I haven’t talked to anyone yet.” A thought hits me, sending ice water rushing through my veins. “Do you think I’ll be in trouble? For shooting that man? I don’t know how badly I hurt him.” My voice rises as I continue. “What if… what if he presses charges? Will I go to jail?”

“Absolutely not.” Knox takes my hand, engulfing it in his much bigger one. “You will not get in trouble. You were defending yourself. In your own home. You did the right thing.”

It makes sense, but in my scattered state, it’s hard to think rationally. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” His handsome features soften as he looks at me. “I’m sure, Lark. They’ll want to know everything that happened, but you will not be in trouble.”

Meeting his gaze, I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “Okay.”

We both fall quiet after that, just looking at each other. Something moves between us. A frisson of something electric. Something that makes my heart skip a beat.

For a few seconds, I feel like everything is okay. Maybe better than that.

Knox blinks first, almost like he’s awakening from a dream. An indecipherable emotion moves across his face. Then he blinks again and says, “Actually, the entire team is here. Enzo, Gage, Alec, and Ronan. They’re out in the waiting room.”

“They are?” I know Enzo from his outdoor supply shop, where I went to buy new snowshoes and hiking gear. The others I’ve heard Knox mention from time to time, referring to them as his teammates and also close friends. “Why?”

A small smile curves his lips. “To make sure you’re safe.”

“Oh.” My first unspoken question is, why ? Aren’t I safe in the hospital, surrounded by doctors and security guards and plenty of security?

A moment later, the chilling reality of my situation answers it for me. Because the person I shot is still out there. He could be looking for me. And security didn’t do much good at my house, given that a person broke into my house and I had no idea.

“Oh,” I repeat. A tiny shiver shakes my body. “Well. Um.” And now that silly pulse monitor they’re making me wear on my finger speeds up, beeping as it hits an irregular rhythm.

“Hey,” Knox soothes. His thumb strokes across the top of my hand. “You’re okay. You’re safe. It’s not that I think you’re in danger here. But I’d rather be safe than sorry, you know? ”

Taking another steadying breath, I say, “You’re right. And I’m not usually this… easily rattled. I just don’t quite feel like myself right now.”

“Of course you don’t. Not considering…” His smile dips before lifting again. “You’re holding up fantastically, Lark. Trust me.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask how long he’s staying when a soft rap sounds on the open door. My body tenses as I look over to see two uniformed police officers standing there, one a woman with a long blonde braid, the other a tall man with piercing green eyes. They’re both wearing matching somber expressions, and despite Knox’s reassurance, my pulse jumps of its own accord.

As Knox squeezes my hand, the woman says kindly, “Hi. Lark Weber, right?” At my nod, she continues, “I’m Officer Nelson. And this is my partner, Officer Quillian. We’d like to ask you some questions, if you’re up to it?”

Before I can answer, Officer Quillian lifts his chin in Knox’s direction. “Knox. Good to see you.”

Officer Nelson looks at Knox. “Same. I figured you’d be here, since you’re the one who called it in.”

Knox gives both of them a quick nod. “Yeah. I want to make sure Lark’s okay.”

“So do we.” Officer Nelson turns her attention back to me and gives me a gentle smile. “Are you up for some questions?”

“Yes.” Not really. But I know I have to. “I didn’t take any pain meds. So I’d be clear-headed for this.”

The two officers walk into the room, stopping about six feet away from my bed. And with their eyes on me in this flimsy hospital gown, I feel more exposed than I was during any of the examinations I had earlier.

Officer Quillian glances at Knox with his eyebrows raised. “If you’d like to give us some time alone with Miss Weber?”

No.

I don’t want Knox to leave.

My fingers convulse around his. My breathing quickens. That dreaded band around my chest tightens again.

“Lark.” Knox looks at me, understanding and empathy in his gaze. “Do you want me to leave? Or stay with you?”

Is it cowardly to ask him to stay? Shouldn’t I be able to handle some questions on my own?

The answer to both is yes. But I can’t make myself say it. Instead, I whisper through a narrowing throat, “Stay. Please.” And after a beat, realizing how pathetic I sound, I add, “But if you have somewhere else to go?—”

“I don’t.” His response is immediate. Certain. “I want to stay here with you.” Then he turns back to Officer Quillian. “I won’t interfere with your questions. But I’m staying with Lark.”

A small smile touches Officer Nelson’s lips as she answers for her partner. “It’s fine, Knox. I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Officer Quillian pulls a small notebook from his pocket and flips it open. In his other pocket, he retrieves a bright pink pen topped with a tiny spray of sparkly feathers. It’s so incongruous to the rest of his appearance, I can’t help staring at it.

He catches the direction of my gaze and smiles, a big one that lights up his face and brings a softness to his expression. “It’s from my niece,” he explains. “She’s seven. And she gave it to me for my birthday this year, very insistent that I take it to work with me. So”—he gives a little shrug—“here it is. Ruining my very serious police officer demeanor.”

I return his smile with a small one of my own. “I like it. It’s very colorful. And sparkly.”

“That it is.” There’s a pause, and then his posture stiffens. “So, Miss Weber. I hate to rush into this, but if we’re going to find this guy, we need as much information as possible.”

My heart lurches into my throat. “You didn’t find him?”

“Not yet.” He frowns. “But we’re working on it. There’s a team dusting your house for fingerprints and searching for evidence as we speak. We’ll need access to your security footage—I noticed you have cameras at both doors—and anything else you have.”

“The alarm didn’t go off,” I tell him. “I don’t know why. It’s always set at night.”

“How did you know he was in the house?” Officer Nelson asks.

“I was up late reading. Usually I go to bed around ten, ten-thirty. But it was such a good book, I kept reading. I was just about to go to sleep when I heard the sound. A creak. At first, I thought the house was settling…”

And from there, I tell them everything. About how I was sure the sound was nothing, but I wanted to be sure. And how I took the gun, feeling kind of silly about it, truly not believing I’d have to use it .

I outline in meticulous detail everything I can remember about the altercation in the hallway. The man’s dark clothing—black I thought, but on further reflection, it could have been dark gray or blue—his height, nearly as tall as Knox, and even the Vermont inflection to his words.

When I recall those terrifying moments when the intruder shot me, Knox bites out a low curse, and his features turn stony. And when I talk about shooting the intruder, Officer Nelson gives me an approving glance, the first sign that I might not be in trouble, as Knox said.

By the time I wrap up my story, plus stopping every minute or so to answer additional questions, I’m wiped. But it’s a jittery kind of exhaustion, like I haven’t slept for days and just downed three energy drinks in a row. I’m still clutching Knox’s hand, but he hasn’t tried to remove it, instead giving me tiny, comforting squeezes as I talk.

“Well,” Officer Quinlan says after taking another quick glance at his notebook. “I think we’re good for now. If we think of any other questions for you, Miss Weber?—”

I give him a tired smile as I interrupt him. “I think at this point, it’s okay if you call me Lark.”

“Okay.” He smiles back. “Officially, I’m still Officer Quillian. But outside of my police duties, you can call me Patrick. Or Pat.”

“And I’m Sage,” Officer Nelson adds. “In case I see you around town.”

“What about Lark’s safety?” Knox asks, bypassing the niceties and cutting straight to the point. “With this man still out there… and Lark’s house is a crime scene…”

Oh. It’s a kick to the chest. I hadn’t thought about the logistics of where I’ll go. But Knox has a point. How can I go home when the police are checking for evidence and—oh, God—there’s probably blood on the floor…

“I’d recommend Miss Weber—Lark—find a safe place to stay. Someplace with plenty of security.” Focusing on me, Officer Quillian adds, “If you don’t have anywhere to go, we can set you up at a hotel?—”

“Like the one you sent Winter to?” Knox asks, a bite to his voice.

“ We didn’t send her to the motel,” Officer Nelson replies calmly. “And no. We would make arrangements at one of the places right in Bliss. The Blissful Bed and Breakfast or the Village Hotel.”

Knox scowls. “Those aren’t safe. An amateur could break into either of those, no problem.”

“Well, maybe I could stay at my dad’s,” I start. “He’s in Montpelier, and his house has a full security system.”

Knox turns to me. “I don’t know, Lark?—”

“Lark!”

My dad comes running into the hospital room, his usually neatly arranged silver hair sticking up in at least ten different directions. He’s wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, which is an outfit he would normally never wear out in public, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look this panicked.

The two police officers step to the side to avoid getting plowed over as my dad rushes to the side of my bed. His eyes flicker to Knox’s hand holding mine, but he doesn’t mention it, instead saying, “God. Lark, baby. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner. The damn driveway, and my snowblower wouldn’t work?—”

“It’s fine.” Somehow, seeing my dad this worried makes me feel more in control. “I’m okay, Dad. Just a few stitches. I’ll be good as new in a couple of weeks.”

Knox starts to remove his hand from around mine, and without even thinking, I hold on more tightly.

Should I let him go? Yes. Undoubtedly. But I don’t want to. And after this massively terrible night, I don’t care what I should do. Knox makes me feel better, and I’m not willing to give that up until I have to.

Knox casts a little smile at me and settles back in his seat. His thumb caresses the back of my hand again.

Turning his attention to Knox, my dad asks, “And who are you?”

“Dad,” I hiss. “That’s rude. This is Knox. He’s my neighbor. And he helped me tonight.”

With his free hand, Knox extends it to my dad. “I’m Knox Buchanan. Like Lark said, I’m her neighbor. And friend. Lark came to me for help after the break-in, and I’m here now to give my support.” He pauses. “And protection.”

My dad’s brows pinch together. “And how are you going to protect Lark better than the police?”

“I’m not saying I’ll do a better job than the police,” Knox replies, though his expression shows he thinks he can. “But Officers Nelson and Quillian can’t be here all the time. Plus, I’m former military. Special Forces. Just got out two years ago and I’ve kept up with my skills.”

“Oh.” My dad’s bravado deflates. With a sheepish smile, he takes Knox’s hand. “Well, it does sound like you’re the right person to be here. And Lark said you found her in the woods? Brought her to your house until the police came?”

“Yes.” Knox lifts his chin. “My teammates are here as well. Green Mountain Guardians, based in Bliss. We’re private security, fairly new, but?—”

“I’ve heard of you.” Respect fills my dad’s eyes. “You guys did a job for a colleague of mine in Burlington. He said your company was top-notch.”

Still holding Knox’s hand, he gives it a sturdy shake. “Mitchell Weber. Sorry about the brusque greeting. But when I heard Lark was hurt… shot…”

“I understand.” Knox releases his hand. “I just want to assure you, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Lark safe.”

He will?

I kind of remember him saying something in the woods about promising to keep me safe, but I figured that was just to make me feel better. Or a promise to get me safely to his house. Not a long-term thing.

My dad looks at me again, worry etched in deep lines across his forehead and around his mouth. “When are you being released? Do I need to talk to anyone? I’ll call ahead to the housekeeper, have her get your old bedroom ready?—”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Knox interjects.

“What? Why?”

“The person who broke in and attacked Lark is still out there. And based on what we know, he figured out a way to bypass her security system. He might”—Knox gives me an apologetic look—“try to come back. If he thinks she can… ”

Trailing off, he leaves the end of it unsaid. But I know what Knox means. The shooter could come back. Either to keep me from identifying him, which I sincerely doubt I could, or to finish the job I interrupted last night.

If that happens, it puts my dad in danger. Yes, his security system is good. But as I learned, it’s not a guarantee. And my dad is sixty-seven. Even armed, I’m not sure he’d be a match for a determined intruder.

God. I don’t even want to think about that happening.

My hands tremble, and I quickly shove the one Knox isn’t holding under the blanket. I try to steady my voice as I say, “I don’t think I should go to your house, Dad. I don’t want to put you at risk. The police said I can stay at a hotel…”

“Yes,” Officer Nelson agrees. She gives my dad a reassuring smile. “There are a couple of hotels in Bliss we can put Lark in, and we’ll have a police officer stationed outside to watch.”

My dad meets her gaze. “Why Bliss? Doesn’t Lark live in Morristown?”

“Because of old municipality boundaries, Lark’s address actually falls under the Bliss PD’s jurisdiction,” Officer Quillian answers. “So we’ll be taking on her case.”

“Lark doesn’t need to stay in a hotel,” Knox announces. Still holding my hand, he stands, his height and bulk making him an impressive presence in the room. Turning to me, he says, “You can stay on the Green Mountain Guardians’ property. It’s extremely secure, with twenty-four-hour camera surveillance and unscalable perimeter fences. It even has a drone detection system. So you would be totally safe there.”

“What?” I gape at him for a few seconds before asking, “But… where would I actually stay? I know Enzo lives there, but?—”

“We have cabins,” he replies with a smile. “Safe houses, really.” Pride tinges his voice as he adds, “I built them. There are two so far, and neither are occupied. So you could stay there.”

“How secure?” my dad asks.

“One of our men owns a security system company. Alec Emerson. You may have heard of it. Stowe Security Systems? He installed everything for us.”

“I have.” With an approving nod, my dad glances back at me. “But what do you think?”

Honestly, I’m not sure. If Knox says the property is safe, I believe him. But the idea of staying in a strange place by myself… I wouldn’t have hesitated before. But now…

Knox takes a step closer to my bed and takes my hand in both of his. His eyes burn into mine, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “I’ll be there as much as I can, Lark. When I don’t have to work on a construction job, I’ll stick around the property. Sometimes I stay overnight there, anyway, when we’re working on a really demanding case.”

As he holds my gaze, I say, “I don’t want to put you out?—”

“You won’t.”

“What about everyone else? Will they be okay with me staying there?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” There’s no hesitation. “We do security jobs for companies, but that’s only half our business. The other part is protecting people who need it. Like you. I am positive everyone will be okay with it.”

He hurries to add, “It’s really nice. Enzo’s girlfriend, Winter, lives there. She’s great, and I know she’d love to meet you after hearing me—” He stops and the tips of his ears go pink. “Anyway. I’ll be there a lot, and the rest of the team, and sometimes we have big dinners or game nights, so you’d be invited, of course…”

Is there a hopeful note to his voice? Or is my fatigued mind just inventing things?

Either way, it seems pretty clear what my answer should be.

“Yes.” My fingers tighten around his. “Thank you, Knox. I would really like to stay there.”