Protecting Joy
Former soldier Liam McBride wants to be left alone. He is recuperating at his late grandpa’s house in the country, thankful for the quiet solitude. The horror of being tortured in Afghanistan, then rescued by a SEAL team, is still fresh in his mind.
Joy Maddox, the woman next door, shatters his fragile peace. Her passion for saving foster dogs brings about a chance encounter with her reclusive neighbor. She sees through Liam’s rejection for what it is—a deeply hidden pain.
When an unexpected inheritance places Joy squarely in the path of a desperate killer, can Liam confront his demons and follow his heart to help her or will his fears prevent him from stepping up and lose the best thing that’s happened to him?
Chapter 1
Liam McBride wanted to be left alone.
His discharge from the army came through several days ago, and he couldn’t wait to get out of Killeen, Texas, and come home. Not home to Black Pointe, Florida, where he grew up. But to Haywood Lake, Florida, where his grandpa had lived.
Liam hardly recognized the sleepy town he remembered as he drove through. The downtown had grown into a thriving city, although the streets were fairly empty today. People were probably home enjoying Sunday dinner.
Light gray clouds interspersed with streaks of salmon hovered in the dusky sky. It would be dark soon.
He turned off the main road that led out of town around the lake and followed the winding dirt road surrounded by palm trees and live oaks, avoiding the occasional small animal running in his path. He drove past Mrs. Potter’s house, the only other house on the dirt road. The place looked great. Mrs. Potter had been grandpa’s friend and neighbor for over fifty years.
Is Mrs. Potter still alive? If so, he hoped she wouldn’t notice that he was staying here. He came here for peace and quiet, not to talk.
Liam’s head hurt, and he rubbed his forehead. The headache he’d hoped would hold off was back in full force.
His eyes burned. He wiped at the tears running down his cheek. Bile forced its way up his gut. He needed to get into the house fast and lie down.
He turned off the radio that had been blasting for the past hour. Silence.
As Liam approached his grandpa’s house, he looked to his left and a light came on in Mrs. Potter’s house. Someone was moving around. Straight ahead there was just darkness.
His grandpa’s house sat across from a vast cornfield for as long as he could remember. But the cornfield was torn up long ago, and an ugly maw of vacant field remained. In the distance, behind the vacant land, it surprised him to see cookie-cutter new homes with small yards and little landscaping. There were no houses there when he visited so many years ago. The houses accessed the main road and thankfully not the dirt road his grandpa’s house was on. At least, the development didn’t encroach on his side of the street and was far enough away so it didn’t bother him.
Liam pulled into the driveway and stared at the cracker-style house. It looked the same even though his grandpa died some four years ago. He hadn’t made it back to his grandfather’s funeral. Had it been that long since he visited? He’d been deployed to one hellhole, then another, fighting shadowy enemies before being captured. He and two friends were held a week and tortured before a SEAL team rescued them. That was one week he wanted to forget, but like a bad dream, it kept turning up.
His father inherited the house. When they were growing up, he and his three brothers stayed here during the summer to give his dad a break. Now it was his turn to take advantage of the privacy the house provided. No one knew he was stateside, and that was the way he wanted it until he was ready to face people and civilization again. He prayed it would happen in his lifetime.
Liam sat in his truck, resting his head on the steering wheel and sweating. The silence was welcoming. Could he get the peace and solitude he craved here?
He wasn’t used to being alone. Yet here he was. He’d always had his buddies, family, and no shortage of ladies. And he couldn’t forget the nurses and doctors that woke him all hours of the day and night.
Liam raised his head and stared at the ramshackle dwelling—broken down, just like him.
Liam had so many happy memories of spending summers here. A hundred acres of fun—picking berries in the woods, hunting, fishing, swimming, and running wild all summer with his brothers or any cousins who were visiting. Grandpa was a kind man who lost the love of his life early on and loved his freewheeling grandsons, who had lost their own mother at an early age.
The house had been vacant for quite a while. It showed in the rusty roof and a couple of half-rotten steps that led to an expansive porch where Liam and his brothers slept when it was too hot to sleep inside.
It surprised him to see the cypress swing he and grandpa built one summer still hanging on the porch.
The paint on the house was peeling. That damn house needed painting every summer, it seemed. He smiled, remembering how his grandpa harnessed the energy of the four rambunctious boys to paint the house, whether it needed to be done or not.
There weren’t any broken windows, at least not in the front. The repairs would take his mind off his problems. Liam wondered how long it had been since anyone was here. The quiet would soothe his soul. He hoped. But it was good—all good.
Liam hopped out of the truck, grabbed his rucksack, and cautiously made his way up the rotting steps. The wide porch was in decent shape compared with the steps. He felt around the top of the wooden door. Score! The key was still there. He inserted the old-fashioned key in the keyhole, fumbled for a minute when it didn’t open.
Then he jiggled the key this way and that and finally opened the door. The screech of the rusty hinges caught him by surprise. Catching his breath, he walked into the living room, dropped his rucksack, looked around, and sneezed.
The small living room was dusty. Someone had covered the furniture in plastic—great. Probably his father or Luke. His older two brothers had families, lived near Miami, and didn’t get up this way very often. So it most likely wasn’t them. He sniffed the air—stale. Tomorrow he’d open all the windows, let the fresh air in.
Luke was the brother closest in age to him. Luke worked for KnightGuard Security. He’d suggested several times that it would be an excellent place for Liam to work and that Sam Knight would be a great boss. However, Cody Miller, his best friend from high school, was deputy police chief in Haywood Lake and wanted him to work for the department. It was a McBride family tradition to become a cop, and he hoped to continue the tradition. Decisions like that would have to wait. He couldn’t work for anyone yet. He needed to heal his wounded soul first.
Luke married Grace Winslow and had two sons. He’d only seen pictures of Grace holding Connor and Aiden. Liam smiled. Connor was the spitting image of his brother, while Aiden took after Grace. While he was overseas, Grace had written to him often. He enjoyed engaging with her.
He couldn’t wait to meet her and the boys in person, but that wouldn’t be happening soon.
Liam trudged through the living room into the bare-bones kitchen. Looked around. Was the kitchen always this basic? Probably. Grandpa never had an interest in updating it after his wife died.
In one corner was the four-burner gas stove where grandpa would stand stirring chili in a dented old pot and yelling at his grandsons to wash their hands and come eat. Liam could almost taste the spicy chili.
The small, upright refrigerator from the 1950s still stood next to the stove. A scarred wooden table with six chairs sat under a window. The dusky sky cast shadows on the table. Memories of him and his brothers sitting around that table flooded his mind.
There were a few cabinets on one wall and a red-checkered cloth in place of a cabinet door hanging underneath the sink. He hoped the bottle of whiskey his grandpa hid away under the sink was still there. That and a can of coffee, and he would consider himself in heaven.
Liam didn’t have to go outside to know there was a pond where the brothers swam all summer, a large garden, an orchard, and a chicken coop. Liam could still hear his grandpa laughing as the rooster chased the boys around the yard. He had picked weeds, harvested fruit, and gathered eggs all summer for his grandpa.
Tomorrow he would walk the property and see if he could find the treehouse he and his brothers built in a tall oak in the middle of the woods. He wondered if the secret forts they created were still there.
Liam glanced into the small pantry. He noticed rodent droppings on the counter. A few jars of homemade jam sat abandoned on the shelves. From how long ago? He needed to throw those out. He didn’t want to die of food poisoning after surviving torture. That would be too easy. Humph.
Then he peered into each of the three bedrooms. Should he sleep in his grandpa’s room on the double bed? The room still had a lingering odor of camphor and menthol that grandpa used for his arthritis. The scent brought back memories of happier times. He could sleep in the small room with the twin beds that he and Luke shared or in one of the bunk beds his two other brothers shared. It didn’t matter. They were all too short to fit his six-foot-two frame. The beds were stripped, and he wondered if he would have to buy sheets and blankets.
It was dark now, the sun long setting.
First, Liam needed to find something for his headache. He had water but looked underneath the sink on a whim. Score! A half-empty bottle of the rotgut whiskey his grandpa favored. He already knew it tasted like piss because he and his brothers occasionally took a sip when grandpa wasn’t around. It would work for now.
He flicked the wall switch—nothing. The electricity was off. He’d hoped it would be on. He would remedy that tomorrow.
Exhausted, Liam worked his way back to the front porch and the swing where his grandpa read to him and Luke when they were little.
Liam gingerly sat down and bounced once. Great. The chain held. He swung gently back and forth.
Closed his eyes—home.
Chapter 2
“Get down, get down, get down,” a voice screamed.
Liam ducked. Gunfire. One of his men was spotted.
Liam crouched down behind a crumbled wall outside a dilapidated village with his buddies Miles Zaleski, Mason Hopefield and Steve Marsh.
The men stood, opened fire. Shots were returned. They ducked back behind the wall, stood up, and fired again. His hands were clammy. Beads of sweat collected under his helmet. No time to wipe them away. This mission was a disaster. Then Mason screamed. He was hit. No time to look at him; they had to return fire.
Men yelled in front of him—the chatter was nonstop in his ear. Someone called for air strikes. Would they be too late? Liam took a quick look at Mason, who held his leg and groaned. Steve held his gut. Blood spilled out on the rock, coloring it an obscene red. The copper smell sickened him.
He said a silent prayer that Steve wouldn’t die before they could get him medical attention. Sadness overtook him for a second. Then he focused on the insurgents again.
His heart thundered at the sound of multiple machine guns firing. His team was outnumbered but better trained.
Hopefully, training would be enough.
Luck went out the window when two more trucks filled with insurgents screeched down the road behind them, surrounding them. Dogs were barking and howling now. Donkeys brayed. The sheep worked themselves into a frenzy of bleats. Injured men shouted and screamed. Bullets flew every which way, the fire from the guns lighting up the sky. Fubar. Chaos. Damn it all to hell. If they got out of here alive, it would be a miracle.
He didn’t want to die in this godforsaken land.
Liam jumped up, sweat drenching his body, his hands clammy. His body ached. He rubbed his shoulder, phantom pain. Surgery had repaired the physical damage done when he was tortured. The mental? Well, that was still up in the air. But it was only a dream. A bad dream—no, it was a nightmare. Liam stared into … nothingness. Shook his head.
As the bedroom came into focus, it became familiar—grandpa’s room. Damn, he probably got up from the porch swing in the middle of the night and collapsed on the bed. The sun streamed in through the dirty window, heating his body. Liam looked down. Well, at least he had his boxers on, didn’t remember taking off his boots and clothes.
He turned to look at the bed. The old mattress had seen better days. No sheets or pillows on it. Something he would remedy today, as well as buying a new bed frame. Liam mentally measured the room. A king-size bed was out. It would fill the small space, but he could fit in a queen-size bed. It would be better than the double bed he slept on. He must have zonked out because, looking again at the mattress, he noticed quite a few peaks and valleys, plus some unidentified stains. How old was it, anyway? It didn’t matter. It, too, was on its way out.
Liam rubbed his head. His headache was back, but it felt different. Liam blamed it on the heat in the room. Better put an air conditioner on that list. That is, after he had the electricity turned on. His to-do list was growing.
He grabbed the bottle of water, some headache pills, and walked out into the kitchen, all hopes of having a cup of coffee gone. Whiskey, perhaps? There was still some left in his grandpa’s bottle, but it was too early to drink.
What time was it? He looked at his watch—eleven in the morning. Wow, this was the longest he’d slept since he got out of the hospital four months ago. And he would be late for his Monday appointment if he didn’t get his ass going.
Liam lifted his arm, smelled his armpit—yep, stinky, all right. A shower was next, and then out to get some food and do errands. He walked into the only bathroom, pulled out a towel, clean but musty-smelling, and turned on the shower—nothing. He fiddled with the knobs—nothing. A deep well supplied the house with water. So what was the problem?
Liam slapped his head. A well was nothing without a pump, and a pump needed electricity. He sighed. He took a washcloth, found his bottled water, washed up a little, and brushed his teeth. He didn’t need to comb his hair. It was still short.
Okay, then, ready to face the world. Liam opened the front door, squinted his eyes. Hoo boy, the sun was bright. He started walking towards his truck.
The gigantic beast came out of nowhere, bounding up to Liam like he was his best friend.
Another dog in that hellhole passed before his eyes. Shhhh. Damn it. The brown, emaciated mutt wouldn’t stop barking or jumping around, giving away their position. He didn’t want to kill it. Shut up! Shut up! Liam pulled the trigger. The dog dropped, but it was too late. Insurgents were overrunning their position.
Liam froze. Thump. Thump. Thumpity thump. Could his heart handle the terror? His palms were so wet, they could water a plant.
It was a dog—a German shepherd. A horror from his recent past stood in front of him and cocked his head.
It didn’t matter to Liam that the brute’s tongue was lolling on the side of his mouth or that he was whining and trying to shake Liam’s hand—there was no way in hell that Liam was going to move, pet or engage the fiend.
The sun brutally beat down on Liam’s head, creating beads of sweat in his eyes. The salt made him squint. He didn’t dare move or swipe at the moisture turning his shirt into a puddle. His chest tightened. It was hard to breathe.
Liam swallowed hard—the only movement he made.
And damn if the creature didn’t take that as a sign of acceptance and scooch his butt an inch closer while sitting up even straighter. Brown eyes stared into his own.
The beast was between him and his driveway, relaxed like he had all the time in the world, unlike Liam, who had a doctor’s appointment in an hour and would be late if the animal didn’t go home or to hell—wherever he was from.
“Shoo.” His voice shook like an old man’s. Riiight. That sure was going to motivate the animal to move.
“Shoo.” A little louder. He noticed no movement on the dog’s end. Patient—he had to give the dog that.
Liam exhaled a deep breath of air and slowly moved his hand.
“Shoo,” he said and pushed his hand away from him.
They were breathing in tandem now—one from excitement, one from fear.
“Zeus.” A high-pitched woman’s voice called from the street.
The dog’s ears perked up. Okay, his name was Zeus. By all outward appearances, Zeus was stubborn and in need of friends—just not him.
Liam glimpsed a slender woman racing toward them out of the corner of his eye.
“Zeus,” she called again, “where are you, baby?”
The dog’s tail started wagging furiously, but the damn thing didn’t move.
The woman came running up the road and into his driveway, flinging her arms around Zeus. “Oh, there you are, you naughty boy. Shame on you for running away like that.”
Zeus licked her arms and face.
A pair of summer-blue eyes stared up at Liam. “I hope Zeus didn’t scare you. He loves people.”
“Hmm. That’s all you can say?” Liam swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “Zeus here scared the shit out of me, and you tell me he loves people.”
A blanket of red started at her forehead and continued towards her throat. Her tongue licked her bottom lip, and her brows knit together. The woman looked at the dog and then at Liam. What the hell was she staring at? She opened her mouth to say something, but Liam beat her to the punch.
“Lady, I don’t know what’s going on here, but you shouldn’t have animals if you can’t control them.” His voice got louder, coarser. Now he was yelling. “They should lock wild beasts like him up.” Oh yeah, he was on a roll now.
She widened her eyes in surprise. She and Zeus cocked their heads at him at the same time.
“Locked up?” she squeaked; her face scrunched in disbelief. “Locked up?”
“Uh, yeah.” Liam pulled himself up to his full six-foot, two-inch height. Flexed his muscles. Put on his no-nonsense military face. Gave her the look. The look that made the newbies crap in their pants—the look that said do it or else.
Did she stand down? That was a big fat no. Then it got worse. The woman stood in front of him, standing as straight and stiff as a soldier. She pointed her finger at his chest, just short of poking him. The top of her head only came up to his shoulder. He stared down into a pair of stormy blue eyes glowering at him.
“I’ll have you know Zeus here was locked up and abused. I’ve had him for weeks, and Zeus is the sweetest, most nonviolent boy ever.”
She turned to Zeus and patted his head. “Aren’t you, sweetie?”
Damn if the dog didn’t nod his head in agreement. She turned back to Liam, pursing her lips. “Let me ask you: Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Attack you? Touch you in any way? Slobber on you? Growl at you?” The woman opened her mouth to say something else, but Liam beat her to it.
“No to all that,” said Liam. Wow. She was persistent.
“Then what’s your problem?”
“I don’t like dogs.” There, he said it. Sure wasn’t going to admit that he was afraid of dogs. Would she think him a wuss? Liam didn’t care. This last tour was a disaster, a real clusterfuck, ending with an unfortunate problem of a dog giving away their position and he, Mason, and Miles being captured only to be tortured not only by the rebels but also by a vicious shepherd mix. “So why don’t you take that beast and get the hell out of here?”
The woman opened her mouth in a silent “oh”, but nothing came out. Her blue eyes filled with what?
Pity? Anger? Liam didn’t care.
He needed the dog and whoever the woman was to get the hell off his front walk.
“We’re going. I’m sorry Zeus bothered you.” She pulled out a leash, bent over, and attached it to Zeus’s collar. “Come on, boy, we need to go home, and I’m giving you a good talking-to.”
Zeus stood up and pranced around her feet as he gave Liam one last longing look and followed the woman down the driveway.
“Wait,” Liam shouted.
The woman turned around. “What now?”
“What’s your name?”
Whatever was wrong with him?
She owned dogs. He hated dogs. But then again, he came here to be left alone, and that wasn’t happening either.
Liam didn’t want to know her name. Knowing someone’s name meant you had to say hi, be nice. He didn’t want to do either. And yet, here he was asking for her name.
The woman stopped and turned towards him. The dog sat beside her, and they both stared at him. Liam wasn’t sure she would answer him, but she finally said, “Joy.”
“What’s your last name?”
Again, why did he care? Liam didn’t need her first name, let alone her last name. It wasn’t as if they were going to share tea and cookies, talk about dogs and his issues. The only reason he came up with was he was a sucker for punishment. Plus, she was cute. Cute? What the hell was wrong with him?
Joy squinted her eyes, her lips tight. Why did he want her to answer? Damn if he knew.
The three of them just stared at each other.
She exhaled loudly. “Dog Lover.”
Liam snorted. He loved snarky women. “Okay then, Miss Joy Dog Lover. Thank you for rescuing me from Zeus, but please stay away.”
Joy humphed and walked down the driveway. Zeus whined at her side, looking longingly back at Liam. God help him.
He wondered where Joy lived. In the development? It was quite a distance away. Had she run that far?
Liam shook his head. The writing was on the wall. The peace and quiet he hoped for would not come easily.
However, he couldn’t help admiring Joy’s small waist, perky breasts and long legs—long legs that could wrap around his waist as they were making love. Good lord, he’d only just met the woman, and here he was thinking about sex. Although that sure was something he hadn’t had in a while.
The dog had scared him and brought back some terrible memories. Liam wasn’t off women, just dogs and women with dogs. While he liked verbally sparring with her, she was one woman he would avoid.