Protective Hearts

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Sitting on the edge of the bed, I brushed my hair thoroughly, releasing the tangles from the day. It wasn't exceptionally late, but I'd pleaded exhaustion, needing to escape the concerned looks and constant security discussions going on downstairs.

I dropped the hairbrush onto the bedside table with a sigh and pulled the covers back, slipping between the cool cotton sheets, and settling against the plump pillows. Sounds of the ocean crashing into the shore were easily distinguishable from here, a reminder of how far I was from home. In twenty-four years, I'd never left Illinois and now here I was, halfway across the country in a strange house, a strange town, a strange state. For the hundredth time, I wondered if this was the great idea Ash seemed to think it was.

Lying on my back, I gazed at the ceiling, tracing the ornate patterns in the plaster with my eyes, as I made a determined attempt to unwind. Ash and Shep meant well and my safety was of paramount importance to them; nevertheless, the constant reminders of how secure I would be in Cape Washington were suffocating. It was an unrelenting reminder of how life had turned upside down, why Bryan was dead. Squeezing my eyes shut I breathed deeply, willing the tears away. There had been a million tears shed in the past nine weeks, enough to fill an ocean and yet they continued to fall every time I thought of my brother. He'd been my protector, my friend, and losing him had been to lose a part of my soul.

Somewhere out there was the person they were protecting me from. The man who'd murdered my only brother, wanted to kill me. Ash thought his plan was foolproof; to bring me out here, far away from the murderer's territory, on face value seemed a feasible proposal. Other than the four people downstairs, nobody would know where I was. Despite Ash's confidence, nagging doubts continued to surface persistently, leaving me to wonder whether Ash's plan could truly succeed. The killer was known for his superior cunning, an uncanny ability to stalk his prey and capture them. Was it possible that Ash and Shep could outsmart him?

Scraping noises alerted me to a presence outside the bedroom door and I held my breath. I hated being nervous like this. Being conscious of every movement, frightened by strange sounds was foreign to me. I'd never been jumpy, always had confidence enough to take care of myself. Now I was jumping at shadows, frightened of the dark and I hated it. For weeks I'd slept with the light on, needing the little measure of security, which kept the shadows at bay. It made me feel so foolish to need a night light, yet turning it off led to a wave of panic and breaking out in a cold sweat. Darkness was an enemy, a reminder of the helplessness I'd endured while I was held captive.

The scraping occurred for a second time, followed by a low whine and I rolled my eyes skyward with annoyance. Rebel. The wolf insisted on following me wherever I went, much to Shep's amusement. Pushing back the covers, I slipped from the bed, padding barefoot across the floor to open the door and shoosh the dog away. Before the opportunity to shoosh presented itself, Rebel slipped through the narrow gap and made his way into the room, settling on the throw rug. With a contented grunt, he lay his head on his paws and shut his eyes.

“Now just hang on a minute…” I began, eyeing the wolf with uncertainty. Shep was evidently out of his mind, thinking I should keep a wolf here. He was a wild animal and had no business being in a house, let alone a bedroom.

Rebel lifted his head and gazed at me for a moment, as though waiting for an argument. When none was forthcoming, he laid his head back on his paws and shut his eyes again.

With an exasperated sigh, I watched the animal suspiciously. He seemed friendly, but the attack thing had me spooked. We'd never had a dog when we were kids and by no means had I harbored thoughts of a pet wolf. Particularly one who insisted on lying beside the bed. He appeared to be fond of me now, yet his opinion could easily change in the middle of the night. For a brief moment, I considered asking Shep to come get him, and then vetoed the idea. Shep would only laugh and tell me I was being ridiculous.

Stepping gingerly past Rebel I settled into bed, watching the wolf cautiously. Evidently, he wasn't stressed in the slightest, curled up comfortably and soundly asleep. For a few seconds I wished I were he.

The steady hum of conversation was distinguishable from downstairs, punctuated occasionally by bursts of laughter. Shelby was enjoying herself, despite being stuck in 'Hicksville', as she'd christened the place. Personally, I found I quite liked it. After living in Chicago all my life, this was pleasurably quiet in comparison. With the waves rolling into shore and no traffic sounds, it was peaceful and soothing.

Shelby was a city girl at heart, born in Chicago and would undoubtedly live there all her life. The sights and sounds of inner city living were an integral part of who she was, what she loved. She was far more cosmopolitan than I'd ever be and considered Chicago the most beautiful city on earth. In school, she'd been the popular girl, fashionable, top of the class, and extremely intelligent. I'd been the bohemian type who was more interested in the arts, a free spirit who chose my own path and didn't seek to pursue the trends everyone else followed. Despite our differences, we became close friends, spending most of our teenage years living in each other's pockets. Every weekend would find Shelby staying at our house or I would stay at hers. When Shelby's family went on holidays, I was invited to join them and in turn, Shelby would spend hours at our house, learning to bake with my Mom and joining us on annual camping trips.

Shelby was interested in men long before I discovered them, and had made it her life's goal to find a partner for me. Her frustration increased incrementally as I rejected her many efforts over the years. It was commonplace to find me agreeing to one date, and then ditching them shortly thereafter. Whatever I was searching for, he hadn't been found in the selection of men Shelby thrust towards me frequently. There was no doubt I would like a man in my life – sadly, not one of the possibilities Shelby threw my way was the right one.

For Shelby it was as fundamental as learning the alphabet – she adored men and dated prolifically. Her relationship with Taylor had lasted six months to date, a new record. They were extremely happy and by far the most attractive couple I'd ever seen. Shelby was tall and slender, elegant and classically beautiful. With long blond hair and flawless porcelain skin, she could have modeled if she'd chosen to pursue it, but corporate law was her obsession and a career in which she excelled. Shelby and Taylor met at a Christmas function – Taylor was a firefighter, who'd been moonlighting as a bartender at the event. They clicked immediately and Taylor's calm serenity was the perfect foil to Shelby's spirited personality. Taylor was African American, a solid six feet two inches tall with closely cropped hair and a plethora of finely defined muscle. They made a dramatic couple with Shelby's fair complexion and Taylor's whipped chocolate skin tone.

Satisfied that I wasn't in danger of Rebel imminently attacking, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling again. It would be nice to have a man in my life – someone who cherished me, someone to share life with and love. It wasn't for a lack of trying, thanks to Shelby's continual meddling I'd dated extensively. All of the men I'd dated had been nice, but they'd never had the magical spark I sought.

With a sigh, I closed my eyes, clasping my hands together over my waist. What was I doing? Why was this in my thoughts, when I had bigger issues to deal with?

Honesty forced me to confront the reason for the subject being on my mind. He was sitting downstairs in the living room.

Caleb Sheppard.

Known as Shep to his friends, Caleb was thirty-nine years old. He was six feet three inches of finely defined muscle, with a strong square jaw line and a superb set of dimples. His eyes were brilliant green, his olive skin tanned, his hair dark and shoulder length. He'd developed a friendship with Bryan six years ago and I'd found him incredibly attractive from the very first instant I set eyes on him.

And he was so far out of my league; we could be living on different planets.

Rolling back on my side, I pondered why I was so besotted with Shep – besides the obvious physical attraction – which was reason enough for infatuation. He was fun to spend time with, had a deep husky laugh and he delighted in any adventures that came his way. He lived life to the full, treated his friends with respect, and looked after his family. From what I knew, he had parents who adored him, two brothers who'd been blessed with the same stunning looks, and a younger sister he enjoyed teasing mercilessly. He was brilliant at his chosen career, running a private security company, which was well established and greatly respected. In fact, he was outstanding at everything he did. From the outset, I'd labeled him unobtainable and our relationship had always been friends with the common denominator of Bryan. When I met him, I was eighteen years old, he was thirty-three, and he'd treated me like a baby sister, which had never changed.

Our social circles saw us occasionally attending the same functions and Shep always arrived with a gorgeous girl on his arm. Women trailed after him like bees to honey and he was never short of a willing date. Rumors over the years suggested he was a passionately s****l man, his prowess in the bedroom reaching legendary proportions. Both Shelby and Bryan had intimated this fact from time to time and I had no doubt it was true. The man was like an Adonis and women no doubt fell over themselves to get into his bed.

I'd never admitted to anyone how I felt, not even Shelby. It was obvious I wasn't his type.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not unattractive. Standing five feet six inches in bare feet, my figure is curvaceous. Full breasts, slender waist, and curvy hips. Curvier than I would like, but hey, you can't have everything. My auburn hair is long and thick, running halfway down my back in gentle waves. My skin is rosy and my eyes are blue, surrounded by naturally long dark lashes. Mom tells me how pretty I am, but naturally, she's biased. I would never be classified as beautiful, not like the women Shep dated. He clearly had a 'type' – tall and slender, lean hips and petite breasts, exotic features, long blonde hair carefully styled – he'd dated dozens of them.

The sense of relief was tangible when I thought of Mom, knowing she was free from worry about my situation. Relocating to Cape Washington wasn't an issue, because there was nobody to miss me. Mom was settled in the nursing home, and she wouldn't recall if I'd been to visit. My father lived in Wisconsin with his new (much younger) wife and kids and I hadn't seen him in a couple of years. Dad was busy raising his new family and our relationship had reduced to intermittent phone calls. An assortment of aunts, uncles, and cousins wouldn't be concerned if they didn't hear from me for months. Most of them were Dad's relatives and had little to do with us since Mom and Dad's divorce.

And Bryan was gone, leaving a gaping hole in my heart and my life.

Refusing to dwell on Bryan's death, I returned to musing about Shep. It was utterly hopeless to think of him this way. He thought of me as a kid sister, nothing more. He was protective because he'd been Bryan's friend and naturally worried about my safety. He'd never shown any s****l interest, other than the occasional compliment or a little harmless teasing. And why would he? Shep went for exotic women, sexy and bordering on supermodel material.

There was nothing particularly striking about me. The most exceptional thing I'd done was to ditch college and take my own path, creating a career as a freelance sculptor. I'd created my own business; 'Finn's Fripperies' and sold my unique pieces to a boutique gift store in Chicago. I had a group of loyal friends, I'd never travelled far from Chicago, never been in any trouble. Occasionally drinking too much and smoking the odd joint were hardly signs of an edgy lifestyle. I had a few piercings and a tattoo. My life could be considered mundane.

Until recently, anyway. My life had taken a steep divergence from average the day I'd been kidn*pped by the Chicago Heart Ripper.