Personal Assignment by Terry Odell

Author:Terry Odell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Bodyguards, Covert ops. Estranged families, Injured heroes, Arms dealers, Internet Scams, Journalism, Mystery
Publisher: Terry Odell
Published: 2019-04-02T00:00:00+00:00

DANIKA SENSED NASH’S unease as they’d talked to Deputy Cochran. Or was it his leg acting up, and he wanted to get out of there and to the house to rest it? His pain had been obvious.

Where had this need to nurture come from? Certainly not her own life experiences. A mother who wished Danika didn’t exist, nannies who were paid to care for her, not love her, and a grandmother who ran hot and cold.

She knew better than to ask Nash how he was feeling. “Do you think Deputy Cochran will find whoever’s after me?” she asked instead.

Nash didn’t answer.

“Are you saying we wasted our time reporting everything?” she added.

“No. But I don’t know how hard he’s going to work. If he thinks he can tie everything to the arson, he’ll be glad to farm out the new information we gave him.”

“So, what next?” she asked. “To the house? It’s as good a place to wait as any.”

“Waiting’s not my strong suit,” he said.

“You have your laptop. You can keep digging while you wait to hear from whoever you’re waiting to hear from. That’s not quite the same as waiting. I can help, if you’ll tell me what you need.”

Why was she thinking of what she needed, which had nothing to do with investigating? She longed to erase the pain creases from around Nash’s eyes. To get rid of the haunted look he carried everywhere.

Danika stared out the side window, trying not to inhale Nash’s masculinity. She reviewed her mental notes. Even if Blackthorne hadn’t declared Jorge a no way on earth person, she had.

What about the kids he coached? They were at risk. A lot had juvie records. They undoubtedly had contacts in the less-than-savory side of the community. Could there be a grudge buried in there?

When they arrived at the house on Cottonwood, Nash parked in the garage. Danika stayed close as they ascended the staircase. Nash used the handrail as a crutch, clearly avoiding putting weight on his left leg. Why were men either total babies or total assholes when it came to health management?

In the living room, he sank onto the couch with a hiss.

“Where are your pain meds?” she demanded.

To her surprise, he didn’t object. “Dopp kit in the bathroom.”

She fetched the leather case and brought it to him. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Thanks.” He shoved his hair away from his face. Damn the man for pushing her arousal buttons.

“Tylenol?” she said when he’d pulled out the bottle. “Over the counter? Not a prescription for something stronger?”

“Had enough in the hospital. Opioids might kill the pain, but they mess you up.” His smile was half grin, half grimace. He waved the bottle. “These are extra-strength, though.”

After he swallowed the tablets, she took the glass from him and set it on the end table. She grabbed a throw pillow from the corner of the couch and placed it on the coffee table. “Why don’t you put your leg up for a while.”

Another surprise when he—using his hands to lift his leg—did as she asked.

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