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She caught her breath when she saw the mug with Ayala’s lipstick on the rim. She hadn’t even processed Ayala’s betrayal yet—her betrayal of the people who’d counted on her in the refugee camp, yes. That was stunning. But the personal betrayal from a woman she’d admired and worked beside hadn’t hit home yet. Hailey curled her hands around the sink and leaned forward. Just one in a long line of betrayals from people she trusted.
But not Joe. This whole journey with him hadn’t just been about his dedication to justice for Major Denver, had it? Her involvement had definitely drawn the perpetrators out of the woodwork. If they hadn’t come after her, Joe never would’ve been able to get close to Marten—at least not in the same way—and in her bed, in her heart.
She jumped as he touched her shoulder.
“Do you want to wait in the car? Just give me a list and I can pack up for you.”
Swinging around, she threw herself into his arms. “You would do that, wouldn’t you? For me. Just for me.”
His arms, strong, secure, wrapped around her body. “Don’t ever doubt me, Hailey. I would do anything for you. I’d go to hell and back to protect you, and even though you’re completely out of my league...”
She put two fingers over his lips. “Don’t ever say that again. Money is just money, Joe. It doesn’t buy integrity, loyalty, courage. Hell, it doesn’t even buy class.”
“You have all of that and money.” He kissed the corner of her mouth.
“If you think I have all those qualities, then I must be in your league and you’re in mine.” She returned his kiss, and as his hand cupped the back of her head, she never felt safer.
In an instant, those feelings of security evaporated as Joe’s body jerked and he whipped out his weapon.
“Hold it right there. Don’t come any closer.”
Hailey twisted her head over her shoulder, her mouth dropping open at the sight of a raggedly dressed man waving a crutch in front of him.
“You don’t wanna shoot me, man. I just came here to get that hat.” He pointed to Marten’s black hat on the coffee table. “And return it to its owner.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Hey, you!” The patrol officer from the front of the house charged through the front door, his gun drawn. “Drop that crutch.”
“If I drop the crutch, man, I won’t be able to stand.” The transient tapped his leg. “I got shot yesterday, saving this young lady’s life...and that tough-as-nails D-Boy’s, too, come to think of it.”
Hailey blew out a breath and dabbled her fingers down Joe’s corded forearm. “It’s Trace from Mission Hope.”
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that unless you have a death wish...man.” Joe pocketed his gun. “It’s all right, Officer. We know this guy.”
The young cop wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “Ms. Duvall?”
“It’s okay. Everything he said is true. I was...attacked yesterday and Trace saved the day. You can leave us.”
The officer holstered his gun and squared his shoulders. “Don’t do that again. When an officer tells you to stop, you stop.”
“Yes, sir, Officer, sir.” Trace saluted and pushed back his hood.
Hailey waited until the police officer walked through the gaping hole that used to be the front door and then took a few steps toward Trace with Joe hovering behind her. “Is your leg okay?”
“Just a flesh wound.” Trace grinned. “I’ve had worse.”
Joe cleared his throat. “You’re straight with the police over the shooting? They’re not filing any charges against you, are they? If so, we’ll be happy to speak on your behalf.”
Hailey nudged Joe with her elbow. “You’re catching on. You could be Deputy Do-Gooder.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m good with the cops.” Trace held up his middle and index fingers together. “Like this now. I didn’t even shoot the guy. His finger was on the trigger, so he shot himself. I just directed the gun away from me.”
“What brings you here?” Joe folded his arms over his chest, widening his stance. “How do you even know where Hailey lives?”
