Her Unexpected Protector

Marcella Robinson

The creak of a floorboard jolted Riley Monroe from reviewing the photos she’d taken earlier at a crime scene. Sitting still, she held her breath, waiting for the sound again.

When there was nothing but a gust of wind against the house, she continued to click through the images for her newspaper article.

The floorboard creaked again.

She turned, angling toward the dark hallway. Hadn’t she left a light on in the living room? Shutting down her computer, Riley tip-toed to the door. With a breath for courage, she walked down the hallway. Eyes wide, searching for shadows that moved, she stopped at the entry to the living room. 

An arm snaked out as someone grabbed her wrist, yanking her forward. 

Riley screamed as the momentum spun her into a solid chest. A hand covered her mouth. Hot breath caressed her cheek.

“Where is it?” The fingers loosened.

She opened her mouth and bit. 

The assailant mumbled an oath and pushed her into the wall, rattling the picture frames.

A door slammed as Riley gulped air, her body shaking. Then, with a pounding in her ears, she took off toward the kitchen and ran outside. 

Darkness surrounded her, the light over the garage out. Wind blew, concealing any human sounds. Riley went down the porch steps, her arms tense, ready to use the self-defense skills she’d honed after her family was ripped apart years ago.

She rounded the corner of the house.

And bumped into another solid chest.

Hands gripped her upper arms. 

Shifting her weight to her back foot, she steadied herself, when a familiar, deep voice said, “Don’t kick me. And whatever else you’re thinking, don’t.”

Riley stiffened as former FBI agent Tucker Brant tugged lightly on her arm until they were pressed against the house. Even in the night, she could make out his strong, capable features. He was the last man she’d thought would show up on her property since his father had a part in her family’s downfall. 

She let out a breath. It wasn’t fair to cast blame. Logically, Riley knew Tucker’s father had only been doing his job when the FBI showed up at this very house, taking her parents into custody. But as a kid left with her grandmother, hurt and betrayal ran deep. Trust didn’t come easy. “Why are you here?”

“Making sure you’re okay. There was a car parked on the side of the road with two people inside. And someone else was by the garage before the light went out. We need to get you out of here.”

“They were already in the house.”

“Even more reason—” 

A pop sounded seconds before the window above Riley cracked. 

They ducked.

“We’ll run across the field and circle back to my place.” Tucker lived in his family’s old home like Riley lived in hers. “Do you know who it was?”

“No. I bit him and he ran off.” She saw Tucker’s wide smile, and her pulse thrummed.

“That’s my girl.”

Her heart had wished that could be true since they were kids. But he was a Brant and she was a Monroe. “I’m not—”

Another bullet ricocheted against the house.

“We’ll talk about that later.” Tucker faced her, concern etched on his face, making Riley feel safe and not so alone. “Ready?”

She nodded. Relying on Tucker for anything was a bad idea, but he was here, willing to help.

They ran, making it safely to the woods. 

She bent over, her breath choppy. “Now what?”

A twig snapped. “Now you do what I say.”

Riley fell back against a tree, her insides turning cold. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

He held a gun by his side. “Go somewhere safe until I give these guys what they want.”

She bumped against Tucker, but he didn’t move, his nearness settling the chaos within. “Which is?” 

“Something your mother and I took,” he said, slipping away.

Riley’s father may have been acquitted, unlike her mother, but she’d always suspected his guilt in the bank robberies. She glanced at Tucker. “Aren’t you going to call your cop buddies to come arrest him?”

“I’m here for you.”

“But?” She started to walk.

Tucker sighed. “He and the others will be long gone by the time they get here. I still think we should go to my house.”

“We are.” Riley peered over her shoulder, barely seeing Tucker in the darkness. She stopped at the edge of a clearing.

A car idled by the road.

Tucker’s hand was warm and strong as he drew them back into the trees. 

They waited, Riley’s hand still wrapped in his. 

“Whatever happens, we’ll face it together,” Tucker said, squeezing her hand.

She looked at him. “I don’t need protecting.”

“No, you don’t. I’m not asking to protect you. I’m asking to be with you. I know our families have history, but we aren’t our parents. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

“Heck of a time to be asking.” 

Tucker snorted. “I’m not known for my timing.”

“I don’t know about that. You were there earlier.”

“I’d like to be there always.”

Pounding footsteps and heavy breathing cut through their cocoon of safety. Riley and Tucker watched as her father and another man ran up to the car and got in. 

The car sped off.

“You can trust me, Riley,” Tucker said, compassion in his voice. 

She wasn’t surprised by her father’s behavior or Tucker’s admission. Her heart knew the truth. She only had to trust it. Holding tight to Tucker’s hand, she walked out of the woods and away from the shadows of her past.

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