Page 62 of What Doesn't Kill You…

"You want to talk about it?" Max asked Violet as the gulls squawked overhead.

"Why must you talk about everything?" she said, but the protest was half-hearted at best.

"Who wrote the note? And why can't they spell you're?"

Okay, this time her lip quirked, as though she wanted to smile but it was a step too far. "Trust a writer to notice the spelling."

"It was appalling," he pointed out.

Salt spray kissed their skin as the relentless Caribbean sun bore down on their heads. He made a mental note to pick up some hats. For a while, they sat together in silence as the boat hummed and bobbed on the water. In the distance, the small port of St. Patrice grew larger.

Violet shifted in his arms. "What made you so sure I didn't kill the guard?"

The question surprised him. "You said you just hurt his arm."

"I say a lot of things. Why believe this?"

Was she serious? "You wouldn't lie about something like this. You'd have come right out and told us, then probably asked for help stashing the corpse."

"What makes you think I didn't lose my temper, kill him, then try to cover it up?"

"Because I’m still alive.” He smiled at her. “And I've made you lose your temper more than anyone around you since we met. I have no doubt you could take out any man, if you had to, but you have control over your actions. I'm living proof." He beamed widely, as though he'd achieved something. And honestly, he was pretty sure a Pulitzer wouldn't have felt so good.

"You have no sense of self-preservation," she grumbled.

"That's why I need a bodyguard," he told her, beginning to think he might need one for more than the mission. In fact, he might need one permanently. He tightened his arms at the thought.

Violet lapsed into silence again as the port loomed closer. You could make out the white colonial buildings lining the waterfront, most of which were used for government business, such as it was in St. Patrice.

"Before I left the police force in Glasgow," Violet said quietly. "I had a stalker."

His arms flexed in response to her words.

She carried on. "He seemed to have set himself up as some sort of guardian angel and would attack anyone who threatened me. I'd question a suspect and, if they became aggressive, he'd appear when I was done and give them a warning, usually of the physical kind. I tried hunting him, but none of the people he'd hurt would talk, and there were never any witnesses.

"Then, one day, someone I was chasing managed to get in a couple of serious blows before escaping. It was the worst I'd been hurt on the job since I started." She looked up at Max, her eyes black and filled with shadows. "He was found beaten to death a few hours later. The only clue left at the scene was the words, your welcome, written in chalk beside the body. It happened twice more after that. Anytime a perp hit me and got away, he turned up dead. The stalker killed three men before the force decided I was a liability and put me on desk duty."

“You couldn't go back on the streets with him still out there, could you? Which meant you couldn't be a detective anymore."

She gave her head a sad little shake. "No. The official line was that as soon as he was caught, I'd be reinstated. But the investigation died off pretty fast and, seeing as I wasn't on the street, there were no future attacks to give the detectives new leads."

"Do you think that's what he wanted? To get you off the streets?"

"I think he wanted to protect me. I think he wanted me to keep doing my job." She hesitated and her voice became even quieter. "I'd had one or two issues with my official back up before my guardian angel appeared. My partner, Donny, was an arse of the highest order, who was more interested in copping a feel than in making sure I was safe when we were on the job. I think the attacker noticed I was dangerously unsupported and stepped in to fill the void."

He tucked her hair behind her ear. "It's twisted but also kinda noble."

There was no letup in her gaze. "He killed three men, Max. Nothing noble in that."

"I know, you're right. I'm still glad somebody had your back."

"Anyway," Violet said. "I couldn't do my job, so I left and joined the Scottish office of Benson Security. I initially thought they could help me find the guy who was behind the killings, but it didn't work out. There was no sign of him, no matter how hard we looked. Lake thought he might have gone to prison or was in a secure mental health unit."

"But you couldn't go back to the police force unless you found him," Max said.

"Nope. In the end, I gave up looking for him and took a job with the London office of Benson Security, then moved to Houston when they opened the new office there. I was trying to keep a low profile, just in case he ever came looking for me again, but it didn't sit right with me that the guy was never found. I just hoped he was locked away somewhere, or dead. But to be safe, I didn't advertise my location."

Max slid a hand under her hair to rub the back of her neck. Unsurprisingly, it was solid with tension. "Unfortunately, your family did the job for you."