Silent Threat Page 2

“Thanks.” That rough voice, a single word. Then he strode away, as fast as if he had a date with another brick wall and he was late.

  She stared after him.

  “Hey, what’s your name?”

  His broad shoulders didn’t turn. He kept walking. Looked like he’d had enough of her.

  Annie watched him for a few more seconds before she caught herself. She closed her first-aid kit, then picked up the paper towel she’d dropped earlier. As she tossed it into the overflowing garbage can, along with the little white Band-Aid tabs, her fingers trembled.

  She shook the tension out of her hands, then tucked the kit under her arm and hurried off to return the bathroom key to Mac inside the gas station.

  Joey was nowhere in sight. Yet, as Annie slid behind the wheel, an uncomfortable sensation washed over her, an odd prickling she’d been feeling a lot lately. Had Joey stuck around? Was he watching her from somewhere? Was he developing an unhealthy obsession that she was mistaking for temporary disappointment?

  Not a good mistake to make.

  She would have to talk to Joey again. And she would have to be firmer next time. She would have to tell him that if he didn’t stop stalking her, she was going to get a restraining order.

  First things first. She had to get to work and her new patient.

  Annie Murray smiled into the morning. No matter what else was skidding off the rails in her life, her job was great. She loved every single aspect of it. She got to help people. She made a difference.

  She pushed everything else out of her mind. Her day was full of possibilities, and she would make the best of them.

  Annie looked into the rearview mirror and beamed. She infused her words with the power of belief. “I’m going to have a wonderful day.”

  Chapter Two

  ON HER WAY to work, Annie passed the busted-knuckled stranger walking on the shoulder, going in her direction. Her foot moved from the gas pedal and hovered over the brake for a second before moving back to its original position.

  There was helpful, and then there was reckless.

  The man was in shape to walk, his stride determined, his long legs carrying him fast. She had no doubt that wherever he was going, he’d get there. Unlikely that anyone would give him any trouble.

  After she passed him, she glanced into the rearview mirror. He was looking straight ahead, his face expressionless, his mind clearly a million miles away. She silently wished him luck and returned her attention to the road.

  Leaves and other debris littered the blacktop. A nasty windstorm had blown through overnight. The ominous sky promised more violence, which did not bode well for her outdoor sessions today.

  She could be in a rush for nothing.

  Her cell phone rang in the cup holder. She glanced at the display. Kelly. Her cousin.

  Annie tapped the Bluetooth, but not without a flash of reluctance. “Hey.”

  “Are you ready for your big day tomorrow? You didn’t call this morning. We were supposed to have that last-second powwow.”

  Annie pulled into the parking lot at Hope Hill, an alternative-therapy rehab center. “Sorry. Meant to call after I stopped for gas. Got distracted.”

  She jumped out and headed across the parking lot toward the cluster of buildings.

  Kelly—two years older, a real estate agent with dreams of world domination—was saying, “I can’t wait to be in front of those cameras. The whole town will be watching. I’ve been telling everyone that we’ll be on the morning show. Sylvia will be taping it for Gramps. Are you excited?”

  Sylvia was their grandfather’s housekeeper.

  Kelly’s enthusiasm was flooding through the phone, impossible to resist. Annie had to give her something. “I’m cautiously optimistic.”

  “Good. I’m wildly excited for the both of us. This is going to put me on the map. Broslin’s top real estate investment consultant. Everybody wants to rehab and flip these days. Now, when someone local thinks about it, I’ll be the first person they’ll think of. And a complete home makeover is exactly what you need. Win-win.”

  Annie wasn’t sure what she needed, but she was almost certain that having her house demolished on live TV wasn’t it.

  She walked through the rehab center’s front door and headed to her small office. “I have to go. I’m at work. I’ll call you tonight.”

  They said goodbye, and Annie clicked off her phone, then dropped it on her desk, feeling guilty because Kelly was genuinely excited while Annie was . . . partially still mired in the past. Not something she’d ever show, and yet, she would never be as comfortable with her cousin as her cousin was with her.

  She turned on her laptop, went through today’s schedule, and read the patient files. She gave special attention to her new patient, Cole Makani Hunter, former Navy SEAL.

  Depression, PTSD, multiple surgeries, loss of hearing, loss of mobility in right arm. Added notes: POW, torture. Under family history, one thing jumped out: father—suicide.

  She read the more detailed patient report, none of it pretty.

  She nodded at the file on the screen. “OK. Let’s do this.”

  Laptop turned off, she went off to meet the man. Their first appointment was set for nine o’clock at the trailhead. At least he was cleared for all physical activity.

  She cut through the courtyard that belonged in an antique Chinese woodcut, the layout as well designed as the Frank Lloyd Wright–style buildings that surrounded it. A picturesque weeping willow dominated the space, accented with artistically placed rocks.

  The handful of patients she passed greeted her. She wished them a good morning, but didn’t stop to chat.

  The morning clouds were clearing out—no storm after all. Good. The sun finally decided to bathe everything in warmth and golden light, the temperature rising. Would be nice if the weather stayed this way for another couple of weeks.

  Past the courtyard, Annie cut through the exercise yard and its basketball court, then walked straight to the edge of the woods. Here, she stopped to wait, kicking off her Keds, letting the soft grass tickle her bare toes.

  Since she had another minute or two, she closed her eyes and breathed in nature. She inhaled peace, filling herself with serenity.

  Comfort smelled like the green leaves, underscored by the crisp tone of pines and the rich scent of earth. She drank in the sounds of the birds in the trees and the bugs in the fallen leaves—life’s steady, unstoppable music at its purest.

  She breathed and listened until she found her center, until her thoughts and emotions settled. She didn’t want to bring any of her own baggage into therapy. Her patients deserved better.

  She let the tension of the morning melt off her until her shoulders relaxed. She opened her eyes.

  On the other side of the yard, men moved between the buildings, going to their appointments. A few of them waved at her. She waved back. She watched for an unfamiliar face without knowing what to look for in particular. The patient files didn’t include photographs.

  Her new patient’s injuries were . . . challenging. The good news was, physical disability had no relation to mental recovery. That came from attitude, for the most part. Physical strength had little to do with the kind of therapy Annie practiced. The patient simply had to open up to what she was offering.

  Across the exercise yard, a large, bulky shape separated from the others.

  Oh. Annie’s mouth slackened with recognition.

  A heavy, dark gaze pinned her through the distance as if marking her for . . . demolition. Her brain kicked up the word.

  Don’t be stupid.

  Yet that newly familiar shape barreled toward her, the ground shaking from the impact of his combat boots as he crossed the yard. His mood had clearly slipped several notches since she’d last seen him.

  A tremor ran up Annie’s spine, but she held her ground, and she held his hard gaze. He wasn’t the first disgruntled bear she’d run into in the woods.

  The man moved as if he meant to run her down, as if h
e was angry to find her here, as if she had somehow tricked him earlier at the gas station.

  He pulled to an abrupt halt about two feet from her. Resentment radiated off him. This time he didn’t back off, didn’t give her space, didn’t reassure her that he meant no harm.

  You flinch, you lose. Annie didn’t flinch. She couldn’t allow him to knock her off center again.

  Remain positive and cheerful.

  “Cole?”

  He gave a sharp nod.

  “Hi again.” She thought about also signing the greeting, since his file said he was deaf. But then, he hadn’t needed signing at the gas station. “You’re pretty good at reading lips.”

  He jabbed the piece of paper he’d been carrying toward her, her Band-Aids flashing on his knuckles. “How about you just initial the damn thing so I can get out of here?”

  Don’t let them see you scared. He might have spooked her back in the alley, but this was her turf. He was her patient, her responsibility.

  Annie accepted the treatment log from him and tucked it into her back pocket. She flashed him her best professional smile to let him see she wasn’t rattled. “Let’s just follow Hope Hill protocol.”

  His dark gaze pinned her in place.

  According to his paperwork, he’d been a sniper, and he looked at her like one, as if he was noticing every little detail about her. As if he was evaluating a target: noting distance to the last inch, and maybe the wind speed and direction, calculating how best to eliminate the problem he had to deal with.

  His assessment required only seconds. “Shit Hill can shove their protocols up their—”

  “I’m Annie Murray, your ecotherapist at Hope Hill. How are you this morning?” She held out her hand, drawing comfort and strength from the trees behind her. “Nice to meet you, Cole. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

  He didn’t even look at her hand, let alone take it. Suddenly he was watching her as if she were something he thought about eating for breakfast and he was wondering if he should bother with a knife and fork or just grab the damn thing.

  She ignored the urge to step back and instead rolled into her spiel. “We have a two-hour introductory session today. I’d like to walk the full five-mile track.”

  “Do the inmates ever get a choice?”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is inpatient. A wonderful program, isn’t it? The intensive therapy you’ll receive here will make a huge difference.”

  Disdain oozed from his pores.

  “But back to your question.” She smiled. “You do get a choice. All therapy is voluntary here. We will have our introductory session today, and then you can decide if nature therapy is something you’d like to add to your schedule.”

  He watched her.

  “OK,” she said. “That’s an impressive don’t-mess-with-me look.”

  “Smart people usually heed it.”

  The words those who don’t are dead hung unsaid in the air between them.

  She shook off her sudden sense of doom and said, “The sooner we start, the sooner you’ll feel better.” She poured all the cheer and optimism she had into her voice, even as her gaze dipped to his combat boots.

  “Actually, let’s start with this,” she amended. “I know the boots are obviously sending a message.” And so did the camo cargo pants and faded military T-shirt he wore. Street clothes were strongly encouraged at Hope Hill, both for the patients and the staff. Civilian readjustment was one of the program’s goals.

  “But for now,” she continued, “I’m going to ignore that. Your reluctance for civilian wear should be discussed in your counseling session with your psychiatrist, Dr. Ambrose. I’m sure he’ll bring it up, if he hasn’t already. My objective for today is to explain ecotherapy and lay out a treatment plan for the month that you’ll be spending at Hope Hill. If you choose to work with me, over the next weeks, we’ll work that plan. Then, toward the end, we’ll focus on continuation, providing you with a list of things you can do once you leave here.”

  He frowned so hard, she was pretty sure that if she squinted she’d see the wrinkles on his forehead spell out no way in hell.

  She kept on smiling. “You don’t have to wear boots.” She wiggled her toes on the dirt path. “Barefoot feels pretty great.”

  He said nothing.

  She smiled wider. “To start with, I’d like to introduce you to earthing. Easy peasy. We’ll walk around barefoot in nature. It’s a relaxing and healing practice. Our bodies absorb negative electrons—which are actually good for us—from the earth through the soles of our feet.”

  The birdsong fell silent for a moment, as if nature were asking, Did she say easy peasy to a murderous-looking Navy SEAL?

  Yep, she did. And the look on his face said she’d be super smart not to say it again. But she’d gone too far now to go back, so she forged ahead.

  “Also, walking around barefoot on an uneven surface massages the pressure points in your soles. I can tell you more about it, if you’d like, or you can ask Libby, our reflexologist.”

  His angry-bear grunt stopped her.

  He stepped forward and then around her. “The sooner we start, the sooner we finish. How about we walk in silence?”

  She reached after him to touch his elbow so he’d turn back to her. “Actually, this session requires removal of footwear.”

  He looked at her as if he’d seen smarter dandelions. “Military people protect their feet. A sliver can become an infection. Slow soldiers are dead soldiers.”

  “You’re not in the military. You’re at Hope Hill. We are not heading into combat. Take off your boots, please.”

  He set his feet apart and brought his hands to his hips. He let his gaze slide over her with deliberate slowness, not assessing this time, but going for a blatantly male vibe. He clearly couldn’t believe he hadn’t shut her up yet, and he was now switching to a different tactic.

  “What else do you want me to take off?” His voice turned richer, smoother, suggestive. “Are we going to run through the woods naked?”

  “No.” If he thought he was going to rattle her with that, he had another think coming. “But if you’d like to do it privately, on your own time, it might be beneficial. You have twenty acres at your disposal. The property is posted, so there should be no trespassers.”

  He blinked. “Have you ever run naked through the woods?”

  “Certainly.” She allowed a moment to enjoy the way his eyes flared.

  “Why?” His voice roughened, deepened, back to that just-awakened grizzly-bear tone.

  “To be one with nature, without barriers. To feel the wind and the moonlight on my skin.”

  Several seconds passed before he responded. “You can’t feel moonlight.”

  She smiled at him mysteriously. He’d come here with a set of expectations about how this session would go—with him firmly in charge. Anything that knocked him off that rail and made him think was good.

  “Is this a progression kind of thing?” His energy grew more intense with every word. “Today no shoes, tomorrow no shirt.” His gaze slid to her chest. “Then the next session, no pants, and we’ll be running through the woods naked by Friday?”

  “We are not going to run through the woods naked together at any time. What we have here is a therapist-patient relationship.”

  When his gaze dipped back to her chest, she added, “Which also means that you should stop checking me out, and you should probably stop flirting with me.”

  He frowned. “I don’t flirt.”

  At least he didn’t deny checking her out. She shoved her thumbs through the belt loops of her cargo shorts. “I’m pretty sure you talking about us getting naked together is flirting.”

  A lot of the guys Annie had sessions with flirted. She often went along with it as long as they didn’t cross any lines. They were here because they were injured; some were missing limbs or had other disabilities. For these alpha-male warriors, the need to reassert their masculinity was pretty strong.<
br />
  Annie didn’t take it personally. She redirected their focus, exactly the way she was going to do right now.

  She pointed at a verdant young pine on the side of the path. “Over millions of years, humans evolved in nature. For most of our human history, we lived in harmony with nature. We were made for nature, both our bodies and psyches.” She looked at Cole. “What would happen if we dug this tree up right now, put it in a pot, and took it inside a house? How would it grow?”

  The word she was looking for was stunted, or sickly, or any version of the concept. But Cole said nothing, unimpressed with her teaching skills.

  “A lot of people are reluctant and wary of new experiences,” she said. “Let’s just do this.”

  His mouth tightened. “Cut the BS. Don’t manipulate me by telling me not to be scared. I’m not going to jump when you tell me, just to prove I’m not scared.”

  Definitely not going to be an easy case.

  Yet she would make the session work. She had to succeed with this patient and all the others. She needed to be upgraded to a full-time employee. She needed those paychecks for the small animal sanctuary she was running out of her home. She needed to fix her house. She was at the sink-or-swim point in her life, so she was going to swim like a salmon on steroids, and she wasn’t going to let anyone block her way.

  Cole towered over her, waiting for her to give up and tell him they were finished.

  Annie held his dark, contemptuous gaze. If this was a staring contest, she wouldn’t be the one to look away first.

  Sure, he could be an obstacle to her goals, if she let him. But if he was a boulder, she would be water. She would run over him and around him. She would wear him down, until his resistance was nothing but a manageable little pebble that she could put in her pocket.

  OK, she might have crossed from positive thinking straight to fantasyland there, but she didn’t let that discourage her. She unhooked her thumbs from the belt loops and rocked back on her bare heels.

  “Fine.” She replaced her professional smile with an equally professional listen-to-me-buddy look. “Let’s cut the bullshit, then, on both sides and save ourselves a lot of time. You are here for a reason. Pretending that you don’t need any of this is poppycock. So how about you suck it up and do the work?”