Dixie Under Siege (A Warrior's Passion #2) - Natasza Waters Page 0,15
covered her face with the dirt-streaked scarf she wore over her brunette hair.
As a SEAL, he’d been trained to the highest standards. His missions taught him life was as insubstantial as the flame of a candle. In an instant, it could be extinguished.
Taking the shovel from his CPO, he’d filled the grave.
“Josh.” Dixie’s delicate fingers squeezed his forearm. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah. You got a shovel?”
“There’s a shed out back. Think I saw one when I moved in. I’ll find it.”
He stepped onto the porch. “Stay in the house. I’ll bury the animal.” He handed Dix the blade. “Bag the knife, I’ll give it to Lt. Manchester tomorrow.”
He strode to the driveway and along the narrow passage between the end of the house and the neighbor’s wood fence. Josh entered the backyard, no bigger than twenty by twenty. An old pine tree sat in the right corner, the ground littered with needles and cones. The lawn had burned away under the California sun, leaving hard-packed ground and a few tufts of hardy weeds. A dilapidated metal shed for storing yard tools sat near the rear of the plot.
Josh laid the cat on the ground near a small garden bed knotted with dandelions. Reaching the shed, he slid the dented door open with a couple tugs. With the flashlight in his phone, he found the shovel. As he suspected, there wasn’t much in the way of tools. An old rake with rusty teeth leaned against the back wall and a few abandoned plastic pots sat in a jumble.
Josh backtracked to the garden bed and positioned the tip of the shovel in the dry dirt, placing his foot on the top of the blade to dig. Unlike the hardened clay, which was typical in the area, a previous tenant had added topsoil, making it easier to work the earth. A few shovelfuls later, he laid the cat in the grave and refilled the hole.
When he emerged from the shed after returning the shovel, Dix stood in the middle of the backyard. He blinked at the bright bulb situated above the stoop. Insects swarmed in frenzied flight, attracted to the brilliance. At one time, he’d been attracted to Dixie in the same way.
Dix stood with crossed arms. “That cat belongs to the six-year-old next door. I’ll let the parents know tomorrow.” Her gaze swept across the backyard. “It’s one thing to harass me, but to kill an innocent animal…this guy is certifiable.”
An understatement. Her admirer had serious problems in his frontal lobe. “His actions so far indicate a psychopath. Has he ever done something like this before?”
She shook her head.
Josh figured her stalker remained close by. He’d want to see her reaction, but Dix wasn’t the kind of gal to wig-out. With a last visual sweep of the shadows, he placed his arm around her shoulders and led her inside the house. If the guy still watched, Josh’s movements sent a distinct message. She’s mine to protect.
“I keep thinking about what you suggested earlier,” Dixie said.
“About you and me having dinner together?” He turned the deadbolt once they entered the kitchen and lowered the blind over the window in the door.
“We just had dinner together. No, I mean you mentioned I might know this guy.”
Josh helped himself to another glass of water and sat at the kitchen table. “Someone coming to mind? Jilted ex-lover?”
Dix retrieved her glass, refilled it and joined him. “Not exactly. The notes began in New York. It’s a big city. You cross paths with people all the time. Restaurants. Coffee shops. Work.”
“Where did you work?”
Dix covered a yawn. “For a large corporation that dealt with overseas trade. I was an apprentice in their marketing department. Even with my degree, I had to earn my stripes as a gopher for the top agents.” She stood and nudged her head toward the living room. “It’s more comfortable in there. Come on.”
Josh joined her, aiming for a fabric-covered chair. He removed the sapphire-colored pillow onto the oak coffee table before sitting. Dix curled her long, slender legs under her ass on the right side of the sofa.
“I’d found a basement suite to rent in New York after graduating. A young couple had bought a row house in Yorkville but were in over their heads in mortgage payments. Wasn’t big, but comfortable enough.”
“How long did you stay?” he asked.
“The first note arrived four months after I moved in. I stayed another eight months, then packed my bags and left for Florida.”