Chapter 3

The explosion and Ken's final words played on repeat in Jonah's head, along with his own brush with death. The why eluded him. But that might be his aches and pains talking.

He opened the passenger door of Noelle's car and pulled to a standing position. He bit back a groan, feeling as stiff as one of the corpses at a crime scene. Willing his body to move, he shut the car door and ambled up the walkway to his house.

He'd bought the place after his wife died. Their home had plagued him with an all-consuming depression, and he couldn't take the heartache of living with the memories. The new house had been his turning point. Since then, the grief had subsided and he'd moved on. He'd even dated a time or two. But the guilt, no matter how hard he tried, had never disappeared.

"You know, this is the first time I've been here." Noelle walked alongside him a bit closer than normal, almost as if ready to catch him if he fell.

Wow, did he look that bad? "Well, there might be a reason for that."

She arched a brow.

"You'll see." Thankful Matt had retrieved the keys from his damaged SUV, he slid the house key into the lock and glanced over his shoulder at Noelle. This was a bad idea. Sure, the woman already knew his quirks, but she'd never seen the inside of his home. He'd spent time at hers while taking care of her when she had the concussion, and later for relaxing evenings watching movies, but he'd never invited her to his place. They'd always spent time at hers.

He sighed and accepted the inevitable. "Don't judge."

Noelle glared at him. "You know very well that I wouldn't do that."

"So you think," he muttered. He wasn't proud of his messy tendencies, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out how to be normal. Whatever normal was.

She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Jonah, I've seen your office. Did you forget who gave you that poster?" She grinned. "Yes, I tease you, but I've never looked down on you about your habits. I wouldn't do that to you. Besides, I have my own idiosyncrasies with neatness."

He snorted. "That's one way to put it."

"See what I mean? Your lack of…shall we say neatness, is who you are."

"Such a diplomatic way of putting it." A smile curved his lips.

"That's me. Politically correct all the time. As if." She rolled her eyes. "Come on. Let's get you inside and seated before you collapse."

Jonah had delayed long enough. Why he was embarrassed in front of Noelle, he had no idea. They'd cultivated a close friendship over the past ten months. He trusted her more than anyone else in his life.

"Fine. Just remember, I warned you." He unlocked the door and welcomed her into his home.

"Go on. I'll lock the door behind me. Find me a first-aid kit so I can take care of your injuries." She motioned him to enter.

"You don't have to do that."

"Yes, I do. Now, quit arguing with me." She gave him a gentle shove.

"I'll grab the supplies and meet you in the kitchen." He pointed to the kitchen on his left, then ambled to the laundry room on his right, where he kept his first-aid kit. His jeans had saved him from the debris, but they were toast. His shirt hadn't fared much better. He retrieved a pair of shorts from his clean clothes pile and changed.

Samson, his cat, moseyed into the room. "Hey there, buddy. How ya doin'?" The cat meowed and wove between his legs. Jonah eased down and ran a hand over Samson's silky fur. "Be on your best behavior. We have company." He straightened and tossed his tattered jeans and shirt into the garbage. On his way out, he grabbed a new T-shirt and slipped it on.

He returned with Samson following. Noelle eased him onto a chair.

"Aren't you a sweetheart?" Noelle greeted Samson with a scratch on the head, then turned her attention to Jonah and examined him from head to toe. It was weird having a woman check him out. Not that she had anything on her mind other than treating his wounds, but still.

"Like what you see?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he cringed. Yup, he tended to be awkward when his nerves got the best of him. He hadn't had a woman look at him with such tenderness since his wife, and it had short-circuited his brain.

She smirked but held her tongue—for which he was grateful. Friends. That's where their relationship started and ended. They both had secrets, and neither wanted anything more than a friendship—with anyone. So why had his heart rate kicked up a notch when he caught the direction of her gaze?

"If you're referring to your cuts and bruises, then no, I don't like what I see." She clicked open the container of medical supplies.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. Crisis averted. "Thanks for helping me."

She tilted her head. "Of course. Have you forgotten the weeks you played doctor while I was confined to the couch?"

He froze.

Her neck and cheeks flamed bright red, indicating she realized her faux pas.

To save her from embarrassment, he brushed her comment aside. "How could I forget your concussion, since I'm the one who gave it to you?"

Noelle closed her eyes for a moment and chuckled. "There is that. But seriously, you didn't have to spend all those hours with me. I never blamed you."

"I know you didn't, but I felt bad." She'd hit the dirt, and his stomach had sunk. The memory of her motionless body still made him sick.

"Make no mistake, though. I appreciated your kindness—and our friendship that came from it."

"Me too. The friendship, that is."

"Okay, quit stalling. The shorts help to treat your legs, but you need to lose the shirt so I can clean your cuts and scrapes."

He raised a brow. "Bossy much?"

"Um, yes." She laughed.

Jonah raised the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. His muscles chose that moment to complain. He let out a low moan as he lowered his arms.

"First things first." Noelle dropped three ibuprofens into his hand. "Take those." She found two bottles of water in the refrigerator and handed him one.

As if he'd refuse pain meds at this point. He thanked her and took the pills.

She dropped two in her hand and swallowed them dry before reaching for her water.

He grimaced. "How do you do that?"

The bottle paused next to her lips as the creases in her forehead deepened. "Do what?"

"Take those without something to drink."

She shrugged, then took a sip and set the water on the table. "When you're desperate, you'll take medicine however you can. It's a habit, I guess." Without another word, she retrieved the first-aid supplies and dabbed a square of hydrogen peroxide-soaked gauze on his shallow lacerations.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth at the cold solution on his bare arms and chest. Her gentle touch surprised him. Almost as if she knew how uncomfortable the multiple cuts were.

After she'd finished cleaning and treating his wounds with a triple antibiotic cream, she tossed the used supplies in the trash and washed her hands.

Jonah eased the clean shirt over his head and down his torso, careful not to let the material scrape the injuries. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, how about we get you over to the couch so you're more comfortable."

He stood and pointed to the chair. "Nope. It's your turn."

"Excuse me?"

He gestured to the road rash that required cleaning. The abrasions ran up her forearm and under her shirt sleeve.

She shook her head. "I'm good."

"Elle. You hit the ground hard when you tackled me." The hurt in her eyes…or was it fear?…tugged at his heart and confused him at the same time. "I want to make sure you're all right."

"I'm fine. Really."

"Look." He folded his arms across his chest. "I know I'm not the big bad bodyguard you are. And I mean that in a good way. But I'm a doctor, and I used to be a great one. Let me help you."

"I know you are."

"My patients don't complain."

Her wide eyes made him laugh. "Jonah. Your patients are dead."

"There is that." He gave her a lopsided smile.

She shook her head. "You're a dork. I can wash my arms in the sink." She patted his cheek, then moved to the sink to wash up.

Her touch sent a jolt of electricity through him as if he'd grabbed hold of live wires with his bare hands. He stood stunned at the realization, unable to put a coherent sentence together.

"See? All done." She dried her arms with a paper towel and tossed it in the trash. "I'll put the first-aid kit away if you tell me where it goes."

"Just leave it. I'll get it later."

She bit her lip, trying to hide her grin.

He scanned his kitchen. "I know. I know. I'm a mess."

She shook her head and helped him to the couch.

He lowered himself onto the seat and sank into the cushions. The aches and pains from his close calls barked at him. His headache had dulled but hadn't disappeared. Overall, he'd escaped with minor injuries. He'd take it.

"Join me." He patted the cushion next to him. Samson chose that moment to jump onto his lap and curl up.

Noelle continued to stand. Her gaze roamed the living room, taking in the state of his home. Now that she'd treated his wounds, he held his breath that she wouldn't go running and screaming from his house. He mindlessly stroked Samson's fur as his gaze tracked to where she focused her attention.

Books lay on the floor next to the bookshelf. Magazines littered his coffee table. Two mugs with the remains of coffee sat on the end table next to him. He'd left shoes and socks strewn across the room. Not to mention the dishes piled in one side of the sink in his kitchen, or the state of his bedroom. All in all, his house was a shambles.

"I'm sorry."

She spun to face him. "About what?"

He gestured to the disaster that was his home. "This. I know it's probably giving you the willies to stand here with such disorganization around you."

"Maybe a bit, but, Jonah, this is your home. You deserve to be comfortable in your living space."

"But yours is so…"

"Spotless. Over-the-top. Meticulous." She chuckled. "We both know that I have OCD tendencies. But unlike the actual diagnosis, I can look past the way others live. It's only my world that must stay insanely organized."

"I've noticed." He still didn't like her dealing with his chaos. He dragged his hand down his face. "I grew up with my parents scolding me about the mess I left in my wake. But I had little control over my actions. Most of the time I felt like Pig Pen from the Peanuts cartoon. Not with dirt but with clutter from my lack of organizational skills. My mom and dad never understood how I lived like that. And I had no clue how not to be that way."

Noelle eased onto the couch and sank her fingers into Samson's fur. "That must have been hard."

"Over the years, I figured out how to make life work for me, but I continually chased ideas like trying to keep feral kittens on a blanket. The only place I achieved calmness was at work—whether in the ER or in autopsy. There, my mind settled, and I hyperfocused on my job." He had a hard time describing the dichotomy between the orderliness of his work space, and his office, car, and home.

How did he explain the chaos of his thoughts under normal circumstances? The best description he'd ever heard was from the classic meme that it mimicked having a hundred tabs open on a computer and not knowing where the music was coming from. And for him, that was a mild portrayal.

"My parents refused to put me on medication." He got it. He really did. As a doctor, he hated that solution for many reasons. However, for him, it seemed to be the only answer. "During college, I started taking meds for ADD, but they made me feel wonky. After trial and error, I found the correct prescription and dosage. Life became enjoyable. Just don't ask me to have a clutter-free space." He no longer suffered to exist in the world around him. Oh, he continued to deal with the effects from his attention deficit disorder, but he could live in his skin now.

"That makes your…habits…understandable." Noelle stood and wandered to the fireplace mantel. She pointed to a picture. "Is this your wife?"

The air left Jonah's lungs, and he struggled to catch his breath. Sure, he missed Cara, but he'd moved past the deep ache of losing her. It was the guilt that continued to have a stranglehold on him.

"I'm sorry. I know it's a painful topic for you."

He blinked. When had he given her that idea? He hadn't told her the details about the night of the accident. "Yes. That's Cara."

Noelle raised a brow, waiting for him to continue, but he refused to go there. If he admitted his guilt in her death, the truth of his failure would come out.

When he didn't elaborate, she placed the photo back on the mantel and turned to face him. The softness in her features had vanished, replaced by something akin to a mask that hid her emotions. "I'll let you get some rest. I'll pick you up in the morning and drop you off at work. Matt said he'd take care of your SUV. That'll give you time to get a rental." She paused and pinned him with her gaze. "But remember, you have a mild concussion. Don't drive before you're ready. You have friends to help you."

He'd hurt her by not responding to her previous comment, but he couldn't go there. Not yet. So he nodded.

She walked out the front door without another word.

He wanted to call her back. Explain how he'd messed up so badly with his wife's accident. About the guilt that ate at him every day.

"I messed up big time, didn't I, Samson?"

The cat meowed.

Jonah sighed. More than anything, he wanted Noelle to see him as a competent doctor and not the failure he was.

* * *

Noelle hated leaving Jonah at work. The bodyguard in her wanted to hover. But she'd lost the battle before it had even begun. Now she got the privilege of worrying about him all day long.

She leaned against the wall of Bitty and Beau's coffee shop, waiting for her order. Remembering her argument with Jonah about him staying home and resting, she shook her head. The stubborn man had threatened to Uber to work. So, after insisting that he promise to take it easy and call if his headache got worse, she'd dropped him off at his office. And since she'd called her friends and coworkers at EGA Savannah for an early meeting to discuss yesterday's happenings, she owed them a jolt of caffeine.

She, Alana, and Juliette loved Bitty and Beau's. All the employees except the managers had Down syndrome, and their sweetness started the patrons' mornings off with a smile. But if she chose a favorite, it would have to be Emma Grace. The young girl could coax a smile out of the grumpiest person.

"Noelle."

When Emma Grace called her name, she pushed off the wall and strode to the small counter to collect the four coffees she'd ordered. "Thanks, Emmy."

The girl smiled. "I wrote something special on your cup, Miss Noelle."

"You did?" Noelle lifted her cup and read what Emmy had written. "You are awesome.Aw, thanks. I needed that today."

Emmy beamed. "See you tomorrow?"

"That's the plan." Noelle grabbed the drink carrier and headed for the door. On the way out, she gave the store manager, Brendan, a chin lift. He acknowledged her with a wave before she left the shop.

She strode to her car and balanced the tray on one hand while extracting her keys from her front jeans pocket with the other. Once inside her vehicle, she checked the time. Ugh. Late again. No doubt Raven would give her grief. She sighed and headed toward the office.

The three-story historical home owned by her coworker Juliette Montgomery housed the new branch office that Noelle managed. Juliette lived in the ground floor apartment and rented out the top two floors to EGA. The main office and general meeting room for clients occupied the second floor, and the third held their personal offices and the company conference room.

Noelle loved the Montgomery family stories behind the old home, but her favorite part of the new office was the historical architecture. Two white columns greeted clients. The beige exterior trimmed in white with black shutters gave the overall appearance a stunning effect. But the best part: the balconies with hanging ferns on the second and third levels provided a nice getaway when things got tough.

She pulled into the courtyard parking lot behind the building and made her way to the main office.

"You're late." Raven sat behind her desk with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow.

"Good morning to you too, Raven." She placed the admin's cup on her desk. "Here's your cotton candy frappé." Noelle mock shuddered.

Raven snatched the cup and spun it to see the message from Emmy. "You're special."The smile that graced Raven's face made the trip to the coffee shop worth it.

Noelle bit her lip to keep from laughing. Raven was definitely special. "Emmy knows you." Raven embraced her goth side, but she was the happiest, if not snarkiest, person Noelle knew, and she loved the young woman dearly.

Raven pinned her with a playful glare. "Are you insinuating something?"

"Would I do that?" Noelle smiled and headed for the stairs to the conference room. "By the way, I like your outfit." The black jeans paired with a tasteful and modest black corset-style top along with the new color in the admin's black hair looked fantastic. "And the hot pink hair extensions are great."

"The coffee and compliments do not negate you being late. But thanks, and you're forgiven."

Noelle couldn't contain the smile that spread across her face. Typical Raven.

The conference room door stood open, and Alana and Juliette sat around the oval table, chatting.

"Good morning." Noelle entered and placed the coffee carrier in front of them before removing her cup. She sat and took a sip, allowing the caffeine to infuse her body.

Alana lifted her cup. "Thanks for this."

"Ditto." Juliette retrieved her drink, took a sip, and sighed. "Perfect as always."

"Face it, Emmy loves us."

Noelle chuckled at Alana's declaration.

Juliette leaned forward and placed her forearms on the table. "How's Doc today?"

Sinking into the comfortable office chair, Noelle exhaled. "Sore. Upset about Ken. Confused."

"Are we talking about our Doc? How'd you get all that out of him?" Alana asked.

Everyone except Noelle referred to Jonah as Doc. After the weeks they'd spent together last summer, he'd become Jonah to her, and she hadn't used his nickname since, except in teasing. "It's not that Jonah said all those things, but I could tell."

"You two have become close over the past year." Juliette smirked.

She shrugged. No use in denying it. "We have."

After a moment of silence, Alana spoke up. "What can we do to help?"

Noelle had sent a text to the other bodyguards giving them the basics, but she hadn't elaborated. Time to remedy that problem.

"Yesterday, at the end of Jonah's work day, Dr. Ken Dodson called him and asked him to come over. He confessed to falsifying autopsy reports and wanted to come clean."

"If he wanted to confess, why tell Doc and not call the police?" Juliette asked.

"Ken wanted Jonah to reopen the cases and fix the false information. According to Jonah, after his brief conversation with Ken, Ken planned to tell the authorities but wanted the truth on record first. He went as far as making Jonah promise not to tell until he'd completed the task."

Alana narrowed her gaze at Noelle. "You think whoever asked Ken to change the causes of death on those cases killed him."

Juliette tapped her lower lip. "And since he came to Jonah first and requested him not to tell, whoever Ken risked his career for could have a long reach and have the ability to cover up the truth before he could make things right."

"It's possible." She nodded. "And if my assumption is correct and the bad guys know Ken talked with Jonah, Jonah could be in big trouble."

"Any word on the attempted hit-and-run?" Juliette leaned back in her seat and swung her chair side to side.

Noelle took a sip of her coffee and set the cup on the table. "Only that they can't ignore the possibility that it might have been an accident."

Alana snorted. "Right. I drive on the sidewalks all the time."

Noelle's cell phone rang. "Hold on." She answered and put it on speaker. "Hey, Matt. You're on speaker with Alana and Juliette."

"Hey, ladies." Without further niceties, he continued. "I ran the license plate from the SUV. It was stolen."

"Figures." Noelle had expected as much.

"Patrol found it early this morning, abandoned near some old warehouses. The crime scene techs are working on it, but I doubt they'll find anything. They've already reported that whoever stole it wiped the surfaces clean, validating your initial conclusion, Noelle."

"Of course they did." Alana rolled her eyes.

"I'll keep digging, but I think this is a dead end, since it was sanitized."

Noelle absorbed the implications of Matt's report. "Thanks. I'll let Jonah know."

"'Preciate it. Gotta go." Matt clicked off before they said goodbye.

She hit the End button and stared at her phone. "I don't like it."

"Me either."

"Neither do I." Alana and Juliette agreed in unison.

Noelle retrieved a pad of paper from the stack at the center of the table and prepared to jot down her thoughts. "I'd like to do a little digging into Ken's background. He was a highly respected medical examiner. Why on earth throw that away?"

Juliette twirled a pen between her fingers. "Doc once said Ken's wife had cancer and the experimental treatments were expensive."

"Maybe so, but doing something criminal?" Alana asked.

Noelle struggled with the question. Would her family have ignored the law to save her? "I guess you never know what you'll do if it's someone you love."

Both women nodded but appeared lost in their own thoughts.

Alana rested her elbows on the table. "The real question is, does the person who torched Ken's house think Doc knows everything and can ID him?"

"Based on the attempted hit-and-run, I'd say it's a real possibility." Noelle pinched the bridge of her nose. Until she and Jonah discovered the extent of Ken's crime, they were working in the dark on the identity of Ken's killer.

Juliette tapped her pen on her bottom lip. "Either that or he's not taking any chances, since Doc showed up right before the house blew."

"Guys, I have a bad feeling about all this." Noelle couldn't ignore the churning in her gut. "Jonah might not agree, but at this point, I really don't care. I'd like to give him our protection."

"Twenty-four hour?" There wasn't a hint of disagreement in Juliette's tone, just a simple question for clarification.

Noelle shook her head. "He'd never go for it. Not yet, anyway. We need proof that the danger is real. I'm thinking more like escorting him to and from work. His mild concussion will work in our favor. Plus, he and I hang out in the evenings a couple times a week, so it shouldn't be difficult to convince him to add a few more days."

"I know you're the boss?—"

She held up a hand, stopping Alana from continuing. "I only manage the business side. We're all equals in the bodyguard aspect."

Alana nodded. "With that in mind, Juliette and I will take care of the other cases and make sure they're covered, unless you need us full time. You focus on Doc and the research behind Ken. We'll help where we can, so keep us in the loop."

"Thank you." Noelle released a long breath. She should have known these ladies would have her back on this.

Juliette stood and placed a hand on Noelle's shoulder. "You're really worried about Doc, aren't you?"

"More than you know." The man had snuck his way into her life over the past ten months. Their friendship meant everything to her. But the knot of worry in her belly that wormed its way to her heart consumed her more than she wanted to admit.

Her coworker patted her back. "We're here if you need us. We can always bring in contract bodyguards if needed."

"Thanks. I'll keep you informed as to what I find."

Alana gently gripped Noelle's arm. "Sounds like a plan. I'll go have Raven shift our jobs around and let her know what's going on."

After her two coworkers strode out, leaving her alone in the conference room, her cell phone rang.

The caller ID showed a number but no name. She tapped the Accept button and answered the call. "Burton."

"Hey, Elle."

Recognizing Jonah's voice, she leaned back in her seat and smiled. "Hi, Jonah. How's it going this morning?"

"I only have a slight headache, and the Tylenol has kicked in, so I'm not as sore as when I left the house this morning."

"That's a relief."

"Listen, I'm about ready to go into an autopsy, but I had to call first."

Hearing the tension in his voice, she sat up straight. "What's going on?"

"I'm sitting in Ken's office. I was hoping to find his planner, but it isn't in its normal spot. So until I have more time to look, I pulled his docket for today." He hesitated.

"And?"

"He only has two autopsies scheduled. I'm planning to check out both of them, see if I can find anything weird."

"To confirm if what he said is true?"

Jonah sighed. "That's the problem. He didn't say much, so who knows? I'm probably just paranoid."

"I wish he'd told you more about what's going on." Since Jonah was on an office phone, they both skirted around the fact that Ken had admitted to falsifying reports.

"Me too." Jonah paused. "I'm going to take a cursory look in a bit, but I have my own work to do."

She stacked the six notepads in the center of the table and flipped all the pens in the jar ballpoint down. Satisfied the table had order, she threw away her empty coffee cup. "Please call if you find anything."

"I will. And Elle…"

She dropped into the chair she'd vacated a moment ago. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

She didn't have to ask why. He meant the world to her too. "I'll pick you up after work."

"I'll be ready."

Noelle chuckled. The man was rarely on time. "See you soon, Jonah."

She clicked the phone off and slouched in her seat. She couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that Jonah had landed in the biggest mess of his life.

Noelle pulled the three-quarter sleeve of her shirt up, exposing the scars on her upper arm. Scars that reminded her every day how quickly life could change.

She didn't want that for Jonah. He had his own scars, although she suspected they were emotional ones and not physical. But the fact remained, he had secrets that caused him pain. And she wanted to protect him from further harm.

Besides, the idea of losing her best friend made her want to throw up.