It’d taken every last ounce of self-control he possessed to keep his hands off her, which was why he resorted to whiskey and pretense. So he’d downed another glass of whiskey, played pool with Andy, and did his best to ignore Reagan. Chayton had escorted the girls home so they wouldn’t have to walk by themselves, only to return to Air Dog and battle the remaining customers. After another round of whiskey for Garret, Chayton helped his drunk brother home.
Chayton had been upset with him ever since, and though Garret had trailed Reagan all week, he kept his distance. She’d met nearly everyone in town by now, and they all loved her. As he watched her this afternoon, carting sacks of groceries, he almost offered his help until he’d gotten sidetracked by Mrs. Schroeder, a widow who wanted to update him on her life for the past year. Once his conversation with the widow ended, Reagan was nowhere to be seen, and his sanity returned.
His assignment said to follow her, have a friendly chitchat with her, befriend her. His lust warned otherwise.
Chayton came out of the bathroom. “Hey, we’re going in about — ” he glanced at his watch, “ — thirty minutes. So get ready.”
“I thought you told me to stay away from Reagan.”
“No, I told you not to hurt her. We’re just going to dinner. Stop being an ass just because you can.”
“I can be a bigger ass if you don’t change your attitude.”
Chayton wore his predictable scowl as he glared at Garret. Garret winked.
“You know, I don’t think you’ve ever had a serious relationship since Suzanne.”
Garret bristled at the mention of his ex-wife’s name. “Suzanne has nothing to do with this or any of my relationships with women. My job makes it hard to have a serious relationship. And you told me not to hurt Reagan, and eventually I will. We all know that. So why bother going to dinner?”
“Because, you’re friends. Friends go to dinner. But Naomi damn sure isn’t going to go without you and Reagan.”
“Ah, so you need a chaperone.” Garret faced his computer, deleted need more time and typed in going to dinner with her tonight, will update you later, then hit send on his email. Dinner might help him get to know her better, as long as he could maintain his focus.
Chayton’s phone rang, and Garret hoped it was Naomi telling him they couldn’t make it. Then he could stay in the condo and continue to sulk, or go play pool with Andy, which was what he would be doing if Reagan hadn’t come into the picture.
“Who is this?” Chayton clipped into the phone. His face held an uptight edge and he pushed the phone against his ear. “Chris?”
Tension twitched Garret’s spine at the mention of Chris’s name. Heat prickled between his ears as he watched Chayton’s face drain of all color.
Chris. No one knew whether he was dead or alive, but Garret had his suspicions. He’d disappeared after an avalanche hit the mountain he was skiing on and hadn’t been found. Chayton had searched for Chris after everyone else thought it a lost cause. Search parties scouted the area for weeks until the snow grew too deep.
“Answer me! Hello? Hello?” His hand was white as he clenched the phone, his jaw tense as he strained to hear the caller. “Dammit,” Chayton said as he threw the phone to the couch. Aikido, who had been bathing himself, flew off the cushions and scampered away, his tail puffy.
“What’s up?” Garret asked. “Who called?”
Chayton paced. “It was a bad connection. A lot of static. All I heard was Chris’s name, just once. I don’t know if he was trying to say he was Chris, or if he knew something about Chris.”
“What’s the number?” Garret walked for the couch to retrieve the phone.
“I already looked,” Chayton said. “Unknown caller.”
“It could have been anybody,” Garret said. “A friend who just found out he was missing. Someone who needed confirmation. He had friends all over the world.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“I can trace the call.” Garret knew what Chayton was hoping. Chayton hoped it was Chris, trying to tell them he was alive. But Garret didn’t place hope in impracticalities.
“Yeah, okay,” Chayton said, sounding unconvinced.
“The snow is thicker now,” Garret said. “We’ll have to wait until it thaws to find Chris. If he’s out there.”
“We were the only family he had.”
Garret nodded, understanding his brother’s pain in more ways than one. “We should do something in honor of him. He hasn’t had a funeral yet.”
“I don’t want to give him a funeral,” Chayton said. “That means I’ve given up.”
Garret only stared, his wishful thinking long since fading. It’d been over a month.
“I know what you’re thinking, but who’s to say he didn’t go to Canada, or Wyoming, or hell, Australia. He disappeared all the time and came back without a word.”
Chris did do that, but never when other people were with him saying he disappeared after a hellacious avalanche.
Garret knew those guys had been questioned by the cops. They’d been heli-skiing before the avalanche. Chris hadn’t been found. Search and rescue teams spent weeks trying to find him without any luck. Garret no longer held out hope.
Chayton’s Native American heritage was more obvious during pensive moments like these. Fearsome. Solemn. Proud. His dark eyes were shaded by heartache and memories better left forgotten.
They’d grown up together like brothers, and if not for that ache inside Garret knew Chayton felt, they would have never known the difference.
• • •
Reagan balked when Naomi told her she’d accepted an invitation to dinner for both of them. Garret hadn’t asked her out, and she wasn’t ready to see him again. But she had a lot of questions for the men who knew her uncle so well.
Like, who would be sending him fuzzy socks?
Naomi and Reagan walked side-by-side to the table where the men waited. Garret stood and pulled out her chair. Chayton did the same for Naomi.
Reagan’s heartbeat quickened. She tried to hide her trembling hands by grabbing her napkin and smoothing it on her lap.
“Ladies,” Chayton said as they sat. “We’re glad you’re here. I’ve ordered a bottle of Merlot. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Sounds great,” Naomi said.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t show,” Garret said, his voice like soft sandpaper as he leaned into Reagan. Just bristly enough to set her on edge.
“Oh?” Reagan cooed, Garret’s nearness drowning out Naomi and Chayton’s conversation. “Why is that?”
“Afraid you had too much of my terrorizing on the sled the other day.”
“Oh, no.”
“And I was kind of a jerk Sunday night.”
That comment startled her. For him to admit he was a jerk made him a little less jerkish.
“Kind of?”
The wine arrived, was poured, and they toasted. The restaurant, vibrant in mood and low in tone, sent a buzz through Reagan. Muted lighting cast shadows across tables and corners, making it more beneficial to keep one’s eyes on their own table.
Reagan would have no trouble keeping her attention right here.
Murmurs of voices set the sound waves to a mere hum. Spices wafted past as waiters strolled by carrying food and wine. Flickering candles heightened an already sexy ambience.
Opening her menu, she strained to focus on the words. She took deep, cleansing breaths and forced her jaw to stay shut. She’d never ordered a meal that cost over twenty dollars per plate, much less twice that. She could eat pizza for a week for the price of what this restaurant charged for a steak and salad.
Not counting the appetizers.
She kept hearing Naomi’s voice in her head. You have money now. Live a little. But Reagan remembered what it felt like to hurt for money, to worry the bills wouldn’t be paid this month. She’d been young and dumb in her earlier years, accumulating debt when she already had college tuition to pay with the mindset she would pay it all event
ually. She’d made up for it, learning a harsh lesson. One of the reasons she moved in with Kyle was to save money and pay off her bills. And now that she owned damn near a quarter of a million dollars, she was afraid to spend it.
“What did you think of your first week in Tanyon?” Garret asked.
She closed the menu and dumped it on the table, grabbing her wine glass. “Good,” she answered. “I met a lot of nice people.”
The waitress deposited the plate of appetizers on the table. Glancing at Reagan, the waitress said, “I was sorry to hear about your uncle. And sorry to hear about Chris.”
Reagan set her wineglass on the table and tried to smile, to nod, to extend her appreciation, but she couldn’t muddle through the log in her throat.
“Thank you.” Reagan settled her gaze on the appetizers.
“Help yourself,” Chayton said as he passed around plates a bit too cheerfully. His smile was forced but desperate, so she took a piece of shrimp and nodded her thanks.
“Who is Chris?” she asked.
Chayton huffed in a breath. The warmth he’d been trying to display in his brown eyes clouded over. Reagan was sorry she asked. She couldn’t draw any consolation from Garret. He’d grown still, as if a lifelike drawing sat beside her.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — ”
“Chris disappeared a few weeks ago after a day of skiing,” Chayton said. “He was a good friend.”
“Disappeared? So soon after my uncle?”
Chayton nodded.
“Isn’t that a little coincidental?”
Chayton’s jaw knotted. He glanced at Garret, but Garret’s attention centered on the elderly couple at the table across from them.
Their reaction left her more curious, and curiosity made her more direct. She still hadn’t learned much about Ray, and now this Chris guy gave her a new suspicion. Everything wasn’t as it seemed.
“What happened?”
“He was heli-skiing with some friends and there was an avalanche. He was never found.”
“Did he know my uncle?”
Chayton’s mouth tightened as he answered her with a nod.
“How?”
“Everyone here knew your uncle. They worked together.” Tension trailed his response, the silence hanging like a noose above them. Waiting. Anticipating.
Reagan broke the silence. “Doing what?”
“Ray was a businessman, buying and selling real estate. Made a lot of money flipping houses. Chris was his partner.”
“And this Chris guy just disappeared? Nobody knows where he is?”
Chayton popped a piece of shrimp in his mouth and chewed, gloom shrouding him as he focused his attention everywhere but on her.
“Was Ray’s death an accident?” she asked. She no longer cared if she ruined dinner.
“It was ruled an accident,” Garret stated. She noticed Chayton swallow his shrimp, his throat tense and jaw tight.
She turned her attention to Garret. “But was it?”
In stilted movements, Garret grabbed his napkin from his lap and wiped his mouth before placing the napkin on the table. “We think so.”
“He died while ice climbing by himself,” Chayton barked. “Yeah, it was a stupid accident. And a stupid move on his part.”
The food arrived, but Reagan could only pick at her plate. The steak tasted like ash and roosted like coal in her belly.
She sat down her fork. “My mom didn’t like Ray. She said he probably spent the last few years in prison.”
Chayton coughed, bringing his napkin to his mouth. “What?” he exclaimed, anger denting his forehead.
Reagan shrugged. “I’m just telling you what my mom thinks.”
“How would she know anything? She hasn’t seen him in over twenty years. Wouldn’t allow him to visit.”
“I know, I know.” She didn’t want Chayton to be angry with her, and everything he said was true. “It’s just that, I think she knows something she’s not telling me. And Ray’s death, along with his friend Chris. She sent me, or someone sent me, a letter. I checked Ray’s mail today, and she’s the only one who would know to send me mail here.”
“What letter?” Garret asked, his voice crisp and rugged.
She hadn’t meant to tell them. Mentioning it indicated it bothered her, and she didn’t want anyone to know it did.
“Some warning that I should leave before death finds me.”
• • •
Javier had found her.
And if Javier had found her, her life was in danger. Naomi’s too.
“Who would have sent you such a thing?” Garret asked, his voice sounding strained as he forced out a normalcy he didn’t feel.
“My mom. She made it obvious from the get-go that she didn’t want me to come. I won’t worry. She just thinks threats will scare me.”
“Why didn’t she want you to come?”
“I dunno. Maybe because she was afraid I’d find out what a bitch she’s been with her brother. She was mad when he left me all his money. Almost terrified when I told her my plans to come here. Now she’s avoiding my phone calls.”
Garret made a mental note to check on the mother. Maybe she knew something about Reagan’s boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, whatever he was. Maybe she knew something about the Mass family.
“There was also a package with socks. Fuzzy, sparkly socks addressed to Ray with no return address.”
“Ray used to get odd gifts all the time from his clients,” Chayton chimed in. “People who bought houses from him sent him the oddest things sometimes. He lived in a cold climate. They probably thought he needed warm socks.”
“With sparkles?” Reagan asked.
“Yeah. He loved glittery things. You’ve seen the vase on his table?” Chayton asked. Reagan nodded. “Reminded him of snow.”
“If it was a gift, why not take credit?” Reagan asked.
Chayton shrugged, his eyes clouding over.
Garret’s chest burned, aching with a feral need to release the tension within. Riding the slopes was the best way to release that tension.
He didn’t believe Reagan needed investigating. She needed protection. From the Mass brothers, and possibly her mother.
Too much. It was too much, but he couldn’t ask Buchanan to send anyone else. Not yet. Not until he knew more. First of all, because he didn’t want Reagan to know the truth. Next of all, because he didn’t want another person involved. He didn’t trust anyone to do right by Reagan.
But what if Javier was on his way, or sending some goon after her? He couldn’t watch her all the time and watch out for strangers coming and going.
Dawnya Johnson would work. Female agent. High-class ass kisser. A better marksman than most of the guys Garret knew. She could befriend Reagan in a heartbeat and learn the personal details of her life without wanting to sleep with her.
He’d call Buchanan as soon as he got home.
• • •
“I am such an idiot,” Reagan said to Naomi later. They sat on the floor in front of the couch, the fire crackling beside them.
Naomi raked the fringe on the rug with her fingers. “No. You were only asking about your uncle. Completely understandable.”
The evening hadn’t started out so great and took a downhill slide as soon as she questioned the men about Ray and this other guy, Chris. Their meal came and they ate in silence, Chayton brooding and Garret reserved. They’d been polite, Garret kissed her on the cheek and left her at her doorstep, and Chayton smacked her on the shoulder and said good night, but it all felt forced.
“They lost Ray and this other guy within days,” Reagan continued. “I shouldn’t have opened my big fat mouth.”
“Stop beating yourself up. Anyone would have said the same thing.”
“You didn’t.”
Naomi sighed. “He’s not my uncle.”
“Would you stop combing that rug?”
“Would you stop calling yourself an idiot?” Naomi argued. “Ack.” Throwing up her
hands, she rested her spine against the wall. “Fringe rugs should be illegal. First thing tomorrow, we’re going shopping for a new one.”
“I like that rug.”
“I’ll never be able to sleep with this thing here. Fringe rugs bother me, I can’t deal with it.” Naomi stood, pulled the rug from under the legs of the couch, and folded it into itself, tucking away the trimmings. Satisfied, she rubbed her hands together and rested on the couch. “Now stop being so hard on yourself.”
Reagan eyed her cousin, shrugging off her minor obsessions. If she didn’t like the rug, she didn’t like it. Naomi always had a few obsessive-compulsive tendencies, and Reagan would rather her be happy than worry about a rug. Besides, she preferred a bearskin in front of the fireplace.
Walking to the fridge, Reagan stopped to secure the slipper that escaped her right foot. She opened the refrigerator, searching for the orange juice and fresh mint.
“Something else we’re going to do is buy you new slippers,” Naomi said as Reagan set the juice container on the counter.
Reagan couldn’t argue that point. Her slippers were shoddy, but comfortable. One familiar thing she’d allowed to stay in her life.
“I could just wear those fuzzy socks that came in the mail today.”
“Nah. There’s something weird about those socks.”
“Besides the fact they’re all sparkly?” Reagan shuffled milk, butter, and yogurt aside in her quest for mint, but came up empty. She knelt to open the vegetable and fruit crisper. “What do you think Ray would have done with those socks?”
“Donated them to charity. If I see you wearing them, I’ll disown you.”
“Something tells me they weren’t meant to be worn.” Reagan slammed the fruit crisper and straightened. “Naomi, why does everything have to be so organized in this fridge?” she asked, intentionally knocking the blueberry yogurt from resting on cherry’s shoulders. The lemon yogurt stood in a straight line behind them, and she flicked it with her finger, moving it out of alignment.
Naomi joined her in the kitchen. “Oh come on, Rea, stop rearranging the refrigerator. Things are easier to find when you give them a place.”
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