by Angi Morgan
When he spoke about training a spirited animal, his face lit up. And she’d learned quickly if she wanted him excited to ask about how he’d improve or how to get a stronger breed. Then she’d watch the disappointment drain his energy when he remembered it was just a pipe dream.
“The bank will never give me a loan.”
She rounded the bed and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. “You don’t know that, Brian. You haven’t applied.”
“I asked you to drop this subject the last time you brought it up, Lindsey.” With the tip of his finger he drew a design on her skin, down her back, then back up, getting closer to her breast with each pass.
“Don’t change the subject this time. This is important to you. Running away isn’t a possibility.”
“It may be necessary for you to stay alive. Are you saying you’d rather do it alone?”
“I’m not admitting defeat yet. I still want to find this guy.” She lifted her face toward his, seeking a kiss.
He kissed her into silence and she let him. She was still tingling in all the right places from waking up in his arms. The desire to change his plan of attack and avoid this conversation just wasn’t strong enough.
Making love to Brian Sloane was a pleasure she didn’t want to give up.
* * *
BRIAN STOOD NAKED, drinking directly out of the carton of milk. The only light slicing through the darkness was from the open fridge door. It was a small pleasure, but one he’d enjoyed many times over the past two days.
“Tell me again why standing there like that makes you happy?” Lindsey had slipped into one of his T-shirts. The shirttail hit her low enough to make his wandering eye curious to see more—even when he’d seen more many times.
“It’s simple. Because I can.” He tipped the remainder of milk into his mouth, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I never get to do this. I live with too many people to walk around ‘nekid as a jaybird.’”
Her arm circled his waist as she leaned past him for a bottle of water. Her soft breasts molded to him before she eased back to stand next to the counter. She crossed her arms and could barely drink through her smile.
“What’s going on?”
“I think I’ve found it.”
“A connection? Are you kidding?” He wanted to grab her around the waist and twirl her in celebration before she said anything else. Before they could discuss it further and realize there wasn’t a connection at all.
But if he touched her, they’d end up back in bed. Two days of making love to her hadn’t quieted the need even a little. So he stood here with a hand on his hip and an empty milk jug in the other.
“I wanted to know when Jeremy got curious about real estate, so I checked the actual downloads on his laptop. And that stupid memory stick that didn’t have anything listed, but said it was full? I finally thought of the password to open the hidden files, and there are a ton of them. Copies of research and references to emails. An email that occurred after a string of conversations regarding mineral rights that weren’t transferred with the sale of property about twenty years ago. The current property owner wanted to know if Jeremy would be interested in selling.”
“Was he?”
“Jeremy didn’t own them. They thought he was part of the corporation that does.”
“How does this connect to a man trying to kill your family?” Brian searched the fridge for something to take his mind off the long and very sexy legs in front of him. If he attacked her right now in the middle of her discovery, he might not hear the end of it.
“The rights are worth a lot of money now. Jeremy was trying to determine which family member sold them to the corporation. He couldn’t find any records.”
“So you think the guy he was emailing decided to kill him?” He leaned an elbow on the top of the door.
“We could go see.”
“Right. Just ring the doorbell and ask if this guy is trying to exterminate the Cook family?”
“Of course not. I haven’t thought of everything.” She smiled, taunting him by crossing her arms under her braless breasts and showing him the bottom half of her derriere as she spun around. “But I did think of something to pass the time until we have to leave.”
It hit him. Just like that, he didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want her in danger. He tried to hold his finger off the panic button, but it wasn’t working. He wanted her safe, wanted to turn the evidence over to the police and keep her hidden somewhere. He wanted to tell her he loved her.
Just like that. In an instant, he knew.
“Lindsey?” He took a step, spun her into his arms and let the fridge door shut. His eyes adjusted as he stared into hers, wanting to tell her. He couldn’t wrap his mind around saying the three little words aloud. He’d never done it. Never expected that he ever would.
“What’s the matter? You said we needed a game plan. The lady lives straight up Interstate 35.”
“I wanted to...” After. He should tell her later. Somewhere romantic. Not naked as the day he was born in a kitchen. “Never mind. You said a woman?”
“I searched the map for her address. One of her emails said she divorced a second cousin of ours years ago. But his name is on your list of accidents.”
“We should probably talk to her.”
“You don’t sound very excited.”
Should he be? “I guess I didn’t expect you to find anything.”
“I would have found it sooner if I hadn’t been so distracted by other things.” She smiled, hiding a glance at his body.
“So there wasn’t anything wrong with the...um...memory stick.”
“Nothing that I found. Oh.” The double entendre hit her and she blushed from head to toe.
“You surprised me, Lindsey.” He reached out, trying to bring her into his arms.
“Wait. I thought you believed I could do this all along. If you didn’t, then why did you take up for me in front of your brother? Was it just to score points or to get him out of the way?” She jerked her injured arm free from his hand. “Why did you bring me here?”
“There’s a guy trying to kill you and—”
“And I was your alibi in case you couldn’t avoid the police.”
“No. I’ve been trying to help you.”
“Right. And now that I have a real lead you don’t want to.” Lindsey tiptoed backward, facing him like a cornered she-cat, claws extended and ready to pounce to protect herself.
“A lead to what? Jeremy might have been helping a friend. Have you read all his emails?”
“I think you’re wrong.” She shook her head back and forth. “You have to be wrong. Doris Davis was married to one of our cousins and had nothing to do with Jeremy.”
“Then why isn’t she dead, too?”
Lindsey ran into the bathroom, slammed the door and turned the lock. He leaned against the door, wondering if he needed to coax his way inside. He heard a few words he assumed were surfer slang. Words like feeling maytagged and launched from the nose of her board. Stuff from a different world that he didn’t understand. The shower started and then he heard tears. What did he know about those?
How could he apologize for making her cry? He didn’t know what to apologize for, let alone understand half of the conversation that had just taken place in the kitchen.
He could be a jerk and ignore it. Pretend he didn’t hear her crying. Repeating the conversation in his head, he could see that Lindsey might have been excited about her clue. It had just taken him by surprise. So tell her!
He knocked.
“Lindsey?”
“Go away. I don’t need your help.”
“Come on, now. Whatever you think you heard, I didn’t mean it.”
“Think I heard?”
The door flew open. His blue-eyed beauty was covered in soap bubbles—not far from what he’d imagined the first night here. The fire in her blood turned her eyes a deep sea blue. He hadn’t seen them close to that color before.
One hand was on her perfect hip and the other on the door until she started wagging a finger at him. “What do you mean, think I heard? Because I know what tone I heard in your voice and I know what we’ve done for the past two days.”
“I didn’t bring you here to stay in bed.”
“But we did. You didn’t do anything to try to find the family connection to the murderer.” She pushed his chest with her finger, slipping a little on the tiled floor.
He reached to steady her. She was as slippery as a newborn colt that didn’t want to be handled. “You took me by surprise. That’s all.”
He’d been prepared for another round in bed, not a revelation that she’d found a connection that would put her in the murderer’s path again.
“I think you wanted me to fail so you wouldn’t have to help me. We could wait it out here until your brother’s friends figured everything out and the police caught the guy.”
“What’s wrong with laying low and allowing someone with experience to help? It’s better than spending the time in jail.”
“You want to know what else I think? I think you want to run away from home. Away from all the problems you’ve been facing. Maybe someplace where you can be nekid as a jaybird.” She impersonated his heavy Southern accent perfectly.
“If I’m such a jerk, maybe you shouldn’t have anything to do with me.” He released her and she skidded across the floor, catching herself before she fell.
“I don’t think—”
“Wait. You got your turn to talk. Now it’s mine.” He didn’t really want to say anything at all. But he didn’t want to hear an explanation from her either. He’d claimed it was his turn and she was waiting on him. “I knocked on this door to apologize. For what, I didn’t know, but I was going to do it. We just met and I get that. I understand where you might get the impression I wasn’t enthusiastic about tracking a murderer. Go figure. I’m not thrilled about being a murder suspect—in your murder, no less. But you should probably rein it in a little before assuming you know what makes me tick. You don’t have a damn clue.”
He left her near the side of the tub, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion, but he didn’t care. He didn’t really know Lindsey Cook. He knew the woman he’d created in his head.
He was used to people assuming they knew what type of person he was. Used to people assuming the worst. Used to— He swallowed hard, pulling on his jeans. He was used to being alone.
Chapter Eighteen
“Where is she? Where can that little bitch be hiding?”
Pacing the length of his couch, he chided himself to hold his chatter to a minimum. And promptly reminded himself he hadn’t switched on the recorder this evening. He’d decided against rambling and would record a summary of this segment of the chase after he was done.
Talking to himself had become a habit. Especially in his office. Frustration would make him look bad and he was never going to let anyone see him in this panicky state.
He’d been checking various places for two days. After the police had finished with an apartment in Fort Worth, he’d taken a visit to see if any clue as to their destination had been overlooked. But to his consternation, nothing. No one had returned to the apartment. Even the paramedics hadn’t returned. Neither Brian Sloane nor Lindsey Cook had called or been to the ranch since he’d encountered them at Jeremy’s home.
One delight, which shouldn’t have surprised him, was the amount of information Brian had collected on the demise of the Cook family. Sloane had managed to discover all the victims, putting together cities and timelines. There were a lot of question marks in the margins of the murder articles. And someone had put together a family tree, including carefully printed death dates.
He’d placed the rendering safely with his other keepsakes.
He poured himself yet another vodka. He’d lost count how many he’d had since sending his secretary home for the night. The decanter was nearly empty. Frustration did that to him. It made him break his rules.
If the couple would run, there would be hours of searching and traveling. He had looked forward to this segment being over. It would take him a while to devise a new plan, find new victims, new rewards.
If they had run...
“If they had run. But that’s just it, I don’t believe they have.”
The police, however, no longer thought Brian had murdered the prostitute. After assurances from John Sloane and his Marine Corps friend that Lindsey was very much alive, Brian was only wanted for questioning.
“That’s it! How could I have forgotten the Marine? He provided them a place to stay hidden. A home or piece of property the police don’t know about.”
Staying in the area meant they’d be surfacing soon. He didn’t have to look for their hiding place; they’d reveal themselves soon enough. Did they really think they could match wits with someone of his intellect?
“The thing about those who hide...they always come out to see if someone’s still after them.”
There was nothing pressing on his desk, just a bit of paperwork that he didn’t need to file until the end of the month. Other than the day he’d closed for his trip to Cozumel, he hadn’t taken a vacation in years. Closing again wouldn’t draw special attention. Perhaps it was time to finish this game.
He filled his glass with the last of the fiery liquid from the decanter. “A toast. May the best hunter win.”
Chapter Nineteen
Brian unfolded his tall frame, grabbed his hat and shut the door. He stood at the corner of the car, waiting on Lindsey to follow. The car would be hot and she already had a layer of itchy sweat accumulating on her skin. She opened the door and swung her legs to the gravel.
“You coming?” Brian asked, not hiding the impatience in his voice. He looked at his watch as if he had an appointment to keep.
Behind the wheel, he hadn’t been relaxed. He’d rarely smiled. Shoot, he’d been more relaxed after being in a knife fight with a murderer. And as many times as they’d ridden in a car together, this was the first time he’d rudely listened to the radio instead of talking with her. Going so far as to turn it up when she tried to mention the emails.
Mrs. Doris Davis lived about an hour north of Mac’s secluded house. A house that hadn’t been as far out in the middle of nowhere as Lindsey had originally thought. The drive seemed to take five times longer since Brian wasn’t communicating with her. He was polite enough, speaking when necessary. But things had changed between them.
It was as if he had no vested interest in her situation any longer. More like he was treating it as an obligation.
It had only been two days with an amateur—her—searching, but this was their only lead. Maybe not even that. Jeremy might have been curious about something he found while researching his family heritage. There was no way to be certain other than actually talking to this woman.
As excited as Lindsey was to be at Mrs. Davis’s home, she was more devastated that things might be over with Brian. If she could just explain... Maybe tell him how much she was scared the connection wouldn’t pan out. How frightened she was of facing a lifetime of running.
She’d messed up. He was right. She shouldn’t have assumed anything about Brian’s motives. With her limited people skills, it was easier to move to the next beach instead of working through problems with people she liked. And she really liked this man. In fact, she could just be falling in love for the first time in her life.
“Lindsey?” Brian stood in front of her, hand outstretched to help. His fingers clasped around hers and, simply put, she felt safe.
Two hours without him on her side an
d she wanted to cry. How could she figure all this mess out alone? Stop! She couldn’t assume anything else. Right now, she was about to verify what type of clue she’d uncovered—useful or useless.
“I feel stupid because I never realized someone was killing off my family,” she blurted, staring at the ground. “If you hadn’t done the research and tried to warn me... What if we never find out who he is?”
Brian pulled her into his arms, burying her face in his shirt. “There’s nothing you could have done to prevent any of it. No one caught on, Lindsey. People with a lot more experience than us labeled the deaths as accidents. Hell, I hardly believed it myself until we found that poor girl.”
“If I had paid more attention, Jeremy might still be alive.”
“Or you could be dead, too.” He tipped her chin so she’d look at him. “You were right about me wanting to stay at Mac’s. But you got the reason wrong. I don’t want you to risk getting hurt or worse.”
“We can go back. Let your brother’s friends take care of the investigating.”
The front door opened. “You two coming in or what?”
* * *
DORIS WAS THRILLED to receive guests. They arrived for morning tea, just as scheduled, and she had the service all set. A full English tea along with a variety of cookies. It seemed very out of place, but so did the frilly yellow house surrounded by prairie grass and cattle.
Tea wasn’t really Lindsey’s thing. It was something you ordered cold, with lots of ice at dinner. Hot, flavored with lemon or milk? She didn’t know which would be better with the vanilla macaroons she’d fallen in love with.
Brian sat next to her on a tiny settee, leaning forward across his knees, sipping out of a delicate china cup. His tight jeans hugged the thigh muscles she’d run her hands along such a short time ago. And honestly, he looked very uncomfortable. As if he were sitting in on a tea party for a child.
Doris, a petite woman less than five feet tall, refused to talk about her ex-husband during tea. Brian sipped away, and with every question popped another cookie into his mouth, then gestured back to Lindsey.