After two hours, they’d loaded the truck until every nook and cranny was filled. And for a decent price. Holt hadn’t said much other than thanks.
In the truck, Blair blasted the air and turned the vents toward Holt, whose hair was plastered to his forehead. The look worked for him. “We can come back another time. If you’d like.”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
Blair hated the tension permeating the space between them. “I’m not expecting further dialogue on the mission trip. I’m already tense enough, so I’d like it if we could move on and chill. Yeah?”
Holt’s shoulders relaxed and he grinned. “Cool. Chillin’ like a villain.”
“Not the best terminology, considering one is really after me.” After the people she cared about.
“Right. Point taken.” He twisted his lips to the side, then back and repeated.
“What are you thinking about over there?”
“Another rhyming phrase to take the place of chillin’ like a villain. The best I’ve got is cozy like posy. I’m not sure posy is even a thing.”
Blair cackled, lost control and snorted. Her face flushed and Holt laughed. Minus the snort. Even his laugh was flawless. But she wasn’t falling for flawless. Besides, she didn’t have time for romance. She had to concentrate on keeping herself and her loved ones safe.
* * *
Hearing her laugh, even the adorable snort, Holt could hardly contain his feelings. He wanted to grab her hand and kiss it. A big, wild, fun smack. Right on the back of her hand. To thank her for the day. For the fun. Even though part of it had been painful. Walking into Bubba’s—oh, he was so not done messing with her over that—he’d remembered how much he’d loved summers in Glory with his grandparents, spending every day outside. A piece of his love for the land and old, dead dreams sparked to life, filling him with a flu-like ache.
In his excitement, memories of Trina had surfaced and he’d actually voiced her name. Out loud. How long had it been since he felt her name on his tongue? Over a decade. Holt was a walking graveyard. So many dead corpses buried deep. Dead dreams. Dead girlfriend. Dead hope. Dead faith.
The even more frightening part was that the thrill hadn’t just come from the building and rows of equipment; it came from Blair Sullivan. The way she smiled, like gentle ripples in the water. It was the way she loved her family, her town. It was the way she treasured people and things. The way she could be tender one moment and tough the next. When it came time to purchase goods for his store, she’d negotiated like a lion, not budging an inch. But then, when it was all over, she’d given Bubba a big hug and laughed at his not-funny jokes.
The woman was a ray of noon sunshine piercing his nighttime soul. It’d been dark so long. He’d been covered like the life vests beneath the tarp that day in the storage auction. But salvation was hiding under that dark veil. He’d spotted it today, felt the tug to come up for air.
The question was: Was he ready to unveil his heart?
No. No, he was not. He couldn’t. It was too much of a threat. He had to focus on this job. Think clearly. Blair fogged up his world, this mission. Made him believe this was more than make-believe. That he was actually building a store, a new career.
He wasn’t.
This was nothing more than a means to an end. To find Jeremy. To find Bryan. Or to find out what became of them. To find Alejandro Gonzalez and bring down the Juarez Cartel. He’d spent the entire day with Blair and never once pried into her past, which might be the key to finding his friends, to doing his job. It was time to focus on the real reason he was in Hope.
Blair turned off on Farley Pass, heading into town. Her knuckles whitened on the wheel. “No lights behind us,” Holt reassured her. “We’re free from danger.”
As long as he was with her, he’d keep her that way.
“I know. I was thinking about Jeremy.” She slowed down as something darted around on the edge of the road. “Deer. Gotta be careful coming through here at night or you’ll hit one.”
“Noted. Hey, my offer for the PI still stands, Blair.”
She gave a weak smile.
“You wanna get some dinner before we unload my stuff?” he asked. Time to dig. Which felt slimy in a sense. Interrogating her. Manipulating. But it was his job, and he’d never been bothered by it before—which also scared him.
Wait. He was curious about her. He could do this without feeling like scum...well, at least less scummy.
“Sure.”
He waited a beat. “So, where’d you go to college?”
“Memphis State. My dad lives in Memphis, too. He settled there after he retired from the Marines. But mostly he travels. He’s a big fisherman. Deep sea, trout, you name it.”
“I like fishing. And Memphis basketball. Grit and Grind. Go, Grizzlies. I will miss going to a lot of the games now that I’ve settled in Hope.”
Blair grinned. “I’m a fan of basketball. And fishing. But I prefer a small town to a big city like Memphis.”
“One more thing we have in common then,” he said, finding that he meant every word. “Maybe we can go to a game this fall.” Strangely, he meant that, too.
“We’ll see.”
No, they wouldn’t. Sadly, he’d be long gone come fall.
“Any serious relationships?” Come on, Blair. Open up.
“Actually—” She gave him a quick glance, but it was enough time to see the vulnerability in her eyes. “I was married. For four years. My husband died overseas.”
“I’m sorry.” He studied her face, searching for how she felt about Mateo Salvador’s death. Mostly Holt saw regret, but also some fear there, and a sliver of anger.
She slowed down as she neared the square, then parked at the diner. “It wasn’t a fairy-tale marriage. But I did fall in love with him. I was young. He was charismatic and smooth. Gorgeous. He was also a manipulator and a liar. He pretended to be something he wasn’t, and I was trapped into one big deception that I couldn’t claw my way out of.” She opened the truck door. “I forgave him. After he died. Can’t say I’ve forgiven myself for being naive enough to fall for him.”
Holt had been in the DEA a long time. The fact that she was here and alive was a testament to her bravery. Her will to survive.
She stared him dead in the eye, forcing him to hold the connection. “I won’t make that mistake again. I’m long past my naive days.”
Subtext. Ringing loud and clear. Holt didn’t have her complete trust. He understood. Her past experience forced her to be cautious, calculated and hesitant. Obviously, she saw every man as if he were Mateo Salvador.
Holt wasn’t Mateo.
A nagging guilt burrowed its way into his mind. In a sense, he was. He was lying. Manipulating. Pretending he was something he wasn’t.
If she discovered the truth, she’d hate him.
But he was the good guy. He’d never hurt Blair. Instead of putting her in harm’s way, he’d protect her. Not that she’d ever know Holt’s true identity—unless Jeremy wasn’t found alive. Then he’d have to come forward and tell her the truth. Holt wouldn’t take the coward’s way out.
But if Jeremy was alive, Holt would slip out of town and never see Blair again.
Mission accomplished. On to the next assignment. The next thrill. The next wild ride.
His throat tightened.
“I’m glad to hear you’ve wised up. I wouldn’t want you to fall for what sounds like trouble again.” The highlights of the day sank like deadweight in his stomach.
“I won’t. Make no mistake about that.”
They entered the Black-Eyed Pea, ordered po’boys—again—and then, after dinner, Blair approached Jace Black at the counter. Nearly fifteen minutes later, they were still talking. Funny, she’d barely said two words to Holt during their meal, so his attempt to di
g deeper into her life had been for nothing. Something about the way she and Jace eased into conversation, the way he tugged her hair and winked without her pulling away sent a spike of irritation through him. He strode to the counter and brushed Blair’s hair from her shoulder.
She flinched.
Why could Jace touch her hair and get a grin and Holt couldn’t? He gritted his teeth and bit back the rejection. “You ready?”
She blinked a few times. “Um...yeah.” To Jace she said, “Thanks for the food. I’ll think about what you said.”
“Don’t let it keep you up all night.”
Holt wanted to punch the lopsided grin off Jace’s face. What had gotten into him? Jace Black was a pretty nice guy—not a punching bag for Holt’s frustrations.
Blair waved him off. “No worries on that end. See ya.”
Holt gave the requisite chin nod. Jace returned it with a friendly grin. Not a single arrogant undertone. Outside, Holt couldn’t stand it anymore. “So, what about his face?”
“What about it?” Blair crinkled her nose. The most kissable nose. He raked his hand through his hair.
“You know, is it...flawless?”
Blair raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Which was worse than saying it was indeed flawless. She continued to walk toward the truck. Holt was an idiot for asking. He’d be a bigger idiot if he pressed her. But the nonanswer had him relating to a shaken up bottle of Mountain Dew. He was about to come uncapped and blow.
“Because his lip pulls to the right when he grins, you know.”
Blair pursed her lips and continued the silent treatment, glancing at him then staring straight ahead.
Why couldn’t he shut up? He should shut up.
“And for a restaurant owner, his longer hair isn’t exactly sanitary.”
He was shutting up. Right now. This was ridiculous.
Blair’s nostrils flared. Was she...was she going to laugh? Heat filled Holt’s cheeks. He was a blundering moron.
Finally, she cleared her throat. “I didn’t see you complaining when you wolfed down a po’boy in record time.”
“Yeah, well, when you’re hungry...” They parked around the back of Holt’s store and climbed out of the truck. Holt unlocked the door. “Let me get the lights on.”
“I’m going to unlock the rolling door for you and grab the inventory log from my store.”
Holt nodded and propped the door open. Blair strolled toward her place and froze.
“What’s wrong?” he called.
“My door’s unlocked. I don’t remember—”
The door burst open, knocking Blair to the ground.
Two masked intruders appeared. Holt raced toward the men, cuffing one by the neck of his long-sleeved shirt. He jabbed Holt in the ribs, but Holt hung on, slinging him into the store’s brick wall. He barreled toward the attacker and grabbed his mask, but the second attacker punched Holt in his kidney, sending a blinding pain through him.
Holt caught his breath, turned and ducked a punch, landing one to the second attacker’s ribs. “Run, Blair.” Holt took an uppercut, tasted blood in his mouth. But he didn’t bother with wiping it from the corner of his lips. Instead, he rammed the guy, throwing him to the ground while Attacker One forcefully smacked him from behind.
White lights popped before his eyes.
“Let’s go,” one of them growled.
The other stalked toward Blair. “Not yet.”
Holt rolled onto his back and used his feet to kick the guy who wanted to leave in the sternum, giving Holt time to spring to his feet and waylay Blair’s assailant. She grabbed a metal garbage can lid and whacked him right upside the head.
Impressive. Resourceful. Holt wasn’t prepared for the surge of pride that washed over him. But there was no time to sit and analyze the moment.
Attacker One growled and sprinted down the street, the guy Blair had clobbered not far behind. Holt gave chase but lost them behind the Bless Her Heart Boutique. He jogged back to the store and, reaching Blair, ran his hand through her long hair. “Nice moves. You hurt?”
“No. Little scared.” She heaved a sigh. “I’ve been inside. They must have just broken in, because it’s not trashed.”
What were they searching for? “Let’s unload tomorrow. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
“I like the way you think.” She placed a trembling hand to her throat, and Holt did the only thing that came to mind. He drew her against him, hoping she’d find comfort in him. Caressing her shoulder as they trudged back to the truck, he leaned his head on hers.
“You wanna talk about it?” Would she open up now?
“No,” she whispered, “but I will let you drive my truck. I’m too shaky.”
Well, it was a step in the right direction. He opened her door, then hauled himself to the driver’s side and drove them to her house in silence.
At the edge of her street, Holt cringed inwardly and glanced at Blair. She opened her eyes and perked up. She’d seen it, too.
“What is going on?” She shot out of the truck before it had time to stop.
Blue lights flashed in the drive. Beams of light caught Holt’s eye. “The barn.”
Blair raced across the yard. “Where’s Gigi? No cops!”
No cops?
Did she even realize she’d hollered that? Holt raced alongside her. Deputy Chief Marsh and a man with a cowboy hat and horse looked up.
“You’ve had a prowler in the barn,” the man said.
“Where’s Gigi?” Blair asked, panic lacing her tone as she faced the deputy chief.
“She’s not here.” Holt rubbed his jaw. “Should she be?”
FIVE
“Yes. I mean no. I mean... I don’t know where she is.” Blair’s hands shook as she plucked her phone from her back pocket and hit Gigi’s name.
“I’m sure she’s fine. I already checked your home. Nothing’s touched that I can tell.” Beckett’s deep voice held authority. She did a double take. He usually didn’t say much other than polite greetings.
The phone rang once. Twice.
“Hey, you back?” Gigi answered.
The knot coiled in Blair’s stomach released. “Where are you?”
“I’m with Hunter. We rode out to the quarry. To talk. I think we’re on again. How was the day trip with Mr. Eyes?”
Holt talked with Beckett and Mitch Rydell—his horse nudging Holt’s shoulder with its nose. No point in worrying Gigi. She was safe. With Hunter. “It was...good. I’ll see you when you get home.”
Gigi’s voice lowered. “I’m watching my back. I’m being cautious. Okay? Don’t worry about me. Did you go by Jeremy’s like you said?”
The knot was back. “Yes. I’ll talk to you about it later.” She hung up. The police were here. On her property. Whoever left the note would know. Hairs on her neck rose as she scanned the perimeter. They were out there somewhere in the darkness, watching. Waiting.
“Gigi okay?” Holt asked.
Blair nodded. Everything was spiraling out of control. She headed for her storage barn.
“Blair.” Beckett trailed her. “What is going on?”
“That’s what I’d like to know, Beckett.” She stood outside her barn. All her organizing. Her meticulous care. Ruined. Nothing was left in piles or on shelves. Tears burned the back of her eyes. Endless hours of work, poof! Gone.
A steady arm came around her shoulder.
Holt.
“We’ll clean it up. One bite at a time.”
She couldn’t fight the comfort he was offering. Couldn’t push it away. Didn’t want to. Not now when fear all but coated her inside out. She leaned into him for support, and he cradled her against him.
“It’s a shame about the mess, Blair,”
Mitch said, surveying the scene at the barn. “I had Chesley out for a ride tonight to enjoy the full moon, the breeze. When I got to the edge of the fence I saw a couple of shadows, heard the commotion. Chesley heard it first.” Mitch rubbed his horse down. “I hollered and fired a round on my rifle. Scared whoever it was off. Called Beckett. Again, I’m real sorry, Blair.” Mitch removed his Stetson. Golden brown hair had formed sweaty ringlets around his brow. Even without his grin, dimples creased against tanned skin. He was one of Hope’s most eligible bachelors. But, oh, how Blair wished he hadn’t called the authorities.
Someone might think she’d done it! That she’d ignored the note. Dread crept down her spine, leaving goose bumps in its wake. What would they do next? And who would they target?
“I appreciate you lookin’ out for me, Mitch. That’s sweet.” She choked down the fear threatening to overtake her. “Probably—” her voice cracked and she cleared it “—probably some teenagers getting into some summer mischief.”
Beckett folded his arms over his broad chest. “This doesn’t feel like teenage pranks, Blair. I expect answers.”
Holt put himself as a barrier between Blair and Beckett. “You just got one.” He put his face in Beckett’s. “So do your job and investigate the barn incident. Round up those rowdy teenagers.”
He was coming to her rescue again. Holt had to know as well as Blair that rowdy kids had nothing to do with this. Even Beckett didn’t believe it. But she was grateful for the support.
Beckett didn’t back down.
The two men stood nose-to-nose.
Holt’s eyes held fire. Beckett’s were filled with ice.
No point in making things worse with the authorities.
Beckett’s eyes narrowed while Holt’s jaw worked overtime. “So the teenagers who wrecked this barn also ran Blair and Gigi off the road the other day? Seems like they’ve really targeted her good for some summer mischief...Mr. Renard. Now kindly get out of my face,” he growled.
How would Beckett know they’d been run off the road? She’d only said they wrecked on Farley Pass. Had Gigi blabbed to someone and the news had made its way around?
Concealed Identity Page 7