* * *
Holt didn’t stand down but cocked his head. “I don’t believe I have the pleasure of knowing your name.”
“Deputy Chief’ll be fine. Now, about Blair being run off the road...”
“What makes you think that?” Holt asked.
“Back down.”
“Holt...” Blair called. Beckett was right. No point in him going to jail. Getting locked up. That would be the worst place for him if Blair needed him. And she was discovering each day how much she did, which terrified her on a whole other level.
He glanced at Blair as if thinking the same thing and backed up an inch.
Beckett zeroed in on Blair. “I’m not some greenhorn, Blair. I’m going to do my job, but if you don’t come clean soon, you’re the only one who’s going to be sorry.”
“Is that another threat?” Holt hissed, and went right back into Beckett’s face.
“That’s a fact,” Beckett said, then spun out of Holt’s glare. “Now, if you don’t want people knowing you’ve been shot at, which obviously caused you to run off the road, fix the bullet holes on the back of your Christmas truck.” Muttering, the lawman stomped across the yard, slammed the door to his sheriff’s car and peeled out of the gravel driveway.
Blair unraveled inside but kept her feet rooted to the ground. Why hadn’t she thought about the few tiny holes in her truck? Somehow Beckett had noticed and put the pieces together. Good for his line of work. Not so good for Blair. Mitch stared at her. “Someone shot at you? Why?”
“What? Oh. I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Blair lied. How was she going to get the bullet holes fixed without the town questioning her?
Mitch swung onto his horse. “Seems to me, Blair, if someone took a shot or two at you coming home from the auction the other day and then rumbled around in your barn, you might have something they want. Ever thought of that?” He kissed the air twice and lightly kicked the sides of his horse. “And you.” He pointed at Holt. “Might not want to make enemies so quickly. It’s a small town. Sorry ’bout your barn, Blair.” He galloped off the property.
Holt watched as Mitch rode into the adjoining pasture. “I don’t like him. And I don’t like the sheriff.”
“Technically, he’s not the sheriff. And they’re both nice guys. Beckett’s only frustrated I won’t let him help. Like he said, his hands are tied if I don’t divulge everything. And now...now...” She was done for. Mitch had put two and two together in seconds flat. Maybe he should have gone into law enforcement instead of cattle farming. Beckett knew good and well teenagers hadn’t messed up her barn. How far would he go to get to the truth?
She studied the barn. What could she possibly have? Had someone hidden something inside her truck during the auction? If so, why? Maybe drugs and her connection to drug cartels had nothing to do with this.
Holt crossed over the grass and tipped Blair’s chin toward him. “Now what? Because you and I both know teenagers didn’t trash your barn. You’re keeping a secret, and it’s the reason you freaked out over the police being here. Well, guess what, Blair? The police are now all up in this whether you like it or not. Marsh isn’t gonna let this go and you know it.”
Blair might have indirectly sealed everyone’s fate. She had to come clean. “I was told not to.”
“By who?” His voice was eerily soft.
“I don’t know.” She told him about the note and the dead rat.
He inhaled sharply. “Do you still have that note?”
“Yes, but I threw the rat away,” she whispered. “They’re watching me. I know it. I feel it.” At this point there was no hiding anything from these guys, so she might as well accept Holt’s offer for a private investigator. “I’ve got nothing left to lose. Could you still call in that PI? You’d...you’d handle that for me? I can trust you to do that?”
Holt released a breath and pulled Blair to his chest. “Yes. Absolutely. Text me a photo of Jeremy and any information you might know. I’ll get it to him ASAP.”
“Thank you. I wanted to accept your offer sooner. Don’t think I don’t care about my brother. I didn’t know what to do, but now...” She leaned into him and smelled the pine scent mixed with a day of hard work. So masculine. Safe. But she wasn’t safe. No one close to her was. “Be careful, though. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I will, but Mitch had a point,” Holt murmured into her hair. “A very good point.”
She reluctantly pulled away. It wasn’t helping her any to stay against him, to feel his warmth, his heartbeat. She had to stay focused. Something was in her barn. Could it have been from the storage unit? She’d gone through everything, though. Nothing there. No drugs or money. Not even a single weapon. “Let’s start cleaning and see if we can’t find whatever it was they were looking for. We must have overlooked something.”
A new thought crossed her mind. “I hate to say it but with Jeremy’s past and the fact that he’s missing, I wonder if they think I have something he gave me?”
Holt wrinkled his nose. “You think it’s drugs?”
“I don’t know. I go to the same storage facility once a month. I’ve never had this happen before. Why now? Why that unit?” She dragged herself to the barn. “We’re not getting anywhere standing here. What if they found what they were looking for?”
“What if they didn’t?”
* * *
Holt hauled stuff back into tubs as Blair reshelved items. Dark circles had formed under her eyes and her rosy cheeks had dulled. But she wouldn’t give up, and that he respected. But it sickened him to think someone was causing her this kind of grief. “Mitch said he ran those guys off. My guess is they were going to finish off the barn and probably head into your house.”
Blair shuddered and kicked an empty rubber tub over. “I wanted to be free. To come and live my life in a quiet town. Settle down with an honest man. And never think of drugs and crime again.”
In her exhaustion, she was opening up a more private side of her life. One Holt already knew, so he kept silent. He wanted to hear her version. Not as an undercover DEA agent. As a man. A friend. A friend who might be feeling more than friendship.
An honest man.
Holt couldn’t claim that attribute. Not when he was standing here lying about who he was.
A rustle sounded in the distance. Holt hurdled a pile of knickknacks and prepared to grab his gun from his ankle holster.
Gigi came into the light. “What in the world happened here?” Eyes flashed with alarm as she focused on Blair.
“Don’t worry,” Blair said. “Mitch ran off a couple of guys. It’s nothing.”
“Have you lost your mind? This is not nothing.” Gigi scanned the wrecked barn. “You said you wouldn’t keep anything from me anymore. I’m holding you to it.” She zeroed in on Holt. “How much do you know?”
“Enough to also know this isn’t nothing.” He lugged a box onto a top shelf, but he scanned the darkness, a nagging feeling eyes were on them.
“What are we going to do?” Gigi asked, and helped organize the disarray.
Sighing, Blair rubbed her lower back and opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. Something was going on inside that darlin’ head of hers. If Gigi hadn’t shown up, how much would she have confided in him? She was more than words on a dossier.
Finally, she turned to Gigi and gave a watered-down version of the day. She left out the intruder in Jeremy’s apartment, and it didn’t appear that Gigi knew about the note or the dead rat.
It wasn’t like he could judge when it came to divulging information. He was keeping secrets of his own.
Gigi nodded. “Fine. We’ll get this PI guy on the scene, but in the meantime be extra careful. No police. Got it. Tomorrow, I’m watching the store. You have your hands full here, and I do believe you promised this guy
help with his business.”
Holt shook his head. “Don’t worry about my place. I can handle it.” Besides, he needed some free time to drum up some leads on Jeremy and Bryan’s disappearances.
Blair reached into her pocket, retrieved a ponytail holder and piled her hair on top of her head. “No, I owe you for all the help. This is going to take more than a day, though. I’m exhausted.”
“Me, too,” Gigi said. “’Night, ya’ll.”
When she was out of earshot, Holt plunked down on a bench. “I think you should let me crash on your couch.”
Blair tossed a clean rag at him. Not too tired to think fast, he caught it before it nailed him in the head. He wiped off his filthy hands.
“Why? You’re just across the street.”
“A lot can happen in thirty seconds. It’ll take me at least forty to get to you.” Bullheaded woman wasn’t going to allow it, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t press her. His mama used to say she picked her battles when it came to him. Well, this was a battle he was going to charge head-on. “I can protect you if I’m close to you.”
“Don’t forget, I have a gun.”
“Well, great. That makes two of us. We’ll be doubly armed.” He grinned. Hoping his—as she put it—flawless face would seal the deal.
“No. And why do you have a gun?” She narrowed her eyes.
“Like you said, I live in the South.”
She smirked. “Point taken. But no. I don’t want you twisted up in this any more than you already are. You could get hurt.”
He closed the distance between them in three strides. Framing her face, he searched her eyes. Controlling these crazy feelings around her was fast becoming an exercise in futility. “So could you.”
She touched the hand that still cupped her cheek, sending his pulse thrashing. “I’m tired. Grungy. I want to shower and crawl into my bed and try to sleep.” She removed his hand and stepped around him, heading for the house. “I’ll text you first thing in the morning. We can start on the store, since you have to open up soon. What’s that date again?”
Holt caught up with her. He wasn’t opening at all. Disappointment slithered into his chest. “I’m shooting for the first week in July, with vacation season in full swing. You can help me create a patriotic window display.”
She paused. “You really do have an imagination.”
“I’m flawless, remember? Speaking of...” She never had answered him about Jace Black.
“Good night, Holt Renard. See you in the morning. You’ll call your private investigator friend when you get home, right?”
It hurt to lie. So he didn’t. “The minute I have some news, you’ll know.” Hopefully, it would be positive news. For him and Bryan. But time wasn’t the best thing when a person was missing. And it was an even worse thing when the Juarez Cartel was connected.
Holt had seen some vicious crimes committed in their name. If they did find Alejandro, maybe he would lead them to the head of the cartel, and they could take them all down. For good.
“Thank you. Again.” She nodded and went inside.
Holt waited for the lock to click into place. This woman was so far under his skin he might have to rent a backhoe to scoop her out. But if she thought he was staying across the street, she had another think coming.
He’d give her time to get settled and showered and then he was going to plant himself on her front porch with his pillow, blanket and gun. Period. End of story.
Let the war rage.
* * *
Blair stumbled through the kitchen to set the coffeepot for the morning. Every crack and pop of the old house had her jumping and peeping over her shoulder. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t force the goose bumps that chilled her skin to cease standing at attention.
Achy muscles, a fried brain and a sputtering heart were not the way she enjoyed ending a Monday. At least knowing a private investigator would soon be on the case gave her a blip of comfort. And of course, if she was completely honest with herself, having Holt nearby, knowing he was willing to do whatever it took to protect her, gave her even more comfort. God, I’m so worried and frightened. You’ve been with me before. Be with me now.
She flipped on the light under the stove hood and left a lamp on in the living room. Stopping off at Gigi’s room before tromping upstairs, she knocked lightly.
No sound.
Her stomach curdled. She inched the door open, her breath shaky. Gigi lay on top of the comforter, snoring lightly. That girl. Too bad Blair could never fall asleep so easily. And with everything going on, she might not sleep a wink. But her body protested, desiring rest. The steep stairs creaked as she climbed each one with a groan.
What could have been in that storage unit? Whatever it was, it was enough to scare and possibly kidnap a person for. The one time Ronnie Lawson wasn’t there to outbid her, this happened. Not that she wanted ill will to befall Ronnie. He had a wife and kids. Life had been going smoothly until now.
She turned the light on in the bathroom. Hairs spiked on her neck. She stood quietly. Listening.
Cicadas. A hoot owl calling. Crickets chirping.
She shook off the willies and twisted on the hot water. After her nightly routine, minus moisturizing because she was too tired, she padded toward her bed. Tomorrow she’d help Holt with his business and make a call to Jeremy’s work. She glanced down at the festive print on her pajama pants.
Mistletoe.
Kissing.
Holt.
The man would certainly know how to kiss. There was no way he wouldn’t. But she didn’t need to be thinking about the man who seemed to have flared a spark of jealousy over Jace Black. Her friend and nothing more. Letting Holt stew in his questions had given Blair some satisfaction and amusement. Rarely had she ever had a hold on a man. If she really even had a hold on him. Maybe she was imagining his arm slinging around her at her house as being possessive in a not-creepy kind of way.
She hadn’t imagined the way her blood had warmed and hummed all over when he brushed her hair behind her shoulder. It’d jolted her enough to make her flinch. How could a simple display do such wild things inside her? She sure hadn’t felt that when Jace tugged at her hair.
Two throw pillows had fallen to the floor. She tossed them on the rocking chair by the window, along with a few others, and then she switched off the bedroom light. Soft moonbeams filtered through the windows, glimmering just enough to cause odd-shaped shadows to appear on the cream-colored walls.
She tossed back the quilt and white jersey sheets and jumped into the comfort and security of her bed.
Something moved at the foot of it.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She slung back the covers and shrieked.
SIX
Dropping the box of microwave popcorn and a two-liter bottle of soda at the bloodcurdling scream, Holt wrenched the knob to the front door.
Locked.
On a rush of pure adrenaline, he threw his shoulder into the door. On the second try it gave way and he bounded inside Blair’s.
He sprang up the stairs three at a time, heart hammering in his ears. He busted the door open.
Blair lay paralyzed on crisp white sheets, sweat popping along her forehead and upper lip.
A snake hissed and slithered up the middle of the bed.
“Blair.” Holt inched forward, his gut clenching.
Her body trembled like she’d been thrown into the middle of the Arctic Ocean.
The snake writhed toward her.
Red, black and yellow. Slender.
His throat swelled. “Blair, listen to me. Whatever you do, don’t move. That’s a Mexican coral snake. It’s deadly.”
Blair’s breath came in hollow pants. “I think I can roll off the side. I...
I’m...”
“What’s going on? Holt—” Gigi froze in the doorway, bat in hand. “What is that?”
“It’s exactly what you think it is. No sudden movement. Be quiet, Gigi. Go get me a big garbage bag and a storage tub.” Holt crept toward Blair. If he made a sudden movement the snake could strike at Blair, killing her within twenty minutes. He’d seen it happen before.
No doubt now. This was the Juarez Cartel’s calling card. But how did it relate to the storage unit? He’d think about that later.
Now he had to focus on saving Blair without making a single mistake. “It’s going to be okay, Blair. I’m going to help you. Don’t move.”
The stairs creaked. Gigi was back. “What are you going to do?” she whispered.
Keeping his voice low, Holt explained, “I’m going to wrangle it into the bag and toss it in the tub.” Hopefully, without getting any of them killed in the process.
“Good. Good plan.” Gigi’s voice faltered.
But how to toss the bag without the snake sensing it coming and striking. Hissing and agitated, the reptile was mere inches from slithering onto Blair’s stomach.
Time was running out.
Using minimal steps, Holt shuffled toward the end of the bed, keeping his eyes on the snake.
It raised its head and flickered its tongue against the air.
Blair moaned, and her lips and chin quivered. Strands of hair had matted to her temples. He was going to tear whoever did this limb from limb. “Blair, honey...” he murmured. “Hang tight. It’s almost over. Close your eyes.”
“N-n-no. I can’t. I h-h-hate s-s-snakes.” She shivered again. “I can roll really fast. Maybe.”
She wasn’t fast enough to dodge a coral snake. Its tail swished against Blair’s thigh and she whimpered.
“Blair.” Holt kept his tone smooth, easy...low-key. “You’re being brave, but you can’t beat it. All we’ve been through so far. You can trust me. Completely.” He inched to the other side of the bed, behind the snake. “Close your eyes.”
He couldn’t afford for her to flinch for even a second when he tossed the bag. If she did, she’d be dead. And Holt wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Concealed Identity Page 8