Somehow she shook herself from that momentary trance and drove off toward her friend’s house.
Lynnie, don’t think about being close to this man. Think about helping Skye. Finish the work, Skye can come home, and Jace will leave.
That last thought left her more unsettled then thinking about the man being naked on the other side of a wall.
Didn’t matter. He would finish his work and leave, and that’s that.
Jace set the box of wood screws on the workbench in the shed.
Fr Richard walked in, carrying cold bottles of water. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
He stretched the ruler and drew markings on the side and back pieces of the bookshelf. Focusing extra hard on the task in front of him, and not the wild thoughts tormenting his mind.
Lynée leaving him here was a blessing in disguise. That stunned and hungry look in her eyes when she saw him shirtless… He’d seen that look before on other women and had never given it much credence. But with Lynée, it was an entirely different experience. She looked like she could eat him up in one damn bite, and he wanted it.
It took everything he had not to look at her in the car or in the hardware store. If he did, he’d probably have taken her right then.
Visions of her, alone in the shed, and all the incredible things his dirty imagination craved made him so uncomfortable in his pants.
Turning to grab the drill, he discreetly adjusted himself.
“I’ll hold this here,” Fr Richard said as he squatted down, holding the shelf against the side plank.
God was taunting him. He shouldn’t be thinking about all the delicious things he wanted to do to Lynée while on church property. That was highly inappropriate. Talk about temptation. Any second, he expected lightning to strike him down. How many Hail Mary’s would it take to prevent that?
Shit! He sounded like Lynée. He chuckled to himself.
He couldn’t say why he wanted to build this damn bookshelf. It probably had everything to do with the look on Lynée’s face when she saw that children's book trashed. She must have known that book. Probably had it read to her a million times.
Jace couldn’t relate to being connected to a book that much, but he could certainly relate to that look on her face. It was the same expression his mother gave when he was a teenager and had thrown his father’s cross in the trash. That heartbroken expression that he absolutely refused to let another woman experience, not if he could help it.
Their case would just have to wait. They could make up the lost time tomorrow. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take but another day, and the church could put their library back together.
Lining up the shelf, the screws drilled through the wood like butter.
Jace only had four shelves done when his phone rang. Lynée.
The woman’s car sat parked in the short driveway. But from the last hour of watching her place a few houses down, Emilio was certain Skye Winters wasn’t home. Judging from the mail overflowing her mailbox, she’d probably gone hiding with Monroe somewhere.
He pulled up his hoodie and started toward her house. With a quick vault over her back fence, he made his way to the back door. The lock picked easily enough, but he turned the knob, and it didn’t budge.
The deadbolt.
Emilio rolled his eyes. With his fist balled into his sleeve, he punched out the window on the door, then reached around to undo the deadbolt. Inside, the smell of apple permeated the air. The two dark beams stretching across the vaulted ceilings into a living area made the small space seem bigger than it was. The woman was a fan of fresh plants but clearly hadn’t been home in a while. Some were starting to wilt. Framed photos lined most of the walls, painted cheerful colors. But none of the pictures included Monroe.
After searching her kitchen, sifting through multiple junk drawers and the mail on her counter, he didn’t find many clues to Monroe’s whereabouts. Or any details about him at all. The fridge was full of rabbit food, vitamin waters, and apple jelly. The leftover dish of what looked like lasagna looked pretty good. The freezer was a disappointment as well. A basket full of apples sat on the other counter.
There’s got to be something here.
Lots of photographs of her and her parents were displayed around the house, as well as several with her and another blonde woman in glasses. Skye had left her laptop sitting on the counter, her screensaver more images of her and this other woman. The thing was password-protected, so he couldn’t get in. He wasn’t tech-savvy like Monroe or Diego.
Damn, this woman was starting to annoy him. He grabbed the lightweight computer, yanking the power cord from the wall and smashed it on the floor.
In her bedroom, a bright light flooded in through the windows across the unmade bed. Her open closet appeared messy with overturned hangars and a few garments on the floor, as though she’d packed some things quickly. Rifling through her dresser drawers revealed she had an affinity for lacy underwear. But nothing from or about a boyfriend.
The man didn’t keep any clothes or belongings here.
What woman doesn’t have pictures of her boyfriend in her bedroom?
He searched through her bathroom. Not even a toothbrush.
A faint clicking noise made him stop.
The front door opened, and the soft sound of a woman’s voice followed. “So much mail.”
Emilio grinned. Skye must’ve returned home. Maybe Monroe was with her. He placed a hand over the handle of his gun tucked in his waistband. He’d wait back here patiently, ready to pounce.
“Holy mother of cheese and rice!” she called.
She must have just noticed the kitchen with the smashed laptop, open cabinet doors, and the open fridge. He looked in the bathroom mirror, through the reflection of the partially open door. The woman’s small frame stood mostly blocked by a wall. He couldn’t see her face, but the hair was a little darker than in the pictures. No one else came in behind her.
She was alone.
He bit back a growl. At least now, he was one very large step closer to his target. She must know where he’d run to. All he had to do was torture the information out of her.
“Oh no,” she muttered, still oblivious to his presence. “This is the last thing she needs.” The lady pulled out a cell phone and pressed a few buttons. “Jace, it’s Lynée. Skye’s house has been broken into.”
Emilio seethed. It wasn’t her.
Mierda!
After a short pause, she continued. “I don’t know how they got in, the front door was still locked. Oh wait… The glass from the back door is broken. Probably just some rowdy teenagers. Can you ask Fr. Richard to bring you over? I’ll call the sheriff as well. I need to start cleaning up this mess.”
Now Emilio would have to kill another person just to escape unseen. He double-checked the clip inside his gun. As soon as she drew closer to the bathroom, he’d plug one in her head.
She moved back through the house, closer to where he hid behind the door. “Oh, that’s a good idea,” she continued into the phone. “Her insurance will need pictures of the damage, too. Can I please call Skye and let her know what’s going on?”
He stopped. This woman knew where Skye was. Maybe Monroe was with her, too.
Que chingon! Adrenaline pulsed through his veins. In only a matter of hours, he could dance his way to the prick’s doorstep and have a tequila shot over the man’s body.
Lynée sighed. “Fine. Do everything yourself, as usual. Just get over here.” She reminded him of the address and hung up.
The girl’s face was soft and angelic. Her glasses made her bright green eyes bigger. She was so close, just an arm’s length away now. He tightened his grip on the gun, ready to grab her. He held his breath.
She turned away and went back to the living room. Then she held up her phone and shot several pictures, turning in slow circles, getting every inch of the room.
Maybe if he just followed her around for a little while, she�
��d lead him straight to his targets. She didn’t even have to know. Catching Monroe and his girlfriend by surprise heightened his chances of success. Granted, his boss was growing impatient, but surely a day or two would bring him right to the DEA agent’s doorstep.
Now, to get out unseen. She was busy snapping pictures. It would be so easy to grab her, drag her into his car, and have some fun with her. Maybe after…
A small thump from the back of the house pulled Lynée’s attention around. She hadn’t even imagined the robbers still being in the house. Jace had told her not to touch anything, in fact, to go to her car to wait for him. But that was ridiculous. He was so paranoid. Occupational hazard, probably.
“Hello?” she called.
No response.
She slowly moved to the back bedroom. All of the dresser drawers were open, and Skye’s clothes thrown about. Including some bras and underwear. Creepy suckers. She moved farther down the hallway to the bathroom. Everything remained untouched. Except her shower curtain was pulled closed. An image of a dozen horror movies flashed in her mind of a serial killer hiding behind the clichéd shower curtain.
She grabbed the plunger from beside the toilet and used it to quickly draw back the curtain. Empty.
With a shake of her head, Lynée chided herself. “That man’s fixations are messing with my head.”
She looked to her left—the bathroom window was wide open. Her breath caught. Boosting up on the toilet, she stuck her head out and inspected the back patio.
No one was there. Nothing seemed out of place either.
She closed the window and locked it.
As she finished her first pass-through of Skye’s house, nothing seemed missing. Strange, they didn’t just steal her laptop. Instead, they shattered it. All her other electronics were left untouched as well.
“What were they looking for?” she asked herself.
She grabbed the dustpan and brush from the closet and went to work on cleaning up the broken glass at the back door. This was going to take a long time to clean up, with tiny fragments stuck in the grout. She nearly groaned. No matter how many times she’d run the vacuum or a mop, it would never be completely clean again.
“Lynée?” a distant voice called from the front door.
She turned to see Jace bounding up the front porch steps with a touch of panic in his face. He drew his weapon from his holster.
“I’m in here. Nothing looks stolen.”
The sheriff’s vehicle pulled up to the curb just as Jace reached her side. “I told you to wait outside.”
“They broke in through the back door, destroyed Skye’s laptop and rummaged through things, but didn’t take anything. Who does that?”
“Someone looking for her. To get to Monroe. Someone like the cartel.” He started moving through the rooms, his weapon up, clearing the house.
“No one is here. I’ve already looked.”
The sheriff walked in, his own weapon drawn as well. “Miss Clark?” His eyes were shadowed by his wide-brimmed hat.
“Afternoon, Wyatt. I’m so sorry to trouble you with this.”
“It’s my job. May I ask you to step outside while I clear the house?”
“Already clear,” Jace called from the back. He walked up the hallway and re-holstered his pistol. He nodded to Wyatt. “Afternoon, Sheriff.”
“This town was super quiet for a long time, and as soon as you roll in, all hell keeps breaking loose.” He frowned. The man’s bushy gray eyebrows matched his uniform.
“In more ways than one,” Lynée muttered under her breath and pulled up her phone to scan through the photos.
“Well, it’s a stupid question since I already know the answer, but do either of you have any idea who would’ve done this?” His long sigh signaled his fatigue as he pulled out his notepad.
“Considering the perpetrators didn’t steal anything,” Jace answered, “more than likely, this is related to the former DEA agent in my custody.”
The two lawmen continued discussing things while she kept scrolling through her photos. Skye was going to be pissed when she saw her shattered laptop. But not as mad when she realized someone had gone through her bedroom drawers. Hopefully, Jace would finally let her talk to her best friend. Granted, she’d only be giving her more bad news, but she so longed to hear her voice. She’d soften it with the good news that all her plants were still alive.
“I’ll board up her back window real quick, then we should go.” Jace came up behind her. “Did you get pictures of everything? I need to include it in my investigation files.”
“Yeah, I think so.” She scrolled through a few more photos.
“Wait, stop!” he barked.
She jumped.
“Go back.” He brushed a large arm over her shoulder and skimmed his finger across the screen to the shot of the hallway. “Zoom in on the bathroom.”
Lynée enlarged the photo and focused on the slightly open door. Then gasped.
A tiny reflection in the mirror, behind the partially open door, was the distinct face of a man. A Hispanic, leathery-skinned face with a scruffy chin glared hungrily at her.
All words left her mind. She couldn’t even think. The guy had been there the whole time.
Wait, she’d checked the bathroom, the stupid maneuver with the plunger. It was empty. When had he…
“Sheriff!” Jace barked out the front door. “We have a suspect.”
Her hands shook, the full realization just now hitting her. The guy could’ve attacked her. Shot her or sliced her throat. Or he could’ve grabbed her, dragged her out the back door, and been long gone before Jace arrived. She’d been inches away from never being seen again. Inches away from death.
Why didn’t he attack?
“We’ll put this through facial recognition software and see if we can identify him.” Jace took her phone from her hands, and shared the image with Wyatt, nearly salivating at this new piece of evidence. “Can you run it through your database as well? Just to make sure he isn’t a local.”
“No one I recognize,” he answered gruffly. “But, we can put out a BOLO.”
“No. I don’t want him to see we have his picture. That’ll make him run. But I need a name.”
Lynée walked out the front door, needing fresh air. The two men kept talking inside, but all she could focus on was the danger surrounding her best friend. This man was after Skye, to get to Reed. Just as Jace predicted.
Down each end of the street, she didn’t see anyone else. No cars, no dog walkers— nothing. In the middle of the afternoon, everyone would be at work. Where had that man disappeared to? He’d vanished into the cold, dry air. Or perhaps he ducked behind a tree somewhere. Was he watching her right now? Smiling to himself, thinking he’d gotten away with it?
She ground her teeth and took another deep breath. “You won’t get away with this,” she muttered to void. “We’re going to stop you.”
For Skye.
Jace rolled up to Lynée’s house the next morning, the motorcycle engine echoing down the street. The air turned chillier overnight, and the news forecasted snow later that day. Nothing that would accumulate, but definitely signaling an early winter. He switched off the engine and studied the front of her house.
What if it had been Lynée these cartel thugs were after? What if he weren’t here to help her? But that was part of the job. He wouldn’t always be here. He’d have to go chase down leads and suspects. She would be left alone. A lot.
He had to finish this. Fast.
The two of them had buried themselves in mountains of evidence and files for days, and he still didn’t feel any closer to closing this thing. If it hadn’t been for Lynée, this whole process would’ve taken infinitely longer. With his suspect hiding out in protective custody, and this cartel assassin on his ass, they didn’t have infinite time.
He strolled up her walkway and took a deep breath before knocking. He checked the doorknob. Locked.
Good. She’d finally learned something
from him.
She opened the door, her glasses perched on the edge of her nose. She still wore her flannel pajama pants and an oversized sweater. So cozy looking, all he wanted to do was curl up with her on the couch.
“Mornin’. Just made a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Thanks.” He closed the door behind him.
Her green eyes read eager and determined. “Jace, I need to call Skye. We have to tell her what happened.”
“I agree.” He pulled the phone from his back pocket, called the number, and handed it to her. “Give it back when you’re done so I can talk to Reed.”
She nodded and took the phone, greedily listening for a pickup. “Reed, it’s Lynée. Can I talk to Skye?”
Her friend got on the line, her voice loud enough for him to overhear. “Lynnie, is everything okay?”
“Not exactly. We’re fine, but… someone broke into your house yesterday.” She recounted the events from the burglary, including her broken backdoor and smashed laptop.
Jace moved a little closer and heard Skye’s expletive through the phone.
“It’s just a laptop, easy to replace. The good news is Sheriff Wyatt and the DEA have the guy’s picture from…surveillance, to see if they can find anything… Yes, I promise. I’ll call and get some bids to replace the door glass.”
Jace was grateful Lynée didn’t go into an explanation over where the picture came from. The last thing they wanted to do was scare the crap out of them. He waved his fingers, needing the phone back to make sure she didn’t give them more than they needed to know.
“I gotta hand the phone to Jace. Put Reed on, okay?”
He took the cell. “Look, Monroe, they’re gonna run the picture through the database—”
“It’s the cartel.” Monroe’s voice was curt…adamant.
Jace nodded as if the guy could see him. “Likely. I’ll text you his picture, let me know if you recognize him.” He hit a few buttons on the phone and waited for a response.
“No. But he found our trail pretty damn fast.”
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