She stepped back, appalled. “It most certainly is.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  She didn’t dare. “No. But it is.”

  “Well, hemoglobin is a word, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

  “Hemoglobin?”

  “Yes.”

  “Glow?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it doesn’t mean—?”

  “No.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then what does it mean, Mr. Smarty Pants?”

  “It’s a protein in your red blood cells that carries oxygen to your organs. Among other things.”

  “What?” She took another step back. “It’s not a head wound?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Oh.” Stunned, she walked to one of the chairs on the porch and sank onto it, the wood slats creaking against her weight. “I was wondering why swelling in the brain would be named after a goblin. I just thought it was left over from medieval times or something. Like when they would use a drill on someone’s skull to release the evil spirits.”

  “Ah.”

  “So, I don’t have a submissive hemo-glow-bin?”

  He sat in the chair beside her. “I don’t think that’s a real thing.”

  “Why didn’t my mother tell me?”

  “I can’t imagine,” he said, trying to hide his nuclear smile behind a fist.

  She studied it, that smile, for a few seconds. “If I didn’t know better—” she began, but the sound of a vehicle pulling into the drive stopped her mid-sentence.

  Both heads snapped toward the sound.

  “Quincy!” she whispered. No clue why. She jumped to her feet. “I can’t be here. He’ll tell my mom, then my mom’ll call my grandma, and my grandma’ll tell my grandpa, and they’ll send out the National Guard and the CIA because my grandpa was in military intelligence and he has connections, and then I’ll be grounded for the rest of my natural-born life. Or all summer. Whichever ends first.” She said all of this while searching frantically for a place to hide. Without thought, she rushed inside the cabin and wedged herself between a wall and a pile of—thankfully—clean laundry, praying he hadn’t come home to change his clothes.

  “Hey, kid,” she heard Quincy say. A car door closed and footsteps sounded as Quincy’s heavy boots trod up the steps.

  “Hey,” Cruz said.

  Quincy stopped just outside the door. “You okay?”

  “Peachy.”

  Auri almost giggled. Not many boys her age would willingly use the word peachy.

  “Are you heating the entire neighborhood?” He must’ve noticed the wide-open front door. It was hard to miss.

  “Heater’s off.”

  “Right. Right, I know.” He shuffled his feet. Kicked at something. “I just figure I should say shit like that, me being your guardian and all.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  Auri could hear the humor in Cruz’s voice.

  “Okay, well, carry on,” Quincy said before stepping into the cabin and walking to what sounded like a metal cabinet not three feet from her head.

  She froze, praying she’d managed to get her shoes all the way under the clothes.

  “Ten-four,” Cruz said, following him in, his footsteps much lighter than Quincy’s. Only the creaks of the floorboards gave away his position.

  She still couldn’t believe Cruz was living with Quincy. At least for now. And they worked well together. Auri would’ve appreciated that fact more if she weren’t on the verge of being discovered by her mother’s BFF. She squeezed her eyes shut, afraid to breathe even though his laundry smelled lovely.

  She heard metal scraping along a shelf as Quincy drug something out of the cabinet.

  “Cool climbing gear,” Cruz said as he nudged the bottom of her right foot.

  She panicked and tried to pull her knee to her chest without disturbing the mountain of clothes on top of her. The act proved impossible, so she stopped and prayed he wouldn’t notice a random foot sticking out from under his laundry.

  “I may or may not have been using county gear for a trip to Mexico a few months ago, but we need it now. Official business.”

  “Going undercover as a submissive?”

  “Rappelling down the side of a mountain.”

  “So close,” he whispered loudly, and Auri had to suppress a giggle.

  Quincy walked to the door but stopped long enough to say, “By the way, if that juvenile delinquent isn’t out of this house in two minutes, I’m siccing her mother on her.”

  Auri rose up from the laundry like a phoenix rising from the ashes, only not nearly as majestically. “Juvenile delinquent?”

  “Two minutes,” Quincy said with a soft laugh before closing the door behind him.

  She gaped at Cruz, but before she could say anything, Quincy’s phone rang from outside a window near her head. Worried it was her mother, Auri scrambled to her feet to peek through the pane.

  Quincy had stopped on the porch to stuff the gear into a canvas duffel bag. Fumbling to get his phone out of the case at his belt, he half dropped it onto the side table between the two patio chairs and put it on speaker as he continued his mission packing ropes, harnesses, and rings of those metal clasps into the bag.

  “Hey, Drew. We’re on our way.”

  “You … to hurry,” the caller said. The spotty connection cut out every few words. “I’m at … Injured female. Teen. Maybe early twenties.”

  Quincy stopped packing and stared at the phone. “Holy shit.”

  “I don’t … how long … down here.”

  “You’re in the canyon with her now? How do you have cell reception?”

  “Yeah, she’s … so not far down. Bitch to get here, though. She’s … of an incline. Hurt pretty bad. She…”

  “You’re cutting out, Drew. Can you repeat the last?”

  “Hold on.” After a minute of grunts and heavy breathing, he came back on the line. “Had to climb up a little. Can you hear me?”

  “I can. What’s up?”

  “I don’t have a good foothold, but I wanted you to know. She woke up just long enough to beg me not to tell the sheriff I found her.”

  Quincy’s gaze shot to Auri’s, the hazy pane distorting his worried expression. “What do you mean?”

  “She lost consciousness again before she could explain. The kid’s beat to hell, Quincy. Someone got the better of her, and for some reason she doesn’t want the sheriff to know.”

  3

  Sometimes, someone unexpected comes into your life out of nowhere, makes your heart race, and changes you forever.

  Those people are called cops.

  —SIGN AT QUINCY’S DESK

  “He didn’t recognize her?” Sun tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she took a curve up the narrow highway a tad too fast. It didn’t help that the early morning sun was in her face.

  Quincy tensed, not daring to take his eyes off the road despite the blinding sun. “No. He kept cutting out. She’s young, though.”

  Sun spotted an ambulance in her rearview about a mile behind them, lights blazing and siren blaring, a split second before the mountain separated them again. And behind the ambulance, she’d spotted one of her deputies’ cruisers. Probably Rojas since he’d responded to her call first. “How do you know she’s young?”

  “He called her a kid.”

  Sun glanced at him long enough for him to gesture toward the winding road ahead of them with a quick nod. She turned back and took another turn faster than a sheriff had a right to. “Have you heard any chatter? Anyone missing?”

  “Not a damned thing.” He looked over his shoulder at the steep drop barely two feet from him. He’d never been a fan of heights, but he seemed more uncomfortable than usual.

  “What?” she asked him.

  He glanced back at her. “What what?”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He shook his head and studied the road again. “We’ve known each other way too long.”

  “True, and you’re the richer for it. What’s going on?”

  He bit down, his jaw muscle jumping at the pressure he exerted on it before answering. “She spoke to him. Only a few seconds before losing consciousness again.”

  Sun swerved to miss a boulder on the side of the mountain that protruded onto the road. She’d been complaining about the safety hazard for years and was finally in a position to do something about it, but it had yet to climb to the top of her to-do list. Cases had been flying at her left and right since she’d taken office, and now this. “And?”

  After Quincy took a calming breath, he explained. “For some reason, she doesn’t want you to know Essary found her.”

  She stared at him, spurring him to gesture toward the road again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “No idea, boss. Apparently, she begged him not to tell the sheriff he’d found her.”

  Sun frowned and thought back. She hadn’t arrested any young females lately. Or older ones. Who would be afraid of her?

  “Want to talk about Clay?” he asked her.

  Sun winced. “Why on planet Earth would I want to talk about Levi’s uncle?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the one who wants to put him into protective custody.”

  “I don’t want to,” Sun argued, feeling the need to justify her actions. It was a hard pill to swallow even for her. “I have to if I want to keep my daughter’s father out of prison.”

  Quince didn’t reply, which meant he didn’t entirely disagree with her, and it irked him. He studied the horizon in thought, and Sun could almost hear the wheels in his head spinning.

  “You agree with me?” she asked, spurring him for his thoughts.

  He snapped out of it and released a breathy sigh. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

  She snorted. “Since when did that stop you?”

  “No time like the present. There’s Salazar.” He pointed to her lieutenant’s cruiser, changing the subject.

  With her emergency lights on, Salazar had parked and barricaded the road down to one lane. Thankfully, this wasn’t a busy highway. Mostly locals with an occasional tourist or hunter. But Salazar knew enough not to park on the dirt pull-off which would hopefully be teeming with evidence.

  What surprised Sun most about the scene, however, was the fact that Levi’s truck was parked on the other side of the pull-off, hugging the face of the mountain as much as possible. Salazar had cordoned off his pickup as though he were a part of the first response team, and for some bizarre reason, that warmed Sun’s heart. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He’d helped with several cases. He’d saved her life. He’d earned the right to be cordoned.

  Sun pulled in behind Salazar and turned on her emergency lights. Anyone coming around the mountain should have enough time to slow down, provided they weren’t driving fast enough to break the sound barrier. Rojas could take the other end of the roadblock when he got there to keep traffic flowing.

  She looked up and saw Levi grabbing some gear out of the back of his truck.

  Quincy put a hand on her arm to stay her before she could get out, his expression serious when he asked, “Can I arrest him now?”

  “No.”

  She got out and started to close her door when she heard him whisper, “I never get to have any fun.”

  “Hey, boss,” Salazar said as she motioned for a motorist to go around.

  “Hey, Lieutenant. What do we have?”

  “Essary is down there about a hundred feet.” She gestured toward the guardrail, then pointed to the dirt near it. “There are some tire tracks there. And a pretty good footprint there. It looks like someone pulled over and threw the victim over the side of the guardrail after the rain.”

  “Is that blood?”

  Salazar nodded. “Looks like it. I’ve already called for a forensics team.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  Quincy knelt down to survey the area from a different angle. “There’s some hair and possible fibers underneath that rail there.” He gestured toward the possible evidence, then stood.

  Salazar bent at the waist for a better view. “You’re right. I’ll point that out to forensics when they get here.”

  Sun nodded and watched as nonchalantly as possible, doing everything in her power to slow her heart rate when Levi walked up to them, his smooth gait that of a predator. Sadly, she didn’t do nonchalant well. She was much more of a chalant girl.

  “How was my cruiser?” Quincy asked him, a sharp edge to his voice.

  The smirk that overtook Levi’s features caused Sun’s stomach to clench. “Drives great. Thanks for asking.”

  Quincy stepped closer to him but Levi simply graced him with a bored expression. While their lofty heights were almost a perfect match, Quincy was bigger than Levi. His arms more muscular. His shoulders ever-so-slightly wider.

  But Levi’s lean frame suited him. He was strong, wiry, and fast. His whiskey-colored irises glistened with humor, but Sun could see the lines of fatigue and worry etched into his handsome face. At least two days’ worth of stubble framed a mouth she’d been in love with since childhood. Though still clearly visible, the bruise he’d received a few days prior, along with a subconjunctival hemorrhage in his left eye, was finally beginning to fade. Hopefully he’d learned a valuable lesson about trying to stop a truck with his body. Those altercations never ended well.

  “Why don’t you get the gear?” Sun said to Quince. He wouldn’t really start anything, but she figured she’d give him an excuse to back down either way.

  After another testosterone-infused moment of dick measuring, Quincy walked to the back of the cruiser to grab their climbing gear.

  “How’d you beat us here?” she asked Levi.

  He carried climbing gear like he was going to join them. “I was on my way to Taos when I heard the call.” He gestured north as evidence, but Sun doubted his explanation. One could certainly get to Taos, New Mexico, from this road, but it would take at least an hour longer than the traditional route. Why come this way?

  Levi had a knack for disappearing. For falling off the grid. And once he did, finding him was damn near impossible. If Levi Ravinder didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be found. Simple as that.

  Sun had always wondered where he went. Was his hideout nearby? Did he have a cabin up here somewhere?

  She made a mental note to check out all the homesteads in the area before turning back to him. “And you thought you’d tag along?” she asked as she grabbed an emergency backpack out of her cruiser.

  The stoic look he gave her revealed nothing. He only tightened his grip on the rope he had slung over his shoulder. The wide shoulder with an impossibly long arm attached to it, all muscle and sinew. The long-sleeved shirt he wore could not disguise the pristine physique of his arms.

  He pressed his mouth together as though waiting for a follow-up. She wanted nothing more than to throw in the towel and just ask him. Was he mad at her for trying to put him into protective custody? Was he upset that his own uncle was trying to kill him? Which, who wouldn’t be? Or was it simpler than that? Was he mad about being a father? Maybe he was one of those men who vowed never to have kids, and Sun had thrown a wrench into those plans. If so, sucked to be him. It took two to make a baby. He should’ve thought about that before seducing her. At least, she assumed that’s what happened. The details of that night were still a little sketchy. Either way, now was not the time to bring it up. Not when a woman’s life hung in the balance.

  She took a rope and harness from Quincy and walked around to the edge of the guardrail. Trying to preserve the scene as much as possible, she stepped to where the guardrail met the mountain. There was just enough space to squeeze between them, but not much of a rim beyond that.

  She leaned over and spotted Drew Essary. He sat on the incline in full hunting regalia, one foot braced against a branch, holding the unconscious girl’s hand.

  From what Sun could see, the girl wore a bra, only. At least on her upper half. Lacy and bright pink. The bottom half of her body was covered in leaves and brush, and Sun wondered if the girl had done that in an effort to stay warm or if Drew had done it. Her hair, recently dyed purple, obscured most of her face, but the small portion Sun could see was swollen beyond recognition. Identifying her could be difficult.

  Quincy and Levi both looked over her shoulder.

  “Mr. Essary,” Sun called down.

  He looked up, visibly relaxed, waved. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me too. We’re coming down.”

  He nodded, then shifted his weight for a better position as though beginning to cramp. It was still early enough in the high canyon to be chilly. Their breaths fogged the air as she built her anchor using a wood post of the guardrail. Once built, she strapped on her harness, knotted both ends of her rope and clipped it to the anchor, then started over the side.

  Her newest deputy, Poetry Rojas, pulled up to the scene, the ambulance right behind him. Trusting her lieutenant to figure out how best to preserve the area, she began her descent. Quincy used the post next to hers, careful to disturb the dirt as little as possible, while Levi used the guardrail itself as an anchor. A fact she was not fond of. The edge his rope would travel on was dangerously sharp, but she understood his reasoning. If he’d used the next post, he’d be getting too close to their active crime scene.

  It took less than sixty seconds to get down to Drew and their victim. Sun arrived with a few scrapes from random branches and a lock of blond hair tugged loose from her French braid, but no worse for the wear. She didn’t want to disturb the scene, but there was no help for it.

  “I’m sure glad you’re here, Sheriff,” Drew said, keeping the girl’s small hand enveloped in his own. The older man wore khaki coveralls, his scruffy beard matching perfectly.

  “Mr. Essary, why are you out here hunting alone?”

  “Please. I been hunting this land since I could walk. And I was there the day you were born, Sunny Girl. Call me Drew.”

  Sun smiled but kept her gaze on the girl. Keeping a tight grip on her rope with one hand, she took off the glove of the other to check the girl’s pulse. She was like ice, her pulse weak, and Sun knew she would never have survived another night in the canyon. “Thank you for doing this, Drew.”