A disappointment, but not a surprise.

  “Bigger news is the movie you sent and that’s why I texted the 911. There’s a layer of powder, in a thin compartment under the movie. We need to know if you want us to process it or turn it over to Detective Donaldson’s contact here in Phoenix.” Detective Donaldson, Rachel’s real-life persona. Her contact in Phoenix, her current boss, was someone Tommy Grainger—with Sierra’s Web help—had vetted and then handpicked for his operation.

  Still, he’d had Sierra’s Web process the small buy Rachel had made. As paranoid as he was, Devon wanted to keep as much as he could within the private firm he was trusting with his father’s case. Instructing Hudson to analyze the powder and get back to him, he hung up, just as he heard the blow-dryer stop.

  And knew that there was no way he was filling Kacey Ashland in on his newest information. She’s the one who’d brought him the movie case. Granted, it had been sealed, but he had only her word that she’d found it tangled in reeds on the shore of his property.

  Was it possible he’d let his rescue of the beautiful woman get to him? Blind him to connections he should be seeing? She’d clearly been left for dead—which meant she’d pissed off some bad people. Didn’t mean she hadn’t been associated with them beyond the argument she said she’d witnessed and the subsequent knife she’d turned in to the police.

  And it didn’t mean that she wasn’t currently trying to work her way back in with them. Perhaps on instruction from her brother during their phone call the day before? Giving her a way to get back in their good graces?

  Had sleeping with Devon been a way to throw him off track? The way she’d come on to him...showing up naked to his shower...a pretty bold and sure way for a first-grade teacher to distract a riverboat guide from figuring out that something illegal was going on right under his nose.

  His gut didn’t react to the theory. There was no instinct clamoring to confront her. But it made some sense and so he kept it close, harboring it as the possible weapon it might turn out to be.

  And maybe hoping that his unexpected houseguest had cause to use it one more time before Tommy Grainger solved his case, or Devon Miller solved hers, and their little saga came to an end.

  Chapter 18

  “I have to go to work.” Devon’s announcement came as Kacey exited the bathroom and her first thought was that he obviously didn’t need the money so must want to get away from her. Put distance between them.

  She didn’t altogether disagree with the idea. The man was growing on her and allowing that to happen would just create an entirely new set of problems for her.

  “I’ve got three back-to-back shorter trips scheduled,” he said as he dished up a toasted bagel with egg and cheese and put it on the table. Obviously for her. He took a bite out of one that was three-quarters gone as he worked.

  Their morning after might consist of sharing a meal, but they were clearly not eating it together.

  She didn’t like the choice, but she approved of it.

  And couldn’t stand the tension he was exuding like sweat on a cross-country run. She’d clearly made a huge judgment error when she’d intruded on his shower the night before. It was up to her to fix the situation. Lord knew, she’d already dumped a life load of stress on his remote little hideaway...

  Finishing his bagel, he turned toward her. “I can’t just sit here,” he said, feeding her compulsion to set him free from the night before, but he didn’t give her a chance. He just kept talking. “If your kidnapper is hanging out around the marina on a supposed fishing adventure, I’ve got the perfect cover for being there, to watch out for him. Or them.”

  Oh. Oh! “But you were followed last night. What if they recognize you? I can’t have you getting hurt because of me, Devon. This has just gone too far. I need to go.” She passed on the bagel she’d been about to sit down and eat and headed toward her room.

  “My white truck was followed,” Devon said, following her to the door of her room. “It’s gone. I’ll be driving the off-roader, which means that you’re going to be left without transportation.”

  Heart constricting, she forced herself to concentrate on the immediate moment. “You don’t know that you weren’t seen.”

  “The men in the bar didn’t see me. We know that for sure. And maybe whoever followed us has the hots for Rachel and wanted to know who’d pulled up to her apartment.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, and he threw up a hand. “Regardless, I have to take the chance,” he told her. “With the body in the crate, these guys aren’t fooling around. I need to find out what I can while Sierra’s Web does their thing, and then we’re going to have to figure out how to proceed. Maybe we go to the police. In Phoenix, where Sierra’s Web is located, if nothing else. They won’t have jurisdiction here, but because we’re afraid of police misconduct in the area, they might be a place to start...”

  His gaze was steady on her, filled with serious intent, and she nodded. “That sounds like a good plan.” She wasn’t sure it did. Where would that leave Kyle?

  When she’d thought she was merely turning in her brother’s troubles to the police, where he’d have rights and protection, she’d been certain she was doing the right thing. But with men who were willing to murder...and after hearing the terror in her brother’s voice when he’d commanded her to stay gone...she couldn’t just sign his death warrant.

  No matter what he’d done, he was her twin. She loved him. And wanted him to have all chances afforded to him by law.

  Not be executed before law enforcement had a chance to investigate and find out who, of the local jurisdiction, might be on the take.

  But neither could she continue to allow Devon’s life to be in danger. Thoughts of the trespasser in the crate, when her kidnappers were looking for a crate, sent waves of terror through her. She was in way over her head, even without adding in the adult movie correlation, and needed the help of trustworthy authorities.

  “Maybe we should both just stay out of sight until we hear back from your firm of experts,” she said then, her heart leaking out a little bit despite the strong hold she had on it.

  When Devon shook his head, she knew she’d lost him—or whatever part of him had held her so tenderly, touched her body with such passion. “If these guys are around town looking for anything unusual, I become an instant suspect if I suddenly call off work again. The marina area is fairly tight-knit. The locals all know one another. We notice when someone is missing. All it would take is for someone to tell anyone asking that no, they haven’t seen me around as much the past few days, or to mention that I canceled another day of trips, when I’ve never done that before...”

  As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t argue with his logic.

  “It’s also safest for me, as well as you, if you stay here, hidden, as dead as we’re assuming the kidnappers hope you are, at least until we know more.”

  She understood that, too. Her tension eased drastically at the thought that she didn’t have to leave. That not only was it in Devon’s best interests that she stay but that he wanted her to do so.

  For his sake, yes.

  But she was still, for safety reasons, welcome.

  Being weak with relief over the idea was not okay. She’d deal with that. Would apparently have most of the day alone to work on herself.

  Before that, though...

  “Devon?” she said, as he turned to leave.

  He stopped, didn’t turn back to her. Which made what she had to say a little easier.

  “I apologize profusely for my completely inappropriate behavior last night. Interrupting your shower...the rest... I take full accountability. It was wrong. It won’t happen again.”

  Her heart leapt when he swung around. “I’m a grown man,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. “If I had, in any way, been offended by your actions, I would have rejected the invitation.”

  Feeling a smile sliding around inside her, she had no idea how to respond. So she just stood there. And nodded.

  “But it won’t happen again if you would rather it didn’t,” he said, still watching her when she really needed him to exit her space long enough for her to have a stern talk with herself about overreacting where he was concerned.

  It wouldn’t...if she’d rather it didn’t. Did that mean...it sounded like he was open to...

  Warmth rushed through her, pooled in her lower belly. Swarming around with an urgency that shocked her.

  “Would you rather it didn’t?” he asked then.

  Sex with Devon Miller was the only thing that filled her up with good feeling in the hellish nightmare her life had become.

  “No.” The word escaped before she could stop it. “I would rather it did.”

  While she was there...trapped in his space by circumstances neither of them could control.

  With a nod, he knocked his fist on the doorframe once, and was gone.

  * * *

  Devon had three short trips scheduled that day—but not on a raft, or kayak, which would preclude him from keeping an eye on the surveillance screens on his phone. It was his day to run one of the riverboats and his turn for the hour-long round trip scenic tour. With the slow speed he’d be traveling, and a crew onboard to serve the customers beverages and snacks of choice, not only could he keep an eye on his phone, but he’d also have full, close-up, slow speed view of the banks on either side of the river.

  And for added protection, he called Sierra’s Web on his way to work and allocated personal funds to have someone physically watching his cabin surveillance cameras at all times during the hours he’d be on the river. Whether Kacey was somehow involved in whatever was happening, or was as innocent as she claimed, he needed her safe. Period.

  He went in early. Hung around the breakfast bar across the parking lot from the marina. Ordered a burrito and took as long as he could to munch on it. Watching the vacationers milling around. Saw families heading to boats they either owned or had rented for a day on the river. Noticed others walking around the small array of shops.

  He did not see a threesome of men, lime-green-striped tennis shoes, or any individual that stood out as someone on the grainy tape he continued to view on his phone.

  Nor did he get any sense, or see any evidence, of anyone paying him any particular attention. Keeping his back to the wall, he was prepared to act if there was any sign that he was raising suspicion.

  Could be that anyone who wanted him—either because his cover was blown, or because of his association with Kacey—just wasn’t present in the area.

  It was also possible that whoever had suspicions about him only had his white truck to go on. Not enough of a visual to identify him.

  The trespassers on his property were a bit of a thorn in the theory, except that they could have been watching for his truck. Had maybe seen it nearing his property.

  And there was always the chance that they hadn’t known they’d strayed onto private property.

  Kacey risking her life to run to the river and coming up with the movie that matched a label found in the dead man’s crate worried him. The white powder in the movie’s case bothered him more.

  Narcotics was his specialty.

  In his experience, the people who dealt them, from the top down, were unrelenting, unforgiving and ready to do whatever it took to protect their livelihood.

  His morning tour was so uneventful, families on vacation, laughing kids, and scenic views that he got off the boat for lunch feeling uneasy.

  Calm before the storm.

  Tempted to call Kacey, just to hear her voice and make sure she was okay, he studied his surveillance screens while he waited for the soup and salad he’d pre-ordered at Rachel’s bar to be brought to his table along with the usual soda.

  Kacey was hanging out almost exclusively in the laundry closet.

  Keeping vigil for safety purposes?

  Or watching for some sign that she was to make a move?

  If he and Rachel had been made, it was possible that Kacey knew that Devon was make-believe and she’d been staying with Detective Tommy Grainger. Her brother could have told her during their call.

  Could be that Kyle had let her know that the way back into the good graces of those who’d left her for dead was to deliver Devon to them in some fashion.

  Or to help them play him until they found a way to change the course of their operations and disappear.

  He couldn’t let that happen.

  Rachel delivered his lunch to him, sliding into the booth on the opposite side of his table.

  “The dead man—Antonio Hardy. Twenty-five. Has a brother, Jerome, twenty-seven. They’re two-bit thugs, registered as PIs in Nevada, but have multiple arrests between Bullhead City and Lake Havasu for shoplifting, mostly. Convenience stores. Jerome has a bar assault from eight years ago. No one knows where he is.”

  Devon quit eating. Focusing his expression as he listened to his partner. Antonio and Jerome Hardy. The two-bit PIs Sierra’s Web had identified from his security camera photos. The two who’d been on his land the first day Kacey had been with him...

  Were now officially a part of Tommy Grainger’s case. He had to tell her. At least the part that involved them.

  “The plastic movie label found in the crate... I had a still sealed movie show up on my shore a couple of days ago.” He was careful not to say how he knew that. “I saw these two on my property, chased after them. They jumped in a boat and took off. I sent the movie to Sierra’s Web and just heard back on it this morning. There’s a sealed compartment on the case that contains white powder. They’re checking it now.”

  He managed to reveal the information without implicating Kacey. Or exposing her existence. For the moment.

  But he had to divulge to Rachel anything that sat in his corner of the file he’d made that morning.

  He told her about being followed, too.

  And ditching his truck.

  She listened intently. “And the three men last night?” she asked him.

  He shook his head. “My asking about them had to do with a personal matter, something I heard while out on the water the other day. Had to do with a woman, not drugs.” He looked her straight in the eye. “I’m not liking that they were missing a crate.”

  “Why would they announce the news if they knew one was going to turn up with a dead body in it?”

  He’d been asking himself the same question. But when he heard his partner pose it, he had an answer. “Because they knew it was going to turn up and were ridding themselves of it in the event that anything on it led police to them. They were here last night specifically to establish an alibi for having lost the crate.”

  Rachel’s nod didn’t surprise him. It did unsettle him. For Kacey’s sake. What in the hell had she gotten herself into? Either inadvertently, or otherwise?

  “And for their whereabouts,” Rachel added, “I’m guessing when time of death gets back to us we’re going to hear that Antonio died during the time the men were in this bar last night.”

  Yeah, he was guessing that, too.

  His gut was sinking more by the second as he wondered if he’d ever had any chance in hell of getting Kacey out of trouble and safely back into her classroom when school started in August.

  But he also knew that as long as he had even the slightest chance to protect her and help to get her the miracle she said she wanted, he wasn’t going to stop trying to do just that.

  Chapter 19

  Kacey had expected the day to be excruciating. As it turned out, sitting in the laundry closet of Devon’s home, watching the screens he’d had installed to keep his property safe and secure, was comforting. Knowing that he was watching them, too, knowing that he could see her, gave her a thrill she hadn’t expected.

  It was as though they were spending the day together.

  Mostly she sat there because she wanted him to be able to see her at a quick glance so that he didn’t waste energy worrying about her.

  She was the safe one. He could be putting his life on the line just leaving the property.

  Those thoughts brought panic. Which she fought by stopping by the door of Devon’s room. Looking at the rumpled sheets. She didn’t stay long enough to draw attention. Didn’t do anything rash like going in and taking a nap there. She just took a deep breath, promised herself that he’d be okay, and went back to the laundry room.

  She was sitting there, having a granola bar for a late lunch, when she noticed movement on-screen from the camera that showed Devon’s furthest shore from the cabin. Moving in closer, watching intently, she was pretty sure she saw the toe of a shoe. Black.

  Was that a hairy ankle? She enlarged the video until only the area in question was visible on the big screen.

  Showing utter stillness in the foliage she’d been studying, half convincing her she’d been imagining things. Or had seen a small animal that had briefly come ashore from the water. Probably a beaver. Due to the Colorado’s flow, the mammals had to build their dams on the shore—a lesson she’d taught to her kids for science the year before.

  Sitting back, she was ready to accept her explanation, and a leaf seemed to fill up right before her eyes. As though there was something inside it. And underneath it, the tips of two fingers, touching the ground. Pulling back.

  Not claws. She’d seen fingernails.

  She had to get more of a look than the camera was showing her. Burner phone in her pocket and her gun at her waist, she burst out the front door, running until she had to slow to catch some breath, and then speeding up again. Continuing that way until she was almost close enough to the shore to be heard. Bending at the waist, her hands on her knees, she caught her breath for a second and then, slowly, silently, approached the area she’d been watching on-screen.