Page 46 of Distress Signal

I’d been with a fair number of men in my life, but Finn Lawless was the first one to ever elicit such a strong physical reaction from me. My body remembered the way he’d held me, how he’d played and toyed and teased, driving my pleasure higher and higher until it had all come crashing down around me. Like a flesh memory, flashes of that night had assaulted the forefront of my brain the moment he’d taken my hand in the sheriff’s department—and they had yet to leave me alone.

Maybe that was all the draw to him meant. My traitorous body remembering how fuckingeuphoriche’d made me feel.

I tried to get myself to believe that, but it didn’t ring true. While he’d whispered filthy words against my flesh and fucked me in ways I never imagined I’d experience in real life, he genuinely seemed to care about me.

Thatmade him dangerous.

A physical connection was one thing, but an emotional one?

Given the hellscape my mind had become, one false move would send me headlong into a breakdown—not something I could afford right now.

As badly as I could use the distraction, and as much as Iwouldn’t mind tangling with him in the sheets again, I vowed then and there to let go of any delusions I had about Finn Lawless.

He was better off without me and my mess.

The following morning,I rose well before the sun to get on the road.

According to my GPS, it would take me about thirty hours to drive to Dusk Valley from eastern Tennessee, and I pushed myself hard the entire time. Back-to-back sixteen-hour days in the car with nothing to keep me company but my own intrusive thoughts gave me severe cabin fever, and I was bursting at the seams by the time I reached the Dusk Valley town limits.

So much had changed in the month since I’d last been here. Not the town itself, which was as idyllic as ever, butme. The ache in my chest of missing my sister was a constant companion I was afraid would never leave me.

A month ago, winter still had the town in its grip, though loosely. Everything had been drab and grey. Now, though, everything was bright and crisply verdant. Each old-fashioned lamppost that lined downtown’s main street was decorated with a hanging basket of flowers that spilled over its edges in bright pinks, purples, and an array of other summery shades.

The buildings and storefronts were well-kept, businesses differentiated by colorful striped awnings, hanging signs that swung in the gentle breeze, and plate glass windows emblazoned with large, creamy white logos. Though there were numerous shops, everything from the cafe, Mozzy’s Pizza, and the diner to a salon, hardware store, and pharmacy.

The air outside was warm—though not as warm as what I’d left behind in Tennessee. More refreshing than the oppressivehumidity of the south, the kind of warmth you could enjoy without suffocating.

I was reminded how beautiful this place was, trying to look at it through the lens I’d first viewed it through instead of seeing its dark underbelly—instead of viewing it as the place my sister had disappeared.

The town was so small it didn’t have a single stop light, only a blinking yellow light that cautioned drivers at a particular intersection, where Cassia connected with a perpendicular road that stretched into the distance in either direction. There was no one behind me, so I grabbed my phone and plugged the address for my new rental into my GPS, on the outskirts of Dusk Valley.

I didn’t mind the distance from town, though. That far out, I hoped to have some mountain views. I might be miserable, but having a stunning view wouldn’t make things worse. Maybe I’d be able to hike around and take some pictures.

My mind wandered as I navigated the unfamiliar area, not settling on anything important, but my attention focused when I came to a break in the long fence running parallel to the dirt road.

The break was a large wooden archway, two tall, thick pine posts with a third stretched across them. Dangling from the cross beam was a sign, marking the entrance to a farm or something.

No,a ranch.

LAWLESS RESCUE & DUDE RANCH

“Oh, Lane,” I muttered. “What have you done?”

Maybethere was a reasonable explanation.Maybethere was another Lawless family in the area.

Not fucking likely.

The GPS directed me to turn past the gates, and a few hundred yards beyond, another dirt track branched off, shadedby trees on both sides, cocooning me beneath a canopy of broad maple leaves and dappled sunlight.

Despite my rising trepidation, I had to admit the effect was magical.

Idaho was the most beautiful place I’d ever visited.

Less than a mile later, I emerged from the tree cover into a clearing—a yard, I supposed. The dirt road turned to gravel paths that branched off in two directions—one toward a gorgeous, sprawling, dark grey-sided ranch-style home with an attached garage, the plentiful windows framed in a richly-stained wood that matched the entrance and garage doors. Nearby sat a low-slung building with massive sliding barn-style doors, designed to match the house. I quickly realized itwasa barn, the fenced in paddock giving it away.

I doubted this was the “quaint two-bedroom” the listing the sheriff sent me described, so I decided to continue down the other path. Beyond what I now assumed to be the main house, about a hundred yards away, sat a smaller guest house, a cute miniature of the big house.

My worst fears aboutwhoowned this place, aboutwhyLane had been so helpful, abouthowhe’d known so much about this place, were confirmed when my eyes landed on the man waiting on the top step of the little front porch. He was doing that sexy man lean against one of the posts, his thick, sexy, tattooed arms crossed over his chest as he watched my approach.