Page 65 of Distress Signal

“And what did you find down there?” I whispered.

She tilted her face up to look at me, her eyes damn near glowing in the darkness. Them and a flash of teeth were all I could see as she said, the words barely more than a breath, “Lainey. I found Lainey.”

That wasnotthe answer I’d been expecting.

“Do you think…” I trailed off, unsure how to phrase the question in a way that didn’t make me sound insane. But I was starting to understandwhyshe’d wanted to share this story with me—why she thought I, of all people, a twin myself, would latch onto the potential meaning behind the dream.

“I think my sister is trying to tell me where she is.”

There wasn’t anything I could say in response to that, and Reagan didn’t seem to expect me to speak anyway. She merely snuggled closer and let the silence envelope us.

Eventually, she drifted off, but sleep never found me.

As I lay there with the girl of my dreams in my arms, making her feel safe enough to fall into unconsciousness, my mind whirled.

With the exception of the decade West and I had spent in the service, I’d lived my entire life in Dusk Valley. There wasn’t a square inch of this town I didn’t know. Hell, the same could be said for most of the county, which was dominated by Lawless land.

We’d been operating under the assumption that Lainey’sabductor was local, and Reagan’s dream only drove that point further home for me.

Which meant this farmhouse was nearby, likely no more than a few hours by car.

As we lay there, as the sky outside turned from inky black pricked with stars to grey to the yellow-orange of the rising sun—a plan began to form.

A plan that required my twin and my plane.

nineteen

. . .

FINN

I must’ve fallenasleep at some point—though with the way my body protested and the grittiness of my eyes when I blinked them open, it couldn’t have been long—as Reagan attempted to slip out of bed.

“Planning on running off with my shirt again?” I asked, my voice a low rumble.

She whipped toward me, a sheepish grin appearing on her lips.

“Considering I’m wearing my own?” She toyed with the hem, reminding me how fucking high the hem sat. Making me wonder if she wore panties or if her perfect pussy was bare beneath. “And considering I’m not running off?”

“Then where are you going?”

“To make coffee,sir,” she said in a way that had my dick twitching. The sass turned me on something fierce. “That okay with you?”

I gave her a mock salute, and her giggled followed her out of the room.

The shirt she was wearing wasn’t hers, though. In fact, it had once been mine—the same shirt she’d thrown on the morningafter our tryst. It had looked so good on her, I couldn’t make her take it off. I loved that she still had it, that she stillworeit. Had she forgotten she’d stolen it from me? Or did she wear it and remember that night I’d been unable to forget?

You could imagine how well that conversation had gone with West when I called for a ride back to the ranch the next morning and asked him to bring me a new shirt too.

To this day, he still made fun of me for it.

Waking up next to herthismorning, though short-lived, was too damn good, something I had to remind myself not to get used to. She wasn’t mine to keep—she’d made that clear.

But I’d be damned if I couldn’t imagine doing every day for the rest of my life.

Still, something had changed last night. Sure, I’d barged in uninvited, but she hadn’t turned me away. She’d trusted me. Let me in. Shared her nightmare, knowing I’d understand the significance.

Finally, I dragged myself out of bed, stuffed my legs back into my sweats, and padded barefoot out into the kitchen, greeted by the scent of freshly brewed coffee.