Page 41

A nother day. Another name. Another place.

I pull the baseball cap lower on my face, hoping to shield the still-healing injury on my forehead, as I watch the screen on the other side of the restaurant I’m sitting in.

I keep waiting to see my grandfather’s face up there. Waiting to see if anyone is out looking for the killer—or me. But it’s been radio silence for the last week. Fear has kept me from going home and reaching out. Fear that the killer will find me and Odie will get caught in the crosshairs.

And worse, fear that the killer did just what he said he was going to and find a way to make it look like I murdered the man who raised me. A man who I loved more than life itself. I can only hope Odie saw through it, but with my past?—

I shake my head.

“You are not defined by your past. Moses was a murderer. Noah was a drunk. Yet God still used them. Jesus died so you could have a chance to live. So, what will you make of that life, girl? What will you make of your second chance?” My grandfather’s words echo in my mind, a reminder that I am not a dunk anymore. I am not broken. And I will find a way to bring the killer to justice and reunite with my brother.

We may fight more than we get along. We always have. But he’s still my brother. Blood or not.

Despite the tension between us, I felt like we were right on the verge of turning a corner and growing close. Maybe even closer than we’d ever been.

Until grandfather’s killer knocked us down and scattered us again. This time, permanently. My throat constricts with emotion I’ve tried to ignore for the last week. Tears won’t get me anywhere.

“Hi, is this seat taken?” A deep baritone fills my ears as a man points to the chair beside me.

“It is,” I tell him without looking up. Don’t let them see your face. As famous as my grandfather was, both Odie and I have been seen at various red-carpet premieres. While it’s been years for me, the last thing I need is to risk anyone recognizing me.

“Oh, my mistake.” He keeps moving along, but not before I get a glimpse of him as he turns away.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Likely muscled beneath that leather jacket.

In another life. Before any desire I had to get close to anyone was ripped away from me.

I take a sip of the coffee in front of me, then toss some bills on the table before I stand and turn to leave. The restaurant is crowded, though it could be like this every single night, and I wouldn’t know. Aside from hotels, I never visit the same place twice.

Another rule for not being noticed. Something I’ve become quite adept at over the years.

After stepping out into the warm summer air, I make my way across the street toward the hotel I’m staying at.

It’s far from the Ritz, but the bed is comfortable and the room is clean. It’ll be my home for one more night, then I’ll be moving on from here too. Likely to another city since the pawn shops here are claiming they know nothing about any jewels fenced.

Aside from the ones I sold, of course. Jewels I grabbed from the floor of my grandfather’s study after returning to check to see if he’d somehow survived. I’d known he hadn’t, but I’d been praying for a miracle.

It broke my heart to sell such prized possessions, but to survive, I need untraceable money. So here we are. My grandfather’s life was worth far more than anything I could sell. Which means getting vengeance for his death is also priceless.

After unlocking the door, I step inside and immediately flip on the lights. The place is clean, everything exactly where I left it. I toss the keycard on the table and remove my hat, letting my blonde hair fall loose to my shoulders.

I run both hands through it and let out a deep breath before retrieving the notebook I’ve been using to jot everything down over the past week. “Back to square one?—”

A large masked figure lunges from the bathroom.

I barely have enough time to react before he’s on me, slamming my body against the door.

“Hey there, trouble. I told you I’d find you,” he snarls against my ear.

I bring my knee up and slam it into his groin. He groans and stumbles back, giving me just enough time to get to the door. I grip the knob. If I can get out to the hall, I can call for help.

He won’t get away this time.

I get the door partially open before he grabs me and throws me back into the room. The man towers over me, hands balled into fists. “You’re going to suffer for what you’ve put me through.”

Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I shove my panic down and focus only on the task at hand—getting free so I can call for help.

He lunges for me, and I dive to the side, then scramble to my feet as I sprint out into the hall. I’ve made it two steps before I’m hitting a hard body at full force.

“Let me go!” I scream as hands grip my shoulders, steadying me on my feet.

A dog barks.

“ Ruhig , Romeo,” a deep voice orders. I know that voice. “Easy, I’m not going to hurt you.” He releases me and steps back. The man from the restaurant is standing in front of me. Coincidence? “What happened?” he asks.

“I was attacked,” I tell him. “In my?—”

He shoves past me. “ Such, Romeo,” he orders what I now see is a large, fluffy German shepherd.

The dog races into my room as the man draws a gun and follows him in.

All while I remain in the hall, staring after him, trying to come down from the panic clawing at my throat. I should run. Should leave now, but as the adrenaline wanes, all I can do is lean back against the wall of the hallway.

“It’s empty,” he says as he comes out.

“It can’t be, he was just there.” I force myself to walk on shaking legs, only to find myself staring at a messy—but empty—motel room. The window is flung wide open, curtains spread apart. “No! Come on!” Panic turning to frustration, I cross the room and peer outside. The street isn’t busy, but someone had to have seen him.

“Were you hoping he was hanging out in here waiting for a round two?”

I turn toward the stranger, who’s popping a piece of gum into his mouth and leaning back against my door. His dog sits at his side, ears perked straight ahead. Unease snakes through my belly as I recall where I know that voice from.

“You were at the restaurant earlier.”

“I was. I’d been hoping to have a bite to eat while we talked, but you shut that down pretty quick, and I wasn’t looking to make a scene.” He grins at me. I imagine it’s meant to be charming and disarm me, but all it does is set off alarm bells in my head.

Charming men cannot be trusted.

It’s a lesson I learned time and time again.

“Who are you?” I back away from him, getting closer to the window. If I have to, I’ll leave what’s left of the jewelry and my pocketbook and find a way to start over again.

“I was hired to find you.”

“By who?”

“Your brother.”

The mention of Odie has me pausing my retreat. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe me or don’t. It really doesn’t matter.”

He’s blocking the easiest exit for me, but I take a step back toward the window. Wouldn’t be the first time in the last week I’ve had to escape through a window.

“If you jump out that window, I’ll just find you again. It is what I do, after all. And that’s if you can get out before Romeo here catches you.”

I look at his dog. I’ve always been fond of animals. Cats, dogs, horses, goats—all of them. I’d even briefly considered going to veterinary school before my dad died. But now I eye the canine warily.

Could he catch me before I’m out the window? My money—what little I have—is on yes.

“What do you want from me?”

“A confession would be nice. But I’ll settle for you just coming quietly.”

“A confession?” I choke out. “For what?”

“Murder. Thievery. Espionage. Whatever it is you’re into.”

“I’m sorry, what? Murder? Espionage? Are you kidding me?”

“I notice you didn’t balk at thievery.”

“Let me get this straight.” I cross my arms. “You show up as I’m being assaulted, and your first go-to is that I’m a murderer, a thief, and a spy?”

“I just threw the espionage bit in there for color,” he replies.

Arrogant jerk. It’s quite literally the only two words I can formulate as the adrenaline continues to wane in my system. “I don’t have time to deal with all the ways you’re wrong. I have a real killer to catch.”

“That’s who was supposedly in here?” he asks, looking around for dramatic effect.

“He was in here.” Anger wars with the fear rooted in my chest. “And if you were truly hired by my brother, then you should know that the man who was killed was my grandfather. I would never have hurt him. Never. Not for anything.”

“Which is exactly what a murderer would say.”

The accusation infuriates me. I clench both hands into fists and take a step forward. The dog lets loose a warning growl. “I would never have hurt my grandfather. And you must be the worst type of arrogant jerk to take a tragedy and turn it around that way.”

He studies me in a way that makes me feel an awful lot like an ant beneath a magnifying glass. And I really don’t like it. “Your brother should be able to clear it up then.” He withdraws a cell phone from his pocket.

“No. You can’t call him.”

“And why is that? If you’re not a murderer, then you have a worried brother out there looking for you. One phone call, and I can put his mind at ease.”

“He can’t know that you found me. I can’t risk leading the killer back to him. He could get caught in the crossfire.”

“Or he could turn you over to the police.”

“Which is exactly what the real killer wants,” I say, putting both hands onto my hips. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you.” I drop my hands and ball them into fists again. “Let me leave.”

“You’re more than welcome to try your luck with the window,” he says. “But you’re better off staying here until we get this squared away. If you are telling the truth, then there’s someone trying to kill you too. Do you really want to risk them catching up to you again?”

“I thought you didn’t believe me.”

“I never said I do, and I never said I don’t. I’m merely making observations.”

“Why would I make up someone attacking me?”

“Because you saw me coming. Maybe you made me as a threat at the restaurant.”

“Yes, because every arrogant man in leather thinks every woman notices them.”

“That’s the third time you’ve called me arrogant, Miss Landers,” he says as he takes a step closer. “You don’t even know my name, yet you feel like you know me well enough to insult me.”

“Fine, then. What’s your name?” If he’s a hire of my brother’s, then I will have likely heard the name said around a time or two. Odie and my grandfather always used the same PIs. Even if I don’t know their faces, I made it a point to know names. Made avoiding them a lot easier.

He flashes another handsome smile that churns my insides even as it sets my heart racing. “Riley Hunt,” he replies. “And as I said, I’ve been hired to take you home.”