Chapter Five

There must be something in the water in Raven’s Cliff. A drug or maybe a parasite. A scientific reason that explained that how in less than a week, Mackenzie had gone from wanting to punch Foster Beckett in the mouth, to wanting to kiss him.

That, or she’d simply lost her mind.

Mac leaned back in the chair, sipping on her coffee when the door to the Lighthouse Café opened, and Beckett breezed in wearing jeans, a black hoodie and a puffer vest. His dark brown hair was windblown from the next incoming storm, and he stabbed his fingers through it as he scanned the crowd, his gaze clashing with hers.

He smiled, and her heart did a weird flutter. She wasn’t sure if it stopped or sped up, but it took her breath away as he wove his way over, giving Chase a slap on the back when his best friend stood up.

Chase shook his head, motioning to the empty seat beside Mac, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d planned it so Foster would have to sit beside her. “How is it you always manage to be late?”

Foster shrugged. “Because you’re closer than I am. You were supposed to text me before you left, remember? I was in the middle of finishing the woodwork on the sitting room wall. It took a hot minute to get the last piece in right before I could leave.”

He looked at her, thumbing toward his buddies. “How do you work with them and not want to kill them?”

She laughed. “Who said I didn’t?”

“Now we’re talking.”

He slid into the seat, a subtle mixture of pine and cottonwood drifting over to her. Was he wearing cologne? Or was that just his natural scent? Either way, it had her heart fluttering again as she smiled for no apparent reason.

Mac gave herself a mental slap. She needed to get a grip before she started giggling like a freaking teenager.

Sure, the guy was handsome. She’d acknowledged that from the start.

And she’d definitely seen a different side of him the other night.

He’d been charming and intelligent, with a quick wit that had put her at ease.

And when he’d appeared out of the dark, dressed in only those sexy pajama pants, all the muscles in his arms and torso flexing as he’d swept the room with his Sig — his long hair tousled around his face — she’d gotten a good look at the man her father had painted.

The warrior part of him that wasn’t suffering from some kind of trauma like in the helicopter.

And that had been the start of her descent into madness.

One she was obviously continuing as she sat there, trying to focus on anything other than how good he smelled.

It didn’t help that he’d dropped by the hanger a few times during the week, bringing coffee for the crew.

He’d even braved a couple conversations with her father, staying remarkably calm as he’d handed the man a cup.

Her dad had frowned, glanced at her, then smirked. After that, Atticus had stayed eerily quiet whenever Foster had stopped by. As if he knew something they didn’t.

Obviously, Atticus had taken Foster’s less confrontational approach as him starting to bend to her dad’s way of thinking.

And maybe Beckett was. Though, a part of her hoped he’d braved the visits because of her.

Because he was just as confused as she was at whatever was transpiring between them.

That moment she’d thought they’d shared the other night.

Before the men had broken into his house.

She shivered, goosebumps racing along her skin as she recalled the instant the guy had turned and all she’d registered were those monstrous eyes.

She never screamed. Not during a scary movie and certainly not when faced with a threat.

Yet, for a split second, she’d truly believed she’d come face-to-face with a monster.

Which was ridiculous. Sure, there were more than a few legends and ghost stories circulating through town. A couple directed specifically at that old manor house. But she’d never given them much credence. Had never shied away from a fight.

Fingers brushed along her arm, and she jumped, cursing inwardly when Foster frowned, glancing at his hand then up to her. “You back with us?”

She cringed when she realized his team was staring at her, eyes wide. Slight furrows in the brows. She smiled, doing her best to shake it off. “Never left. Why?”

“Either you were daydreaming or you’re seriously reconsidering there should be a round two between us because I asked how the flight was and you just stared into space.”

“I…” She scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “I guess I’m still on edge from screaming like a banshee the other night. I swear I will never live that down.”

Foster scrunched up his face as if he thought she was nuts. Which, she probably was. “Forget it. Besides, the guys said you tackled some creep to the ground when he came raging into the hanger this morning. Sounds like your mojo’s just fine.”

“I think they exaggerated the incident a bit.”

Kash snorted. “If anything, we underplayed it so Foster didn’t get all protective. He has this thing about anyone threatening or disrespecting his team.”

She glanced at Foster, smiling at how he looked as if he wanted to throttle Kash. “I’m not part of his team.”

The three men chuckled, nodding at each other before answering, “Right,” in unison.

Foster leaned in as he draped his left arm over the back of her chair. “As usual, ignore them. They share a brain when they’re not working.”

He’d said something about a brain. She knew that much. But everything else had gotten lost into the warmth of his arm against her back. How that tempting aroma surrounded her.

She blinked, praying he hadn’t noticed how she’d all but sniffed him like a dog, only to groan inwardly when that sexy, traitorous mouth of his kicked up into a smirk. “Are you sure it’s just the three of them and not all four of you?”

“Ouch.” He removed his arm as he placed his hand on his chest. “Someone’s showing their claws.”

“Not quite.” She nodded toward the entrance. “But we’ll have to save that discussion for later because that’s Greer.”

The men turned as Deputy Hudson walked through the doorway, her long auburn hair twisted up into a messy bun.

She wasn’t wearing her usual uniform, opting for jeans, a sweater and a wool jacket.

She waved to Mac, weaving her way through the crowd before stopping at the table.

All four men stood, and Chase held out the chair to his right for her.

Greer arched a brow but accepted his offer, looking straight at Mac. “And they say chivalry’s dead.”

Chase cleared his throat as he reclaimed his seat. “It’s a show of respect. Nothing more.”

Greer smiled. “Easy there, flyboy. I’m just yanking on your chain.”

Chase thumbed toward Foster. “He’s the flyboy. I’m the medic.”

“Ah, that means you’re Chase Remington, right? And he’s Beckett .”

Foster coughed. “Why does everyone say my last name like that?”

Greer shrugged. “Like what?”

“Like it’s the town’s new curse word.”

“Atticus might have used it like that for the past couple months. I guess it’s caught on.”

“I’ll have to remember to properly thank him.”

Greer nodded at the server when she held up a coffee pot. “Which means you must be Kash Sinclair and Zain Everett.”

Zain frowned. “I’m not sure if we should be impressed or concerned you already know all our names. I’m pretty sure we haven’t actually met.”

“Nope, but I make it a point to learn a bit about everyone in town. Though, you boys made it easy. Ex-military with impressive records. I didn’t even need to venture past page two.”

Kash coughed, rubbing his chest when his coffee must have gone down funny. “You have multiple pages on us?”

“Can’t be too careful after what went down last year.” She gave Mac a slight nod. “That’s a black mark on my record, and I won’t let anything like that happen again on my watch.”

Foster eyed Greer, and Mac felt an odd pang in her chest. Surely, she wasn’t jealous of Greer because Beckett had smiled at the other woman. Though it wasn’t the same way he smiled at her, was it?

Beckett must have felt Mac staring at him because he shifted his gaze, and damn — the way his face lit up. As if he’d won the lottery. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on Mac’s part, and he beamed at everyone like that.

Greer accepted the coffee mug, taking a cautious sip as she relaxed in the chair. “So, Beckett. Mackenzie said you had some unwanted visitors the other night.”

Foster nodded. “Two, according to Mac. And we’re fairly certain either that crew or another one has been inside before. What my buddies had brushed off as me pranking them but wasn’t. Though, it’s strange. They don’t appear to be taking anything, just the odd object not put back correctly.”

Greer nodded, scribbling some notes on a pad she’d removed from her pocket. “There’re four buildings on the property, right?”

“And from what we can tell, they’ve been in each one.”

She reached into her inner pocket, removing a stack of folded papers.

She slid them across to Foster, waiting until he’d opened them.

“So, I did as Mac asked and looked into the recent history of that house you inherited. Seems your father reported a series of suspicious incidents starting shortly after they purchased it a year, ago. But based on the rather flimsy files, it was all just brushed off as kids or vagrants looking for a place to stay. As you know, the house was vacant for nearly twenty years before it finally came on the market.”

Foster drew his finger along one of the sheets, then passed it to his buddies. “There’s barely anything in here? Did Sheriff Thompson even drag his ass out there?”