Page 4

Riley

O kay, so she’s either an excellent liar, or she’s innocent. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure which side she falls on. On the plane ride here, I’d had plenty of time to look into Jules Landers.

Thanks to a deep background dive my computer whiz younger brother, Tucker, did, I know that she’s twenty-eight, never been married, and has no friendships to speak of. At least, not close ones.

As far as social media goes, she’s a ghost, except for the rare occasions she showed up in articles alongside her grandfather. They did appear close, but she was never happy to be photographed; that was easy enough to see.

She was a party girl for years and even spent some time at a few different rehab facilities in Northern California and Arizona. But over the course of the last ten years, it seems as though she’s gotten her act together.

And Tucker found nothing for the years her brother claims she was missing. It was as though she just vanished on her sixteenth birthday then popped up two years later.

She takes another step back toward the window.

“I really don’t want to have to do this the hard way, Miss Landers. But I will.”

“And what’s the hard way?” she asks, taking another step back. There’s a challenge in her green gaze. Part of me hopes she runs just so I can track her down again. She was honestly a bit more difficult to track than I expected her to be, and I’ve been desperate for a challenge.

But that would mean more time away from the ranch and more resources. At least we’re being paid for this job. Odie insisted on it. Probably because he’s used to throwing money at a problem and thought it would motivate us to work harder.

It doesn’t. We offer the same amount of work and dedication of time to people whether they pay us or not. We do what we do to reunite families and find the truth.

Romeo is still sitting in the same place he’s been in since we came into the room, his ears perked forward as he waits for a command.

“I’m not letting you take me home. Not until I’m sure Odie will be safe.”

“Why wouldn’t he be? Have a dangerous side, do you?”

She glares at me, murder in her eyes. “The killer is after me. Which means, if I’m near Odie, it puts him at risk. He’s all I have, and I’d rather die than put my brother at risk.”

I feel a sting of understanding. The last thing I would ever want to do is put my brothers at risk. So, the fact that she’s so willing to die for hers is something we have in common.

Because I know I appear a bit more threatening than I probably should, I move away from the door and take a seat at the small dinette table. “I have brothers too, Miss Landers, so I get it.”

She doesn’t move. I know she’s sizing me up, trying to decide whether or not she trusts my motives or my story. “Then you understand why I can’t go home.”

“There are people far more capable of tracking murderers than a red-carpet princess.”

Her cheeks turn crimson. “I am not a red-carpet princess.”

“And I’m not interested in letting you leave, only to wind up dead in a day or two because you tried to take on a killer.”

“ A killer? So, what? I’m no longer at the top of your suspect list?” she asks, venom dripping from her sweet tone.

“There were bloody handprints trailing down the side of your grandfather’s home. Then there’s the fact that the top of his car was dented in from your fall. Blood was smeared all over it, and a large set of prints followed behind your bare ones. It had just rained, so the mud left an impression.”

“You’ve been there?” she asks. Her tone shifts completely, and for a moment, the armor she’s so clearly adept at wearing vanishes.

“No,” I say. “But I have photographs of the scene.”

“And you saw boot prints from photographs?”

“I’m very good at what I do, Miss Landers.” It also didn’t escape me that Odie Landers failed to mention the clear trail leading into the woods. Any officer worth their salt would’ve noticed the second set of prints.

She crosses her arms. “If that’s true, then you knew coming in here that I wasn’t the killer, yet you threw it in my face. I stand by my earlier assessment of you. You’re an arrogant jerk.”

“I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

“And how did accusing me of murdering my grandfather tell you who you’re dealing with?”

I study her. “You’re used to doing things alone,” I tell her. “To having people let you down. Because of that, you’ve put up walls and learned to survive on your own.”

“I’m independent. How obnoxiously original.” She sneers. “Tell me, Mr. Hunt, what other delightful observations have you made about me in the two minutes we’ve been standing here?”

Her irritation at me honestly only makes me like her more. “Not just independent. Capable too. It took me a bit longer to find you than I thought it would. Honestly, I’ve tracked hardened criminals faster than that.”

“And just how long did it take you to find me?”

“A day.”

“So now you’re placating me?”

“No. I’m being honest. As I told you, Miss Landers, I am exceptional at what I do.

” Reaching into my pocket, I withdraw a piece of mint flavored gum and pop it into my mouth.

It’s a nervous habit I developed after coming home from my last deployment.

My way of coping with the dark memories that eat away at my consciousness.

“Fine, Mr. Hunt. You’ve found me. Gold star for you. What exactly are you planning to do now?” She crosses her arms.

“I told you. I was hired to take you home.”

“And I told you . I have no intention of going home. Not until I have a name to deliver the cops.”

“Why?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your family has immense resources. Why are you so intent on bringing the killer in yourself?” She doesn’t answer, though her expression reflects that it’s not out of stubbornness. Or, at least, not entirely.

“I don’t see a point in sharing my personal life with you, Mr. Hunt.”

“Riley,” I reply. “I don’t want to be called Mr. Hunt.”

She grins, absolute joy at the fact that she’s struck a nerve with me. “Well, Mr. Hunt , I don’t see a point in being on a first-name basis as I don’t have to go anywhere with you.”

There’s that fight again.

“Legally, no, you don’t have to go with me. I’m not a police officer, and you’re not under arrest. But I’ll just keep finding you. And maybe next time, I’ll bring Odie along for the ride. Maybe he can talk some sense into you.”

She uncrosses her arms and clenches both hands into fists at her sides. “You’re being impossible.”

“I’m doing my job. I don’t fail at things, Ms. Landers. And before you can say something, that’s not arrogance talking—it’s fact. I see jobs through, for better or worse, and I will not have a failure tally on my record or the record of my company.”

“Then I hate to disappoint you, but I will absolutely not be going with you.”

She’s dug her heels in, and honestly, if I could be sure she’d be safe, I’d probably just let her be, call her brother, and tell him where to find her so he could come scoop her up. But she was attacked mere minutes ago, and leaving her here could be leaving her to die.

There’s only so long she can outrun this killer, and it wouldn’t sit well on my conscience to just leave her here to die.

“What if I can ensure your brother’s safety?” I ask.

“And just how do you plan to do that?”

“By making sure the killer can’t find you.”

She stares back at me, brow arched, body language stiff as she considers. “I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t expect you to. Given that we just met, I’d say it would be rather ridiculous if you trusted me already. Though I have been told I have a charming smile.”

She’s completely unaffected by my attempt to lighten the mood. “So you’re not surprised that I don’t trust you, yet you expect me to let you—what—take me back home to protect me from the man who killed my grandfather? Then what?”

“First, I won’t be taking you back home. That’s the first place he’ll look for you. As for what happens next, I’ll help you track the killer.”

“No.”

“No?” For a man who is rarely surprised, I’m honestly shocked.

Charming people is kind of my superpower.

Bradyn is excellent at reading people. Tucker is a computer whiz.

Dylan is basically a ninja when it comes to getting in and out of places undetected, and Elliot can pick just about any lock.

My skill—aside from tracking people down—is my charm. I honestly expected her to agree.

“No,” she repeats. “I was doing just fine on my own before you arrived.”

“Even with the murderer tracking you down and nearly killing you?”

Her cheeks flush. “Yes. Even with that. I made a mistake that I will not be repeating. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get moving.” She steps forward and reaches for a black backpack sitting beside the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“You don’t need to know. If you feel the need to report something back to Odie, then please do. Let him know that I’m okay and that I’m going to find the truth. Then I’ll be home.”

“He wants you back before he buries your grandfather.” It’s a low blow, one I hadn’t intended on pulling out. Charming people is something I’m good at. I put them at ease with the truth. I’m not a manipulator, but I can see from the look on her face that’s exactly what my statement did.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

When she opens them again, the brilliant green is shimmering with tears.

“I hope I can be. But I won’t go back until I know who killed him.

It’s been a week, and the cops still haven’t figured it out, which tells me they’re not looking in the right places. ”

“You think you know the right places?”

“I think I know more about my grandfather than Odie ever did.”

Interesting. “Care to elaborate?”

“I do not. And unless you want me to scream so loud I bring everyone within a mile radius rushing toward this motel room, you’ll let me go.

See, it’ll take you far too long to untangle that web, Mr. Hunt, and I sense your time is quite valuable.

So, if you don’t mind, you and your scary dog can get out of my way. I have things to do.”