Page 7

“A re you sure about this, Rem?” Squire asks as I throw on my leather jacket. “None of us have ever met this man before.”

“We discussed this plan at length and agreed this might be our only chance at getting Ace, Rogue, and Saint out of that godforsaken jail before they’re tried on charges we all know they’re not guilty of.”

Trip sighs. “Still don’t like it, even if I understand this is our only option.”

Stepping closer to him, I wrap my arms around his waist and stare up into his pretty eyes. “And I appreciate your concern, handsome, but if Rogue trusts this guy, so do I.”

Squire crosses his arms over his chest. “You don’t even know if he’ll talk to you.”

“I think as long as I can manage to keep my serial killer vibes under wraps, dude will talk.”

He just raises one eyebrow.

“What? I can be charming when I want to be.”

Trip snorts, burrowing his nose into my hair as his arms tighten around me. “Just be careful, okay? We literally know nothing about this guy.”

“When am I not careful? I mean, have you met me? I’m, like, the epitome of careful.”

Squire meets my stare dead on. “Two words. Razor and Viper?”

I groan. Mostly because he’s right. One caught me completely off guard, and the other…well, I sort of threw caution to the wind on that one. That doesn’t mean I should be crucified for two teensy little mistakes though, right?

“You know we just care about you and our little one, right, baby girl?”

“I know you do, and I love you both for it. But right now, I need you to trust me.”

Squire steps up to my back, placing his hands on my hips, and sandwiches me between them. “We do, Rem. Just cut us a little bit of slack. We’re on edge, and knowing you’re carrying our baby makes it a million times worse.”

How in the hell am I supposed to argue with that? Simple. I don’t.

“I understand, truly, but we’re running short on time. I need to go in there and handle this before we lose our chance.”

Trip grips my chin, tilting my head up until I find myself lost in his pretty eyes. “Go on. We’ll be out here waiting. If shit goes south, give the signal through the window and we’ll be in there before you can so much as blink.”

“Got it!”

He drops a sweet kiss on my lips before he pulls back and spins me around. Squire’s staring down at me, the worry furrowing his brow impossible to miss.

“I’ll be okay, Grant.”

“I know. Just wish it didn’t always have to be you putting yourself at risk.”

“Today’s no different than all of the ones that came before. In fact, the risk is significantly less because this isn’t one of our projects. Hopefully one day, we won’t have to worry about things like this. Today just isn’t that day.” I lean up on my tiptoes and press a kiss onto his lips. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

He pulls me in tighter, his palm splayed across my lower back as he kisses me senseless. There’s something large and hard pressing into my belly that has a soft moan escaping. When he finally releases me, I’m almost willing to say fuck this meeting and let him take me somewhere to finish what he started.

Instead, he releases me with a slap on the ass. “Off you go before I change my mind.”

I huff out a frustrated breath. “No fair, Grant Wilson.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

“Fucking men,” I growl, hearing Trip’s laughter in the background.

I don’t bother turning around. I just head for the diner’s front door, the chime of the bell as I enter doing little to cool my heated cheeks. Doing a quick scan of the dimly lit interior, I notice one couple cuddled together at the stools facing the eat-up bar. They’re so lost in each other, they don’t even notice when I pass behind them, heading for the booth in the corner. It sits next to the window with wooden bench seats that appear to have seen better days and a table so carved up I’m surprised a cup can sit on it without tipping over. It’s the only one in the entire diner that has unobstructed views of both the front door and the lot, so it’s the clear choice. Rogue would never put himself at a disadvantage.

Sitting, I don’t bother removing my jacket. My guess is this conversation won’t take long. That’s if he even shows up. Squire was able to hack into the system Rogue and his buddy use, but we didn’t have time to completely unravel their code. Best we could do was send a transmission that most closely matched the little we could decipher and pray for the best.

“Hi, sweetie. Can I get you something to drink?”

“An orange juice and a black coffee would be great.”

“You got it! Anything else?”

“That’ll be good for now, thank you.”

“Sure thing. Be right back.”

She isn’t gone long before she sets the coffee down in front of the open seat and a tall glass of OJ in front of me. Personally, I hate the stuff, but since the guys have gone all mother hen and Aunt Charlie keeps telling me I need more vitamins and minerals, I’ve been trying to keep the peace where I can. Hell, I’m half tempted to raise my glass to the window just to be a brat, but I refrain.

For ten long minutes, I sit and wait, wondering if we got this all wrong, until the chime above the door draws me out of my thoughts. I glance over to see a man damn near as tall as Rogue walk through the door. He’s broad, with a narrow waist and long legs that pause when he glances at the booth I’m occupying. His hat hides his hair, but the gray in his beard tells me he’s older than I expected. Probably closer to Aunt Charlie’s age. His eyes meet mine, and I know he’s sizing me up just like I am him. What he sees, I can’t be sure, but I must pass the test because he stalks toward the table, sliding his massive frame into the booth.

“You’re not Hart.”

One corner of my mouth quirks up. “What gave me away?”

“I know who you are. That’s the only reason I didn’t turn around and walk out. The fact that you’re here and he’s not tells me he must be in deep shit.”

“He is. You might be the only one who can help us help him.”

His brown eyes narrow. “What makes you think I can?—”

“Let’s cut the bullshit. We don’t have much time. Rogue needs your help. Are you in or are you out?”

The muscles in his jaw bunch as he takes another long look at me from under the brim of his hat.

“Depends on what you need from me and how much trouble Hart’s in.”

“He’s in jail for murders he didn’t commit.”

He blinks.

“Yeah. I know. Dude’s luck with false murder charges is shit. What can I say?”

He fights the grin I can see trying to split across his face. “You are…not what I expected.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Who’s he accused of killing this time?”

“Ever heard of the Avenging Angel—the serial killer responsible for numerous deaths throughout the Southwest?”

“No fucking way.”

“Way.”

His rugged hands lift to his face, running down the tanned skin until his forearms hit the table.

“He didn’t kill those people. Rogan Hart is one of the most honest men I know.”

See, now here’s where it could get a little dicey. Rogue trusts this man, which my gut tells me means I can trust him too, but how far does his loyalty extend? Guess we’re about to find out.

“I know he’s not the Avenging Angel…because you’re looking at her right now.”

There’s a brief pause before he nods. “I had my suspicions after he had me looking into the person targeting you and your sister.”

My head tilts. “That doesn’t bother you? Knowing you’re sitting in front of a serial killer?”

“Rogue trusts you, so that means I do too,” he says, mirroring my thoughts. “Plus, it’s not like I’ve never taken a life before. Just because I did it under someone else’s orders doesn’t make my hands any less bloody.”

“Okay then. Are you willing to help?”

“What do you need?”

“I need all the information you can find on Colton Steele, aka Colt, aka who-the-hell-knows-how-many aliases. I’m sure he’s got other aliases, but we haven’t managed to uncover much. He’s planned this all out with a precision that is honestly as impressive as it is frustrating. We need everything you can gather as fast as possible, especially any weaknesses that can be exploited. There’s a big empty hole in his history, and I need to know how he filled it.” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a photo of the asshole and slide it across the table. “This is him.”

He picks up the photo and gives it a cursory study, then slips it into the pocket of his flannel jacket. “How will this help Hart?”

“That’s the man that set him up. He also happens to be my brother and the one who’s out to get me. I can’t play my cards until I know what hand Colt’s holding and what his next move might be.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

He glances down at the table, thick fingers tapping against the wood. When he looks back up at me, I see pain and a shit ton of emotion I’m not sure how to interpret.

“Rogan Hart deserves more than this world has ever given him. I’m glad he has someone like you to right the wrongs he’s been forced to endure. You’re probably the only one who can. I’ll be in touch.”

He slides out of the booth and walks away. I’m left staring at his back, wondering what the world did to hurt a man like Jay and how I might be able to help him too.

Slipping some cash from my pocket, I place it in the center of the table and slip off the bench. When I make my way outside, Trip and Squire are waiting at the far end of the lot, their eyes trained on me as I draw closer to them. The sun is high in the sky, brightly shining down on us as the heat of the day has sweat beading along my forehead. Weird thing about the desert, it can go from cool to scorching in a blink. Kind of like me, I suppose.

“How’d it go?” Squire holds out his hand.

Placing mine in his, I let him pull me into his arms. “I need you to research Jay Monroe and see what you can find. Something tells me he needs our help as much as we need his.”

Squire smiles knowingly. “You know serial killers aren’t supposed to be saviors, right?”

“Says who?”

Trip appears beside us. “You are one special woman, Remington Masterson. What did we do to deserve you?”

“I don’t know, but I’m damn glad you did it.”

Their laughter echoes through the mostly empty lot, and for just this one simple moment, I let go of the worry and fear and bask in the simple joy of having them with me. With a war on the horizon, I’ll need memories like these to remind myself what I’m fighting for.