“Yes.”
“Did you wonder how they picked you up?”
She swallowed. “I thought they might have some idea where I was going.”
When he stood, she tensed, obviously bracing for him to cross the room and put his hands on her, which was what he’d longed to do since she walked into her house. But he was going to restrain himself, at least for now.
“Maybe we’d better have a look at your car.”
“My car?” she asked, obviously struggling to refocus.
“Yeah.” He stood up and crossed to the door from where she’d just entered. Glancing back over his shoulder, he said, “Are you coming?”
Her face was grim as she followed him, standing a few paces back when he started across the courtyard.
At the alley, he paused and glanced around. They seemed to be alone. Quickly he walked to her vehicle, stooped down and felt along the edge of the bumper, then continued around the side of the car. When he found what he’d been looking for, he felt a mixture of satisfaction and annoyance.
Turning he held out a small plastic rectangle.
She took an involuntary step closer. “What is it?”
“A GPS tracking device.”
Her breath caught.
“They used that to follow you. That’s why they could sit out front and wait for you to drive somewhere.”
She shuddered. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Put it back.”
She swallowed hard. “Why?”
“So they’ll think you’re still here, even if you’re not.”
“But . . .”
He shook his head before stooping to replace the tracker “Let’s go back inside.”
She stepped away, giving him room as he entered the courtyard again, then the house.
Inside, they stood in the darkened room, a feeling of anticipation zinging between them.
“Sit down,” she said.
Fine, he thought. If she wanted to postpone the touching part, he’d give her some space—for now. But he could feel the need building up inside him and knew that he couldn’t let it goforever. He had to find out if he’d had some kind of psychotic episode back in her shop.
He canceled that thought. He wasn’t going to try and fool himself. He wasn’t leaving this house without touching her.
But for the moment he lowered himself into the chair where he’d been sitting when she arrived.
She took the sofa, her wary gaze on him.
“Do you believe your father about the gambling?”
“I think so.”
“Which leaves us with the question—why do you think those men showed up at your shop?”
