“You’re scaring me.”
He locked onto her gaze in the darkness, the shadows carving deep ravines beneath her cheekbones. Raw terror blazed in her eyes, pupils swallowed by black, her lower lip quivering, making his heart slam against his ribs, but something was out there. His gut twisted with the cold, iron certainty that had saved his life a dozen times before. Death waited in that pitch-black void, but he’d be damned if it would touch her. He turned and closed the distance between them, seized her face between his hands, and claimed her mouth with desperate hunger, tasting the edge of fear.
“Lock it behind me,” he said again, then he headed back to the door. The deadbolt submitted with a crack that reverberated through the tomb-silent house. Night air knifed into his lungs as he stepped onto the porch, the dogs leaning against his legs, hackles bristling like spears, their guttural snarls echoing through his bones. He froze, listening for the scrape of her locking the door before he descended into the waiting abyss. “Come on, boys. Let’s check the area.”
He strode across to the driveway to his pickup, as snow flurries danced around him. A cold wind stirred the pines overhead, and he paused to glance down the empty street, no headlights glinting in the distance, no movement beyond a cat running across the street. He pressed his key into the lock instead of using the fob, avoiding the telltale chirping that might give him away. The door swung open, and he settled into the seat, the leather cold against his palms as the dogs stood staring into the darkness.
Reaching under the seat, he lifted his gun case and set it on his lap. His fingers were moving across the combination lock;the tumbler clicked, and the lid popped open. He drew out his pistol, its steel slide catching the pale glow of the streetlamp. Carefully he loaded the magazine, each round sliding in with a muted metallic click. He stuck a compact flashlight into his pocket, then eased out of the cab and moved to the end of the drive and his dogs followed. Under the weak halo of the streetlamp, he swept the beam up and down the quiet lane, seeing nothing.
Satisfied there was no one in sight, he turned toward the woods that surrounded Skylar’s house. He pushed through low-hanging branches, the flashlight’s beam glancing off damp leaves and exposed roots. The damp earth gave off a musky scent. The dogs stayed with him, sniffing the ground. He stooped low, and his light illuminated a scattering of cigarette butts, the white filters spotted with brown. He straightened, a flicker of triumph in his chest, then retraced his steps to the truck.
Inside the cab, he rummaged for a box of latex gloves and a stack of small evidence bags. Gloves on, he made his way back into the woods and harvested each butt with care, dropping them into labeled pouches, putting one butt in each bag. Marlboro Reds, the same brand the ringleader favored. Satisfied, he pushed further into the shadowed trees until the road reappeared. No other clues. His jaw tightened as he imagined the culprits, crude men, careless enough to leave their telltale waste behind. He smiled. “They’re getting sloppy,” he murmured, voice disappearing into the hush.
With the evidence secured, he returned to the truck and set the bags on the seat, but kept his weapon out, then climbed the steps and rapped gently on the door. It opened almost at once. He and the dogs slipped inside, closing it softly behind him and clicking the lock. Skylar stood just inside the threshold, the overhead light casting her pale face in sharp relief. Her eyes searched his.
“Is it snowing?” she asked.
“A little.”
“Find anything?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Cigarette butts. I’ll hand them off to Dave Monday.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “You think they’re theirs?”
“I do.” He offered a reassuring nod. “Let’s go back to bed. Nothing out there right now.”
She exhaled, letting her shoulders drop. “Okay, but I doubt I’ll sleep.”
“Same here,” he admitted, softening. “But for now, we’re safe.”
“I don’t understand why they’re bothering us.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Because I’m onto them.”
Her brow furrowed. “How do they know that?”
He met her gaze steadily. “I told them. When I drove out of my driveway to come here, they pulled up behind me, drove around me, then pulled onto the shoulder. I stopped behind them.”
“Why would you do that?” she snapped, worry twisting her voice.
“To let them know I’m serious,” he said quietly.
She looked at him incredulously. “I hope you scared them.”
“They’re not that easily frightened.” He reached for her, drawing her into his arms. “I’ve dealt with rustlers my whole career. I know how they think.”
Her arms tightened around his waist. “I’m so scared you’ll get hurt.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be fine. It’s my job. I can’t let fear stop me.”
“I’ll be happier when this is over.”
“So will I,” he agreed. “But you have to trust me. This is who I am, danger and all.” He cupped her face gently. “You either learn to live with it, or we shouldn’t keep seeing each other.”
She nodded. “I’ll try. I promise.”
He brushed a thumb across her cheek. “That’s all I ask.” He kissed her forehead. “Come on, way too early for either of us to be awake.”
