“I’m not sure yet. Something happened with one of the goats.” He hated the idea of dragging Jake and the others into his bullshit—if it was his. He couldn’t stand thinking that he’d been the one to bring the wolves to Andy’s doorstep but he couldn’t ignore the possibility. Too many things pointed in that direction.
“Whoa,” said Travis, holding the mug of coffee like a lifeline. “Since when does breakfast require firearms?”
Liam looked up to see Millie clutching a shotgun that looked like it had been around longer than her.
“Do you know how to use that?” The last thing he needed was the old lady going Annie Oakley on them. It gave new meaning to the term friendly fire.
“Liam Rogers, I’ve been shooting longer than you’ve been alive. Go figure out what’s going on and then get back here for breakfast.”
He opened his mouth to ask Jake to go with him but the expression on the other man’s face when Millie showed up with the gun stopped him in his tracks. Liam could almost see him drifting away. Burying his emotions, the way he’d seen guys do when things got to be too damn much and it was safer to disengage than stay present for whatever fresh hell they were expected to walk through.
It was too damn familiar and the ease with which the other man adopted it worried him almost as much as anything else. If it was that easy to slide back into those old habits, then maybe there really was no way to escape and build a new life. Not that he had any intention of trying but for a moment he’d thought maybe. Things felt different with Andy. Possible.
He couldn’t think about any of that now and he wouldn’t drag Jake or any of the others into it if he could help it. Not unless it was life-or-death because the look in Jake’s eyes made it clear that for him it was. Helping Liam fight the threat—whatever it was—would cost Jake more than Liam was willing to let him pay. He’d figure it out for himself and then he’d fix it, whatever it was.
“Stay inside and lock the doors,” he said, giving Jake’s shoulder a squeeze, desperate to pull him back into the world again. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He stopped at his SUV and keyed in the code to open the locked box with his Glock. Grabbing an extra magazine, he reached for the shoulder holster. He’d chosen his pants for yoga with Andy, not for the strength of their waistband. Was it really just hours ago that he’d had her curled up in his arms, her silky hair spread across his chest? None of it felt real anymore. Nothing but the dull ache in his chest because for a moment he’d been stupid enough to want things he couldn’t have. He shoved the thought aside and reached for his holster. He didn’t have anywhere to tuck his gun and after seeing Jake’s reaction, he didn’t want to wander around the farm with it out in the open. He pulled the ballistic nylon straps over his shoulders as if he were slipping into a second skin. The time at Sourwood was the longest he’d gone without wearing it.
Sweeping the yard with his gaze and looking for anything out of place, he started toward the soap shed and the most likely source of the lye. The second he had proof the poisoning was deliberate, he’d call Emerson and get a team to descend on the farm like avenging angels, but there was still a chance there was another explanation. He didn’t want Andy’s farm overrun like a military compound for some local hellions playing dangerous pranks or worse, if the goat had found a way into the lye on her own.
But none of that felt right. It wouldn’t explain how the chemical ended up in the feed trough and there were other things. The car that blew past him and Jake on their way into town. The noise he’d heard the night before. The one he’d ignored because his head was too full of the beautiful woman walking toward him to realize there might be a snake slinking around her backyard. The idea of Andy walking alone in the dark at the same time Gustaf’s men were lurking around crystalized the ice already running through his veins.Fuck.
But what kind of hitman went after goats?He slowed his steps as he approached the shed.Woman and children were much more Gustaf’s style, the sick bastard.Standing to the side, he turned the knob and pushed open the door to the soap-making shed. It was dark inside, too dark to make out anything but the shadowy shapes of the tables and cabinet. The only light was a thin beam from the small stained-glass window on the gable above the loft. It sent a shaft of light to the brick floor, illuminating the band of dust motes in a way that felt almost like a church. There was a peace—a kind of holiness—to the place Andy built. Liam wasn’t going to let any of the ugliness of the outside world touch it. Even if that meant he had to leave.
He shoved the thought to the ground and put his boot on its throat before he gave in and started rationalizing things based on what he wanted and not on the way they actually were.
There was no way his eyes were going to adjust to the light in the shed, so he listened for a moment and then he slipped inside, flipping on the light switch as soon as he cleared the door. He was met with an empty room and the faint odor of lavender, cloves, and something burnt. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he inhaled again just to be sure. The lavender was Andy but unless she’d started making spiced soap, he’d bet money the clove scent was from Gustaf’s cigarettes. The asshole had them shipped in from Jakarta. Reaching for his phone, Liam glanced around the room, looking for anything else to support his growing suspicion. It was as clean as it had been the first time he and Andy had been there. Back when he was just thinking about kissing her, before he knew how sweet she tasted.
He resigned himself to taking the chance and calling Gabe anyway when his gaze landed on a black smudge on the brick floor. The kind of smudge a cigarette made when it was stamped out.Fuck.He thumbed open his phone and was just about to hit the speed dial button for Emerson’s direct line when he heard the snick of a hammer going back.
“Drop the phone. You won’t be needing it.”
