The smile Naomi gave him was so full of love that it made Ghost’s shields drop briefly. He wasn’t usually one for public displays of affection, but he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist—a small, surprisingly intimate gesture that made Anson shift uncomfortably.
Ghost and Naomi.
Of all the unlikely pairings at Valor Ridge, they made the least sense on paper. Ghost, the former CIA operative who’d built walls so high and thick around himself that most people couldn’t even tell there was a person inside. And Naomi, fierce tribal police officer fighting for her community with every breath.
Yet there they were, exchanging looks that spoke volumes, touching each other with an easy familiarity that seemed impossible for two people so guarded. Ghost, who Anson had never seen willingly touch anyone before Naomi came along, now couldn’t seem to stop finding excuses to make contact with her—a hand at her waist, fingers brushing her arm, that kiss to her wrist that was somehow more intimate than if he’d grabbed her and kissed her on the mouth. And Naomi, who’d once told Anson she’d rather walk barefoot across broken glass than needanyone, now leaned into Ghost’s touch like a plant seeking sunlight.
Anson’s chest tightened, and he glanced at Maggie. If Ghost—who’d spent years cultivating isolation like it was a precious crop—could lower his defenses enough to let Naomi in, what was his excuse?
Ghost cleared his throat, his attention back on Maggie. “I’ll need your passwords, and I want to see any photos you’ve taken of evidence—notes, gifts, anything.”
Maggie nodded, already reaching for a pen. “Whatever you need.”
“And in the meantime,” Naomi said, “we make sure you’re safe here.”
As Maggie bent over the notepad that Ghost slid across the desk, he found himself studying the curve of her neck, the way her hair fell forward to shield her face as she wrote.
Safe?
No, it wasn’t enough.
She needed to be more than safe. She needed to be untouchable. Protected in a way that would make Landry think twice about ever coming near her again.
Everything fierce and protective in him roared to life. If Landry Whitaker ever showed his face at Valor Ridge, he would tear the bastard apart with his bare hands. The thought wasn’t frightening or disturbing; it settled into his bones with perfect clarity. He would dismantle anyone who threatened her, would raze cities to keep her safe, would stand between her and danger until his last breath. He would protect her with everything he had, everything he was.
“Ghost,” he said, his voice low. “He hurt Princess. Cut her with a knife.”
Ghost’s fingers paused over his keyboard. “You’re sure it was him?”
“No,” Maggie answered before Anson could. “We don’t know for sure. But it happened the morning after I arrived, and it wasn’t a random animal attack. Someone deliberately stabbed her right outside my door. I heard them.”
“Sending a message,” Ghost mused. “Creating fear without direct confrontation.”
“Exactly what a coward would do,” Naomi said with disgust. “Hurt something vulnerable instead of facing you directly.”
Anson’s jaw tightened. “If Whitaker’s on the property?—”
“He’s not. My system would have flagged any unauthorized entry.”
“Maybe he was here before the system was fully operational,” Naomi suggested. “What if he followed Maggie from the beginning? Watched her arrive, then slipped onto the property before you finished those new motion sensors on the south ridge?”
Ghost’s expression darkened. “Possible.”
Had Landry been watching them all this time? Hiding in the trees, observing Maggie’s movements, waiting for the right moment?
“But he’s not here,” Ghost said with absolute certainty. “I’ve already tracked his credit cards, and the last transaction was at a gas station outside Lincoln, Nebraska, three days ago. Moving west. He couldn’t have hurt the cat.”
The blood drained from Maggie’s face, leaving her looking sickly. “Nebraska?” She pressed her palms against her eyes. “He’s coming here. He found me.”
“We don’t know that for certain,” Naomi moved to sit beside her. “But we’re going to operate on that assumption and take precautions. I’m going to walk you through some safety protocols. Things you can do to minimize risk.”
As Naomi outlined security measures, Ghost jerked his head toward the door in a silent summons. Anson followed himoutside, where the cold night air bit through his flannel shirt. The moon hung low over the mountains, casting everything in silver and shadow.
Ghost positioned himself with his back to the cabin, voice pitched low. “I can set up motion detectors on the gates and access road. Tag everyone’s cars, so we always know who is coming and going. Cameras on her cabin. Notification system that pings everyone if there’s unusual activity. But if this guy’s as determined as she says?—”
“I need to know the second he crosses into Montana.” Anson kept his voice controlled, but something must have shown in his face, because Ghost’s eyes narrowed.
“What’s your plan if he shows?”
