“Kind of early for whisky, isn’t it? Something happen?”
She took the bottle and silently poured three fingers into a glass and set it in front of him, then pushed a manila folder toward him.
“What’s this?” he asked suspiciously.
Shelby gave him a baleful stare. “You tell me.” She tipped the glass to her lips.
Luke flipped the folder open without breaking eye contact. Looking down a dull, heavy weight dug into his chest. Bracing his hands on the edge of the counter, he bent at the waist and hung his head between his arms.
Fuck!
Rising, he spread the photos out. Whoever took them had caught him in that moment of surprise before he’d managed to push Laney away.
“Where did these come from?”
“No idea. They were on the counter when I got back.”
He shook his head. “Shelby, this isn’t what it looks like.”
“I know you, big brother. So I know it probably isn’t. But no woman is going to see this and think it isn’t exactly what it looks like,” she said.
It sunk in that Rowan hadn’t answered when he called. Shit.
“Rowan?” he shouted. He spun and raced upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. No sign of her in the bedroom and her clothes were gone, along with her suitcase.
Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he called her. It went directly to voice mail, as it had earlier. Rushing back downstairs, he tried again.
“Rowan—call me back, please. I promise it’s not what it looks like. I swear to god, I would not cheat on you and there is nothing going on between me and Laney. Please call me back so I can explain. Please.”
Reentering the kitchen, he flipped the photos over, looking for any indication of where they came from. The folder was plain. Nothing had any markings on it.
“Was she here when you got home?” he asked.
Shelby shook her head. “I would have tried to keep her here if she had been.”
“Damn it! What time did you get back?”
“A little after one. I was going to see if she wanted lunch.”
“All right. She texted me before noon, so a little more than an hour.” He grabbed his hair, fisting while he paced. “Fuck. Why didn’t I get the security cameras?”
“You don’t have security cameras?”
“I didn’t see the point.” A thought occurred to him. “Is the furniture here?”
“They showed up about ten minutes after I did. Does it matter?”
“No. I was hoping if they had been here earlier, they might have seen whoever it was that brought the pictures. Fuck!”
He didn’t know what to do. How was he supposed to find her and explain? Would she have gone back to Denver? Was she holed up in a hotel?
Marla. Marla would know how to find her. Snatching up his phone, he impatiently waited for her to answer.
“Hey, Luke. Can I call you back? I’m in the middle of something,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Marla. I can’t. I need you to find out if Rowan booked a flight home or maybe rented a car or checked into a hotel? I don’t know…check the buses and trains as well.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Someone delivered some pictures today and, taken out of context, they’re bad. She took off and her phone is off.”
“All right. I’ll call you back.”
“Please, Marla. I really need help with this.”
“I know, Luke, but I need to make some calls. I’ll let you know if I find something out, okay?”
“Okay.” He ended the call and looked at Shelby. What choice did he have?
