Carly sat back down. “I don’t have any choice. You’ve got my car keys.”
He managed not to smile. “I’ll tell you what. Maybe we can call a truce. You owe Joe and so do I. Maybe we can work together to make things right.”
She eyed him with suspicion. “How’s that going to happen?”
“We’re both trying to find Miguel’s killer, right?”
“That’s right.”
“The note you got mentioned his death. What happened tonight connects the murder, the break-in, the note, and El Jefe.”
“Yes, but what does it have to do with you and Drake Trucking?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ve got Ross Townsend working on it. If we share information, maybe we can figure out what’s going on.”
She seemed to ponder that. “You’re talking to Townsend tomorrow, right? How about making it a conference call? I’ll be working at the office. You could patch me in. I want to hear what the man has to say.”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll come down to the yard and we’ll take the call there. That way we can brainstorm a little beforehand.”
She didn’t look excited about it, but she was nodding her head. “All right, that’ll work.”
“There’s one last thing.”
One blond eyebrow arched up. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Whatever happens, you can’t meet El Jefe alone. I know you don’t want anything from me and I assume that includes my protection, but—”
She reached across the table, rested her hand over his. A rush of heat went straight to his groin.
“Joe didn’t raise a fool,” she said, drawing her hand away as if maybe she’d felt it, too. “I’m grateful for what you did—I don’t know many guys who would take on three dangerous men for a woman they barely knew. I’ll let you know the minute I hear from El Jefe. I’ll talk to you before I do anything, okay?”
He nodded. “Fair enough.” Though he’d already decided to put security on her twenty-four/seven. He just couldn’t let her know. He stood up from his chair. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
Carly just nodded.
She sat quietly in the pickup all the way back to the roadhouse. Linc wondered what she was thinking.
Chapter Six
Carly pulled the pickup into her garage, saw the single headlight of Linc’s impressive black Harley coming down the street behind her. He’d insisted on following her home. She waved as she got out of the truck, hoping he would take the hint and leave, but instead he pulled his motorcycle into the driveway behind the truck and turned off the engine.
As she took the pistol out from under the seat, Linc walked up beside her.
He eased the gun out of her hand. “Stay here till I make sure it’s safe.”
She didn’t argue. Now that she was home, the whole terrifying chain of events came rushing back with stark clarity. She followed Cain into the kitchen, thought of the Glock, and wished she’d had it in her hand when those men had attacked her.
She sank down in a kitchen chair to wait while Cain walked through the rest of the house. Tears welled. Dammit, she didn’t want to cry. Joe had taught her to be tough. He’d known he wouldn’t always be there for her.
But deep down inside, she was still the frightened ten-year-old whohad walked into the bathroom and found her mother on the floor, dead of a drug overdose.
She closed her eyes, bit back a sob. She didn’t realize she was crying till she felt Cain drawing her out of the chair and into his arms.
For several seconds she let him hold her, let the tears come, just wrapped her arms around his thick neck and hung on. Then she realized what she was doing and felt like a fool, eased back, and turned away.
“I’m sorry, I’m not . . . not a crier. Not usually. I’m sorry.” She wiped her eyes, mortified that he had seen this side of her.
“Hey. It’s been a helluva day.” His mouth edged into a smile. “Maybe I’m the one who needed a hug, okay?”
