“But they could just attack you from the outside. You have no protection here.”
“Do you always have to be so cynical?”
“You have to ask me that? You know some of what I’ve done in my life. Where I’ve been. I spent too many years serving on protective details and conducting threat assessments, before that was actually my job description.”
She stepped up to the counter to make coffee. “You’d have me live in that World War II bunker on the coast, wouldn’t you?”
“Never. I’d have you live free of danger.” He stepped closer, and the brooding look he gave her sent chills over her. The good kind. And maybe some of the bad kind too.
“I want you to stop having to look over your shoulder,” he said.
She couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t breathe.
“Me too.” But she’d been looking over her shoulder long before she’d had anything serious to worry about. Part of her job, she guessed.
She pulled her gaze from the intense exchange and turned her attention to the window. Cole was right. And with that, he’d destroyed her peaceful haven. With all the lights on in the small house, all she could see was darkness staring back from the windows that served as framesto nature during the daylight hours. The downside to a home snuggled up against the forest—the darkness closed in faster.
And that had never bothered her...
Until now.
11
Cole’s hackles raised. Threat Assessment 101 ... this wasn’t the right place for her. Cole had to get her out of here. But she needed to come on her own terms. Jo was no fool, and she would come to that conclusion soon enough. He would try not to push, even though Spruce Hollow was not safe in his risk analysis. The thin walls and big window provided no real protection in an attack and were completely unacceptable.
His chest tightened. Shoulders tensed. Emotion, fear, and panic didn’t normally grip him and, for the most part, had been trained out of him. But this was Jo, and he found it increasingly difficult to keep his head about him.
“What happened to you staying at the lodge?” he asked. “You have space there, don’t you?”
“When I’m working and it’s busy, they want me on the grounds, yes. But I like my own private space, and you can see why, can’t you?”
“I can, yes.” He looked at Jo—her big brown eyes and long dark hair—a true beauty and she had no idea, which made her all the more appealing.
She moved to close the curtains, and he joined her, assisting in covering the panoramic view of the rainforest. He could barely make out the giant moss-covered vines hanging in a tangled display.
Rain suddenly lashed the window, and they both jumped back, startled. A laugh burst from Jo, then she scrunched her face up with an apologetic look and shrugged. He wanted to join in the laughter and have fun with her—like they used to.
But now wasn’t the time. “That wasn’t funny.”
Even if it was only the rain catching them off guard. She approached with that lazy grin that he’d always liked, and maybe even loved.
Her warmth suffused him, and he wanted to take her in his arms like he’d done before, but he kept his hands to himself. The wind rustled the trees outside and creaked through the small space. She’d turned on the flames in the gas fireplace, ramping up the cozy feel.
“It was a dark and stormy night,” she said with a dramatic tone. “You know, the first line of some novel that’s now cliché. I mean, the line, not the novel.”
She loved reading mysteries. Now she was in one. Cole couldn’t allow himself to get sucked into the ambiance. Standing here with beautiful, captivating Jo—who was happy to fix toilets and called a wrench “Little Jo” and who was in a playful mood tonight—drove him crazy inside. This woman might be more than he could resist. But he could try.
He moved to the small writer’s desk against the wall. “Tell me about these pictures you’ve sketched.”
“Sure. Coffee’s ready,” she said. “Want some?”
“Not yet.”
She joined him at the desk, and Cole snatched up the images. “The eyes from the ferry killer.” He let that one slideonto the desk, then examined another sketch. “What about this face? Who is this?”
“A face I kept working on until I got it right, I think. I can’t be sure.”
“What’s the context?”
