“Deputy Riker is waiting at his vehicle in the parking lot. I’ll carry your duffel and computer bag.” He opened the door of the chandlery for her and walked her out.
At his county cruiser, Trent gave a soft smile and opened the door for her, and Braden stowed her things in the back. He followed Trent’s vehicle on his Ducati, his thoughts racing as he focused on the road and the cruiser ahead of him.
On the surface, “Salty” Malloy’s warning that it wasn’t safe could’ve been a general comment about Hidden Bay or the marina itself. Given the attempted murder and the fact that her mother had sent Braden here for a reason, it seemed clear that someone had deliberately targeted Cressida.
Though he wanted to be up-front with her, the moment she found out he had any connection to her mother would be the last moment he would have to protect her and keep her close. She and her mother were estranged.
At the lodge, Trent assisted Cressida into the main lobby and Braden walked behind them. He thanked Trent while he waited for Cressida to check in.
Trent leaned in close to Braden and spoke so no one else could hear him. “Do we need to warn the public a potential killer is on the loose?”
“I think that Cressida—”
“Cressida?”
“Ms. Valentine was targeted. The local news will report the attack, and people can come to their own reasonable conclusions—lock the door. Watch out for strangers. I plan to get Jo with her, and then we can put his picture on the usual outlets as we search for him. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Braden moved toward Cressida, effectively dismissing the deputy. Octavia wanted Braden on this, and he would protect her. He had to keep her close and couldn’t risk Trent worming his way in and learning something he shouldn’t.
What if Cressida held a secret Octavia wanted to learn more about or keep under wraps? He couldn’t fully know what this was about and would call Octavia soon.
Once Cressida had completed her check-in, he snatched her duffel and computer bag before she could.
“I got lucky,” she said. “I wasn’t due to check in until tomorrow night, but my cabin is available now.”
“Good. I’ll walk you there.” He threw the duffel over his shoulder.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said. “Remember, it’s your day off, and even if it wasn’t, you’re a cop. Not my personal valet.”
“I’m a nice guy even on my day off.” Since he took on this investigation, he’d get paid and was working now, but he saw no reason to point that out. Let her see him as the nice guy. He’d chosen to follow Trent to the beach, after all.
What if he hadn’t? Then he couldn’t have as easily workedhis way into Cressida’s situation, to be both investigator and protector she needed. Trent would have been that guy. Braden knew enough about him to believe that.
Braden wanted to throw that question in Octavia’s face. She should have been up-front with him about the reason he was here instead of twisting his arm behind his back to do her will like it was some kind of game to her.
Cressida hiked to her cabin, and he followed, carrying the duffel and case. It was actually pretty heavy, and he saw now why she hadn’t wanted to carry it on her walk on the beach. And he appreciated a woman who could allow a man to be a gentleman.
At the cabin, she unlocked the door, entered, and he followed, gently dropping the duffel and case next to the table. She glanced around the cozy space.
“How long will you be staying?” he asked.
She rubbed her forehead, looking frazzled and yet strong and in control at the same time. How did she do that? Must have her mother’s genes. “I stay as long as it takes to learn what I need to learn. But I’ve only booked this cabin for three weeks.”
That was expensive. “Why here?”
She stepped forward and studied him. Getting suspicious?
“Look,” he said. “I’m trying to find out who attacked you and why. I like to ask questions.”
“And I like a detective who’s serious about his job.” She stepped closer.
And his heart pounded harder.
Not good.
“Maybe you can help me more than you think. I’m here looking into theSpecter’s Bounty. I mentioned my father was a maritime historian and was writing a book. The bag that was stolen today had his journal in it, to which I added my personal thoughts on everything, including and especiallymy notes on my experiences for the book. The entire reason for my travels. I need that back. It’s not something I’ve made copies of. Do you understand?” Her shaken demeanor quickly gave way to the confidence of someone used to being in control.
He arched a brow. “I understand.”
