He nodded once, and then leaned over to fold up the paper. “You ought to get back up to the house before you’re missed.”
“It’s the dead of night. No one will be missing me.”
He could feel her eyes on him, but he didn’t look up, opting instead to crease the edges of the newspaper.
“Should we go to see the sheriff in the morning?” she asked. “I worry about the folks in town with this Mr. Clarkson about.”
It wasn’t the people in town who needed to be worried. It was him—and everyone he associated with here.
“Go on back up to the house, Lara,” he said in a measured voice.
But she didn’t move. He should have known she wouldn’t obey without asking twenty-seven questions first.
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” She paused, glancing down at the creased newspaper in his hands. “Do you know him? This Mr. Clarkson?”
Mitchell felt as if he’d swallowed a baseball. She didn’t need to know. Shecouldn’tknow.
“Mitchell . . .” Her voice trailed off as she bit down on her lip. “You’re worrying me. Was he following me for a reason beyond simply being where I was at the time? Are we in danger? Should I wake Arlen—”
“No,” he said sharply as he smacked the paper back down on the table.
Lara jumped just slightly, and he felt awful for scaring her.
Although maybe sheshouldbe scared of him. That would make the inevitable much easier.
He ran his hands through his hair, trying to think. When he looked up again, she still watched him, her blue eyes edging on irritated.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she asked. “Or should I ride back into town, find Mr. Clarkson, and ask him myself?”
He reached out and gripped her shoulders. Her eyes went wide. He had her attention.
“Lara, no matter what, donotgo seeking that man out. Do you understand me?”
She frowned. “Then are you going to tell me about him?”
He held her gaze for a moment, his hands still on her shoulders. Then he dropped them, took hold of her arm, and pulled her toward the door. “Go back up to the house. Now.” He didn’t even bother asking her to keep this information to herself. It didn’t matter, not now.
“No.” She crossed her arms the second she was outside and he let go.
He rubbed a hand across his face. She wouldn’t listen to reason. And there was only one other way he could get her to do what he needed at this moment. “Look, you promised me you’d find out more about me. And you have. You went digging, and you resurrected the one thing I never wanted to think of again. So thank you for that, Lara. Go on back up to the house and leave me be.”
She dropped her arms, blinking at him as if he’d hit her. His heart lurched as her eyes hardened. “I did no such thing and you know it. If you don’t think you can trust me, you’re a fool, Mitchell King. I’m the one you can trust more than anyone else in the world.” And with that, she did as he’d asked—turned on her heel and marched back up to the house.
He was alone now, as he had been every day before he’d arrived here. This was the second time he thought he’d found family—but unlike the first time, losing this one would hurt.
It would more than hurt. It would gut him.
But there was no other choice, not if he wanted to keep them safe. He’d do whatever it took to make that happen, to keep Clarkson away from them.
Without waiting to change his mind, Mitchell fetched his satchel and began filling it.
