“Well, yeah. I figured you were raised by Scotland Yard to become the next Q,” he murmured.
Quartermaster was pretty much her hero. “I was obsessed with James Bond books,” she said. “But I’ve always had a knack for gadgets. You know, for sensors and bugs and everything in between. When I was a kid, I took apart all appliances in my vicinity, from toasters to engines to...well, the air conditioning unit at a hotel in Disneyland. Boy, did I get in trouble.”
Scott chuckled. “I can just see you getting in trouble at Disneyland, Tinker Bell.”
She blinked. “Tinker Bell?”
“Yep.” He took the next turn, and the countryside turned to forest as he kept driving next to the local river. Soon they arrived at Frost Outfitters and he turned past the main lodge to a quaint white clapboard house with wind chimes tinkling in the wind. “This is where you grew up?”
“Mostly,” she said, opening the door and allowing Roscoe to leap out. The dog ran to the frost-covered grass and started marking his territory. Scott exited the vehicle and looked around. Two fishing boats and a couple of rigs parked next to the bunkhouse.
“Do you know how to fish?” he asked.
“Yes, Scott,” she said patiently. “I moved here when I was eleven. I know how to fish.” Oh, for goodness’ sake, it probably didn’t fit her image as the gadget girl, but not only could she fish, she could guide.
He breathed deep. “What’s the deal with Rupert Skinner?”
“He’s a lowlife who most likely would’ve made me an offer that involved sex.” She winced. “He and Clay were best friends, but he always made passes at me. His ego is fragile, and he’ll be out for blood now that he knows I won’t accept his help.”
The front door of the bunkhouse opened and JT strode out.
Scott instantly put his body between Millie and her brother.
JT looked at Scott, glanced at Millie, then looked back at Scott. “Who the fuck are you?”
Chapter Four
Scott Terentson immediately took the measure of the man in front of him. The guy was dangerous—there was no question. Chilling shadows lingered in his eyes. He stood a few inches taller than six feet, his body broad and sharply muscled. He had dark hair, rather familiar blue eyes, and a scar that cut from one cheekbone across his mouth and down his neck. Although appearing unarmed, he looked as if he could take on a bear if necessary. Scott cocked his head and waited, not about to answer the rude question.
“JT,” Millie protested, nudging Scott to the side and stepping up, her gaze appraising. “I know you’ve been gone a long time, but that is no way to greet a guest.”
JT looked from Millie and up to Scott. “What kind of training do you have?”
Scott let his eyebrows rise and still didn’t answer.
“JT—” Millie stomped her foot. “Knock it off right now. Where have you been anyway? I’ve been calling you.”
The mysterious JT lifted one shoulder, his gaze remaining on Scott. “I went camping for the night and just got home so I can go pick up Aunt Mae. Lost my phone, or maybe I forgot it.” He frowned. “I don’t know.”
“You are the worst with that phone.” Millie threw her hands up. “The chief brought Aunt Mae home, according to him. But I haven’t seen her yet.” She took a deep breath. “Scott Terentson, please meet my brother, JT Frost. JT, this is Scott, who’s a lawyer the chief called because I was in jail for the night.”
JT’s gaze immediately swept to his sister. “The chief arrested you? Why?”
She seemed to be biting the inside of her cheek. “It’s a long story, and if you hadn’t lost your phone, you would know all about it.”
Scott looked from one to the other. They had the same blue eyes and that was about it. JT appeared to be a good five years older or perhaps more, but the hollowness in his eyes made it difficult to determine.
The tough-looking man scanned his surroundings as if seeking threats. “Whoa,” he said, holding up a hand. “Now wait a minute. You have to catch me up here. Last night after dinner, you planned to have a drink with June Barbary at Snarky’s. After being at the hospital all day with Aunt Mae, I had to get out of there, Mills.”
“I know,” she said, softening. She glanced at Scott. “Recently discharged from the military, JT doesn’t like to be around people too much.”
It was more likely that people didn’t want to be around JT, but Scott kept that thought to himself. He walked forward, holding out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“All right.” JT shook his hand, his gaze going to Roscoe, who circled the front lawn. “Did you get a dog, Mills?”
“No,” Millie said. “Sort of. I work with a team in DC sometimes, and Roscoe kind of owns the team.” She cut a look at Scott. “I don’t think it’s accurate to say that Angus or anybody on the team owns Roscoe.”
“Totally agree,” Scott said easily. Roscoe did what Roscoe wanted when he wanted. “If you bring him inside, we have to make sure the liquor cabinet’s locked.”
