Rowe’s gaze travelled the cabin, likely looking for Brighton. “Mrs. Blanton apologized profusely. Said he hasn’t had one that bad in ages and had no idea what brought it on. Poor woman was beside herself. Offered to pay for psychological damages or something.”
“No.” The idea repulsed. He drew in a long breath and let it out, allowing himself to come down from high alert for the first time since Brighton’s screams had yanked him from his project board.
“How’s she doing?”
Stone considered his property manager. Rowe was closer to Brighton’s age. Good looks. He’d seen her hug him, seen the way Rowe had taken a little too long wrapping her ankle. Immediately got the wrong impression as he sprinted down to the lodge and found the guy restraining a shrieking Brighton. “Shook up.”
Silence stretched between them, questions not asked. Answers unnecessary.
Rowe eyeballed him. “Are we expecting trouble?”
Stone didn’t want to compromise the trust Cord had placed in him, but if trouble was coming, then this was the man he’d face it with. Better to be prepared. “Yeah, probably.” They were going to have a very long talk when he got back.
“I like her.”
“I know. You had your hands all over her.”
Rowe sniggered. “If you weren’t so hung up on her??—”
“Excuse me?”
“I wasn’t touching her, not like that.” With a huff, he shook his head. “She literally leapt into my arms???—straight over the balcony from her room. She was terrified, injured???—”
“Injured?”
“Her ankle. From when she tried to run. The first time.”
Stone grunted.
“I tried to get her to slow down, tell me what was going on, but trying to calm and help her was like trying to hold a slippery, thrashing bass.”
“She’s been through a lot.”
“Not exactly a secret.” Rowe studied him from behind squinted eyes. “What’s going on? What’re we up against?”
Although he and Rowe had been through a combat tour together, Stone hesitated, not ready to lay that wound bare??—even with his buddy.
“Not willing to connect some dots for me?”
“Need to know.” This incident with Blanton was a good wake-up call. He’d gotten lazy, complacent. They needed to be prepared before they got caught with their pants down.
“Let’s put it this way: the head of this beast is so far up the butts of so many VIPs that nobody has seen his face. They put me out of the game without batting an eye. If they come, it’ll be a war zone.”
The warning didn’t faze Rowe. In fact, he seemed to have been waiting for it. “I’ll set up more perimeter sensors and cameras. Have a couple of other tricks up my sleeve. And I know good operators I could recruit to?—”
“No.” When his buddy snapped his gaze to him, Stone tried to explain. “We keep it quiet. But the more people heading up here, the faster we draw attention. If we need help, I know who to call.” They had to be smart because if—no, when—Ladomer Horvath came for her, he’d bring everything to bear, wouldn’t he? “Do the sensors and cameras. Start there.”
“On it.” Rowe headed out.
Stone ran a hand over his beard and locked the doors.
“If you weren’t so hung up on her …”
Yeah, but he had a feeling that was only going to get worse, especially having her here on the property. Back inside, he spotted Grief popping up from a resting position. His black head swiveled toward Stone from his spot on the threshold. The guest room door sat ajar just enough for his Malinois to provide protection detail. Beyond his dog, on the bed and buried beneath a throw blanket, Brighton was asleep. Her position suggested she’d been watching the front door and sleep, greedy adversary that it was, seized hold. All the better?—she needed the rest.
“Good boy.” Stone rubbed Grief’s velvety ears as he stood just outside the room, watching the woman who had once again upended his world. Forearm on the jamb, he recalled the terror in her expression, the trembling … the way she’d thrown herself at him?—and not romantically. Desperately. Terrified. Trusting him to protect her.
Her desperation, however, mirrored his need to make sure she was safe. His willingness to do violence on her behalf.
