“This call?—”
“Secure.”
Stone nodded to himself. It was secure on Cord’s end, but what about here?
Willow had come … Did that mean she’d endangered Brighton? He suddenly felt paranoid, protective. Especially with Willow added to the mix. “My sister is here.” That shouldn’t tip off anyone listening, yet Cord would know who and what he meant.
“That’s secure, too.” Cord cleared his throat. “So. We good with the extended-stay?”
With a sigh, Stone again looked down at his planner. His lists. This was royally messing with his plans …
Are they more important than a broken soul?
Ouch.
“You there?”
“No—yeah.” He straightened, nodded, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Scratched his beard. “Fine. Three weeks.”
“That … was too easy.”
“Don’t have to like it to know it’s smart, keeps her??—everyone??—safe.”
Cord grunted. “Always said you had a good, if not big, head on your shoulders.”
“Just be ready to pay up.” Stone ended the call and bent forward, fingertips bracing him as he stared at the litter of plans and lists.
What’re You doing, God?
A text chimed on his phone?—Willow, reminding him they were hungry and he’d said he’d make dinner. Smoothing a hand over his beard, he scanned his short- and long-term goals written in the planner. All now compromised because he had to watch the traffic coming into the lodge. Protect an asset. It was entirely possible that Brighton might mess up his newest career, too. Not intentionally, of course. He was big enough to admit that.
He tapped the planner and shifted his gaze beyond the windows to where night had fallen. A light flickered and bobbed in the trees up the hill from the workshop. What on earth …? Nobody should be up that way.
Stone grabbed his hat, locked the door leading into the lodge, then headed out the back, almost calling for Grief before realizing he’d left his partner with the ladies. He scanned the wooded area for the light but didn’t see anything.
A shadow shifted between the trees.
Stone stopped. Wished he’d gotten back in the habit of carrying a weapon after his days of politicking. He angled his head as he eased forward, head ringing with Cord’s words about being watched, about Horvath looking for Brighton. As he moved up the hill, he snagged a broom propped against the side of the workshop to use as a weapon. He stopped, heart whooshing as he listened to the noises around him. Settled into his skin, processing the native chatter of wildlife.
A soft pop spun him around.
Shadowed and fast-moving, a shape came at him.
He swung the broom handle.
“Whoa!” Rowe ducked and narrowly missed getting whacked across the head. “Holy what?”
Stone nearly cursed himself. “What’re you doing here?”
“Working,” Rowe balked.
“Not at nearly nine p.m.”
Rowe’s brow dug into his dark eyes, made darker by the late hour. “A racoon was down by the hot tub, so I relocated it away from the guests. Guess I’ll leave him next time if it’s after nine.” He shifted around Stone. “Or maybe hang a ‘No Vacancy’ sign so he knows it’s after hours.”
Stone sniffed. “Sorry.” He hefted the broom and returned it to the wall. “Just … keep your eyes open.”
Rowe paused. “Everything okay?”
