The thought left her feeling hollow. They stopped at their spot and leaned against the fence. The horses that were usually pastured here had been taken inside for the night, probably tucked up in their cozy stalls with food and warm straw.
As she rested her forearms on the rail, she let out a sigh as a measure of calm crept back over her. She tipped her head back to take in the sweep of stars across the velvet sky.
“This is our communication spot now, isn’t it? Couples have them—the kitchen table, the sofa. This is ours.”
A trace of a smile ghosted over his lips. “Seems that way.”
“It’s a lot to take in,” she said softly.
He slid his arm around her and anchored her to his side. “It is. I’m worried about you, honey.”
A lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to speak even if she had the words to express all the things she was feeling.
He stroked his knuckles over her cheekbone. “You okay?”
A breath that almost passed for a laugh burst from her. “No.”
“Christ, honey. No wonder.” He drew her tighter against him.
“It keeps hitting me. That every time I ran, he already knew where to find me.”
He issued a low sound like the tearing of rock and buried his face in her hair.
All the towns, apartments, hotels and jobs. The only thing that remained constant was her old Ford, and he’d planted a tracker on it.
“He was looking for the card with the code.”
“It’s probable.”
“If Lucian was paid off for something…and Matt stole the money from him…”
She pulled in a breath of cold air but it didn’t ease the hot tears in her throat. “Matt didn’t die in the line of duty.”
“I already have a plan to reach out to the rest of the guys who were on the team. Most of them have cycled out now, are doing other things. I’m going to talk to them all and find out what they know.”
A shiver slipped through her, and Church planted his hand on her lower back, giving her something solid to lean on.
She lifted her gaze to his, searching his eyes. They glimmered with pain…and more.
“I’m worried about you too,” she whispered, cradling his angled jaw. The stubble rasped against her hand.
He started to stiffen, to retreat inward. But she cupped his face and held him in place even though his eyes were guarded.
“Grant, look at me.”
He shifted his stare back to hers.
“You’ve been blaming yourself all this time. It wasn’t your fault.”
He didn’t respond.
“If there was something dirty in that op. If Lucian did something. If Matt was killed because of this. It wasn’t your fault, Grant.”
His brows slanted in a sharp line as his composure began to crack.
Her heart hurt for him so suddenly and fiercely that she had to curl her toes inside her boots. All these years he’d been shouldering that weight. Every look she’d seen on his face when Matt’s name came up wounded her.
Now there was a crack running through the whole story.
