Alena looked down at the mud caked on her jeans and shirt. “I’m heading to the shower before this dries like concrete.”
Cal gave a quick nod. “I’ll make a couple of calls to Isla and Noah, then I’ll grab a shower, too.”
She started to turn away, but their gazes locked. His eyes held so much—frustration, anger at losing Dexter again—but there was something else simmering there, heat that reached her across the space between them. Heat for her.
Her chest tightened, her pulse picking up. For one reckless second she almost invited him to join her, to forget the mess they were in and just take the comfort they both wanted. But reason clawed its way back. That was a distraction they couldn’t afford. Not with Dexter out there, likely plotting his next move. A move that could get them killed.
Alena swallowed hard, breaking the connection first. “I won’t be long.”
She trudged her way up the hall and to the guest bathroom, closing the door behind her and dropping her go-bag on the counter. She unzipped it, digging through the contents until her fingers closed around her last clean outfit.
Great.
That meant she either had to head home or do laundry. Laundry won. Going home wasn’t an option, not with Dexter still out there. And it wasn’t because she wanted to stay close to Cal.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
The truth was, staying here made the investigation easier.
She set the clothes aside, turned on the water, and stepped into the shower. Hot water sluiced over her, washing away mud, sweat, and some of the tension that had coiled tight in her muscles. By the time she dried off and dressed, she felt halfway human again.
Before she could head out of the bathroom, her phone buzzed on the counter. And she saw Isla’s name on the screen.
Alena answered, pressing the phone to her ear. “What’s up?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll put this in an official memo for Cal and the sheriff, but I wanted to give you the sneak peek,” Isla said, her words clipped fast like she’d mainlined another double shot of espresso. “It’s a no-go on the financials. No big money transfers from Kara, Melissa, or Arneson. Not from their main accounts, anyway. And before you sigh and say some bad curse words, yes, I checked twice, and no, my magical hacker wand didn’t suddenly fail.”
Alena let out a small breath. “So no leads?”
“Not yet,” Isla admitted, though her tone carried that stubborn edge Alena knew too well. “There could be hidden accounts. I’m sniffing around those right now. Think offshore, shell games, or somebody playing Russian nesting dolls with their cash. I’ll let you know if I crack something.”
“Keep at it,” Alena said. “We need this.”
“Oh, I’m on it,” Isla promised. “And just so you know, I paused my playlist of 90s breakup ballads for this call, so you’d better appreciate the sacrifice.”
Despite everything, Alena felt the corner of her mouth lift. “I do.”
Alena ended the call with Isla, irritation buzzing under her skin. Nothing. No big transfers, no proof, nothing they could use to tighten the net around Dexter or anyone helping him. She shoved the phone into her palm and left the bathroom.
And almost collided with Cal in the hall.
He’d obviously just showered, damp hair curling at his temples, a clean T-shirt clinging to his chest. The warm scent of soap and something purely him wrapped around her. Her eyes betrayed her, sweeping over his face, his mouth, the steady blue of his eyes.
He lifted his phone at the same time as she did. They spoke together. “Any updates?”
For a moment, they both just stared, then she gave a short laugh that didn’t quite hide the tension under her skin. “Isla says no big money from Kara, Melissa, or Arneson. She’s digging deeper, but right now, it’s a dead end.”
Cal nodded, motioning toward the kitchen. “Come on.”
She followed, watching as he opened a container of queso, put it in the microwave and grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry. His movements were simple, efficient, but she found herself tracking every one of them. The flex of his shoulders, the easy strength in his arms, the quiet focus that had always pulled her in.
Even now, when everything was a mess, she couldn’t look away.
After the microwave beeped, Cal took out the queso and set it and the chips on the table, then reached into the fridge for two Cokes. He popped the tops, slid one to her, and took a long pull from his own.
They didn’t touch the food yet. Alena sipped her Coke, the cold fizz snapping against her tongue while she waited for him to speak.
“I got an update from Noah before I showered,” Cal said. “The drone lost sight of Dexter while we were still in the woods, but it picked up a truck coming out of a trail near the creek. The image isn’t great, but Noah thinks it’s the one Arneson reported missing.”
