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He’s bigger than me.

Stronger.

And terrifyingly calm.

“You’ve been difficult from the start,” he says quietly.

My breathing turns ragged beneath his hand.

The flashlight rolls across the floor again.

And I finally see his face.

My stomach drops.

Not a stranger.

Not completely.

The deputy sheriff–I’ve seen him around town in his uniform.

Oh my God. A law enforcement coverup.

Recognition flashes across his face when he sees I know him now.

“There she is,” he says softly. “I was wondering when you’d figure it out. Someone’s been missing you in Seattle. Got word to keep an eye out for you before you even set foot in Devil’s Peak.”

My pulse hammers so hard it hurts.

He slowly lowers his hand from my mouth.

I suck in air immediately. “You’re insane.”

His smile widens slightly.

“See?” he murmurs. “That’s what I like about you. Most women panic first.”

“I’m definitely panicking.”

“You’re angry.”

“That too.”

He laughs quietly like we’re having a normal conversation instead of him kidnapping me in the middle of a storm.

The sound crawls down my spine.

“You wrote that exposé on the Harbor Financial case six months ago,” he says conversationally. “Three executives arrested. One killed himself before trial. Remember? You made national news. You also made some enemies.”

My stomach twists violently.

“You ruined people,” he continues. “Careers. Families. Lives.”

“They were laundering money.”

“They were protecting investments.”

“By stealing from people.”