“You okay?”
“Yes.” She scattered linens—monogrammed
napkins, given to her by Mama when she’d gone off to start her own
business after graduating from culinary school—across the floor.
The garage door was open and a steady parade of delivery vehicles
came and went with supplies for the wedding. She wondered what was
on the reception menu because she needed to think about something
normal for a second.
It didn’t last, however.
“I don’t think you’ll find a humidor under
those, Evie.”
Probably not, but she was stressed and
angry—being destructive seemed to help, if only temporarily. She
upended the box and tossed the empty cardboard aside.
Matt frowned. “We need to focus,
chère
. Time’s not our friend right now.”
“I know.” She shoved herself to her feet and
grabbed another box. “But I’m beginning to wonder if I kept it
after all.”
“We’ll worry about that later. Let’s get
through these boxes first.”
He was right, but she couldn’t shake a strong
sense of futility. At twenty-six years of age, this was all her
life held? A car full of random junk?
Matt must think her pathetic. A girl from the
wrong side of town who, ten years later, still had nothing to her
name. Why couldn’t she succeed at anything she did?
She set the box down and sank to the floor
beside it. “Why haven’t we heard from whoever murdered David? How
do we know they even have Sarah?”
“We don’t.” He sounded so calm. “But we have
to operate based on the simplest assumption. Sarah’s missing, no
one has seen her, and someone knocked your mother over the head and
killed your ex-partner. It’s all related.”
“Then why haven’t they called and demanded
the humidor?”
“Maybe they don’t know that’s what they want.
Or maybe it’s not what they’re after.”
Evie set a stack of cooking magazines on the
floor beside her. “You’re kind of irritating, you know that?”
“I’ve heard.”
She let out a sigh and rubbed her hands over
her face. “I’m scared, Matt,” she admitted. “And I don’t like
it.”
He shoved aside the box he’d just finished
and climbed to his feet. A second later, he was pulling her up and
into his arms, holding her tight. She laid her head on his chest,
twisted the fingers of one hand into his T-shirt, and breathed
deep. He smelled faintly of laundry detergent, warm skin, and a
scent she associated solely with him.
Why couldn’t this have been normal between
them? Why couldn’t they have danced and flirted and maybe got here
anyway? Oh sure, she’d been plenty furious with him after ten
years—but they could have worked through that without all this
other shit.
“This isn’t what you’re used to dealing with.
Of course you’re scared.”
“What do your men in black say?”
She felt his lips press against her hair.
“Kev’s got the Kid working on it. We know it’s Rivera’s men, but
that’s all.”
“You’ve done this before.” Certainty flooded
her. He was confident, assured, methodical. Too much so to be the
kind of guy who simply jumped out of airplanes and helicopters and
had some buddies with insider access to files.
“Yeah.”
She leaned back and looked up at him. Her
heart did that little flutter thing it always seemed to do when he
was near. “You’re more than an Army Ranger. You’re one of those
SEALS or something.”
Matt’s finger slid along her jaw. He rubbed
her earlobe gently between his thumb and forefinger. Then he
grinned. “I can neither confirm nor deny. Besides that, SEALS are
Navy. I’m not in the Navy.”
“Whatever. The Army has that kind of thing
too. Green Berets or Delta Force or something.”
He nodded. “They do.”
“And you’re one of them.”
“Can’t answer that.”
Evie rolled her eyes. “You could tell me but
you’d have to kill me?”
He laughed low in his throat, the sound so
sexy it sent a shiver skimming. “I can neither confirm nor deny,
chère
.”
“I’m sensing a theme, here.” How did he make
her feel so fluttery inside when everything was falling apart
around her? Her world was filled with uncertainty and fear and he
could still make her laugh. Still make her ache with need at his
proximity.
His fingers slid into her hair. “If we didn’t
need to keep looking, I’d like to rock your world right about
now.”
“And I’d like to let you.” She put her hand
on his arm, reveling in the heat and muscle. They couldn’t stop
searching for that humidor, couldn’t stop thinking about Sarah. She
knew it as well as he did, but still she wished for a few stolen
minutes where life was normal again.
He dipped his head, kissed her softly. In
spite of everything, her heartbeat quickened. Her body vibrated
with energy. The vibrating grew stronger, more insistent. Matt
stopped kissing her and straightened.
“Is that your phone?”
Shit. She forgot she’d shoved her phone into
her pants pocket in case Aunt Betsy or Julie called to tell her how
Mama was doing. They’d promised not to leave Mama alone until Evie
could return with good news. She dug it out quickly and hit the
button.
A picture flashed on her screen. Her legs
buckled.
SARAH’S HEAD HURT LIKE A BITCH. Her eyes were
swollen from crying, and one temple throbbed mercilessly. She’d
asked the woman—Brianna—for aspirin. She hadn’t gotten any.
The big guy, Julian, sprawled on a chair. His
attention was focused on a game he was playing on his
smartphone.
“Aw, fuck,” he said for the fiftieth time
that afternoon.
Sarah shifted on the musty bed. They’d cuffed
one of her hands to the iron headboard and she hated to move or to
call attention to herself because he looked at her like he might
want to come over and hit her. Or worse.
The handcuffs rattled with her movements. She
shot a look at Julian, praying he wouldn’t notice her. His gaze
flicked up, then back down to his phone as a musical chime
indicated it was time to play again.
The door swung open and Brianna came back in.
She’d been spending a lot of time outside since they’d come into
the swamp. It was too much to hope a gator would get her. The other
guy, the smoker from last night, was nowhere to be seen.
Sarah rolled a stiff shoulder. They’d stuffed
her in a big duffel bag, dropped her into a motorboat, and brought
her out here. She knew where she was—any local would—though she’d
been surprised when she realized where they were. When the motor
fired up, she’d been convinced they were planning to dump her in
the swamp.
She’d figured Evie hadn’t given them what
they wanted or wouldn’t give it to them. Why would she? Sarah
hadn’t exactly been pleasant to her. Not that she deserved it after
the way she’d gone off and never called.
Either way, Sarah knew she was dead. She
cried until they’d dumped her in the cabin. Then Julian grabbed her
by the hair and held her head steady while Brianna took a picture
with her phone.
Neither one of them had paid much attention
to her since.
“You hear anything yet?” Julian asked.
“Signal’s bad out here. It comes and
goes.”
Sarah could have told the stupid bitch
that.
“What’s the plan?”
“We wait.” Brianna picked up a pack of
cigarettes and tapped one loose. “God, I hate this place. You smell
that?”
Sarah didn’t smell anything except the usual
scents of mud and rotting vegetation that filled the swamp. But
then again, those odors would probably stink to an outsider. To
Sarah, it was just another whiff of home.
“What? I don’t smell anything.”
Brianna sniffed. “The air. It smells
dead.”
Julian shrugged and went back to his game.
Brianna lit up her cigarette and took a long drag. “Dead,” she said
thoughtfully, watching Julian.
* * *
Matt stood on the screened-in veranda and
gazed out at the muddy bayou. “All right,” he said into the phone.
“Let me know if you come up with anything.”
He hung up and let out a deep breath. Evie
was holding up well, considering someone had sent her a picture of
her sister that clearly indicated the kid had been beat up a bit.
He’d immediately forwarded it to Kev, but so far Kev couldn’t get a
lock on where it had been sent from. The person who took it wasn’t
entirely stupid. Sarah looked as if she was lying on wood of some
kind, but it was too grainy to tell. The tips of someone’s fingers
were in the shot. Someone who’d been holding Sarah still.
The accompanying message said not to contact
the police. No big surprise. What Sarah’s captors wanted was for
Evie to acknowledge the message—done by return text—and wait for
further instructions. Presumably to hand over the information they
wanted—except Matt still didn’t know what that was. The picture
came twenty minutes ago, and he’d been on the phone since. He
needed to get back to the garage and find that humidor. Surely,
West had hidden something in it. Something that Ryan Rivera wanted
to get his hands on pretty badly. Matt hoped like hell Evie still
had the damn thing.
Because he sure as fuck didn’t know what he’d
have to cook up if she didn’t. He’d figure that out when he came to
it.
One frigging thing at a time
.
“I found it.”
Matt swung around. Evie stood in the doorway,
a wooden box in her hands. Her eyes were glassy, as if she’d been
drinking too much. He spent a moment letting his gaze wander over
her. It surprised him every time he saw her, the way she managed to
send a flash of heat through him. Last night hadn’t been enough. He
wanted more of her—more sex, more talk, and more time to figure how
why she made him feel this way, as if his skin was too tight until
she walked into the room. Then it was a different kind of
tightness—inside him—that usually took hold.
He silently cursed David West, Ryan Rivera,
and this whole fucking situation. If not for them, he could have
spent several days making love to this woman before he had to
return to North Carolina and face a panel of military officers.
As if anything with Evie Baker could be
that easy
. Matt ignored the voice and walked toward her.
“I thought you were lying down.” He’d carried
her to the bed when she’d crumpled and told her to rest. She’d been
through a lot and still hadn’t had enough sleep, which made him
fear another crash might be imminent. An hour or two of sleep would
do her a world of good.
“I got up again.” She thrust the humidor
toward him. “Do your thing, secret agent man.”
Matt took the burled-wood box from her. “I’m
just a soldier.”
Thank God she’d found it, even if he’d have
preferred she sleep a while first.
“Whatever you say.”
He turned it in his hands, looking closely
for any signs of tampering. He speared her with a look. “Think you
can lie down for a few minutes now?”
She stared back at him, never flinching.
“No.”
He’d always loved her spirit, the way she
knew her own mind. But now, for some damn reason, it made her
irresistible to him. She filled an emptiness he hadn’t known needed
filling. He wanted to kiss her senseless. Wanted to strip her
naked, spread her out beneath him, and take his fill of her.
Goddamn, it wasn’t going to happen though.
And maybe that was for the best. He wasn’t precisely
happy-ever-after material. He was too fucked up, his future too
uncertain. Not that she wanted that from him. She’d made it clear
enough last night.
“Come on. I need to get some tools out of the
garage.”
When he’d gotten what he needed, he led her
back to the kitchen island and told her to sit on one of the
barstools. Then he got to work.
An hour later, the humidor disassembled, the
cigars dissected and laid into neat piles of tobacco and wrappers,
Matt was as puzzled as he’d ever been.
“There’s nothing here.” He straightened and
rubbed the ache in his neck. There were no hidden compartments, no
hollowed-out spots, no suspicious seams. If David West had hidden
something, it wasn’t here.
Evie leaned on the bar, her chin resting on
her fists. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“What were you looking for?”
“A flash media device, a list, a key card—”
He swept his hand over the mess. “Something with information on
it.”
“We should call the police, give them the
picture.”
“They’ll kill her, Evie.” He sounded brutal,
but he didn’t care. He needed her to understand. She flinched and
he reached out, squeezing her arm. “I’m sorry, but these guys are
professionals. You get a cop involved, and they’ll make sure Sarah
disappears for good. This is the only chance we have to get her
back.”
“But we don’t know what they want!”
He raked a hand through his hair. “It’s here.
Somewhere. I just need time to find it.”
The doorbell rang and Evie jumped. Her eyes
were wide.
Matt glanced at his watch. “Shit.” The series
of short dings continued until he strode over and answered the
door.
“Are you coming to the rehearsal or not, big
boy?” Chris peeked around him. “Hi, Evie.”
“Hey, Chris.”
Holy Christ
. “I’m sorry. I got
busy.”
“We’re starting in five minutes. Don’t worry
about changing.” She eyed his jeans and T-shirt. “We’re keeping it
casual tonight. Bring Evie along if you want.”
He stared at his sister, at the happy
expression on her face, and felt like an asshole for wanting to
back out. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t hurt her like that when her
wedding was in two days.
He could use the time to think. Since the
wedding would be in the gardens up at the main house, it wasn’t
like he had to go far for the rehearsal. If he had an epiphany, he
could be back to the carriage house in two minutes. “Can you wait
for me a second?”