Author: Roni Loren
Great, even her neighbors were keeping track of her piss-poor love life. She rubbed her arms, a chill beginning to work its way through her. “Did you find him?”
“By the time we got here, the perp had already left. Looks like he got in and stole some computer equipment. Your office is a mess, but nothing else looks to be disturbed.”
The already steady pounding in her chest moved into her ears. Someone had broken into her office? With all her…No. She put her hand to her forehead.
Grant who’d stepped up behind her, put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, as if sensing that she was near panic mode.
The officer looked up at him, then back to her. “Besides the desktop, did you have anything valuable in there?”
Valuable? Just all the research and notes she’d been busting her ass to collect on this story. She wet her lips, her throat trying to close up on her. “I had information about a news story I’m working on. Notes.”
He jotted down something. “Anyone who’d want that information bad enough to break in?”
She rubbed her fingers over her brow bone, her head feeling as if it had a fissure splitting the middle of it. The list of people who could be involved in this scandal was long and unproven. Plus, how any of them could know what she was working on and where she kept her notes was a wonder. “Not really.”
The cop shrugged. “Probably not connected. We’ve had a few break-ins in this neighborhood over the last couple of months. It’s most likely kids looking to score some electronics.”
After another round of questions from the other officer and a tour of the damage, the policemen left with a promise to follow up with her if they found anything. She watched them turn off her street and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fight a chill that wouldn’t seem to go away.
Grant, who’d stayed leaning against his truck like some silent sentinel, pushed to a stand and stepped in front of her, his hat pulled low over his eyes. Apparently noticing her goose bumps, he rubbed his palms along her chilled arms.
Somehow the little gesture of comfort had tears that had built up from the last twenty-four hours ready to burst free. But she wouldn’t cry. She could handle this.
“You okay, freckles?” he asked.
“Freckles?” She looked up at him, trying to muster up some I’m-totally-fine façade, even though having his hands on her had her thoughts fracturing and emotion trying to leak through. “Are you trying to get me back for calling you cowboy?”
“Just trying to make you smile,” he said, concern underlying that twang.
She pushed a finger to his chest and tried to manage an intimidating expression. “I’d normally punch a guy for calling me that. You’re lucky I’m too tired. And that you’re so fucking big.”
“Lucky, indeed.” He smiled, but those blue eyes remained serious. He grabbed her hand before she could move it away from his chest. His palm closed over her fist, the hold firm. “Now are you going to tell me what really happened last night? You’re shaking. And I know it’s over more than stolen computer equipment.”
She blinked at the change in subject and his grip on her hand. She stepped back, and he quickly let go of her. “What?”
His mouth dipped at the corners, and he eyed her in that knowing way he seemed to be so good at. “Fine. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can go on pretending that everything is sugar and sparkles to try to get me to go away and leave you to whatever mess you’re in alone. Not going to happen, by the way. Or you can be honest with me so that maybe I can offer some help.”
She groaned. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done. But I don’t need help. I’m on a story that apparently has ruffled someone’s feathers. I can handle it. After all this, I’m going to be on guard now and more aware.”
The displeasure that crossed his face was strong enough to steal breath. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Someone ran you off the road last night. And don’t lie and say I’m off base. You were yelling at them in your sleep.”
She glanced away and took a sudden interest in a crack in her driveway. “It was probably just kids messing around.”
“You don’t strike me as a stupid woman, Charli. Don’t talk like one.”
She clenched her jaw, frustration building. Who was he to make demands on her? Being a Good Samaritan gave him the right to a thank-you but not some right to all her business. But before she could lash out and take out her stress from the last twenty-four hours on the man in front of her, another truck pulled into her driveway. A very familiar one.
“Son. Of. A. Bitch.” Her simmering frustration boiled over into outright anger. She sent a fiery look Grant’s way, as a ginger-headed man climbed out of the truck’s cab.
Grant shrugged. “Sorry, darlin’. He would’ve done the same for me.”
Suddenly, all the warm and fuzzy feelings she’d been harboring toward Grant earlier that morning dissipated into a red haze. She turned toward her uninvited guest, her fists curling, spoiling for a fight. “Max, what the hell are you doing here?”
Her brother’s dark auburn brows dipped behind his aviators as he stepped around the back end of Grant’s truck. “Well, hello to you, too, little sis. And I’m here to make sure you’re all right. At least someone thought it was important to call me after you were in a goddamned car accident, Char.”
He reached out and shook Grant’s hand and nodded in that man-to-man way that seemed to say so much. She could read the words in the quick, silent exchange. Thanks for calling me even though she told you not to. Thanks for handling my problematic, always-getting-herself-in-trouble sister. I’m here to save the day now.
Her nails cut into her palms. “I’m fine. See?”
Max crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Yeah, you’re fine. Someone ran you off the road, and your house has been broken into. You’re just peachy.”
Her lips parted. “How do you even know all that?”
“Grant called me while you were dealing with the police to update me.”
She sent Grant a betrayed look. To think she’d actually found herself trusting the cowboy, even entertaining the fact that he kind of liked her. She should’ve known better. She’d spent too much time around dudes to not take into account the guy-code factor. Grant had spent his time being nice to her last night and today because she was Max’s sister. A duty to take care of a friend.
“Max, you didn’t need to rush out here. I don’t even want to know how fast you had to drive to get here this quickly. I would’ve called you if I needed help. I can handle it.”
“Last time you said that, you nearly broke your neck bungee jumping.”
She rolled her eyes. “I got whiplash, drama queen. Big difference.”
He shook his head, his stance softening. “You worry me, Char. You and Donovan are the only family I have left. It’s hard enough knowing that you’re this far away, but I need to be able to trust that you’re not going to put yourself in danger. When Grant called me last night and told me about the accident, I thought…”
She frowned, some of the fight draining out of her. Max had taken it the hardest when her dad had died, and she knew he’d taken it upon himself to be the leader of their family now, the protector. The look in his eyes said his fear for her was real. But she also knew Max would storm in and take over if she gave him the smallest of openings. “I’m sorry I worried you. That wasn’t my intention, but everything is under control. Really. The police are on it.”
“Yeah, a report will be filed. They’re not going to do anything to protect you in the meantime.” He raked his fingers through hair that matched her own, his expression torn. He looked toward her house. “I know you think you’re on the trail of some big story, Char. But apparently you’re poking some dangerous lions. It’s not worth it. I don’t want you around it. I need you to come home with me until whatever this is blows over.”
She looked at him as if horns had grown out of that ginger head. “The hell I am. I have a job. I’m working on getting a promotion. I can’t just whisk away to Baton Rouge. And if I drop a story because someone tries to scare me, they win. Screw that.”
“Someone tried to run you off the road, Char. This isn’t about pride or work. You could’ve been fucking killed.”
The thought made her shudder, but there was no way she could walk away from everything. She’d worked too hard to get to this point. “I can’t leave.”
“Char—”
“She can stay with me,” a deep voice interrupted.
Both she and her brother turned to look at Grant, the unexpected statement silencing their argument.
“Do what?” She must’ve heard him wrong.
Grant tipped his hat up a bit. “You can stay in the cabin you were in last night. You’ll be safe there. And when you’re not on-site, you can check in with me by phone so that someone always knows where you are. You’ll have a bit of a drive into work for a while, but at least you won’t have to take time off.”
“That’s a great idea. Thanks, man,” Max said, smiling and thumping Grant on the back. “Grant has top-notch security at his place. You’ll be protected there.”
Charli stared at Grant. He was serious? He didn’t know her from a woman on the street, but he was going to give her a place to stay and play bodyguard. Just to be helpful? No, she corrected herself. This wasn’t about being helpful. This was about debt. Max had saved Grant’s life, and now there was an opportunity to pay him back. She was a transaction. Just like the time Max bribed his friend to ask her to the prom so she wouldn’t be without a date. Then said friend had proceeded to tell everyone he was there with her as a favor. Total humiliation. Served up hot. “I appreciate the offer, but no, thank you,” she said, smiling with forced politeness.
Max frowned. “Well, then I’ll call in the last of my vacation time and move in with you for the next two weeks. I can keep watch until we get all your window locks replaced and install a high-tech alarm.”
Oh, hell no. She loved her brother to pieces, but sharing her tiny place with him twenty-four-seven while she was trying to investigate her story would be a nightmare. She’d never be able to get away without him wanting to know where she was, who she was with, and what she was doing. Her brothers had always been protective, but since her father had died, Max had made it his personal mission to be the most annoyingly overbearing parental substitute ever. Two weeks of that and she’d be signing herself into the loony bin. Or jail—for choking her dear brother.
“I’ll stay with Grant.” At least there she could be alone in her own cabin without a babysitter. And though Grant had been the one to offer, he looked about as excited at the prospect as she did, so he probably wouldn’t bother her much.
Max gave a triumphant smile and leaned over to kiss the top of her head. “My baby sister, always the voice of logic and reason.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
“Better than underestimating the threat and having regrets later,” Grant said quietly.
She glanced over at him, but he was staring off in the distance, hands in pockets, as if he had made the statement to someone else.
Something flickered over Max’s face when he looked at Grant—sadness? Sympathy? But before she could pinpoint it, Max’s attention was back on her. “Listen to what he says. He’ll keep you safe.” He touched the tip of her nose. “Now go get packed.”
She gave him a narrow gaze.
He smiled. “Love you.”
She gritted her teeth. She loved him, too. But at the moment she was having a hard time remembering why. She turned on her heel to head back toward the house.