Читать книгу Secrets of the Lynx - Aimee Thurlo - Страница 12

Chapter Three

Paul moved silently around the outside perimeter of the house, pausing often to listen while searching the trees just beyond.

He’d made his way to the front corner of the house when he saw the source of the sound.

Paul smiled as the lynx took a step forward, almost as if in silent greeting. The last time he’d seen his spiritual brother had been during a particularly low point in his life—his rehabilitation process.

He’d been wandering aimlessly around the canyon during a long, sleepless night, his shoulder a throbbing reminder of the challenges ahead. Anger and pain, his constant companions in those days, had conspired to undermine him at every turn.

Struggling to find the courage to face what still lay ahead for him, he’d stood alone, waging his solitary battle, when he’d heard the low, throaty growl of the cat. Lingering in the shadows, unwilling to come out into the open, was a lynx.

In the animal’s caution, one born of fear, he’d seen his own inability to move forward, and realized then that life was all about choices. His days as a U.S. Marshal were over, but he was still very much alive. He could choose to let his injury define him or build a new future for himself.

Facing the best and worst in himself that night had given him the ability to go on. A few months later, he’d opened his own private investigations firm.

Tonight, as he looked down at the cat and saw the kill the creature had just made, Paul realized that the animal’s focus was his meal. The moment was all that mattered to him.

He, too, wanted to live in the present and stop looking to the past. Yet the sound of Judy’s startled gasp as the bullet passed through his shoulder and into her body continued to haunt him. Until her killer was caught, he’d never be able to move on.

He clutched the lynx fetish in his hand until the wood bit into his skin.

“Don’t move!” Kendra snapped from right behind him.

The animal disappeared in an instant. As it always had been, the cat showed himself to no one except him.

Having recognized Kendra’s voice, he turned around. “Relax—”

She reacted automatically, raising her gun.

Instinct kicked in, and he countered without thinking, sweeping her gun hand, twisting her around, and pulling her back against his chest. With her gun hand pinned to her side, he held her steady, his arms locked around her.

“It’s me,” he repeated, dodging a kick to his instep.

She relaxed instantly. “Paul? I told you to tell me if you left the house. I thought you were in another room and that someone was tampering with the vehicles—or worse! What the heck are you doing out here?”

“I came to see an old friend,” he said, noting that she wasn’t trying to break free.

“Where?” she asked, trying to wriggle out and look around.

Reluctantly, he let her go, noting she had fit just right against him. “Not a person, an animal.”

“You feeding the coyotes or something?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s more complicated than that.”

She searched the area trying to see what he was talking about, but it was too dark. “Come on, let’s go back inside. I don’t want to stay out here any longer than necessary. This is the best time for a sneak attack.”

“Yeah. It’ll be dawn soon,” he said, letting her take the lead in the walk back around the house. “Why don’t you get a little more rest?”

“Can’t. I’m wide awake now.”

“So, how about a real early breakfast then?” he asked.

“Thanks, but, no. It’s too early for me to even think of food,” she said, glancing at her watch. It was a little after five. “Unlike my brother, I’m not a big fan of breakfast. But our father, the colonel, used to insist on it. Personally I feel more primed for work if I have a mug of strong coffee and something sweet, like a doughnut.”

He laughed. “Not much for health food, are you?”

“Hey, I grab a sandwich at lunch. My anchor is a good dinner, when I’m not on the run.”

When they stepped back into the house, Paul walked over to his chair and picked up his jacket. “Since we’re both up, why don’t we get an early start and head back?”

“If we start too early, we’ll have to wake people up. We want them relaxed, not cranky, when we ask for their cooperation,” she said. “Besides, you need to get some rest, too. I need you alert.”

“I grabbed some shut-eye before you arrived here. I’m not tired, and right now there are some things I need to do, like contact Nick and tell him I won’t be at home. I need him to steer clear of my apartment.”

“Nick?”

“He’s the son of the man who owns my rental unit, which is over his coffee shop. Nick also cleans for me and makes sure my fridge is stocked.”

“With my crazy work hours, the food at my place is usually leftover takeout with a coating of green fuzz.”

“So you’re not exactly a domestic goddess, I take it?”

She laughed. “Not even close. You know what it’s like, working double shifts, pulling all-nighters, traveling the red-eye with a prisoner at your side. When I first started out, I put in long hours, but there was time off the clock, too. Then somewhere along the way, the balance shifted.”

He nodded, setting his jacket down again. “It happens like that.”

“One day I discovered that whether I was on the clock or not, my mind was always on the job.”

“Law enforcement is like that. It starts out as a job you love, but pretty soon it’s your life,” he said.

“It gets under your skin,” she said, nodding. “What I love most about it is that every day brings its own challenge.”

“I miss the constant change of pace,” he said. “When I started my agency, my shoulder was still holding me back. All I could really do was set up security, conduct interviews, and manage surveillance monitors for my clients. I spent most of my time pushing paper or watching screens.”

“And it drove you crazy?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I’m a lot happier in the field.”

“I asked you about painkillers before. How much trouble does your shoulder give you these days?”

“It aches from time to time, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. It’s healed up nice.” Rather than have her wonder, he stepped over by the fire and shrugged out of his wool shirt. “Take a look.”

She drew closer to him, started to touch his shoulder, but then changed her mind and dropped her hand to her side. “Through and through, though it must have taken out a lot of muscle. A rifle bullet can do a lot of damage. Rehab must have been tough,” she said softly.

He nodded. “It was, but the daily grind of exercises helped me get everything working again.”

He saw her gaze drop from his shoulder and run slowly down his chest. Women generally liked what they saw, and he was man enough to know when they did. As Kendra licked her lips, a flash of heat shot through him. His shoulder had taken a hit, but the rest of him worked just fine.

“It’s cold. You better put your shirt back on,” she said, her voice husky.

Following an instinct as old as time, he curled his fingers beneath the curtain of her auburn hair and pulled her closer to him. His kiss was gentle, coaxing, not forcing, and as her lips parted, he deepened the kiss, tasting the velvety smoothness inside.

Kendra moaned softly, then pulled away, sucking in her breath. “Whoa!”

“My fault,” he said.

She shook her head. “If I wasn’t working a case I wouldn’t have pulled back. That felt...really nice,” she said, then took a steadying breath. “Paul, you’re a player. I’ve already picked up on that. But I’m here to take down a high-threat fugitive. Getting sidetracked could cost us our lives, so this stops now. What happened is just the result of tension and fatigue. You know that, right?”

He said nothing, but in his gut, he knew differently. The attraction between them was real, and it was strong. He watched her for a moment longer. It was exciting to see the play of light and shadow in her hazel eyes. Kendra wanted more, just as he did, but she was right, the timing was all wrong.

“I’m going to get myself something to eat. Fresh coffee for you?” he growled, walking toward the back counter.

“Please.”

“No doughnuts in the house, so how about leftover fry bread and honey?”

“That sounds great,” she said.

An hour later, though it was still early, she’d finished her report, stowed away her laptop, and was on the phone with Paul’s brother, Detective Preston Bowman, who was en route to the station from his home. “If you turn up any connection between Ms. Sharpe and Chris Miller I want to be there for the interview. Let me know what you get as soon as possible.”

When Paul came into the front room moments later, Kendra was putting her cell phone back into her jacket pocket. As her gaze took in his backpack, she stood. “Shall I follow you into town?”

“I have an idea. We’ve already agreed to work together, so it makes a lot more sense to ride together, too. My four-wheel drive pickup will get us anywhere in the Four Corners that a vehicle can go. Your sedan—not so much. Why not just leave it here?”

“All right,” she said after a beat.

They collected her gear and headed to his truck. “While you stow away your stuff I want to make a quick call to the kid who takes care of my place,” he said. “I already left a voice mail for Nick, but I want to talk to him and make sure he got the message.”

“Sure. Go ahead,” Kendra said, placing her luggage behind the front seat.

Paul placed the call from his truck while the engine was warming up, and a few seconds later Nick answered. “Hey, Mr. Grayhorse, you want me to bring breakfast up now?”

“No, Nick, I’m not at home. There’s something else I need you to do. If you notice anyone hanging around my place, or if someone comes by asking about me, call my brother, Detective Bowman, ASAP. Then call me,” Paul said, and added, “Avoid anyone who looks the least bit suspicious or dangerous. I’ve made some enemies, and I don’t want you involved. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Paul ended his call, but before they were halfway down the dirt road to the gate, Kendra’s phone rang.

“Armstrong,” she clipped, then listened for a moment. “Good job, Preston! Keep an eye on her, but hang back till I get there if possible. If Miller’s at the apartment, I want in on the takedown.”

Kendra placed her phone back in her jacket pocket. “Your brother’s got it together. He’s tracked down Yolanda Sharpe. She’s home right now and, according to her neighbor, has a new boyfriend visiting. Preston doesn’t have the guy’s name, but the description he has of the subject doesn’t exclude Miller.” She paused, then continued, “The way Miller managed to disappear until now makes me think he’s changed his appearance again, but what’s hard is faking height. Miller’s six foot one.”

“So you want to meet Preston at Sharpe’s place?” Paul asked.

“Yeah. Let’s head there,” she said, giving him the address.

“When you question them, let me sit in. If either Yolanda or her boyfriend lies to you, I’ll know,” he said.

“You sound awfully sure of yourself.”

“I am,” he answered, feeling the weight of the lynx fetish around his neck.