My boot splattered a puddle as I stepped out of my truck. The water sloshed onto the already drenched hem of my jeans. The wet denim hung heavy on my legs, and my coat, just as soggy, sagged on my shoulders. I’d have to wring out my beanie in the hotel’s bathroom sink and hang it to dry.
Though it would just get damp again tomorrow. But this wasn’t the first time I’d spent my days getting soaked while I slogged through mountains. Given the rainy forecast for tomorrow, it wouldn’t be the last.
I snagged my pack from the back seat, then slammed the truck’s door closed, shoving the keys into my pocket as I walked toward the hotel.
My stomach growled. Lyla’s coffee shop was like a golden beacon glowing bright on a gloomy, gray day. I could practically smell the sweet, rich scents. A sandwich, a cup of hot coffee, a few of her pastries would go a long way toward improving my mood.
But I kept moving forward, away from Eden Coffee, as I strode for the hotel.
It had been two days since I’d told Lyla about Cormac’s murders. What I’d shared was just a tip of that iceberg, but even sharing part of the story had been difficult. Every time I spoke about Cormac, about what he’d done, it left me feeling shaken. Frayed.
Four years had passed, and I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. What had happened that night? What had caused Cormac to snap? Was there something I could have done to stop him?
If Lyla knew the whole story, she’d ask the same questions.
So I’d avoided her and that charming coffee shop entirely. I was afraid she’d see through me. I was afraid she’d demand the details I’d omitted, and I wasn’t sure I had the strength to tell her no.
Except if she knew the truth, it would shatter her illusion. That blind faith she had in me would fade.
Her confidence in me was startling. Addictive.
No one believed in me, not like that. Not my captain. Not the other deputies in the department. Not my family. Not Tiff.
These days, people seemed to expect my failure. Or maybe I was just used to disappointing myself.
But Lyla . . .
She looked at me like I was her salvation.
The reality was, I’d likely disappoint her too. And that sat like a rock in my empty gut.
I’d spent two days combing the mountains for any sign of Cormac. Each day I drove back to Quincy, it was with empty hands.
Still, I wasn’t going to quit. Day by day, I was eliminating possible places where he could have built a shelter. Another day, maybe two, I’d have a section of my map to cross out.
My process wasn’t foolproof, but it was how I’d been taught to search for fugitives. And the man who’d taught me was the best.
His education was either going to bite me in the ass, or maybe, for once in my damn life, I’d get lucky. Though the rain wasn’t helping. With every drop, Cormac’s trail was being washed away.
A steady drizzle had greeted me this morning when I’d headed into the mountains. It had finally stopped raining about an hour ago, just as the sunlight had begun to fade, a signal that my day of hiking had come to an end.
Now it was time to dry out and prepare for tomorrow.
My boots squeaked on the floor as I walked inside The Eloise Inn. There was a couple at the desk, checking in. Suitcases crowded their feet as they spoke to a smiling Eloise Vale. Sitting stoically at her side was her husband, Jasper.
I hadn’t actually been introduced to Eloise or Jasper. A different desk clerk had checked me in when I’d arrived. And last night, when I’d come down to extend my reservation by two weeks, there’d been yet a different person stationed at the reception desk.
But I knew Jasper and Eloise from Quincy’s local paper. From the article about the shooting from this summer.
Was that why Eloise and Jasper were always together? The times I’d seen them, they were never far apart. My guess was that Jasper stuck close to his wife’s side—the man had taken a bullet for her.
I respected that devotion. In another life, I would have made it a point to introduce myself. To shake his hand.
Instead, I ducked my chin and walked with my head down, not wanting to draw any attention as I made my way to the stairwell and climbed to the fourth floor. Even after a day spent hiking, pushing my body, I wasn’t ready to let up yet. The physical outlet was my only release. Maybe if I exhausted myself, I’d get some damn sleep.
Sleep was never easy, even at home in my own bed. Six hours a night was huge. Since I’d come to Quincy, it had been even more sporadic. Three or four hours was all I’d managed. I just couldn’t shut down my brain.
With nothing to do but dwell on my mistakes, on the clusterfuck that was my life, I’d climb out of bed and spend hours charting my hikes. I’d pore over the maps in my pack, memorizing every inch. And when that was done, I’d spend hours reading news about Quincy.
For a small town, this community had suffered more than its fair share of trouble.
About three years ago, there’d been a murder, a young woman in the mountains. Indigo Ridge was more than twenty miles from where I was currently searching for Cormac. But had the newspaper archives not detailed the crime and how Winslow Eden had apprehended the person responsible, I would have wondered if he’d been responsible.
After that murder, there’d been an incident at a local daycare and an AMBER alert. Possibly an attempted kidnapping. Since it had involved a minor, the details hadn’t been released to the press. However, I’d come across a few social media posts that speculated the child involved was none other than Knox Eden’s son.
The hardships for Lyla’s family hadn’t stopped there.
The most recent news articles all centered around Eloise and the shooting. Lyla’s sister had been working in the lobby when a kid, a former hotel employee, had come in armed with a pistol. He’d gotten off a few shots, one of which Jasper had taken for Eloise. Then Winslow, who’d been in the building, had taken the kid down.
From everything I’d read, Winn was a damn good cop. Maybe it was stupid of me not to trust her. But I’d already made the decision to fly under the radar. That meant avoiding anyone with the last name Eden.
Except Lyla.
But I guess . . . I was avoiding her too.
Because I feared she’d ask about Cormac. And, if I was being honest with myself, because of how that woman stirred my blood.
I didn’t just wake up at night restless. I woke up hard and aching for release, Lyla’s striking eyes haunting my dreams.
Just the thought of her beautiful face sent blood rushing to my dick.
Of all the women, why did it have to be Lyla to capture my interest? Shit was complicated enough without adding this attraction into the mix.
I jogged up the last flight of stairs to the fourth floor, taking them two at a time, needing the burn in my thighs to shove the image of her pretty mouth wrapped around my cock out of my mind. When I reached my room, I set my pack on the table and breathed in the clean scent of fresh laundry and citrus.
This was the nicest hotel I’d ever stayed in. It was airy and spacious, yet it had a comfortable, homey feel. The king-sized bed was comfortable and its white comforter plush. Housekeeping had lined the pillows against the headboard. The heavy curtains I’d left drawn this morning were now pulled away from the window. I had a perfect, unobstructed view of the fog and mist that cloaked Quincy.
I crossed the room and tugged the curtains closed. A long, hot shower was calling my name, so I stripped, letting my wet clothes plop on the floor. My jeans smelled like rain and mud. Tomorrow night, I’d have to find a place to wash a load of laundry. My suitcase in the corner was piled high with dirty clothes—today’s were tossed into the heap.
I had one pair of clean, dry jeans left in the dresser drawer.
Wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs, I rounded the bed for the nightstand, snagging the two chocolate mints that the housekeeper left for me each day. I ate them both without hesitation. Maybe they’d tide me over until dinner.
Maybe I’d order room service from Knuckles again after my shower. The burgers were great. Though what I really wanted was one of Lyla’s chocolate croissants. Everything that woman made was top tier, but damn those croissants.
My stomach growled, the pangs sharpening to razor blades. But before I could disappear into the bathroom and get going on my shower, my phone rang. I walked to my pack, digging it out of the front pocket.
Alec.
He and I weren’t exactly friends. We were coworkers in the same department. Friendly, but not friends. I didn’t have a lot of friends in the department these days—I’d learned it was best to draw that line.
“Fuck.” If he was calling, it wasn’t to chat. Maybe he’d heard something about the shooting. Maybe the captain had said something in their weekly meeting. Whatever the point, I braced as I accepted the call. “Hey.”
“Hi, Vance. How’s it going?”
“Not bad, Alec. You?”
“Can’t complain.”
I waited, gritting my teeth.
“I ran into Tiff at the store earlier.”
Tiff and Alec had met at a few of the department’s mandatory gatherings over the years. The summer barbeques. The holiday parties. They’d bonded over their mutual love of karaoke.
I bet she’d told him where I was and what I was doing. Shit.
“Okay,” I drawled.
“She said you two broke it off.”
“We did.”
Alec hummed, the disapproval in his tone as thick as the blanket of clouds outside.
I didn’t need this bullshit. “Listen, I’m just about to head to dinner and—”
“What are you doing, Sutter? Are you trying to get your ass fired?”
I sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I’m on vacation.”
“Right.” Alec scoffed. “Tiff told me what you’re doing. You’re going after Gallagher. Again?”
“It’s not like I’m swamped with work.”
If there was ever a time in the past four years to search for Cormac, it was now, when the captain had told me to take a break. Until the media attention died down. Until the investigation was over.
I wasn’t technically on administrative leave. Yet.
“The captain’s going to flip his shit when he hears about this.”
“The captain wants me gone. He’s already shoving me toward the door.”
“So what? You’re quitting?”
“No.” My captain was a raging prick. I refused to give him the satisfaction of me quitting. If he wanted me off the force, he’d have to fire me. “But this seemed like a good time to get away from Coeur d’Alene.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You shouldn’t have to leave town.”
“Agreed,” I muttered.
But everyone was pointing fingers at the moment. Everyone was searching for a person to blame. If the captain needed a fall guy, that fall guy would be me.
“Look, I, uh . . .” Alec sighed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Nothing to say.”
“I’m sorry about Tiff.”
Maybe I should have been sorry too, but this was best for her. For both of us. “It was time.”
“Funny. That’s exactly what she said.”
Good. I wanted her to move on. To forget about me and find someone who made her pulse race.
“Have you found anything on Gallagher?” Alec asked.
“Not yet.” In the past week, Cormac could have made his way to Canada for all I knew. Or he might have gone south for the winter like a bird.
“Think you’ll find him?”
If there was ever a chance, it was here in Quincy. But I wasn’t going to voice those hopes. Not to Alec. That would make them too real. “What’s going on with you?”
“We’re busy.” Alec had known me long enough to go along with the change in subject. “We’re a man down.”
Me. I was that man.
Alec and I worked for the same backcountry unit in Idaho. I didn’t consider him my partner. I didn’t have a partner these days. But we were coworkers.
Ours was a small team with one sergeant and two deputies. We responded to calls and patrolled the backcountry areas across hundreds of thousands of acres in the national forest land surrounding Coeur d’Alene. We spent a lot of time in remote, forested areas that were only accessible by off-road vehicles or on foot.
Given the nature of our job, the diverse terrains and landscapes, we also spent time working with volunteer search and rescue teams. The same was true with marine patrol and dive rescue.
I was a cop who got to spend his days outside, not trapped in a cruiser or assigned a desk.
It was my dream job.
Maybe another man with my skill set would have aspired to join the U.S. Marshals. Lead federal manhunts or solve high-profile cases. But I’d always been content as a deputy. I didn’t need flashy cases or shiny accolades.
When I returned home, would there be a job waiting? Maybe if I’d played the game, if I’d spent more time in the precinct making friends and practicing politics, I’d have more confidence in my future. I’d have a better relationship with the captain.
“Don’t work too hard,” I told Alec.
“Be careful.” Alec knew enough about Cormac to know what I was up against.
“Bye.” I ended the call and tossed my phone aside.
I appreciated Alec checking in on me. My family certainly hadn’t.
But Alec wouldn’t say anything, would he?
No. He’d keep it quiet. But what about Tiff? Hopefully she wouldn’t bump into anyone else while I was gone and start blabbing. Hopefully she wouldn’t decide to punish me by making a quick call to the captain.
The last thing I needed was him getting wind of why I was in Montana. That asshole would call Winslow Eden faster than I could blink, just for the satisfaction of fucking my plans. Then he’d talk to the FBI.
They hadn’t connected the Quincy APB to Cormac . . . yet.
How long would it be until my secrets caught up to me? How long until the truth I was trying to keep out of Quincy made its appearance?
All it would take was a quick Google search and everyone would know my story. Lyla had been more willing than I’d ever hoped to keep my identity to herself. How long until her curiosity got the better of her? How long until my vague answers to her specific questions began to fester?
It was only a matter of time before everything collapsed.
“Fuck.” I raked a hand through my hair.
What was I doing? I should be at home. I should be doing everything in my power to clear my name. To prove to the world I was a good cop. Tiff had told me once that this obsession with Cormac would ruin my life.
Maybe she was right.
But the idea of leaving, of walking away when I’d never been so close, was unthinkable.
I just had to push through. Keep going until someone made me stop. Cormac had to pay for what he’d done.
The simmering rage, as familiar as my own skin, swept through my veins, chasing away any doubt. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, lingering under the hot water until I was clean. Then I toweled off, combing my hair with my hands.
Steam billowed from the bathroom as I walked out, a towel wrapped around my waist, about to call down for room service. But before I could lift the phone from its cradle, a knock came at the door.
I froze.
There was no reason for anyone in this town to visit my room. It was probably housekeeping. Maybe another guest had the wrong room. Or maybe it was Winslow Eden, and I was fucked.
My heart climbed into my throat as I crossed the room and checked the peephole.
The breath I’d been holding rushed out of my lungs. Christ. My paranoia was getting the better of me. I twisted the knob and opened the door. “Lyla.”
“H-hi.” Those blue eyes widened as they dropped from my face to my bare chest. Inch by inch, they traveled lower, her cheeks flushing. When her gaze reached the hem of my towel, it dropped like a rock to my bare feet. “Sorry. I, um . . . sorry. I should have called first.”
I glanced past her, checking the hallway, but she was alone. “Everything okay?”
“You haven’t been to the coffee shop.”
No. I’d been avoiding her spectacularly.
Why was that again?
Damn, she was beautiful. I kept my arms pinned to my sides to keep from reaching for her. My heart thumped hard against my sternum, like a hammer pounding at a nail.
She was wearing an olive coat that hit midthigh on her black ripped jeans. Her scarf was the same shade as her jacket. Lyla’s hair was up, the dark strands piled on top of her head in a messy knot. Some of them were damp from the rain, curling at her temples. She must have walked over from the coffee shop.
Wait. How’d she known this was my room? Had she asked Eloise or Jasper?
Like she could read my mind, Lyla glanced down the hallway, then inched closer. “No one knows I’m up here.”
“How did you know this was my room?”
“I, um . . . I waited until Eloise and Jasper left, then I asked the night clerk. I told her you forgot your wallet at the coffee shop, and I’d run it up to you.”
“Ah.” The hotel clerk should have called up first, but Lyla’s last name probably went a long way in this building. That, and she was trustworthy. I doubted anyone who looked at her pretty face expected a blatant lie.
A little rebellion. God, it was sexy.
My entire life, I’d done the right thing. Where had that gotten me? Alone, in Montana, with my career in shambles.
Even after the investigation was complete, I had no delusions about keeping my job. The captain would find a way to take my badge, either by firing me or sitting me at a desk, knowing I’d eventually get fed up and quit.
All because I’d done the right thing.
Did I regret pulling the trigger? Every fucking day. But was I guilty? No.
The only thing going in my favor was this chance at finding Cormac. So fuck the rules. At this point, I was asking for forgiveness, not permission.
“Everything okay?” I asked Lyla.
“Yeah, I just . . . I’m sorry. I’m interrupting your night. I’ll leave.” She twisted, about to take a step, then stopped and turned back. “I just wanted to know if you’d found anything.”
“Not yet.” Was it foolish giving her hope? Was it foolish keeping some for myself?
“Okay.” She gave me a small smile before her gaze traveled down my chest again, lingering on my abs. Her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip, and fuck me, my cock twitched.
I sank my heels deeper into the floor, every muscle in my body locking so I wouldn’t drag her across the threshold.
“You almost kissed me. In the truck. The day we went to the river.” Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. Those blue eyes lifted to mine, and the grip on my control began to falter. “You almost kissed me, didn’t you?”
Yes. Why was she asking when we both knew the answer?
“You should have kissed me.”
Fuck. Me.
“Lyla,” I warned, forcing myself to take a step back. “You should go.” Before I buried my face in that long, silky hair and breathed in her sweet, vanilla scent. Before I caved and she did something she’d regret in the morning.
“I see his face. At night.” She stopped me before I could close the door. “Just before I fall asleep, I see his eyes. That scar. I feel his hands on my throat.”
She lifted her fingers, touching the scarf around her neck. “Once I see him, I can’t shut it off. Everyone keeps telling me what I need. My parents. My sisters. My brothers. I need to rest. I need to stay home. I need to stop working so hard. I need to heal. I’m so tired of everyone telling me what I need. All I want is to forget. For just one night, I need to forget.”
What would it be like to forget? It sounded like heaven.
Lyla wasn’t the only person with nightmares.
I should have closed the door. I should have sent her on her way.
Instead, I took a step forward.
And sealed my mouth over hers.
