Evasive Action

She tossed a mangled mane of blond hair over one shoulder and offered up a smile and a half-raised hand. “Clay, it’s good to see you.”

Did she expect him to rush to her and sweep her into his arms? He folded those arms across his chest in case they got some crazy notion to do just that on their own. He dipped his chin to his chest. “April.”

She dropped her hand and tugged on the top part of the dress that clung to her slender waist and rose to encase the swell of her breasts. “I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing here…in this dress.”

“You took a detour on the way to our wedding two years ago and you just found your way back?” His lips twisted into a smile while a knife twisted into his heart.

“N-no.” She clasped her hands in front of her, interlacing her fingers. “It’s a long story. Can we talk inside?”

“Do you ever have any other kind of story?” Before she could answer his rhetorical question, he dipped back into his truck and swept his bag of food from the passenger seat and holstered his weapon.

He slammed the door of the truck and stalked up his driveway, brushing past April in her wedding finery.

The gravel crunched behind him as she followed his footsteps. “Someone left you a present. It was here when I drove up.”

A round, pink-striped box sat on the corner of his porch. Clay tilted his head to the side, his pulse ratcheting up a notch. Nobody left him presents—especially the kind in pink boxes.

“You have your hands full. I’ll grab it for you.” April barreled past him, the crinkly material of her gown skimming against his hand.

A spike of adrenaline caused him to make a grab for her dress, but she slipped through his fingers. The story of his life.

“April, wait.”

“That’s okay. I got this.” She reached the porch and grabbed the ribbon on the top of the box. “This is heavy.”

She lifted the box a few feet in the air. Then the lid came off and the bottom of the box hit the porch with a thud.

April’s scream reverberated in his ears as the severed head bounced once, splattering her white dress with blood, and rolled off the porch.

Chapter Two

April opened her mouth to scream again, but the sound died in her throat, which seemed to be closing. She gurgled instead, falling back against the wooden railing of the porch, her hand still clutching the pink ribbon, the lid of the hatbox swinging wildly and flinging droplets of blood throughout the air.

“Oh my God. It’s the head.” Clay pointed to the soggy hatbox tipped on its side. “Don’t touch that.”

Her gaze darted to his face. Was he out of his mind? Why would she touch that box again?

She dropped the lid and swallowed. “It—it’s a severed head.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He pulled a cell phone from the front pocket of his green uniform shirt. “I’ll get someone to pick it up.”

“I would hope so.” Her hands clutched at the skirt of her dress, until she noticed the streaks of blood marring the white billows. She dropped the material and folded her arms over her midsection. “You don’t seem surprised. You called it the head. You know that head?”

“I do, although I didn’t expect it to show up on my porch. I didn’t expect you to show up on my porch, either.” He started talking on his cell phone and held up his key chain, jingling it in the air.

She nodded and he tossed the keys at her. She caught them in one hand and opened the door to his house—a house and home that could’ve been hers.

She set the keys on a table by the front door. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Nothing with Clay could ever be uncomplicated. There had to be a head in a pink hatbox sitting on his porch the very day she decided to drop in for a visit.

Her eyelids flew open. Was that what she was doing?

Her gaze traveled around the room. He hadn’t much modified his manly space…or his habits. Everything had a place. Even the pillows on the couch sat erectly and in order.

April sauntered to the couch and flipped one of the pillows on its face. She scanned the framed pictures on his bookshelf, looking for her face in vain.

She jumped as a siren wailed on its way to Clay’s house. A few minutes later, what sounded like a hundred vehicles pulled up outside. She peeked through the blinds at the uniformed officers swarming Clay’s driveway. The head obviously had something to do with Clay’s work as a Border Patrol agent. He’d been almost more surprised to see her on his doorstep than the head in the box.

She crossed her arms, cupping her elbows, as a shiver zigzagged up her spine. Clay played a dangerous game down here at the border. Although part of the Tucson Sector, the Paradiso Border Patrol Office was small and everyone—including the drug dealers—knew the agents. Had someone left that head as a warning to Clay?

Good luck. Clay would always do his duty.

The door burst open, and her heart slammed against her chest.

Clay stuck his head into the room. “Detective Espinoza wants to talk to you for a minute.”

April smoothed the skirt of the dress with shaky hands. “Is the head still on the driveway?”

“It is, but they’re going to bag it soon. I’ll ask the detective to come in here, if you want.”

“I’ll be all right as long as I stay on the porch.”

He pushed the door wide, and she swept past him, the dress crinkling between them.

April stepped onto the porch, lifting her skirts to avoid the cone that had been placed next to the stain of blood where the box had sat.

A gray-haired Latino in a suit and a cowboy hat stuck out his hand, his eyes widening as they dropped to her dress. “Ms. Hart, I’m Detective Espinoza. Agent Archer told me you’re the one who picked up the box and it had been here when you arrived.”

“That’s right.” She took in his rugged features and frame from the top of his black hat to the tips of his silver-toed boots. He hadn’t been one of the cops in Paradiso or one of the Pima County detectives during her family troubles.

“What time did you arrive at Agent Archer’s house?”

She glanced at Clay from the corner of her eye. “About five o’clock.”

“The box was already on the porch?”

“It was.”

“Did you see anyone around the house when you got here?” His gaze flicked again to the wedding gown and then back to her face.

“Nobody.” She snapped her fingers. “The dog. Clay, where’s Denali? Do you still have him?”

“Of course I still have him.” He lifted one eyebrow. “He’s staying overnight at the vet.”

“Is he okay?”

Espinoza cleared his throat. “So, you didn’t see or hear anything unusual when you drove up to the house. Did you get out of the car?”

“I didn’t get out of the car. I was tired from my drive and put the seat back to take a nap. Clay got here about an hour after I did, waking me up when his truck pulled in behind me.”

“Why did you pick up the box?”

“Clay had his hands full.” She shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Espinoza narrowed his eyes. “Hart. You’re the daughter of C. J. Hart?”

April’s pulse skittered and jumped. “I am. Does that matter?”

“Just asking.” He waved his pencil up and down the dress. “Why the wedding gown?”

“I just came from a wedding.” Her jaw tightened as Clay shifted beside her.

“We’re going to want to test that blood on the dress. Did it come from the head?”

“I picked up the box by the ribbon on the top, thinking it went all the way around the box. It didn’t. When I picked up the box, the lid came off in my hand and the box fell. The…head bounced out and splattered the dress, and then I dropped the lid.”

Espinoza clicked his tongue. “That’s a shame.”

“Not really.” She tossed her wilting curls over one shoulder. “I can rip a piece of the fabric out right now, if you like.”

“No hurry. Based on what Agent Archer told us, we’re pretty sure we know what happened here.”

Another truck squealed up to the scene and, in the glare of the spotlights, Nash Dillon jumped out of his vehicle and hovered over the authorities transferring the head into a bag.

When they finished the job, Nash strode to the porch. “I guess we found her head, but damn, left on your porch? They’re thumbing their noses at us, bro.”

Clay shook his head. “I need to get some cameras at my house. I didn’t even have Denali here to sound the alarm.”

“Oh, hey, April.” Nash raised his hand and continued his conversation with Clay, as if the appearance of Clay’s ex-fiancée in a blood-spattered wedding dress made all the sense in the world. But then Nash Dillon had always been about Nash Dillon.

When the medical examiner’s van pulled away, Detective Espinoza handed April a card. “You can drop off the dress anytime in the next few days.”

“I’ll do that.” She snatched his card and spun around to the screen door, leaving Clay and Nash talking shop.

She paced the floor a few times, and then plopped down on the couch, grabbing one of Clay’s perfectly placed pillows and hugging it to her chest. What was she doing here? That poor woman’s severed head must be some kind of omen. She should’ve never shown up on Clay’s doorstep. Should’ve never run to him for…what? Why did she come to Paradiso? Clay Archer had been the only bright spot for her here.

She couldn’t recreate the magic they’d shared. She’d destroyed that, taken a sledgehammer to it.

The door opened and Clay stepped into the house, sweeping the hat from his head and unbuckling his equipment belt. His weapon clunked against the kitchen counter as he set down the belt.

“What a crazy day.” He dragged a hand through his dark hair, which made it stick up in different directions. He held up the bag that contained his dinner and swung it from his fingertips. “I kinda lost my appetite. You want it?”

She stuck out her tongue. “No, thanks. Who was that woman?”

“Probably a drug mule who double-crossed Las Moscas. We found her body earlier, just outside a tunnel running across the border.” He braced his hands against the counter and hunched forward. “Are you really interested in this?”

Her fingers dug into the pillow. Las Moscas? He had no idea how interested.

“How do you know it was that gang, Las Moscas?”

“Cartel. Drug cartel and we know because the people who murdered this woman left their calling card in her hand.”

April swallowed. “A fly?”

Clay’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline. “How’d you know that?”

Shrugging, she schooled her face. “Las Moscas. The flies. I mean, not like a real fly, right?”

“Well, there were plenty of those.” He glanced up at her face, and his jaw tightened. “Sorry. They left a carved, wooden fly in her hand.”

April jumped up from the couch and tripped over the wedding dress. She made a grab for the back of the couch to stay upright.

“Are you all right?” Clay had taken a couple of steps closer to her, his brow creased.

“I’m okay. Like you said, it’s been a crazy day.” Her words stopped him in midstride.

He blew out a breath and shoved his hands in the pockets of his green pants. “Do you want to tell me what this is all about, April? The wedding dress? Coming to Paradiso? Adam isn’t here, is he? Is he in some kind of trouble?”

Oh, yeah, her brother was in all kinds of trouble, but he could get into trouble anywhere. It didn’t have to be Paradiso—where all their trouble had started.

“Adam isn’t here and I’ll be happy to tell you all about this—” she plucked at the dress “—but I’d like to change first, if you don’t mind. Detective Espinoza wants this dress, anyway, or at least pieces of it.”

Clay’s head swiveled as he took in the room. “Do you have a suitcase in your car?”

“No. I don’t have a bag with me. I don’t have anything with me.” She linked her fingers in front of her, holding her breath. If Clay tossed her out on her rear, she wouldn’t blame him.

Clay rolled his eyes. “All right. I have a pair of sweats you can probably use, and help yourself to a T-shirt. I’m gonna have a beer. You want one?”

“Sounds good.” She pointed to the hallway that led to his bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”

She slipped into his room and closed the door behind her, leaning against it and closing her eyes. She didn’t have to worry about a wife or a girlfriend. She’d kept tabs on Clay the past few years. She shouldn’t be happy that he’d remained single, but he always would have her heart. Ridiculous to think she could blot out the memory of Clay with someone like Jimmy—no matter how much Jimmy had seemed like Clay…at first.

She hadn’t known just how ridiculous until this morning—her wedding day.

She reached around and tugged at the zipper of the dress. She shrugged out of the straps, and the gown slipped from her body, pooling at her feet.

The shimmering white strapless bra and the lacy panties had to stay. She stepped out of the satin pumps and over the heap of material resembling a small mountain of foam on the floor.

She rummaged through Clay’s dresser and snagged a pair of army-green sweats with the Border Patrol insignia on the left thigh. She paired the sweats with a white T-shirt from a 10K in Tucson and tiptoed into the living room on bare feet.

Clay hadn’t moved from the kitchen counter but now sat perched on a stool, hunched over his phone and a second bottle of beer.

“I’m going to have to do some catching up.” She pinged his empty bottle with her powder-pink-tipped fingernail.

He shoved the other bottle toward her. “Haven’t touched it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want it?”

“I probably need a clear head for what’s coming.” With his foot, he nudged the other stool in her direction.

Hitching up the legs of the sweats, she sat down and grabbed the beer. She raised the bottle. “Here’s to catching the SOBs who murdered that woman and defiled her body.”

“The particular SOBs? Probably not, but we’re working night and day to bring down Las Moscas.” Clay scratched at the damp label on the empty beer bottle. “That wedding dress?”

April took a long pull from her beer and squared her shoulders.

Clay’s cell phone buzzed next to his hand and he held up one finger. “Hold that thought. I’d better get this.”

How much should she tell Clay about Jimmy and the whole mess? She’d never even told him why she ran out on their own wedding—and she never would.

“You sure Adam’s not here?” Clay held up his phone.

“Of course.” She squinted at the call coming through and pressed a hand to her chest. “Why is Adam calling you?”

Clay lifted a shoulder and answered his phone. “Adam?”

He paused for a few seconds and then held out the phone to her. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Me?” April’s fingers curled into the soft cotton of the T-shirt. How did Adam know she was with Clay? She hadn’t told him where she was going. Hell, she hadn’t even known she’d wind up in Paradiso when she’d texted him.

She grabbed the phone from Clay’s hand and hopped off the stool as he swept her beer from the counter and headed for the back rooms.

“Adam? How’d you know I’d be with Clay?”

“C’mon, April. Give me some credit. You’re in one big mess. Where else would you go?”

Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “What do you know about my big mess?”

“I know a lot more than you indicated in your text. When you told me the wedding was off and to steer clear of Jimmy, I figured you’d found out.”

April gritted her teeth but managed to grind out the question on her lips. “You knew about Jimmy?”

“I did.” Adam had the decency to cough. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why did you…?” April braced her hand against the front door. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“April, I know I don’t have the right to ask you this, especially after what I just admitted, but do not tell Clay about Jimmy. You haven’t told him anything, have you?”

“Not yet.” She pounded the door with her fist. It was happening again. “Why shouldn’t I tell him?”

“Because if you do, Jimmy will kill me…and then he’s gonna kill you.”

Chapter Three

“Everything okay?” Clay peered into the living room from the hallway.

April started and spun around, the phone clutched to her chest, her face as white as that wedding dress she’d stripped off. “Yeah.”

“Or as okay as things can be with Adam.” He cocked his head. “Is he still getting into trouble?”

“You could say that.” She held out his phone. “Thanks.”

He crossed the room and took the phone from her trembling hand. “Why’d he call for you on my phone? Where’s yours?”

“I thought I told you. I took off with nothing—no phone, no money, no ID.” She shrugged her stiff shoulders.

“Where’d you get that car?” He jerked his thumb toward the window.

“A—a friend. I got it from a friend.”

“What’s the story, April?” He held up the beer bottle, the label shredded to bits. “I finished your beer. Do you want another?”

“I’ll take one.” She smoothed her hands over her face and emerged with her lips stretched into a smile. “There’s no real story.”

She followed him into the kitchen and sat on the edge of a stool. “I ran out on another wedding. That shouldn’t be a surprise to you, of all people.”

He popped up from the fridge, beer in hand. He set the new bottle on the counter in front of her. “I never got the whole story on that wedding, either. I guess I can’t expect to get the truth out of you when it comes to your wedding to someone else.”

“I decided he wasn’t the one for me.” She pressed the sweating bottle against her pink cheek.

“You just figured that out on the morning of the blessed event?”

She nodded and took a sip of beer.

“What was the hurry? You took off in a borrowed car with nothing? Not even your purse? You didn’t have the backbone to tell the poor sap?” He clicked his tongue. “April, April. You’re getting worse and worse at ditching weddings and fiancés. At least you had the guts to tell me to my face.”

April bit her bottom lip. “H-he’s not a good guy, Clay.”

“Did he hit you?” His fists curled at his sides, despite his resolve to steer clear of April and her problems.

“No. Nothing like that.” She blinked her eyes. “But he has a bad temper, and I didn’t want to deal with the fallout. Call me a coward.”

“Will he come after you?” Like he never did.

She twisted a lock of blond hair around her finger, and Clay swallowed as he remembered the smell of that hair—all sunshine and foolish dreams.

“He doesn’t know where I am. I was actually on my way to Mexico when I saw the highway for Tucson and thought…” She curled her hand around the bottle and took a swig of beer. “Oh, hell. I don’t know what I thought. I just had a strong desire to see you again.”

“Did you love this guy?” Clay held his breath. He couldn’t stand the thought of April in love with someone else, wanting someone else the way she once wanted him.

She rounded her shoulders. “I don’t think so.”

“You have a bad habit of agreeing to marry men you don’t love.”

Her blue eyes flashed and her nostrils flared, but she pressed her lips into a thin line.

Had he been fishing? April had loved him. Nobody could fake emotion…and passion like that. But something had happened the week before their wedding. It was as if she turned off a switch. When she’d broken the news to him that she was backing out, it hadn’t even surprised him.

“Why’d you get engaged…again?” He crossed his arms, digging his fingertips into his biceps. She’d already told him more about why she ended this engagement than why she’d ended their own. Maybe one thing would lead to another.

“I don’t know. Maybe I was looking for some stability. Maybe I was tired of handling everything on my own.”

“By everything, you mean Adam.” He clenched his jaw. He could’ve handled Adam. He could’ve offered stability. He thought that’s why she ran. She’d become addicted to drama and what he represented lacked excitement. Hell, he knew he worked too many hours, got too involved in his cases.

“Yes, Adam.” Her eyes glittered a dangerous blue as she dragged a fingernail across the label on the bottle.

“Why did he call?”

“To make sure I’d landed here. To make sure I was safe.”

Clay snorted. “When has Adam ever been concerned for your safety? Unless he’s changed.”

“He’s had it rough, Clay.” She sniffed and swiped the back of her hand across her nose. “He’s the one who found Mom.”

He passed on the opportunity to remind April that Adam had been a screwup before the murder of their mother. April would defend her brother come hell or high water.

He released a long breath as his stomach rumbled with hunger. “What now? Are you going to Mexico? How are you going to do that without ID?”

“C’mon, Clay.” She tilted her head. “I’m a Paradiso girl. I know how to slip across the border with the best of ’em.”

He jabbed a finger at the baggy T-shirt she’d picked from his closet. It had never looked so good. “Are you going to get some clothes? A bag? Toiletries? Or is Adam going to pick up your stuff for you?”

“Oh, no. He can’t…he’s not going to do that.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t want him to.”

“You mean he couldn’t be bothered.” He held up his hand as she started her defense of her brother. “Save it. Do you have a friend who can get your stuff? Send it to you? Where is your stuff?”

“Albuquerque. Don’t worry about it. It’s just that—stuff. Anything I have of importance is right here in Paradiso.”

Too bad she didn’t mean him. “Your place looks good. Your cousin’s taking good care of the house.”

She twisted her mouth. “I suppose I should stay with Cousin Meg while I regroup here.”

As he carefully picked up her empty bottle and turned toward the trash, he said, “Regroup in Paradiso?”

“I think I should at least try to get my wallet, ID, credit cards and all those other items that tie you to civilization.” She clicked her nails against the tile counter. “People do disappear, though, don’t they?”

“Your father did it. You thinking of following in his footsteps?”

She dropped her hands in her lap and slumped. “No.”

Clay bit the inside of his cheek. Talking to April had become a minefield. He couldn’t mention her brother, her mother, her father or her most recent fiancé.

He poked the paper bag containing his burrito, which must be a soggy mess by now. “Are you going to drive to the house? You can call Meg on my phone first to warn her.”

She slid from the stool and stretched her arms to the ceiling, the loose T-shirt taking shape around her body. “Can I buy one more day at your place before facing the inquisition over there? I’ll even drive into town and pick up some dinner for you. I can hear your stomach growling from over here.”

“I’m good.” He rubbed his empty belly. “I have some leftover pasta from last night. Do you want some?”

She covered her mouth. “Ugh, no. I can’t get the squishing sound of that head hitting the porch out of my head. Makes me feel queasy every time I think about it.”

“Do you mind if I eat in front of you?” He plucked up the bag from Rosita’s with his fingertips. “This has been through the ringer tonight. Dropped on the ground, probably stepped on and who knows what got into the bag.”

“I don’t want to think about that, either.” She crossed her hands over her chest. “Water?”

Clay retrieved the leftover pasta and a bottle of water from the fridge. He stuck the plastic bowl with the pasta in the microwave and poured the water into a glass with ice. As he placed it in front of April, he said, “You’re serious about staying here tonight?”

“If you’re serious about having me.”

“I don’t think I answered either way.” The microwave buzzed, and he pivoted away from April as her lips parted. He picked up the bowl and dropped it on the counter as it burned his fingers.