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A love song played on the radio. He itched to switch stations. The last thing he needed was a ballad about lasting love. He pulled into Blair’s gravel driveway and cut the engine.
Gigi’s phone rang. “Thanks, Holt.” She answered the call and climbed out of the truck, then sat on the porch steps.
Blair exited the vehicle and Holt dogged her, stopping her before she reached Gigi. “If you need anything at all, I’m only across the street. Or better yet, take my number and call or text.”
Blair huffed but traded numbers. “We’ll be fine.”
Holt wasn’t so sure. “It’s not every day someone gets run off the road and shot at. I’m not an idiot, and I haven’t pushed, but it’s obvious you’re in trouble. And I want to help.”
Blair fidgeted with her cell phone. “I don’t even know you.”
“Fair enough, but I’m not the one running you down with a gun. The fact that you’re not going to the police tells me you’re into some bad stuff—”
“I’m not a criminal!” Blair’s words carried conviction and pain.
He couldn’t help softening. “I didn’t say you were, Blair.” And maybe she wasn’t. He was struggling to imagine she was. “But good people have bad things happen to them.” He’d been a witness to that.
She touched his arm as if she’d known and felt his own pain. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For taking care of us and giving us a ride, but please don’t let what happened get around town.”
Holt would never say a word. Not only because he was undercover, but clearly Blair Sullivan didn’t like the fact that she’d been associated with Mateo Salvador and his criminal activity. And Holt wanted her trust. “I promise you, I won’t say a word to anyone. I don’t promise to stay out of it. You could have died. Whether I know you or not...” He scuffed his toe along the gravel drive. “I don’t want to see anyone die.” Couldn’t bear it.
“I don’t, either.”
“Blair,” Gigi called. “Did you leave the door open after we got home from the auction?” Gigi stood with her keys in hand, staring at the front door.
Blair frowned and marched toward the house. Holt followed. “No. We didn’t go inside and I know I wouldn’t have left it open.”
Holt nudged both women behind him and studied the cracked-open door. “Did ya’ll notice that truck that flew by a minute ago? Either of you recognize it?”
Blair’s hand trembled. “Not really.” She looped her arm in Gigi’s as if trying to hold them both up. Gigi shook her head.
He handed Blair his truck keys. “Go get in my truck and lock the doors. Anything happens, you drive away. Don’t even hesitate.”
Blair stared at the keys, lips quivering.
“Go,” he said with a little more force, and gave her a gentle shove toward the steps.
When she and Gigi were inside the cab of his truck, Holt drew his gun, toed open the front door, then slipped inside. Not a sound except for the refrigerator humming and the air-conditioning unit working to keep the house cool.
Nothing seemed out of place.
He cleared each room downstairs and up. Everything appeared to be in order, but his gut screamed someone had been in here. And the culprit might have been in that pickup. If they’d been five minutes earlier...
Holt came outside. Blair and Gigi whispered inside the truck. Possibly keeping secrets and discussing information he desperately needed to find their brother and Agent Livingston. Blair opened the truck door.
“I didn’t see anything out of place, but come in and take a look. See if you notice anything unusual.”
Blair entered her living room first. “It smells like oil and exhaust.”
Holt sniffed. “You’re right.” Definitely wasn’t Blair’s signature scent. She smelled like a bouquet of springtime, which irked him that he’d picked up on it...enjoyed the fragrance. He had one purpose in being here, and it wasn’t to admire Blair Sullivan’s flowery scent.
He walked the house with her and Gigi.
“I don’t see anything missing.” Blair shivered and rubbed her forearms. “I guess we did leave the door cracked.”
Holt didn’t believe that, and the way Blair was nervously rubbing her arms said she didn’t, either. Gigi’s narrowed eyes confirmed what Holt was thinking.
Blair was lying. But why?
Blair walked to the front door and opened it. “We appreciate you checking out the house. We’re safe now. I’ll call if we need you.”
Another invitation to leave. The last thing he wanted to do. Someone had broken in and they could come back. Blair and Gigi could get hurt. Worse. But she was kicking him to the curb.
Shoving down the fight he wanted to give, he nodded and stepped onto the porch. At least he was across the street. “Please call me, Blair. For anything.”
“I will.” Her eyes were wide with fright but she closed the door, leaving a barrier between them. No matter, he’d just go home and set up his surveillance equipment and play professional Peeping Tom. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.
TWO (#u9e00df7a-09f9-58b4-84ad-539d93e1d0de)
Blair leaned against the kitchen door, knees quaking, throat tight. Someone had been in her home. Her sanctuary. Nothing was out of place. Whoever had been in here had been doing something else. But what?
Blair rubbed her temples and tried to thwart the headache coming on. Neck muscles coiled, she closed the venetian blinds on her windows, double-checked the locks on the doors and stood in the middle of her living room, staring into nothing. Moments later, she peeked through her blinds.
All was quiet.
A movement through Holt’s sheer curtains caught her attention. Was he watching the house—doing as he promised and standing guard? The idea brought a breath of relief, but not enough for her to let down her defenses.
She tiptoed across her hardwood floor, willing the hairs on her neck to stand down.
Stopping in front of Gigi’s room, Blair heard the shower run, full throttle. Good, Blair needed a few moments alone to process the events of the day and pray. Then she’d confess the whole horrible and humiliating story. She climbed the steep staircase to her bedroom.
She opted for a fresh T-shirt and jeans instead of a shower. If she could work up the nerve later, she needed to inventory today’s purchase. She opened her top drawer and froze.
Inside, lying right on top of her T-shirts, was a white gift box; a red bow had been stuck dead center. She swallowed a lump and hesitated, then took it out. The intruder hadn’t been here to steal something but to deliver a gift—a gift Blair was sure she didn’t want.
Forcing herself to calm down and clear her mind, she slowly opened it. Shrieking, she dropped the lid on the floor and covered her mouth to keep from getting sick.
Inside the box lay a dead rat. Underneath, a slip of paper stole her attention. Eeew. She didn’t want to touch the thing. She hurried to the bathroom, grabbed a pair of latex gloves she used for cleaning and psyched herself up to remove the note.
Don’t be a rat. Go to the police or tell anyone about what happened and people you care about die.
With trembling hands, she placed the note back in the drawer, then closed the lid on the rat. She found a trash bag under her bathroom sink and used it to dispose of the box and its contents. She hurried downstairs and took it out to the big garbage can, then came back inside. Gigi stood in the living room, arms crossed, wet hair hanging over her shoulders.
“Time to talk.”
Blair rubbed her brow. “First of all, let me say that everything I’ve done to keep the truth hidden was to protect you. It was all for your own good.”
Gigi narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like where this is going. I need to sit down.”
Blair waited a beat and then balled her fists to her sides as she paced. “The truth is Mateo was a bad man. I didn’t know it at the time, though. Not really. In hindsight, I guess there were some signs, but I ignored them. I was young and in love. But he had dark secrets.”
Gigi’s eyes widened.
Blair pushed back tears. “He smuggled drugs for his brother, Hector.”
“Hector? Mr. Don Juan himself?”
“Good looks doesn’t mean good person. I learned that the hard way. Hector is ruthless. Evil.” Gigi could easily have been smitten by the man. A shiver ran down Blair’s spine.
Gigi shook her head, then snapped it up. “Is that why you paid for that year I spent in Europe? To keep me away?”
Blair nodded.
“Until you said I could come live with you after Mateo died.”
“I thought it would finally be safe.” Blair had been wrong.
“When you found out the truth, why didn’t you leave? Call Dad?”
Blair smoothed Gigi’s wet hair. “Women don’t leave Salvador men. And Dad might be a marine, but he was no match for a powerful drug cartel. I wanted to, though. Believe me.”
Gigi hugged Blair. “I’m so sorry. You must have been terrified.”
“I was,” she whispered.
“Why didn’t Hector...you know...”
“Kill me?” Blair massaged her aching neck. “Hector is complicated. He was angry when I told him I didn’t want to live on his ranch and let him take care of me. But when I explained I wanted to move here to where Grandma and Grandpa had lived, he changed his tune. Gave me his blessing and offered me money to start up the business and buy a house.”
“Did you accept it?”
Blair frowned. “Hardly. I wanted freedom. Hector’s gifts are like chains. I’d never ask him for anything. It’s not worth the future debt.”
Gigi laced her fingers with Blair’s. “He didn’t care you changed your name back to Sullivan?”
“Not after I told him I wanted to move to Hope and start fresh. Stay out of the limelight. Honestly, I believe God gave me favor in Hector’s eyes.” What other reason could there be for Hector extending such grace when he wasn’t a gracious man?
Gigi rubbed her chin. “You think what happened today had anything to do with Hector? Have you crossed him somehow? Would he think you’ve crossed him?”
No. Hector wouldn’t have tried to kill her. At least, she didn’t think he would. Unless he thought she’d stolen something from him, but she hadn’t. Confusion’s web spun fast enough to make her dizzy. “I don’t think so. But we can’t go to the police. You see why now.” And after the note and disgusting gift, she didn’t dare.
“Did Mateo have anything to do with Jeremy’s drug problem?”
“No. Unfortunately, Jeremy got into all that long before Mateo entered the picture. I hid it even from Jeremy. I had to.”
“So what do we do?”
That was the question. “Right now you try to rest. Then we’ll watch an old movie and eat some dinner.” And she’d call Jeremy again. This could still be something he had ties to. “From now on, lock the doors. Don’t be so friendly with strangers. And watch your back.”
Gigi nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “But no more keeping things from me. Got it?”
Blair pursed her lips. “From this point on.” Meaning what she’d found in the bedroom was off-limits. She had to protect Gigi. She was already terrified enough.
After trying to take their minds off things with TV and a light dinner, Blair changed into a pair of work jeans and boots. Might as well start on unloading the items from the auction before the sun went down. She drove the truck out to the barn and raised the rolling door. A wave of musty heat popped her in the face, sending sweat trickling down her cheeks. She paused at a noise outside the barn and waited. Hairs rose on her arms and she could hardly breathe.
After what seemed like forever, she wrangled herself inside the truck.
She should have taken Holt up on his muscle.
“Hey,” a deep voice sounded from behind.
Blair jumped and shrieked, clasping her hand to her chest. “Holt.” So not telling him that she was just thinking about him. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” He swept his dark bangs from his eyes. “Thought I’d check up on you.”
In the barn? Prickles ran up her spine. She wanted to trust him. She honestly did. “Did you see anyone out there?” Or had the noise been Holt?
“No. Why? Did you?”
“No. But I thought I heard something. Must have been you or my neighbor’s horses. I’m jumpy.”
“Understandable.” Holt scanned the barn and cocked his ear, listening. After a moment, he relaxed. “How’s Gigi?”
Blair forced herself to loosen up. “She’s doing all right. I thought I’d come out and work on unloading the truck, take inventory. Get a look at everything I purchased.” As Ronnie Lawson had pointed out, this was her ritual. Just her and all the goods. She would determine what went into the store, and what would stay stocked in the barn, for now. She liked to imagine the previous owners and the stories behind the objects.
“Can I help?” He stood there, all broad shoulders, no danger in his eyes—just tenderness and concern that nearly sent her reeling. Had anyone ever looked at her like that? Mateo at first. But it had all been lies. “I know you have a thing about going through it alone, but I’d really like to help you, Blair. In so many ways.” His whisper clung to her insides, disarming her guard.
A few Appaloosas grazed near the fence. She’d meant to bring them apples. “I’m used to doing things alone.” It was safer than offering her trust only to have it betrayed.
“I get that. And you seem completely capable. But...I’m here and I have two capable hands, too.” He splayed them on his sides, his white T-shirt clinging to rock-solid biceps and chest.
Could she trust him? They were just collectibles, but she did love her routine. She also dreaded some of the heavy lifting.
“All right. Sure.” She didn’t like being out here alone anyway. If she was really alone. It felt as if a million eyes were staring at her.
She grabbed her work gloves and donned them, her hands instantly turning clammy from the insulation. “I might have an extra pair.” She held up her gloved hands. “Over there on that worktable.”
Holt nodded and rummaged through tools and odds and ends until he found some. “How long have you lived in Hope?”
“Couple of years. My grandparents grew up here. They were happy in Hope. Plus, I love the name of the town and I needed it—hope—when I first settled in.”
“Where are you from originally?” He grabbed a tote from the truck, and Blair motioned for him to stack it near the back wall.
“All over.” She laughed. “Military brat. What about you?”
“I grew up in Memphis. Spent a lot of summers in a town like this. Glory, Mississippi. My grandpa was the sheriff and my grandmother ran a lot of women’s groups...and kept me and my cousin Bryn in line.”
Blair liked the way his eyes lit up as he talked of his grandparents. “My grandpa died when I was very young, but I treasure the memories. Grandma Viola passed shortly after I graduated high school. What about yours?”
