by Jane Godman
“Are you offering to give up your story?” Brayden’s voice was openly skeptical. “Don’t you have to make a living?”
“I do, but I’m in no hurry to make this documentary.” She didn’t know why she was about to confide personal information to a man she’d only recently met, but she felt she could trust him. Saving her son’s life gave him that level of credit with her. “My mother left me some money. I’m not superrich, but I have a cushion against being out of work. Yes, I’ll make my documentary, but I won’t make it in real time. Like the one I made in Glanrafon, I’ll set it after the case is solved.”
“Why would you do that?” He still wasn’t letting down those barriers, still wasn’t prepared to believe she would do this. For him. She wondered what had happened in his life to cause him to have so little belief in his own worth.
“It wouldn’t even come close to what you did for me today, Brayden. You rescued my son. I can’t promise to rescue your sister. I can only try to find the truth.” She did her best to infuse the words with the sincerity she felt. It must have had an effect, because some of the rigidity went out of his frame. “In my experience, the truth always comes out in the end. Maybe that will be the final focus of my story.”
He stared down at her for a moment or two as though he was doing a silent recalculation. “I’ll give it some thought.”
He couldn’t actually stop her from doing what she proposed, but she decided against pointing it out to him. Although she hoped he’d agree to her proposal, Esmée wouldn’t go against his wishes when it came to Demi’s story. She had a simple rule. The people and places she visited had already been damaged. She couldn’t promise to make things better, but she would do her best not to make them worse.
“I should go.” Brayden jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Echo, who was snuffling along the edge of the lawn. Even though he said the words, he made no movement.
That awareness of each other was growing and building, causing the air around them to crackle. Instinct told her he wouldn’t make the first move. The damage he’d suffered—whatever it was—wouldn’t allow him to risk rejection. And Esmée wasn’t ready to act on these feelings...no matter how compelling they might be.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, she rose on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips against his cheek. It was intended to be a chaste kiss. Instead, when her mouth made contact with his skin, it instantly became the most decadent thing she had ever done. A jolt of desire shot through her and she had to force herself to step away instead of gripping the front of his T-shirt and pulling him closer.
“Good night, Brayden.” It was hard to breathe, let alone speak.
He stared down at her for a moment or two, the look in his eyes stealing the remainder of her breath. “Good night.”
* * *
Brayden paused when he reached his car. Too many thoughts were competing for dominance in his head and he needed to get some clarity. He wasn’t convinced by Esmée’s arguments about the shooter. She might feel the guy posed no threat, but it was a risk Brayden wasn’t prepared to take. Even if the man who attacked her up on the ridge had no link to the Groom Killer case and her documentary, he could have a lingering grudge from a previous story she’d covered.
And the way she’d hushed up when he asked about Rhys’s name? It wasn’t conclusive proof of a relationship that had ended badly, but it had given him an uncomfortable feeling. The shooter clearly wasn’t Esmée’s ex, but what if he’d been sent to Red Ridge by him?
“What do you think?” He stooped and gently pulled Echo’s ears. It was one of the dog’s favorite caresses and Echo’s expression became dreamy. “Looks like a nice night for a stakeout.”
He figured if the attacker had targeted Esmée—instead of shooting at her because she had stumbled on the knife—he must have followed her up the Coyote Mountain trail. Which meant he knew where she was staying. If the gunman was after Esmée, Brayden reckoned he would strike again soon. Watching her place every night wasn’t a realistic option, but it seemed like a good cure for his current restlessness.
Scanning the area, he decided on a location just inside the trees. From that vantage point, on an incline, he would be able to see the whole the bed-and-breakfast, from Wendy Gage’s house to the farthest cabin.
Feeling slightly furtive, he watched Esmée’s cabin as the living area went dark and a light came on, presumably in her bedroom. He should probably get his mind off Esmée, but that was proving an almost impossible task. Although she was gorgeous, it wasn’t just her looks that attracted him. Everything about her appealed to him, and the feeling grew more powerful as he got to know her better. Although she was clearly a strong person, raising Rhys and holding down a tough job, her generosity and understanding about Demi showed a sensitivity that amazed him. He’d never encountered another person with that level of empathy.
She was also easy to talk to. He found himself relaxing with her, smiling with her and Rhys, enjoying their company. If making their acquaintance had been the start of a new friendship, it would be fine... Only it wasn’t. His feelings for Esmée were just about as far removed from friendship as it was possible to get.
Brayden was twenty-nine years old and he had never felt like this. Not even when he had been engaged. That was something he preferred to push to the back of his mind. His fiancée hadn’t loved him. It was the Colton name that had attracted her. Once she found out Brayden wasn’t from the rich side of the family, she hadn’t stuck around. The baby she’d told him she was expecting turned out to be a lie, her way of trapping him into a proposal. It had been a devastating experience for a reserved twenty-one-year-old. That old saying—Once Bitten, Twice Shy—didn’t go far enough. Brayden had always been withdrawn and he would never put his heart out there again. It wouldn’t survive another rejection.
Since then, he’d had occasional encounters, but nothing more. Brayden was too honest to turn his back on the truth. His brief dalliance with romance, even though it had ended in disaster, had taught him a lot about himself. He wanted it all. Love, marriage, a family, a home. He wouldn’t settle for less, but he didn’t believe it would happen for him. The damage had gone too deep. Knowing it didn’t mean he could do anything about it.
He had accepted that he was meant to be single. His one attempt at being anything else had convinced him never to try again. Now Esmée had come along and shaken that conviction. Not only had she set his body on fire, but she’d also had him imagining a series of what-ifs. What if they dated? What if she stayed in Red Ridge for a while? What if there were more nights like tonight, cozy nights with her Rhys and Echo... Ones that didn’t end with a kiss on the cheek.
You sad, lonely man. He gave a soft groan and Echo, clearly feeling some response was required, placed a paw on his knee.
“Never lonely while I have you, hey, buddy?” He ruffled the dog’s fur, grateful for the distraction.
Night settled like a cloak over the surrounding trees and the air grew colder. Brayden’s thoughts inevitably turned to Demi. Where was she? Yes, she knew how to take care of herself. They had both chosen to make their living outdoors. It hadn’t happened by chance—they had been drawn by their love of the mountains. They also had strong survival instincts. Rusty Colton’s kids learned early how to stand on their own two feet. But the idea of his kid sister hiding out, alone, afraid, possibly pregnant...
A movement on the path below him drew his attention and, moving silently, he leaned forward to get a closer look. There! Someone was approaching the bed-and-breakfast. A glance at the illuminated figures on his watch face told him it was almost 2:00 a.m. Not exactly the time for a social call.
It wasn’t easy to see in the dark, but the tall figure was dressed all in black and wore a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. Hardly daring to breathe, Brayden got to his feet, moving swiftly and stealthily along the path. Echo stayed close to his side.
He kept the target in his sights the whole time. From the height, he got the impression it was a man, but he couldn’t say for sure it was the shooter. As the guy drew level with Esmée’s cabin, he gave Echo the command to take him down.
“Hold.”
Echo and Brayden were the Red Ridge PD search-and-rescue unit, which meant their priority was saving innocent lives. Sometimes they were called on to hunt for criminals who went on the run in the mountains and forests around the town. On those occasions, when Echo alerted Brayden to a find, there was a possibility they could both be in danger. To avoid that happening, Echo was trained to grasp the target’s leg in his mouth. It wasn’t a bite...but the person on the receiving end didn’t understand that. The outcome was usually a quick surrender. On the few occasions when that hadn’t happened, Brayden only had to threaten that he would order Echo to tighten his grip to get the desired result.
On this occasion, the guy started screaming hysterically and dropped to the ground as if he’d been shot. Echo stood patiently over him, his jaw clamped lightly around his calf.
“Help! Somebody help me! I’m being attacked—”
Lights started to go on in the cabins and in the main house. As doors began to open and people spilled out onto the lawn, Brayden recognized the high-pitched wails.
Wendy paused at the top of her front step as she surveyed the scene. At the same moment, Esmée stepped out of her cabin. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Brayden took a moment to appreciate how good she looked in pale blue pajamas with her hair in a long braid. Then the guy on the ground stopped yelling long enough for him to get a glimpse at his face, and he recognized him immediately.
“Corey? What the hell are you doing sneaking around at two in the morning?”
Corey Gage gave a whimper. “Call your dog off.”
“Release.” Echo let go of Corey’s leg immediately and returned to Brayden’s side. Brayden gave him a reward for following instructions, and a feeling of dread grew inside as he viewed the scene. Corey was lying on the grass clutching his leg, his face as white as a sheet as he snuffled out a few comments about police brutality and harassment. The occupants of the cabins clustered on their porches and steps, watching silently as events unfolded.
Esmée disappeared briefly and reemerged wearing a sweater over her pajamas and sheepskin boots. She held something in her hand and, as she approached him, Brayden saw it was a baby monitor.
“What’s going on?” She kept her voice quiet so the occupants of the other cabins wouldn’t hear.
Brayden ran a hand through his hair. There was no way he could make this sound good. “I thought he was going to break into your cabin.”
Her eyes widened. “Have you been out here all night?”
Stalker. That’s what she’s thinking. “I was worried the shooter might come after you.”
Just when the situation looked about as bad as it could be, it got a whole lot worse. Wendy bore down on them like an avenging angel in a flowered bathrobe. “What have you done to my son?”
“Get up, Corey.” Brayden offered his hand to the teenager, who shrank away, covering his face.
“Did you see that, Mom? He got his dog to attack me, then he tried to hit me.”
“He was helping you!” Esmée’s indignation was apparent in her tone. At least she seemed to be on his side.
Wendy’s attention momentarily shifted to her son. “Do as he says. I’ll deal with you later.”
The words had a remarkable effect on Corey, who bolted upright as though electrocuted.
Wendy moved in on Brayden, stopping just short of jabbing a finger into his chest. “This is victimization and I’ll be reporting you for it.”
“Really? So I got my dog to drag Corey here out of his bed, did I?” Brayden turned to Corey, who was trying to slink away toward the house. “Not so fast. Just where have you been until this time?”
“Just hanging out with some friends,” Corey muttered, scuffing the grass with the tip of one sneaker. He cast a sidelong glance in Wendy’s direction. “Lost track of the time.”
Brayden weighed his options. Now that Corey was on his feet, there was a definite smell of alcohol about him. Although he was underage, he wasn’t falling-down drunk and he wasn’t doing any real harm. If Brayden hadn’t been watching the premises, no one would have known anything about this nocturnal adventure. And it was obvious that Wendy was going to give him hell when she got him indoors.
“It looks like you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Corey’s shoulders drooped with relief. “But before you go, show me your left leg.”
“What...?”
“Now.” Brayden spoke with sharp authority. He wanted this over and he was tired of Corey’s whining.
Giving him a look of dislike, Corey rolled up the leg of his jeans to his knee. Brayden took his cell phone out of his pocket and started filming.
“Is that the leg that my dog clamped on to?” He stepped closer, making sure he got a clear view of Corey’s unmarked flesh.
“Yes.”
“And can you confirm that you sustained no injuries during the encounter?”
“He scared the hell out of me, man...” Corey broke off, glaring at him. “No, I wasn’t injured.”
“Thank you, Corey.” Brayden looked around at the people who were watching from the cabins. “I think we have enough witnesses to corroborate that. You can go now.” As Corey weaved toward the house, Brayden turned to the onlookers. “Nothing to see here, folks. Just a misunderstanding. Sorry for the disturbance.”
Doors began to close as the residents returned to their cabins, but Wendy, her face red and her eyes narrowed, clearly wasn’t done. “This has gone too far. Lying in wait for my son to come home so you could set your dog on him? I don’t care if the chief is your cousin. I’ll see to it that you lose your job over this—”
Wendy was like a geyser, and Brayden’s preferred response was to let her blow. All the rage and poison would come spilling out, then she would stomp off to bed. Whether she called Finn in the morning to file a complaint would depend on what she discovered from Corey. If, as Brayden suspected, he and his friends had been up to no good, Wendy might decide not to stir up trouble. If she did call this in...well, Brayden would already have his report on the chief’s desk in the morning.
This time, Wendy’s tirade was halted in midflow when a small figure unexpectedly inserted itself between her and Brayden.
“Please stop shouting.” Esmée’s voice was calm and quiet. “You’ll wake my little boy. And you’re wrong. I can vouch for Officer Colton’s actions. He wasn’t here because of your son. He was protecting me.”
Brayden was torn between two reactions. He was delighted at the way Esmée had allied herself with him and sprung to his defense. It caused an enjoyable new warmth to fill his chest. But Wendy was a vindictive woman and he couldn’t see this ending well. Sure enough, her expression changed. In an instant, the hissing rage had been replaced with a sly smile.
“That changes everything. I’m sure you’ll understand my position.” Wendy’s sugarcoated tone was as fake as her bright gold hair. “I’m a businesswoman and a commotion like this, upsetting my guests in the middle of the night...” The smile widened. “Well, I just can’t take the chance of it happening again.”
Brayden could guess where this was going. He stepped up closer to Esmée. “It won’t.”
“You expect me to take the word of a Colton? That’s never been good enough for a Gage.” Wendy’s features hardened as she stared at Esmée. “I want you out by noon tomorrow.”
Brayden sensed Esmée was about to protest, but he placed a hand on her arm. “They’ll be gone straight after breakfast.”
Chapter 8
“We’ll be gone straight after breakfast?” Esmée closed the cabin door behind her and stared at Brayden with
a combination of astonishment and dawning rage. “I can’t believe you just said that. You made me and my son homeless without bothering to consult me?”
“She was throwing you out at noon anyway.” Once Wendy had stomped away, they had come back inside and were now facing each other across the kitchen table. “Can I get Echo some water? It’s been a long night.”
She scrubbed a hand across her face as she watched him take a bowl from one of the cupboards. His actions gave her some thinking time. He was right, of course, but he was the reason for Wendy’s decision. If Brayden hadn’t decided to sit out all night watching over her, none of this would have happened.
Watching over me.
The thought sent her anger into reverse. Whether his instinct was right or wrong, Brayden had believed she and Rhys were in danger. He had been prepared to stay up all night to keep them safe. A warm feeling wrapped itself around her. Esmée had been eighteen when her mother died and, since then, she had taken care of herself. If anyone had asked her, she’d have said she liked it just fine and she didn’t need anyone to look out for her. Most of the time she didn’t. Caring for herself and for Rhys...that was what she did. But the thought of Brayden as her protector? Well, that was a whole new level of comfort.
He stooped to place the water on the floor, pausing to pat Echo’s head as the dog began to drink. As he straightened and met Esmée’s gaze, there was a wary look in Brayden’s eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” Her lip quivered.
“Oh, hey—” He was at her side in two swift strides. “Please don’t cry.”
“I’m not.” As he took her hand, she lifted her face to his to prove it.
“Go to bed, Esmée.”
He didn’t release her hand and she faced him, a slight frown wrinkling her brow. “How can I when I have nowhere to stay?”
“We’ll talk about that in the morning?” His gaze, like the clasp of his fingers, was warm.
