by Irene Hannon
He could get used to this.
Especially with a great-looking neighbor a short hike away.
He took a sip of his coffee. Too bad she had to work today. He was in the mood for a lazy row around the lake. Maybe he could convince her to take a break around noon—or better yet, join him for a moonlight spin across the water.
In the interim, he had PT to do, a loose hinge to fix on the door, and a book to read.
Two hours later, as he tested the repaired hinge, the sound of tires crushing rocks alerted him to approaching company.
Uninvited company.
Letting the door swing shut behind him, he strode toward his room to retrieve his compact Beretta. Not much chance someone with nefarious intent would blatantly announce his arrival . . . but in an isolated place like this, it never hurt to be prepared for trouble.
Pistol in hand, he watched from inside the window as a black Chevy Cruze with dark-tinted windows rolled up the drive.
Was that Lance’s FBI duty car?
But what would his brother be doing down here at noon on a Monday?
Sixty seconds later, the car stopped and Lance emerged from behind the wheel.
Five seconds after that, Mac slid out of the passenger seat, toting a white bag.
Both of his brothers had come to call on a workday?
Pulse accelerating, he pushed through the door as they walked across the gravel toward the cabin. There would be no reason for them to show up together on a weekday unless they’d come to deliver bad news.
“Is Dad okay?”
Lance and Mac froze, both of them eying the Beretta in his hand.
“What’s with the gun?” Lance’s focus remained riveted on the weapon.
“Dad’s fine. Mom is too.” Mac shifted his attention to their middle brother. “Wouldn’t you be packing too, if you were living in the middle of nowhere?”
“I guess. You want to put that away now?” Lance gestured to the Beretta.
Finn let out the breath he’d been holding and stuck the Beretta in his pocket. “If the folks are okay, why are you guys here instead of working?”
“I am working. I need to meet our agent in Rolla, and Mac came along for the ride.” Lance elbowed the eldest McGregor sibling.
“I worked a double homicide all weekend. Comp time.” Mac lifted the white bag. “We come bearing gifts.”
“Why?”
“Because we like you.” Lance smirked at him.
“Besides that, we thought after more than a week here all by yourself, you might be ready for some company other than squirrels, raccoons, and deer. Plus we have Ted Drewes.” Mac dangled the bag again.
“You brought me a concrete?” Finn’s salivary glands kicked into high gear as he inspected the bag.
“Only the world’s best frozen custard for the runt. You going to ask us in?” Lance nodded toward the cabin.
“Yeah. Sure.” He opened the door.
His brothers filed past him, their large frames dominating the kitchen in the small, two-bedroom cabin.
“Not bad, if you like rustic.” Lance poked his head into one of the bedrooms.
“It suits me.”
“If we don’t eat these soon, we’ll have to drink them.” Mac plopped the bag on the table and uncrimped the top. “They put some dry ice in here, but we’ve been on the road awhile.” He sat and pulled out four lidded containers, four spoons, and a handful of napkins.
“Why’d you bring four?” Finn took a seat at the small table.
Lance joined them, backing up a chair for legroom. “Mac thought your favorite was strawberry. I voted for mint chocolate chip. Since we couldn’t come to a consensus, we brought one of each.”
“I like them both.”
“Good. Pick one for now and put the other in the freezer for later.” Mac popped off the lid on his custard. Blueberry, naturally.
Lance opened his. The usual butterscotch.
His brothers were nothing if not predictable—in some things, anyway.
Finn stashed the chocolate chip for later consumption and opened his strawberry as he retook his seat. No sense beating around the bush. “So do I pass?”
Lance slanted a glance at Mac and kept eating.
“What do you mean?” Mac dug his spoon into the blueberry concrete, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh, come on. You guys came down to check up on me. And you know what? I’m cool with that. If you want the truth, it kind of warms my heart.”
“Warms your heart?” Spoon poised in midair, Lance gaped at him. “Is that on the level?”
“Yeah.”
“I told you he wouldn’t be upset.” Mac dived into his concrete, eating with gusto.
Lance squinted at him. “What have you been doing down here, getting in touch with your feminine side?”
“Hey . . . it’s okay to have feelings. Ask your new wife.” Finn took a heaping spoonful of the creamy strawberry confection.
Bliss.
“That’s different.”
“Doesn’t have to be.”
“What kind of books have you been reading out here, anyway?” Lance was staring at him as if he suspected an alien had taken over his kid brother’s body.
“Your concrete is melting.” Finn waved his spoon at the dissolving custard in Lance’s cup.
His brother dived back in, duly distracted.
Perfect.
“How’s the leg?” Mac wiped a drip of custard off the table with one of the napkins.
“Ninety-five percent. This might be as good as it gets.”
“Better than the alternative.”
“Yeah.” His oldest brother didn’t need to remind him how close he’d come to losing his leg. Once in a while he still woke up in a cold sweat, thinking about it. “I’m not complaining. And I’m working with it. I might eke out another percent or two improvement.”
“Hold that thought.”
Lance scraped up the last dregs of his concrete and licked the plastic spoon clean. “That is great stuff.”
“No kidding.” Mac finished his too. “I hope we didn’t ruin Finn’s lunch, though. You know what a stickler Mom always was about meal first, dessert second.”
“Don’t worry about it. I slept late today. Lunch is an hour or two away.” Finn set his empty cup on the table.
“Did it take you awhile to fall asleep last night?” Mac’s question sounded casual, but Finn heard the underlying thread of concern.
“No. I slept like a log for eleven hours.”
“No nightmares?” Mac gave him his don’t-lie-to-a-police-detective stare.
“Nope. I haven’t had one in almost a week.”
“Yeah?” Lance propped an ankle on his knee and leaned back. “Who would’ve expected playing Thoreau would be therapeutic? But better you than me. If I was stuck in a place like this with no one to talk to 24/7, I’d probably be climbing the—”
A knock sounded on the back door, and Lance quirked an eyebrow.
Finn shoved his chair away from the table and stood. Weird to have two sets of visitors in the space of an hour after more than a week of solo living—and if the latest arrival was who he suspected it might be, the timing couldn’t have been worse.
“Hang on a minute while I see who that is.”
Without giving his brothers a chance to respond, he crossed to the door and peeked out the window that offered a view of the back porch.
It was Dana—also bearing gifts, if that plastic-wrap-covered plate of cookies was any indication.
He stifled a groan. Any other time, he’d have welcomed her with open arms . . . literally.
As it was, no matter how hard he tried to keep their exchange polite and hands-off, his brothers were going to have a field day with this.
Scrambling to come up with a strategy, he twisted the knob, pulled it back, and smiled at Dana through the screen door. “Hi.”
“Hi back.” She hefted the plate of cookies. “Since we demolished the last batch, I made some mor
e. I thought you might like a midday snack . . . and I also wanted to thank you for taking me to services yesterday and helping with the garden.”
As Finn pushed open the door, took the cookies, and ushered her in, Lance spoke from behind him.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Dana hesitated halfway over the threshold, her gaze darting past his shoulder. “Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.”
“We’re not company.” Lance moved forward, Mac on his heels, and held out his hand. “We’re his brothers. Lance McGregor.”
Dana returned the shake. “Nice to meet you.”
“And this is Mac.” Lance eased aside while Mac greeted her. “And you are?”
“Dana Lewis.” Finn muscled back into the conversation. “My next-door neighbor.”
“Ah.” Lance’s eyes sparked with humor. “The one you maintain cordial relations with.”
Heat crept across Finn’s cheeks—and there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it, thanks to his stupid red hair. “We’ve become acquainted over the past few days.”
“I can see why.” Lance gave Dana an appreciative scan.
Man, his brother was a flirt, newly married or not.
“I just didn’t realize you had such good taste.” The corners of Lance’s lips tipped up.
“I’ll be sure to tell Christy you said that.” Finn gave him the evil eye.
Lance ignored it. “So how did you two meet?”
Dana sent him a panicked look.
Great. Now she was upset.
As soon as she left, he was going to seriously hurt his brother for causing her distress.
“I was walking through the woods, emerged at Dana’s lake . . . and the rest is history.” He locked gazes with her as he spoke, trying to communicate that he would never share the real story of their first encounter without her permission.
Her shoulders relaxed.
Mac regarded the three of them, picked up on the subtle undercurrents that always eluded Lance, and stepped in. “However you met, it’s a pleasure to meet you. And I’m glad to know Finn has a neighbor close at hand.”
“Thank you.” Dana moistened her lips and backed toward the door. “I, uh, need to get back to work. I’ll let you all finish up your visit without further interruption.”
“I’ll see you out.” Finn shoved the plate of cookies against Lance’s chest and followed Dana to the porch, shutting the door firmly behind him. “Sorry about that. My brothers—Lance in particular—can be a little in-your-face.”
She stopped at the railing. “No kidding. But they seem like . . . solid guys. And it’s nice that they drove all the way down from St. Louis to visit.”
“Yeah.” Or it would have been, any other time. “Thanks for the cookies.”
“It was no big deal. I appreciate all the help you’ve given me over the past week.”
“It’s been my pleasure.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re welcome to stay for a while if you can put up with my siblings.” It was the polite thing to say, though it would be much nicer—and safer—to have her to himself.
“I can’t. I really do have to get back to work.”
He tried not to let his relief show. “I could drop by later, if you’d like. Maybe we could take a hike around your place or a row on the lake.”
“I’d like that.”
“About six? That should give us about an hour of daylight.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
He watched as she walked through the small clearing behind the cabin. Once she disappeared into the woods, he braced himself.
His brothers were waiting in the living room, Lance draped in the easy chair, Mac on the sofa with his feet propped on the polished-log coffee table.
“You’ve been holding out on us.” Mac folded his arms.
“No wonder you haven’t been lonely, with a hot chick like that bringing you cookies.” Lance grinned.
“She’s never been over here before.”
“Yeah?” Mac helped himself to one of the cookies from the plate Lance had set on the end table.
“Yeah.”
“But you’ve been over there. A lot, I bet.” Lance waggled his eyebrows. “And what’s this about taking her into town to services? Mac and I couldn’t get you within a hundred yards of a church while you were in St. Louis.”
“I wasn’t ready then.”
“Uh-huh.” Lance snagged a cookie.
Finn grabbed the depleted plate and moved it out of his reach. “How many of these did you guys eat already?”
“A few.” Mac brushed the crumbs off his fingers. “What else did we have to do while you two said your good-byes?”
“At least I didn’t spy on you through the curtains. Mac wouldn’t let me.” Lance stood. “So who is this mystery woman? And does she actually live around here?”
Finn gave them a topline—not by choice, but if he didn’t, they’d never stop bugging him.
“So she inherited her grandparents’ farm, huh? Lucky timing for you, me thinks.” Lance winked at him. “New York City book editor meets ex–Army Ranger in the middle of the Mark Twain National Forest. What are the odds of that?”
“Sounds like a match that was meant to be. Don’t knock fate.” Mac rose and tapped his watch in front of Lance. “Don’t you have an appointment?”
“Yeah.” Lance snatched another cookie before Finn could jerk the plate away. “The lady knows how to cook. Another check in her pro column.”
“I’m not keeping score.”
“Start. She could be a keeper. Classy and beautiful. Wonder what she sees in you?” Lance chomped on the cookie.
“We just met. I barely know her.” He forced the reply through gritted teeth.
“Yeah?” Lance finished off the cookie. “You two acted like old friends—and there was some serious electricity pinging around the room. Plus, you had a goofy grin while she was here. Right, Mac?”
“In the interest of family harmony, I’ll plead the Fifth.” The corners of his mouth twitched.
Great.
His brothers were on to him.
“Guess we don’t need to worry about checking in on you quite as often.” Lance strolled toward the door, and Mac fell in behind him.
Finn followed them out, depositing what was left of the cookies on the kitchen table. “I told you I was fine.”
“There’s fine, and there’s real fine. You, runt, are in real fine territory.” Lance gave him an exaggerated leer.
“All kidding aside”—Mac sent a “can it” look to his wise-cracking sibling—“we’re glad things are improving. Whatever the reason.”
“Thanks. And thanks for stopping by with the Ted Drewes. That was a treat.”
“Not as much of a treat as the one you have in your backyard.” Lance tossed his keys in the air.
Mac caught them. “Get in the car. We’re leaving.”
“Aye, aye.” Lance gave a jaunty salute. “Be good, kid. Call us if you need anything.”
“Call us even if you don’t.” Mac put a hand on his shoulder. “I want you to stay in touch. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“And in the future, we’ll call before we drop in.” Mac gave him a one-sided grin and joined Lance at the car.
Two minutes later, the Cruze had disappeared down the drive in a cloud of dust, Lance waving out the window.
Hands in his pockets, Finn ambled back inside. His brothers might like to give him a hard time, but the McGregor bond was strong. The Ted Drewes run was evidence of that—but best of all, they’d be there for him in a heartbeat if he needed them. All he had to do was pick up the phone.
A week ago, he might have considered using that lifeline. Now . . . not so much.
Because Lance was right.
He was in real fine territory. With his neighbor to keep him company, he doubted there’d be any need to send out a distress signal. For the duration of his stay, Dana Lewis was all the companionship
he needed. She was smart, kind, an excellent listener, empathetic—and much easier on the eyes than his brothers.
So come six o’clock, he’d mosey on over to her place and spend as long as she’d give him enjoying the view.
He needed her gone.
From the cover of heavy underbrush, Wayne Phelps watched through binoculars while Dana Lewis and her new friend rowed around the lake at sunset. They’d been at it for forty-five minutes, and with the light diminishing, there wasn’t much chance they’d venture any farther tonight.
But based on what he’d overheard at church yesterday, the impaired vision Marv at the hardware store had mentioned was improving, and she was getting ready to start hiking around the property.
That could be very dangerous—for him and for her. An able-bodied neighbor who appeared to be hanging around way too much and could provide escort service to the more remote parts of Leo’s land didn’t help, either. His presence would dramatically up the odds she’d stumble onto something best kept hidden.
Lowering the binoculars, he leaned a shoulder against an oak tree. Who could have predicted she’d hang around this long? A quick visit to take a cursory look before putting the place up for sale—no sweat. With the rural real estate market what it was, that could have bought him the ten or twelve more months he needed to hit his nest-egg goal. Property in these parts was moving about as fast as the trickle in Clear Creek after a summer of Midwest heat.
Now his perfect setup was on the cusp of exposure.
Unless he convinced Leo’s granddaughter to hightail it out of here and leave him in peace.
Wayne lifted the binoculars again, watching as Dana and her neighbor pulled up to the dock. The guy helped her out of the boat, and the two of them stood there for a few minutes . . . close, but not touching. Then he took off in the direction of Mark Busch’s place, following the edge of the lake. After he disappeared through an opening in the trees, Dana wandered toward the cabin.
He was safe for tonight.
And he intended to stay safe in the nights to come.
It was time to launch a get-rid-of-Dana campaign.
11
Roger swung onto the road that wound through the woods to Leo’s place. Drove fifty yards. Stopped.
