by Katie Ruggle
“Tell Barney Thompson to go after Abbott himself,” Kavenski said with another of his dismissive hand waves. “Who cares if he’s not happy? Thompson isn’t someone you want to get referrals from anyway.”
Resting her elbow on the table, she propped her chin on her hand as she studied Kavenski. “I wish it were that easy. Thanks to my mom, Barney’s holding the title of our house right now.”
“Explain.”
Despite the depressing subject of their conversation, Cara couldn’t help but grin again. He’d sounded so…princely just then, as if he simply needed to know the problem in order to do one of his imperious hand waves and solve all her problems. If only things worked that way. “It’s a long story.”
“The person I’m meeting isn’t here yet, so I have time.”
At that, she felt a very stupid, very irrational bolt of jealousy at the thought of him meeting someone. There hadn’t been any sign of a girlfriend when she’d been following him around. Was the meeting business or a hookup? Either way, it’s none of your concern, the practical part of her brain reminded her.
Quickly reining in the ridiculous emotion, she studied his face, wondering if she should share all of her personal drama with a skip she’d been chasing—or maybe still was? With a mental shrug, she decided it wouldn’t hurt anything. Most everyone in town already knew all the sordid details.
“My mom stole a very expensive necklace, was arrested, used our family home—that my sisters and I paid for—as collateral on her bail bond, and disappeared.” Hearing the words out loud, she felt a fresh surge of anger at Jane. “She hasn’t officially jumped bail yet, since she hasn’t missed her preliminary hearing, but no one’s seen her since she got out of jail.” Kavenski was extremely easy to talk to, his impassive face showing no judgment.
“Oh, and Mom’s friends keep breaking into our house looking for the necklace, and one of them stole money and my sister Molly’s car.” This made his left eyelid twitch, and she paused, expecting him to say something. When he remained silent, she continued. “I usually just do research, but Felicity and Charlie have spent all their time searching for Mom, and Norah’s even more hopeless at fieldwork than I am, so Molly’s stuck with doing all the actual skip chasing. She can only do so much, so the business isn’t taking in much money, and things are tight.”
Remembering how stressed Molly had looked, Cara felt her lips turn down in an anxious frown. She stayed silent until the slightest tilt of his head prompted her to finish her pathetic tale. “On top of that, we could lose our house, and it’s the last thing we have of my dad. I wanted to help out, but I seem to be just causing more problems instead of helping.”
She’d started out confident, but her voice quavered slightly at the end. It was Kavenski’s fault. He just seemed so solid and had a way of listening intently that made it too easy to believe he was a supportive partner, rather than a skip she’d failed to bring in. Speaking of…
“I don’t supposed you’d agree to letting me bring you back to jail?” Even as she asked, her stomach twisted at the thought. It might be extremely dumb of her, but she didn’t think he was guilty of killing the Masons. Even the huge bounty wouldn’t help ease her conscience if she brought in an innocent man.
His mouth quirked in the closest thing to a smile she’d seen on his face, which was not the reaction she’d been expecting. “Can’t. Sorry. I have to finish a few things first.”
“It’s okay.” With a sigh, she sat back against the vinyl seat. She didn’t know if it was vomiting her entire story and all her worries at him, or if it was relief from not having to take him back to jail, but she felt lighter than she had in weeks. “I would’ve felt too guilty anyway. I probably couldn’t have gone through with it.”
His snort sounded suspiciously close to a laugh. “You’re really not good at fieldwork, are you?”
“No.” She shrugged. Even though she hated failing at something, she couldn’t argue with the truth. “I want to be a kindergarten teacher. I’m working on my education degree—slowly, but I’ll finish it eventually. Bounty hunting is not my calling.”
Something shifted in his expression as he stared at her, and he rubbed at his temple again.
“Does your head hurt?” She dug in her purse and pulled out a travel-size bottle of ibuprofen. When she offered it to him, his gaze flicked from the painkillers back to her face. She wasn’t sure how to read his odd look, so she just waited.
“I’m okay.” He wrapped his fingers around hers in order to gently move her hand back toward her purse. Her brain immediately blanked at the contact. All she could think about was how huge and warm and comforting his hand felt. “You need to take care of yourself. If you keep chasing guys like Abbott—and me—you’re going to get yourself killed.”
For some reason, his concern and careful touch made it hard to hold his gaze without blushing. Looking away, she was starting to respond when her gaze caught on the profile of the very man she’d come to Dutch’s to find. Geoffrey Abbott worked his way through the crowd, clearly intent on finding someone. The someone turned out to be a woman who looked to be in her early forties, with light-brown hair, a wide, mobile mouth, and strong features that came together into a striking whole. There was something familiar about her, and Cara racked her brain for where she’d seen the woman before.
The two had an intense, low-voiced discussion before Abbott turned away abruptly, his mouth pinched with anger. As intently as he’d made his way into the bar, he now worked his way toward the exit. The woman watched him go. As soon as Cara saw her face in profile, it clicked—that was the woman Kavenski had met.
Cara gently tugged free, set the painkillers next to his untouched drink, and slid out of the booth. Even though Kavenski had warned her about going after Abbott, there wasn’t any other solution. Just because an attractive skip held her hand very gently and told her to do something didn’t mean she should throw her family’s future away. She couldn’t let Abbott leave without at least getting a plate number. It’d be simple and danger-free, and might give her the information she needed to decide whether she should drop the case.
“What are you doing?”
Cara gave him a smile. “Nothing dangerous. Thanks for letting me sit with you.”
She turned away and slipped through the crowd, keeping her eye on the back of Abbott’s head, thankful that he was taller than most of the other bar patrons. By the time she’d worked her way to the door and stepped outside, he was nowhere in sight. She paused, waiting for one of the parked cars to start, hoping that he hadn’t parked in the lot across the street or, even worse, walked to Dutch’s.
Glancing at the bouncer, she saw that he was watching her grimly. “I didn’t blow up anything,” she said.
Before he could respond, she saw red brake lights illuminate a car in the far corner of the parking lot. Jackpot! It was too far away to see the plate, so Cara hurried across the lot. He was already backing out of his spot, and she moved a little faster, not wanting to attract attention by running but also unwilling to miss her chance.
The back end of his car drew closer as he reversed, and she squinted at the license plate. He started to pull forward toward the lot exit, moving the car away from her, and she trotted forward, hoping to catch the plate number as he paused before turning onto the street.
A loud squeal of tires behind her made her spin around, startled. Bright headlights blinded her as an engine revved. A car was coming at her—fast. Too fast. She dodged to the side, but the lights followed, steering toward her as if they were aiming for her. Pivoting in the other direction, she ran toward the row of parked cars, hoping they’d at least take the brunt of the impact, but a glance over her shoulder showed that it was already too late.
The car was going to run her down.
She lunged to the side, knowing it was futile but needing to try to save herself anyway. When the impact came, it w
as from the wrong direction. She flew to the side as the car swerved past with an angry roar, her body landing with enough jolt to force the air from her lungs. For a long moment, she lay still, trying to figure out why she didn’t hurt. Was she in shock? Paralyzed? Dead?
The ground moved beneath her, bringing her out of her daze with a snap. She pushed to her hands and knees, struggling to balance on the lumpy surface, until a grunt made her freeze. She stared at the man beneath her. Tires squealed loudly, making her jolt and turn her head, frantically searching for the vehicle that had tried to run her down. The engine roared as the car peeled away, fishtailing as it turned onto the street. The rumble quickly faded as her attempted murderer raced off, and Cara refocused on the man lying warm and unfairly muscular under her.
“Kavenski?” Sliding off him to land on the asphalt, she blinked several times, trying to make sense of how her night had ended up like this. He turned with her, not releasing her as he ran his hands over her arms, checking for injuries. His gaze was sharp as he looked her over, and his uncharacteristic worry snapped her back to the reality of what had just happened. “Henry Kavenski, did you just save me from death by speeding car?”
He didn’t answer, checking her over yet again before climbing to his feet.
Noticing his almost imperceptible wince, Cara felt her stomach twist with worry. He’d taken the full force of their combined fall by putting his body between her and the asphalt.
“Are you okay?” she asked. It took her a moment to notice that he’d extended a hand to help her stand. She accepted it, allowing him to haul her to her feet, but not taking her eyes off him as she scanned him for injuries. He had to have a nasty case of road rash at the very least. “Let me see your back.”
When she reached for his shirt, intending to pull it up and examine the damage, he twitched away from her, shifting just out of reach. The move reminded her of just how invasive she was being. Even if her motives were well intentioned, even if she’d spilled her entire life story to him not five minutes ago, they were still mostly strangers, and she didn’t blame him for not wanting her to start poking at him.
“Sorry.” Dropping her hand, she made a self-deprecating face. “That was rude of me. Do you need me to call an ambulance?”
“No.” Every time she heard him speak, she was reminded how gorgeous his voice was. “Didn’t I just warn you about messing with Abbott?”
Her shoulders drew back at the criticism. “I was just going to get his plate number. Besides, he wasn’t the one who tried to kill us.” She turned to look at the now-empty street bordering the lot. “I don’t suppose you got a look at the license?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Sorry.” The word came out thick with sarcasm. “Didn’t get a chance. I was a little busy saving your life.”
“I do appreciate that, thank you.” Still, it would’ve been nice if he’d multitasked just a bit. Even if he’d only gotten a number or two, it would’ve given them a place to start. Except for the two of them, the parking lot was deserted. Even the bouncer must’ve gone inside. In all of the excitement, Abbott had slipped away as well, so there was nothing to show for her brush with death except a sore left knee and whatever injuries Kavenski was ignoring.
She sighed and started to limp back toward the bar.
“Where are you going?”
She glanced over her shoulder at him, surprise lifting her eyebrows. “Inside.”
“Why?”
“So this night isn’t a total loss.” As she crossed the lot, she searched for any moving cars. It was going to be a while before she felt completely safe again.
His wordless response sounded frustrated. She could hear him behind her as he followed her to the door, and she pretended to herself that she didn’t find having him at her back enormously reassuring. As she reached the entrance, he dodged in front of her so his huge form blocked her from entering. “What exactly are you going to do in there this time?”
She eyed him, more curious than angry. “Why do you care?”
“Because I have better things to do than follow you around saving your life all the time.”
An amused snort escaped before she could stop it. “Once. Not that saving my life even one time isn’t a big deal, but you made it sound like I make a habit of near-death experiences. And don’t pretend you don’t do this sort of thing constantly anyway. I saw you throw yourself in front of a moving car to save a tiny Pomeranian just a couple of days ago. Besides, I’ll be perfectly safe in there. All I’m going to do is people-watch as I pretend to drink beer.”
He didn’t budge. “Who are you planning on watching?”
“The woman Abbott talked to.”
His eyes actually widened. “Layla? No. That’s a bad idea.”
She felt a lurch of excitement. She’d figured he’d pretend he didn’t know the woman, but now she wondered if he’d actually give up information about her. “Her name’s Layla? What else can you tell me about her? What’s her connection with Abbott? What’d she hand to you when you met her and her fake baby the other day?”
His head tipped back against the door with a thump. “Forget I said anything. Just…go home. Pick someone else to follow around. A shoplifter, maybe, or someone with too many parking tickets.”
“I’m not following you around anymore.” For a moment, she wondered why she felt so comfortable poking at Henry Kavenski, an accused murderer—a very large accused murderer. Then she remembered that he’d saved two lives—hers and the little dog’s—from speeding cars in just the past few days. Maybe she was naive, but she didn’t think a cold-blooded killer would have bothered. “I thought you’d be happy about that.”
“I am.” Despite the words, his voice was a sullen grumble. “Now you need to quit going after Abbott. And Layla. And basically anyone who’s ever set foot in Dutch’s.”
She patted his arm, touched that he was worried about her. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been helping my sisters do this for years. I’m a pro.” Honesty forced her to amend her words. “Peripherally, at least. I’m a peripheral pro.”
Her assurances did not seem to do the trick, judging by Kavenski’s groan and the fact that he didn’t move out of her way. Instead, he took a step closer, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his eyes. She shifted back, but he followed, and she realized that he was herding her away from the entrance like a sheepdog with a recalcitrant ewe. Rather than being annoyed by this, however, she had to hold back a snort of amusement. For whatever reason, she was very tolerant of whatever Henry Kavenski did. She wondered if it was because she felt guilty for following him and breaking into his motel room now that she was fairly sure he hadn’t killed the Masons. It could also be that he’d endeared himself to her by saving her life. She was almost positive it wasn’t just that she found him unbearably attractive.
“You can’t—” he began.
The door swung open behind him, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. Kavenski’s expression went still and hard as he whipped around to face the entrance, keeping his enormous form between Cara and the door. She shifted to peer around him, curious about who’d just emerged.
The bouncer blocked the entrance just as Kavenski had moments before, his thick arms crossed over his chest. “Leave.”
“Both of us?” Cara asked, disappointed. Now that she’d gotten used to the place, she wanted to return to the corner booth. She could be missing important information, thanks to the two large and mulish men standing between her and the door.
“Yes.” Even though the bouncer answered her, his gaze never wavered from Kavenski.
“What if I promise not to cause any trouble?” she pushed, her confidence boosted by Kavenski’s presence.
“No. Leave.”
She studied the firm, almost tense set of his jaw and gave up on the idea of entering the bar again. That didn’t mean she couldn’t get information, however.
“You didn’t happen to notice anything about the car that tried to run me down, did you?”
That made his gaze flick toward her for a microsecond before returning to Kavenski. “I didn’t see anything.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She drew out the sound, allowing a touch of the skepticism to seep into her voice. “Took a conveniently timed bathroom break, did you?” A part of her was quite impressed with her sass, even as another, more sensible side reminded her that she wouldn’t have dared if she was confronting the annoyed-looking bouncer alone.
He didn’t respond, although the angry crease between his eyebrows deepened. Even though she knew perfectly well that he’d seen at least the beginning of her near-death encounter, she was also aware that he wasn’t going to admit to anything. With a frustrated huff, she gave Kavenski’s back a subtle pat goodbye. Turning around, she headed for her car. She’d just need to try another night. The bouncer was kicking them out tonight, but that didn’t mean she was banned forever. Besides, the guy couldn’t work every night.
She carefully crossed the lot, still limping slightly, although the initial throbbing ache eased the more she moved. She scanned the area, tensely anticipating any movement, determined to notice any threats before they got close enough to hurt her. Being run over once was plenty, and she’d rather not have a repeat experience. The distant rev of an engine made her jump, making her peer even harder into the harsh shadows surrounding her. Her stomach was knotted and tense by the time she finally reached her car safely.
Unlocking the driver’s door, she got inside. As she started to pull the door shut, a monster-sized hand grabbed the edge of the frame, holding it open. Cara jerked away from the opening, her elbow smacking painfully against the center console.
When she finally realized that it was just Kavenski holding open her door, she rubbed her still-tingling elbow and glared. He didn’t look as repentant as he should have…not even close.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice a warning rumble.
