Risk It All

by Katie Ruggle

  A surge of relief took Cara by surprise. Until now, she hadn’t realized just how much she hated fieldwork. She’d been determined to help, which allowed her to push through her fear, but the moments in Kavenski’s motel room had been terrifying, and she didn’t even want to think about almost getting run down. She didn’t even like scary movies, so real-life fear didn’t give her an enjoyable adrenaline rush. It just left her shaking and queasy. Now her sister was offering her a return to her comfortable role as team researcher, and she really wanted to accept it.

  But…

  “With Fifi and Charlie chasing after Mom, especially since John’s gone, you need help,” Cara said, trying to tamp down the voice inside her that was screaming to quit arguing and leave the fieldwork to people who actually enjoyed doing it. “You didn’t like it when I went out without backup, but what about you? You can’t do it alone.”

  Molly rolled her eyes. “I have asked you to be my backup. A lot. Sometimes in really dangerous situations. Have you already forgotten the warehouse with the guns and the bombs and the really super-annoying booby traps? If I need someone to watch my back, I’m not going to hesitate to ask. Even if I don’t think I’m doing anything especially risky, you always know where I am, just in case.”

  As the truth of what her sister said sank in, Cara felt a rush of guilt for running around in secret. If she’d been hurt in Kavenski’s motel room or at Dutch’s, her sisters would’ve had no idea where she was or even that they should be worried. “I’m sorry, Molly. I wanted to help, but I went about it in a stupid way.”

  “You did, and I know you feel terrible, which is why I’m going to bring this whole thing up in order to get my way for years.” She laughed, and Cara couldn’t help but join in. Molly gave her a stern look, but the effect was diminished by her lingering smile. “So what’s it going to be? Tackling skips or research?”

  “Research.” As Cara answered, about a thousand pounds lifted from her shoulders, leaving her feeling lighter than she had for weeks—since her mom had stolen that necklace, actually. “Backup when you need it, of course, but otherwise, I’ll stick to research.”

  “Done!” Molly smacked her palms on the table, and Cara laughed at her sister’s enthusiasm, feeling almost giddy with relief. “First thing tomorrow, I’m going to go chat with my favorite cop to see if she knows anything helpful while you and Norah figure out who’s doing what researchwise.”

  Cara nodded, feeling herself settling back into her comfortable role. She was glad she’d done it, though, if only to prove to herself that she really, really hated fieldwork.

  “Now go get some sleep,” Molly commanded, her big-sister bossiness softened by a tiny smirk.

  “I’ve got a paper to finish first.” The words ended on a groan as Cara pushed to her feet, her body protesting any movement.

  “Are you hurt?” Molly’s too-sharp gaze ran over her, even after Cara waved a casual hand to dismiss her sister’s concern.

  “Just tired.” She might’ve come clean about everything else, but Molly didn’t need to know about the incident in the parking lot. Since no one at Dutch’s—except Henry Kavenski—had known she was after a skip, there was no reason for someone to purposefully try to take her out. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that it had been some random drunken bar patron rather than anyone who had a personal grudge against her.

  It wasn’t like she’d been intentionally targeted. It had just been a case of bad luck and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The good thing was that Kavenski had been in the right place at the right time, and that he’d taken the very right action when he’d noticed she was in danger. It wasn’t something that she’d expected a murderer to do. Every time they’d run into each other, he’d done something to surprise her in the best of ways.

  “Cara? You with me?” Molly’s voice was loud enough to make Cara realize her sister must’ve been trying to get her attention for a while.

  “Sorry.” She gave a sheepish smile. “I’m beat. I might have to skip finishing that paper tonight and just get up early tomorrow.” With a grimace, she amended her words. “Earlier. Way too early. A ridiculous amount of early.”

  “At least Fifi’s not here to force us to do morning boot camp,” Molly offered. “So you’ll have that extra time.”

  “True.” That was a slight comfort. “Good night, Moo.”

  A wadded-up sticky note bounced off Cara’s forehead, and she couldn’t hold back a grin.

  “Good night, Cara.” Despite the innocuous words, Molly’s tone threatened retribution for the use of her hated nickname.

  As Cara walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs, she did her best not to favor her knee, but she had a feeling that Molly saw more than she let on. As she passed the tiny space that Norah claimed as a bedroom, Cara knocked and stuck her head inside.

  Norah was tucked into a small corner of the bed, the only spot that Warrant hadn’t completely taken over. She looked fully engrossed in whatever was on her computer. The only response she gave Cara’s knock was a questioning grunt, eyes never leaving the screen.

  “Don’t stay up too late,” Cara said, knowing full well that her suggestion would be ignored. Once Norah had settled into her researching groove, she didn’t give up until she’d found what she was looking for—and usually a whole lot more. Still, Cara had to try. “I’ll jump in on research in the morning, so leave something for me to do.”

  When Norah finally glanced up at that, Cara gave a smile to let her sister know she was kidding—although not about the go-to-bed part. “There is an obnoxiously high number of ways to spell ‘Layla,’” Norah said, making Cara laugh.

  “I’ll help you come up with even more options in the morning.”

  “Thanks.” Norah’s tone was dry.

  “Always happy to help.” Cara tried to imitate Molly’s sternest scowl. “Now get some sleep.”

  “I will.” Despite the promise, Norah seemed to be wrapped up again in her search, and Cara withdrew from the room, closing the door behind her.

  Yawning so widely that her jaw popped and her eyes watered, she headed for the bathroom. She might long for bed, but there was no way she could rest without taking a shower and washing off the day. Not only did she still smell like the inside of a bar, but she’d gotten up close and personal with the parking lot outside Dutch’s. Who knew what kind of disgusting things had been dumped, tossed, or leaked onto that asphalt? The possibilities made her gag a little.

  Despite her roll in the goo, however, the day had ended on a positive note. She was back on research duty, she didn’t have to hide anything from her sisters anymore, and Henry Kavenski had saved her life. She couldn’t hold back the tiniest amazed laugh.

  When had her life gotten so exciting—and so stinking weird?

  Chapter 4

  Cara hurried down the steps, letting herself be swept up in the crowd as students left their classrooms. The last thing she wanted was to run into creepy Stuart in an empty hallway again. Once she reached the main level and followed the people surging out into the autumn sunlight, she couldn’t help but slow her steps and enjoy the warmth beaming down on her. The old building held the chill of early morning, and her classroom had been about the temperature of a walk-in cooler, so it was a treat to feel the sun finally defrost her fingers and the tip of her nose.

  As she crossed campus, the crowd dwindled, clearing the pathway enough that Cara could take her focus off the people around her. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes for a second, the sunlight making the insides of her lids glow red. Even though she’d woken up disgustingly early, she was still in an optimistic mood. She’d finished her paper, emailed it to her professor, and even had time to eat breakfast with Norah and Molly before her first class. They’d divided up the research, and Cara had a lovely, tidy to-do list, which made her content. The beautiful, sunny weather was just
the cherry on an already pretty good day.

  Then someone grasped her arm, jerking her to a halt, and she swung around, automatically trying to yank away even before the identity of her grabber registered.

  “Don’t touch me, Stuart.” Her voice was sharp, and she hoped he hadn’t heard the slight tremble underlying her words. It was caused by anger, not fear, but from the way Stuart smirked, he not only heard the quaver, but thought it was because he intimidated her. He also didn’t release his grip. “Let. Go.”

  Grabbing his index finger, she yanked it up and back, not releasing him until he yelped and pulled away, leaving pink imprints on her arm where his hand had been. “Ow! Bitch!”

  Cara’s eyebrows shot up as she moved several feet back, just to make sure she was out of reach. “Me? You’re the one who grabbed me.”

  “I just wanted to talk to you.” His voice was a whine as he shook out his hand, and she hoped it seriously stung. Her heart still beat unnaturally fast. So much for it being a good day. Creepy Stuart had ruined any chance of that.

  “No.” She used her firmest tone. “There will be no talking and no more grabbing and definitely no more stalking. All of that is over.” Annoyed that she’d even had to say that much, she turned away and marched toward the parking lot, her sore knee protesting loudly and all her joy in the beautiful day gone.

  “Wait.” From the slap of jogging feet hitting the ground behind her, he hadn’t listened to a word she’d just said. “The least you can do is answer a few questions.”

  As much as she knew she shouldn’t engage, she couldn’t just let that pass by unchallenged. Still hurrying toward the safety of her car, she glared at him over her shoulder. “The least I can do is not kick you in the nuts and then call campus security. You need to leave me alone.”

  He scowled back at her, all his fake surface charm gone. “I’m not doing anything! I know that doesn’t matter to you, since you already called the cops on me for trying to be nice.”

  Don’t argue, the rational part of Cara’s brain ordered. Don’t even look at him. That’s what he wants. She couldn’t stand it, though, and the words just popped out of her mouth. “Trying to be nice? Is that what they call burglary nowadays?”

  “I was bringing class notes to you, and you called the cops. Just now, all I wanted was to have a friendly conversation, and you basically broke my finger off.”

  Only by biting down on the inside of her cheek did Cara manage to not roundhouse kick him in the face. He lied with such confidence, but she knew the truth: Stuart was a sneaky, stalkery, burglarizing creep. She was determined not to play his games any more than she already had. Keeping her lips pressed tightly together, she increased her pace to a speed walk.

  “I just have a couple of questions for you. I think I deserve civil answers, at the very least.”

  Her molars squeaked as she ground them together. Mentally, she ran through every strike, punch, and kick that Felicity had taught her, taking great relish each time her fist or foot connected with Stuart’s stupid face in her brain. It allowed her to not take the bait.

  She’d never been as grateful as she was the moment she spotted her car in the lot. Stuart was still babbling behind her as she made a beeline for the driver’s door, but it was easier to tune him out now that her escape hatch was in sight. At least it was until he grabbed her arm again, whipping her around to face him.

  This time, she didn’t hesitate. Using the momentum he’d created, she changed her turn into a rotating kick, aiming for his stupid, stupid smirk. Before her foot could connect, he was jerked back out of range, and Cara’s leg whiffed by his nose and returned to the ground. From Stuart’s startled expression, he wasn’t expecting the dramatic backward movement any more than she’d been.

  Behind Stuart was a huge boulder of a man who held Stuart’s collar in his oversize fist. Cara blinked a few times, overwhelmed by the adrenaline of the moment, before she recognized Henry Kavenski.

  “How many stalkers do I have?” she wondered out loud.

  “I’m not stalking you,” a red-faced Stuart denied as he struggled helplessly in the larger man’s hold. “Wanting to have a conversation is not stalking. Seeing you around campus isn’t stalking. Either you’re super paranoid or you want my attention or something, because you’re sure creating a lot of unnecessary drama.”

  For some reason, the overwhelming aggravation she’d felt for Stuart dwindled to almost nothing, his whiny tirade causing only a buzzing fly worth of annoyance now that Kavenski was there. He pulled all of her attention, and she flicked her fingers at Stuart absently as she eyed the bigger man. “Shush.”

  Stuart’s voice became even more strident, but she tuned out the words as she met Kavenski’s gaze. “You can put him down now. He’s going to go somewhere else.”

  Kavenski cocked an eyebrow, as if asking her silently whether she was sure that’s what she wanted, and Cara gave a firm nod. His huge fist opened, and Stuart—obviously not expecting to be freed so quickly—stumbled before regaining his footing. He opened his mouth as if to resume his complaints, but Cara hurried to speak before he could.

  “Shoo. Off you go, and remember to keep your distance if you don’t want a kick in the face.” She knew she’d be amazed at her casual confidence later, but now she was too interested in why Kavenski was here on a college campus—her college campus. She could believe it was just coincidence that they’d both been at Dutch’s at the same time, but there was no way he’d just happened to show up here. She narrowed her eyes at him, straightening her spine, determined to take everything he said with a grain—no, a handful—of salt. Even though she was a wannabe kindergarten teacher, she’d worked with her sisters’ bounty-hunting business for years. She wasn’t a naive know-nothing who could be easily manipulated.

  At least she hoped she wasn’t.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked Kavenski, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her. It was hard to maintain her skeptical shell when he was gazing at her so…hungrily. As soon as the thought popped up, she squashed it down, feeling her cheeks grow warm. That had to be her imagination. She was just projecting her own emotions onto Kavenski. There was no way he was as attracted to her as she was to him.

  She’d just convinced herself when he cleared his throat. “You left this at Dutch’s.”

  Pulling her eyes off his, she glanced down to see the small ibuprofen bottle sitting in the palm of his hand. She automatically reached out to accept the painkillers, and his warm fingers brushed against hers for too short a time as he handed her the bottle. “You tracked me down for that? I meant to give you those. You were the one with the headache.”

  “I took a couple, but there are still eight left.” Again with the throat clearing. Between that and his silly pretext for tracking her down, Cara was beginning to truly wonder if her initial impression had been right and this little crush of hers wasn’t one-sided. “I figured you might need them. Later. Eventually.”

  As she opened her mouth to respond, she noticed movement in the corner of her eye. Turning, she saw that Stuart was still there—watching them. Once he noticed he had her attention, he started talking again. Loudly.

  “Stuart.” His name came out like a gunshot, and he actually went silent, his mouth hanging open as he goggled at her. “Leave. Now.”

  His shoulders snapped back as he quickly recovered. “You—”

  With a sound unsettlingly close to a growl, Kavenski suddenly jerked toward Stuart. The motion was quickly cut off, but it did its job. With a small, startled shriek, Stuart took off at a speed-walk pace that really wanted to be a run. Cutting through the parking lot, he rushed to the pathway that led toward the center of campus, finally leaving Cara blessedly alone…well, alone except for Henry Kavenski.

  Refocusing on the thousands of questions bubbling around in her brain, she asked the first that popped up. “Why are you really here?”
>
  She might have put Stuart from her mind, but Kavenski was still watching him with suspicious eyes. “What’s your connection with him?” he finally asked, turning to face her again.

  Cara started to automatically answer but snapped her mouth closed just in time. “Nope. I asked first.”

  “I told you. To return the pills.” He studied her for a long moment, his arctic eyes unreadable. “Good thing I did. You have a tendency to find trouble.”

  “I do not. Well, I didn’t used to.” She couldn’t argue that she’d managed to find her share of dangerous situations over the past couple of weeks. Still, a bail jumper and suspected murderer was calling her the trouble magnet? “Until I met you, I was trouble averse.”

  The tiniest upward quirk of one corner of Kavenski’s mouth immediately drew her attention, just because of the rarity of what had—possibly? maybe?—just happened. Did Mr. Hard-Ass actually smile? Was it actually possible without cracking his stone mask of a face? It was almost annoying how much more attractive that hint of a smile made him, especially since he was breathtaking even while cranky. That tiny smile was just overkill.

  “Also,” she pushed on, needing to keep her mind focused on the conversation, “what do my nonexistent trouble-finding skills have to do with anything? My actual question was ‘Why are you here?’”

  He made an impatient gesture, which she thought was entirely unfair, because he was the one being weird about answering a simple question. “I just told you.”

  “Okay,” Cara said, not letting the way his forearms flexed as he moved his hands distract her. “Let’s try this again. What exactly are you doing here in this campus parking lot, just as I happened to arrive?”