11. Chapter 10
Proud member of the Out of Breath Hiking Club.
“I thought I was in good shape, but I’m seriously questioning myself,” Hope panted as they crouched down behind an oak tree.
“It’s the balaclava.” But he didn’t sound as winded as she was.
And he wasn’t sweating like she was. Okay, maybe he was, but she felt like she was dying in this heat and he was all cool and not breathing like a dying bear.
So that was fun. She was putting on her sexiest self right now. Ugh.
“Here,” he murmured, handing her a bottle of water. “We’re not staying long, but we need to keep hydrated.”
Wordlessly (because again, she was out of breath) she took it and chugged the whole thing. Sexy? Nope. Once she was done, he handed her a set of very expensive, military-grade binoculars.
“This should be a good spot,” he murmured, clearly more to himself than her as he crouched next to the tree, his own binoculars held up to his eyes as he looked in the direction of where they’d seen the netting.
“Not if we want to use parabolic mics.”
“You just want to use them because you like eavesdropping.” His tone was dry, but amused.
“I really, really do.” She held up the binoculars and zoomed in on the spot they’d located before. The angle was different than with the drone, but she could see the top part of the hidden hatch and more of the camo netting. “It’s interesting that Kim knew about this place.”
“I was just thinking that. Something weird is going on around here.”
“Part of me wants to just let it go.”
He snort-laughed and glanced at her, his expression incredulous even with the balaclava on. “Like two percent?”
“One percent of me is telling me to let this go.” But she’d always loved a mystery.
Since she was a kid—thank you, Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden.
She looked back into the binoculars. “I’m going to reach out to Kim, see if we can meet up out of the watchful eye of…
anyone. I want to invite her to my place, but I’m not even sure I should at this point. ”
“Have you heard from the sheriff yet?” Bradford asked, still scanning with his binoculars.
“Not yet.” She paused at a faint rumbling sound somewhere in the distance. An engine. She couldn’t tell which direction it was coming from.
“Someone’s approaching.” He didn’t drop his binos so she aimed hers in the same direction he had, spotted a dusty seventies-era Bronco rumbling up to the covered hatch.
It pulled underneath the netting, which covered the vehicle completely, then out got a man she’d never seen before with Edward Killeen, his expression as sour as it had been at the diner.
“Things just got more interesting,” Bradford murmured.
She agreed, but wished they were closer so they could utilize the parabolic mics.
It was too risky though, she knew that. They were miles out of town with no chance of anyone seeing them.
And even if there were cameras around, Bradford had used that handy little device of his, and she assumed it was working since the woods hadn’t been stormed by guys looking for them.
“Dude looks like he’s constipated,” Bradford said.
She laughed lightly. “Yep.”
Killeen stomped around to the back of the truck and watched as the other man, in well-worn jeans and a Henley T-shirt, lifted out duffel bag after duffel. The olive green bags were packed full and the guy looked as if he was grunting each time he lifted one of them up, his arm muscles straining.
“Can you take some pictures?” Bradford asked, but she was already pulling out his long-range camera.
He really had come prepared for this. “Why on earth did you have all this stuff with you? I’ve been meaning to ask.” Because he’d come to support her after her father’s death—he couldn’t have known about whatever this was. Yet he’d shown up ready for a full-on investigation of anything.
“Always be prepared. Scouts’ motto.”
“You weren’t a Scout.”
He snorted. “It’s a good rule to live by. Ooh, this has gotta be drugs.”
She snapped away as the nameless guy climbed down into the hatch, a bag on his shoulder, then returned for more. “It would probably go faster if Killeen just handed him the bags.” But it was clear that he was the boss and wasn’t putting in any sweat equity.
As she watched, Killeen stepped away from the truck to take a phone call. His body language was hard the entire time, all his muscles pulled taut.
“He’s making plans to meet with someone,” Bradford murmured as she snapped more pictures.
“You think?”
“I’m reading his lips. Looks like he might be meeting someone tonight. His place. Could be a date or it could be related to whatever this is.”
“Drugs,” she said, because he was right.
“Or weapons, but the bags are the wrong size.” They were too compact, and in her experience, weapons tended to be shipped or stored in longer crates, usually with a decent amount of insulation.
She mostly reported on white-collar crimes, but when she first started out she’d worked with the DEA for a story and had learned far more than she’d ever thought.
They stayed until the two men left, then thankfully Bradford called it. “I say we get out of here and regroup. And you need to make contact with Kim. I want to see what she knows.”
“So…you’re going to look into this with me?” He’d been annoyingly vague about how long he was staying in town with her. Whenever she’d pressed him, he’d shrugged. “Don’t you have a job to get back to?”
“I’ll be staying as long as this takes. This is my new job for now.”
That wasn’t really an answer, but she didn’t want him to leave (not that she’d tell him that) so she didn’t push him any harder. It was nice having a partner, someone to have her back.
Moving quickly, they packed up and headed back the way they’d come.
“That was hotter than Afghanistan—and more humid.” Her groan might have been a little theatrical as she ripped off her balaclava then cranked up the AC as she swiped the sweaty strands of hair out of her face.
If she’d had time to put any makeup on earlier, it would have been gone. “And I need a shower.”
“I’d say it’s on par.” His tone was dry and he still seemed unaffected by the heat. “And yeah, you definitely do.”
“Hey!” She threw the face mask at him. “You’re not supposed to agree with me.”
Grinning in that way of his that had her wanting to take off the rest of her clothes, he simply shrugged and started the truck. “Just calling it like I see it.”
“Whatever… Are you sure you don’t need to answer that?
” Because hi s phone had been buzzing nonstop for the last couple hours and it was driving her crazy.
Was it that same woman still texting him from before?
The woman with the sexy name—Berlin. And seriously, why did she care? You know why you care, dummy.
He tossed her his phone. “Will you check it for me? I don’t want to look while I’m driving.”
He was going like five miles an hour down the bumpy access road, but fair. “You’re sure you don’t mind me looking at your texts?”
“It’s clear you want to.”
“What?” she practically sputtered.
He shrugged again, his expression maddeningly knowing.
But he wasn’t wrong. “Fine, what’s your code?”
“Your birthday.”
She blinked at him, had to stop her mouth from actually falling open. That she hadn’t been expecting, and she had no idea what to say to it. His code was… Her. Birthday.
“You have texts from… Oh my god, it’s all women.” Don’t get jealous, don’t have a tone, don’t sound annoyed , she ordered herself. Too late, she was irrationally annoyed. So irrational. But there it was.
“Let me guess, they’re from Berlin, Violet and Mari. And maybe Hailey. All happily married or engaged women. Except Violet…” He paused. “But something’s going on with her so that might be changing. You can read them if you want. Hell, read them out loud, it’ll save me time.”
Hope knew she should put his phone down, that she shouldn’t care about his life, but… Whatever, she was a journalist after all. She wanted to know everything about his life. “Mari is scary.”
“Very true.”
“She’s talking about dick-punching someone who pissed her off and says that she won’t be held responsible for her actions. She asks if you’ll be her alibi since her husband won’t be a realistic one.”
Bradford just snickered as he sped up onto the two-lane highway. “Sounds about right.”
“Violet is…telling you about flamingos and the most insane wedding she’s ever been involved in. Also, oh no, I don’t think I should be reading this. It’s too personal.”
“What is it? You can’t stop now.”
“Something about a one-night stand and how she hates herself because she wants more than one. And oh my god, now Berlin is talking about one of her sisters finally making good life choices and how it might be a sign of the apocalypse. You really are just friends with all these women.” The relief was almost dizzying. Which infuriated her.
“Told you. Nothing for you to be jealous about.”
“I’m not jealous!” Okay, she didn’t even believe herself at this point. Of course she was jealous. Bradford was incredible and kind and ugh. Stop it!
“Hmm. For the record, I’d be jealous if you were talking to a bunch of men.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that,” she murmured, setting his phone down.
She hated that she was so relieved that he wasn’t talking to some imaginary girlfriend she’d built up in her head.
And he’d even given her his phone code. Again, which was her birthday.
She wasn’t sure she’d fully processed that yet.
“Are you dating anyone right now?” he asked, and the question wasn’t as casual as she guessed he meant it to be.
“No.” The word came out more of a snort. She was too busy, had very little to give, and she was still married. Maybe only in name, but that didn’t matter to her. It would have felt too much like cheating to hook up with someone else while being technically married to Bradford.
Stupid? Sure, but she’d had more than a taste of him, and it was hard to go back to the nothingness of the “relationships” she’d had before him.
She’d somehow convinced herself that she’d built him up in her head, that he wasn’t as great as she remembered, but then he’d gone and shown up for her father’s funeral without her having to say anything.
And now he was helping her look into the mystery of whatever the heck was going on in her hometown.
And…fine, he was still as gorgeous as she remembered. Maybe even more so. He made it impossible to ignore how wonderful he was. And to forget how incredible their short time together had been.
She’d replayed that weekend over and over in her head so many times over the years, along with all the other times she’d spent with him prior to it. And he still lived up to the hype in her head.
But fairy-tale endings weren’t for her. He deserved more than what she had to offer. She was too broken inside, had nothing to give long-term. Because everyone eventually disappointed you.
That was just the way life was. And the truth was, she couldn’t handle being let down by Bradford, of being disappointed by him. That would crush her in a way nothing else could.
So she was holding the fantasy of him tight in her heart.