Chapter 24
This was bad.
“You both need to stay here.” Scott took Tori’s phone.
“Amy, this is Scott Sinclair. You need protection tonight. I’m calling a friend there in Knoxville to come stay with you.
When he arrives, ask him what the code is, and if he says anything other than ‘It’s a lovely day for a stroll,’ call the police.
Your reply will be ‘Only if you’re a duck. ’”
“Got it.”
“No.” Tori was already shaking her head. “Whoever’s doing this is serious—I’m not risking your life or Amy’s.”
“We’ll discuss it tomorrow.” While he understood Tori’s desire to not put anyone in harm’s way, he wasn’t letting her face this alone.
Especially since there was a possibility that Scott had brought the danger to her.
He hadn’t heard any chatter that his location was known, but he wasn’t taking any chances with her safety.
“And you’re not getting rid of me.” Amy’s voice rang strong from the speaker. “We’re in this together.”
“Good,” he said. “Talk to Tori for a sec.”
Scott handed Tori her phone and took out his own. In less than five minutes, he’d connected with his friend Caleb Jackson in Knoxville and set up the meeting with Amy. “Call me after you make contact.”
Once Caleb assured him that he would, Scott disconnected and turned back to Tori, who was trying to talk her friend out of coming to Logan Point.
“You need to let the police in Knoxville find you a safe house.”
“Sorry. I like Scott’s solution better.”
He admired the determination in Amy’s voice. “Thanks,” he said. “Caleb Jackson should be there in the next half hour, and he’ll follow you to Logan Point tomorrow. We’ll be waiting for you at Oak Grove, Nick and Taylor’s house.”
“No,” Tori said. “We’re staying at her aunt’s house.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Scott replied. “My brother’s house is a more secure location. Amy, you need to come to Oak Grove—you know where it is?”
“I do.”
“Good. See you tomorrow.”
Tori pocketed her phone and eyed him. “Where’s that food you were talking about? I’m starving now.”
His jaw dropped. Tori Mitchell could go from infuriating to making him laugh in five seconds. He palmed his hand toward the house. “After you—just follow the brick path.”
He followed her as she rolled her small bag toward the house, the wheels clacking on the bricks. Once inside, it didn’t take him long to lay out the bread and shaved beef from the refrigerator. “I think there are chips here.” He opened the cabinet and held up a package. “Or walnuts, if you prefer.”
“I prefer.” She grinned at him. “Healthier.”
He eyed her trim figure. “Don’t tell me—you’re a health nut.”
“You might say that—if eating fruits and vegetables and nuts qualifies. I suppose you like chips and high-calorie desserts.”
“Give me a fudge brownie over brussels sprouts any day.”
She burst out laughing. “You got me there—so would I.”
Her laughter unleashed the tension in his body. In spite of their differences, sometimes they clicked like interlocking puzzle pieces. And that set off a warning in his head.
Tori took a deep breath and slowly released it. “It feels good to laugh. Thank you.”
“I’m glad I was able to accommodate.” He handed her a plate with a sandwich and a mixture of chips and walnuts, then held up a tomato. “And I have veggies . . . well, technically I believe this is a fruit. Would you like a slice for your sandwich?”
She nodded. Scott sliced the tomato and added half to her plate.
“Some would debate you on whether it was a fruit or vegetable,” Tori said. “Either way, I love ’em.”
He found himself enjoying being around her. Which wouldn’t do. He was going back to undercover work, and that was no life for a married man. Marriage? He almost dropped the knife. Where had that come from?
“I love this kitchen,” Tori said. “Did Taylor keep the tongue-and-groove floors throughout the house?”
He nodded. “They have some kind of oil on them.”
“Linseed.” She nodded toward the sink. “Is that the original copper sink?”
“Good question.” He handed her a cloth napkin. “I think she kept as many of the original features that she could. I know she and Nick refinished the oak cabinets.”
“They’re beautiful. So where did you say Nick and Taylor are?”
“Tour for Nick’s book that just released.”
Tori tilted her head. “Have you ever thought about writing? I bet you have some experiences that would make good stories.”
He’d thought about it and promptly dismissed it. “I’m more of an outdoor person. Don’t think I have the discipline to sit behind a computer all day.”
“I think you’d have the discipline to do anything you wanted to do.”
Tori’s soft words hung in the air between them, sending a dart straight to his heart. It’d been a long time since a woman had looked beyond his outward appearance.
She caught her breath, and red crept into her face. “I-I mean, you strike me as that type.”
The words touched him even more because he was pretty sure she hadn’t intended to say them. “It might be true if I wanted to write, but one author in the family is enough.” He nodded toward the deck. “Do you want to sit outside or here at the island?”
“Outside, if you don’t care.”
That suited him. It should be safe enough—the house was surrounded by thick timberland that Nick had enclosed with a fence from the road to the lake. A person would have to walk a long way in thick undergrowth and trees to get to the house. “I’ll take our plates if you’ll bring the glasses of tea.”
Scott flipped a switch, and a soft light enveloped them as they stepped outside to the screened-in deck. Once he set their plates on the round table, he pulled out her chair before sitting.
“Thank you.” She set their glasses beside the plates.
She sounded surprised, but he didn’t comment. They ate quietly, the silence broken only by the lonesome notes of a whippoorwill.
“It’s been forever since I heard a whippoorwill.” She cocked her ear. “Or a katydid.”
“Katydid?” Scott frowned, then nodded. “Oh . . . cicada.”
“Yeah, but we never called them that. How far does their property go?”
“They have twenty acres that run all the way to the river and lake. When you add her mother’s place, they have a hundred acres.”
“I noticed a lot of lights on the left side of the road before we got here. Is it a subdivision?”
He nodded. Tori seemed to not want a lull in the conversation. “Realtors have tried to buy their property, but they don’t want to sell.”
“Why not? Oh, never mind. I wouldn’t sell, either.” She picked up a walnut, nibbled it, then raised her head and cleared her throat. “I, ah . . . thanks for all you’ve done.”
Ah, now he understood why it seemed as though she was filling the time with small talk. Tori wasn’t used to someone coming to her rescue, and she didn’t quite know how to handle it. “Not a problem.”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“I don’t understand.” Scott shifted in his chair under the frank gaze of her blue eyes.
“Why are you helping me? What’s your angle?”
“I don’t have one.” He didn’t understand why she was suspicious. “Why wouldn’t I help? Someone is out to get you, and I can’t stand by and let that happen.”