Chapter 25
Wes watched Rowan disappear from the office.
Tonight had changed the shape of things.
Someone had known where he and Rowan were tonight. This person had shot at them. That thought kept circling back. None of this was coincidence or random.
It was deliberate.
Wes stared at the security feed again.
Rowan had told him the truth. Every instinct he had said so. The part he couldn’t shake wasn’t Thayer Holt’s death.
It was Vince’s reaction.
From the sound of it, he hadn’t panicked. He hadn’t appeared confused or hesitant.
Instead, he’d calculated how to handle things. He’d acted as if covering up a body was a problem he already knew how to solve.
Wes grabbed his phone. He had a former colleague in California who worked for the US Marshals. The two of them hadn’t spoken in a while, but his friend owed him one.
Need a favor. Call when you can.
He sent the text then shoved the phone back into his pocket. Maybe his friend could help him find some of the answers they so desperately needed.
Wes awoke early the next morning.
Caleb had offered to let him stay the night at Refuge Cove. Since he didn’t have his truck, he’d agreed. Plus, he felt better being closer to Rowan.
By the time he emerged from his room, the house was already awake.
He heard movement in the kitchen—coffee brewing, cabinet doors opening and shutting.
When his phone rang, he detoured onto the porch to answer.
Reed Calloway was calling him back. Perfect.
The two had actually talked last night, and Wes had given him a rundown of the situation. He’d also explained the urgency of it.
Wes leaned a shoulder against the porch post. “What’d you find?”
He knew Reed had found something. It was only five a.m. in California. That was the only reason Reed would still be up.
“I found enough to tell you your instincts are probably right.” Papers shifted on the other end of the line. “Vince Furlough’s name has surfaced around three investigations in the last six years. No charges were filed. We’re assuming there were NDAs and quiet settlements.”
“I expected that much.”
Another rustle of papers sounded in the background. “But there’s something else you need to know about Furlough. In the past, he’s hired private security through a company called Blackthorne Risk Management. They’re mostly ex-military contractors.”
Wes’s jaw tightened. The shooter on the mountain suddenly felt a whole lot less random.
“Wes, if this woman is on Furlough’s bad side, she needs to be careful. He thinks of himself as a god, and he’s determined not to let anyone bring him down. Men like that rarely handle problems themselves.”
“No, they send someone else.”
“Exactly.”
Movement at the end of the driveway caught Wes’s attention.
A dark blue sedan eased through the gate.
Remington lifted his head.
Wes looked toward the vehicle as it rolled slowly toward the house.
A moment later, Ruby King climbed out then retrieved two paper bags and a basket full of . . . something.
Even from a distance, she looked like someone bringing warmth and comfort with her.
“I’ll keep digging,” Reed said. “But watch your perimeter.”
“Will do.”
The line disconnected.
Wes lowered the phone.
Watch your perimeter.
As if he’d been doing anything else since his life and Rowan’s had intersected again.