Chapter 14
The only time he hated the low rumble of his Ducati was when he navigated along the woodsy, serene private road of Cedar Trails Lodge.
Patrons visited this region to escape the rest of the world.
Remi—through Evelyn Monroe’s direction—even insisted that her husband, Hawk Beckett, operate his helicopter-tour package out of Forestview, though it was part of the lodge’s offerings.
Guests came for the sounds of nature—wind, rain, and crashing waves—nothing more.
Braden was unapologetic as he pulled into a parking spot.
Unfortunately, he had no news to deliver to Cressida regarding the identity or capture of her attacker or discovery of her missing laptop.
But through his connections, he’d learned that her father had been hit by a taxi while crossing the street.
That wasn’t a fact Cressida expected to hear from him.
She had to know that already. But what he couldn’t figure out was why Octavia thought her ex-husband’s death was suspicious.
Braden was waiting on the report from the ME for more information about Alaric’s cause of death, because there was more to this story.
Sliding off his bike, he removed his helmet and set it next to the extra one he’d brought for Cressida. He didn’t think Sheriff Thatcher would approve, but who was Braden to turn down such an adventurous proposition.
Cressida had nailed it when she mentioned that Braden was an unconventional detective.
You have no idea.
He was fortunate he even had a legitimate reason to spend time with Cressida due to the investigation into her attacker.
At the end of the day, Cressida was his whole purpose for being here, and if he had to ignore professional etiquette—like having dinner, taking her on his motorcycle—he would do what had to be done.
He was beyond caring about decorum.
Take that, Octavia.
He would do whatever it took to protect Cressida from unknown danger potentially related to her father’s research because he was here in this situation under peculiar circumstances, and he could get no definite answers from her mother.
Striding toward the lodge, he adjusted his leather jacket.
All good reasons to be here. But . . . maybe he was here for himself too. In fact, he’d be here if for no other reason than to take this woman for a ride on his bike. His better self warned him . . .
Get answers and get out. That’s your only play here, dude.
He entered the lodge and glanced around the mostly empty place. Everyone was outside enjoying what remained of this glorious day. The kind of day created for the perfect bike ride. Remi smiled and approached from behind the registration counter.
“Detective.” She emphasized his title.
Was she onto him? Thinking he might be personally interested in Cressida? Did she, too, believe he was playing with fire? “Remi. Any news on Cressida’s interview with Mrs. Monroe?”
“It’s Cressida now, is it, Detective?” She blinked in a sarcastic way.
Braden said nothing to that. She might twist anything he could say into something else. He was obviously already in trouble. He glanced up the stairway. Where is she? Then looked back to Remi to wait for her answer.
“No. She’s out of town, according to her new assistant, Madeline Chase.”
“Yeah, about her. What’s your impression?”
“Are you working? Is this detective business? Because you look like you’re on a date.”
“I wear this when I ride my motorcycle.”
“Ooh, a motorcycle date.”
He wasn’t escaping this. Cressida had suggested dinner. He’d brought it up again. Then Cressida had been the one to suggest the motorcycle. One thing had led to another. As for her other question . . . “I’m always working. So . . . Madeline Chase?”
“I’m not sure what I think of her yet. I haven’t had that much interaction with her. She’s definitely a gatekeeper. Very formal and unemotional and distant.”
“So you don’t like her,” Braden said.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t you?”
Braden didn’t hear anything else Remi said as he focused on the woman coming down the open stairwell—all bouncing red curls and intense bright-green eyes dancing around the room. Then they landed on him, and the air rushed out of his lungs. And she hadn’t even smiled yet.
He kept his expression flat. Hardest thing he’d done in a while.
Though he felt like he’d known her for well over a year now, he’d only just met this woman, and he had to shake off the effect she had on him.
He didn’t know her. She was a stranger. So what if he’d seen that photograph in Octavia’s office?
Cressida approached and stood next to Remi as she smiled at Braden. She looked nothing like a woman who’d been attacked four days ago.
You look beautiful. That’s what a guy would say on a date. But not here and not now, in front of Remi.
And this wasn’t a date. Was he lying to himself?
“Have you heard anything from Mrs. Monroe?” Cressida asked Remi. “The sooner I get the interview, the sooner I can get answers and get out of your hair.”
“You’re not in my hair. We love our guests. But no, not yet. She’s traveling.”
“Do you know when she’ll be back?” Cressida asked.
“I’ll let you know when I find out.” Remi smiled, then excused herself.
A confused frown emerging, Cressida watched her walk away, then glanced at Braden. “I take it she isn’t fond of the gatekeeper either. Well, there are always other ways to get through.” She smiled again. “Are you ready?”
Couldn’t be more ready.
“Let’s go.” He walked with her, opened the door for her, then at his motorcycle, he handed off the extra helmet.
Cressida put it on like a pro. “Are we going to eat first? Or are you taking me for a joyride?”
He grinned. “Which would you prefer?”
“A short joyride, and then we can eat. Our time is limited, I’m afraid.”
Well, she might have just taken all the joy out of it with that.
This isn’t a date, remember?
He got on the bike, and she climbed on behind him, and the space was tight. Then she wrapped her arms around him, and he tried to ignore his pounding heart.
What was he doing?
Protecting her. The only way he knew how.
Getting close enough to do it was a huge issue.
He was glad they’d planned this, considering she texted that someone had followed her and watched her in town.
The Timberbrook County Sheriff’s Office was processing the image within the limits of privacy laws.
If that got him nowhere, he might send it through DSS channels—this was Octavia Dane’s daughter, after all.
Braden took the twists and turns at reduced speeds. Enjoyed the blue sky, the thick evergreens lining the road, and . . . the feel of her arms around him. Yes, he enjoyed that too. Having her riding with him made him realize just how lonely he was.
For too long he’d been living life as a bachelor. Unfortunately, just when he found someone who took his breath away, the relationship was over before it could truly begin. Someone stood between Braden and Cressida.
He hated to end the joyride, but it was time to head over to the small mom-and-pop café—Lucio’s Bistro—in Forestview.
At least he could still look forward to sitting across the table from her and learning as much as he could about her, and possibly more that could help him protect her.
Anyone who could walk away from a person like Octavia Dane, especially as a daughter, deserved his utmost respect and admiration.