Chapter 13 #2
“You’d make an excellent forensic investigator,” I said, thinking of the attention to detail required in my old job.
He glanced up, a hint of surprise in his expression. “That sounds like the voice of experience.”
I hadn’t meant to reveal so much, but somehow, kneeling in the dirt looking for clues with this careful, thorough male, it felt safe to let a piece of my truth slip out.
“Before I was a deputy, I worked in forensic accounting.” Not a complete lie. “Finding patterns in financial data, tracking inconsistencies, building cases against people who thought they were too clever to get caught.”
“And were they too clever?”
“No one is if someone’s looking close enough.” I moved along the fence line, focusing on my search rather than his perceptive gaze. “Everyone leaves traces. It’s just a matter of knowing where to look.”
“Riley.” His voice softened. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
I stopped, my hand on the fence. “What do you mean?”
“I know a trained investigator when I see one. The way you assess rooms, how you interview witnesses, your awareness of exits and sight lines. That’s not something you pick up in basic police training.”
My heart thudded against my ribs. How much had he figured out? Was I so transparent, or was he just observant?
Before I could decide how to respond, Dungar called me over to the back corner of the enclosure. “Look at this.”
I joined him, crouching to see what he’d found. A small section of the fence had been carefully cut and then reattached with fine wire.
“Someone’s been inside.” I gently touched the cut edges. “Recently, too. The metal hasn’t had time to oxidize.”
“And look here.” He pointed to a faint impression in the soft earth inside the fence. “Boot print. Too large for a child, too small for an orc.”
“Human adult, then.”
“Yes.” His jaw tightened. “Not one of us. We use the gate.”
I studied the print, noting the distinctive tread pattern. “Hiking boot, good quality. Not what most tourists would wear for a day trip to a Wild West town.”
“No.” Dungar’s expression darkened. “It’s someone who came prepared.”
“For what, though?” I glanced at the frightened luminooks, still huddled together on the far side of the enclosure. “Why break into a pen full of glowing rodents?”
“I don’t know.” He stood, brushing off his hands. “But I intend to find out.”
We continued our search, moving from one enclosure to the next. Each pen showed similar signs, including carefully concealed entry points, minimal but distinctive footprints, and agitated luminooks. The systematic nature of it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“This wasn’t opportunistic,” I said as we examined the last enclosure. “Someone knew exactly what they were doing and took their time doing it.”
Dungar nodded. “Professional.”
The word hung between us, heavy with implication. Not tourists wandering where they shouldn’t. Not local kids causing mischief. People with unknown motives and the skills to avoid detection.
As we walked back toward the main gate, I found myself looking over my shoulder, a habit I’d thought I was breaking. The sense of being watched, of being hunted, came rushing back with nauseating familiarity.
“Are you alright?” Dungar asked, his hand sliding up to rest on my lower back.
“Fine.” The lie came automatically, a protective reflex.
“No, you’re not.” He stopped, turning to face me. “You recognize something about this, don’t you?”
The concern in his eyes broke something loose inside me. Here, surrounded by frightened creatures and evidence of methodical intrusion, my carefully constructed walls began to crumble.
“Not the specifics,” I said. “But the approach. The precision. The patience.” I took a deep breath. “It reminds me of what I was running from when I came here.”
His expression softened. “Tell me.”
And so I did. Right there among the luminook pens, with the sun climbing toward noon and the mountains watching silently in the distance, I told Dungar Bronish the truth I’d been hiding.
“My real name is Riley James, not Riley Smith. I was a forensic accountant for Blainsworth Industries, one of the largest financial conglomerates in the country. Two years ago, I discovered irregularities in their accounts. Money laundering, tax evasion, bribes to government officials. When I brought it to my supervisor’s attention, he thanked me, asked me to compile everything I’d found, and told me they’d handle it internally. ”
Dungar listened intently, his dark eyes never leaving my face.
“That night, I stayed late to finish the report. I overheard the CEO, Edgar Blainsworth, instructing security to find me and make sure I couldn’t cause problems. They were going to kill me, Dungar.”
His hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he remained silent, letting me continue.
“I grabbed what evidence I could and ran. I spent six hours hiding in a supply closet before I could escape the building. I carefully reached out to the FBI, and they contacted me two days later. It turns out they’d been building a case against Blainsworth for years, and my evidence was the missing piece they needed. ”
“So you testified against him,” Dungar said.
I nodded. “I entered witness protection. Spent two years in safe houses, always moving, never staying anywhere long enough to build connections. The trial ended three months ago. Blainsworth went to prison, but his sons vowed revenge. They have resources, contacts. The Marshals decided I needed a new life somewhere remote.”
“And they sent you here.”
“It’s a small town with minimal connections to the outside world. They knew I could maintain a low profile. It seemed perfect.” I released a hollow laugh. “I was supposed to be safe here.”
Dungar stepped closer, his big frame blocking the sun, casting me in his shadow. “You are safe here,” he said with such fierce conviction that I almost believed him. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
His certainty washed over me. “You can’t promise that.”
“I can.” He took my hands in his, engulfing them completely. “Riley, protecting this town and its people is what I do. My systems, my preparations… They aren’t just quirks or habits. They’re how I keep everyone safe.”
I shook my head. “Blainsworth’s sons have resources you can’t imagine. Private security, hackers, people who specialize in making problems disappear.” Like me, I didn’t add.
“And I have seven brothers with combat training, a town full of people who look out for each other, and security protocols that account for every possible scenario.” His thumb traced circles on my palm.
“The first night you were here, I updated all our defensive systems to include scenarios involving professional trackers and corporate enforcers.”
I blinked up at him. “You…what?”
“I knew you were running from something the moment I saw you.” His dark eyes held mine. “The way you cataloged exits, how you positioned yourself in rooms, your reluctance to have your photo taken. Those aren’t casual habits. So I adapted my security measures accordingly.”
“You’ve been preparing to protect me since day one?”
“Of course.” He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Though I admit, I didn’t anticipate corporate assassins. My initial assessment leaned more toward domestic violence or organized crime.”
A laugh escaped me, half-disbelief, half-relief. “You’re something else, Dungar Bronish.”
“I’m thorough.” His expression loosened. “And now that I know what we’re facing, I can be even more so.”
He released my hands and pulled his phone from his pocket, thumbing through what looked like hundreds of files before stopping on one labeled “External Threat Protocols: High-Level Resources.”
“See? I’ve mapped every entrance to Lonesome Creek, established surveillance points, created emergency response procedures.
” He scrolled through pages of diagrams, contingency plans, and even what looked like topographical maps with defensive positions marked.
“I designed this system after watching The Bourne Identity and realizing how many gaps existed in our security.”
The care he’d taken and the sheer amount of thought he’d put into keeping everyone safe made my throat tight with emotion.
“You did all this before you even knew me.”
“I did it because it’s who I am.” He tucked his phone away. “But I would do far more now that I do know you.”
The strength in his eyes made my heart skip. Before I could respond, his phone rang.
He frowned at it. “Ruugar.” Answering, he put it on speaker.
“Dungar?” Ruugar’s voice came through, tight with urgency. “We’ve got a situation at the wild colony site. Can you get over here?”
Dungar growled. “What’s happened?”
“Three of the blue-spined younglings are missing.”
“We’re on our way.” Dungar ended the call and slid his phone into his pocket, meeting my eyes. “We’ve got a big problem.”
“Agreed.”
As we hurried back toward the gate, a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. The careful fence cuts, the professional approach, and the frightened animals…
“This isn’t a coincidence.” My investigator’s mind was already connecting the dots.
“No.” Dungar’s expression hardened. “Someone is targeting the luminooks. And now they’ve taken three.”
The implications hung in the air as we locked the gate behind us. If professionals had tracked down rare creatures from the orc kingdom, what else might they be hunting?
Including me.