Chapter 19
Riley
The sizzle of meat hitting hot metal filled the evening air as Dungar carefully arranged the steaks on the gleaming new grill.
His movements were precise, each piece of meat placed at exactly the same distance from the others, creating a perfect grid pattern across the cooking surface.
The grill itself was a high-end stainless-steel model with temperature zones and a built-in thermometer.
The assembly instructions folded in perfect thirds sat on the side table.
“When did you get this?” I asked, leaning against the deck railing with a glass of iced tea in my hand. The sunset painted the mountains in shades of pink and gold, and I couldn’t stop staring.
Dungar didn’t look up as he turned each steak. “It arrived this morning.”
Yesterday, I’d mentioned over breakfast how much I missed grilled food, the smoky flavor that reminded me of summers with my parents before everything fell apart.
I hadn’t expected him to do anything with that information.
It was just conversation, the kind of casual sharing that happened between people living in the same house.
Yet here he was, grilling steaks on equipment he’d clearly never used before, consulting a laminated recipe card he’d created with temperature charts and cooking times for different levels of doneness.
“You bought this because I said I liked grilled food?” I tried to keep my voice casual, though heat unfurled in my chest.
His eyes flicked to mine, then back to the steaks. “You seemed wistful when you talked about it.” He adjusted the flame. “I thought you might enjoy having it again.”
“Thank you.” The words felt insufficient, but they were all I had.
He glanced up, his dark eyes holding mine. “You’re welcome.”
I watched him work, admiring the careful attention he gave to each detail. The way he checked the temperature gauge every thirty seconds, the precise timing of each flip, the meticulous application of seasoning. All of it spoke to the care he brought to everything he did.
“I never took you for a grill master,” I said, moving closer to peek at the steaks. “Where did you learn this?”
“MeTube.” A smile teased at the corners of his mouth. “Seventeen instructional videos and four articles on optimal grilling techniques.”
I laughed, the sound carrying across the open field beyond his house. “Let me guess. You took notes?”
“Naturally.” His deadpan delivery broke when I snorted, his own deep chuckle joining mine. “Is this excessive?”
“It’s perfectly you.” I bumped my shoulder against his arm. “And that’s exactly right.”
His eyes softened in a way that made my heart flutter. For a moment, we stood side by side, the sizzle of cooking meat and the distant call of birds the only sounds between us. The silence felt comfortable, like we’d been sharing evenings this way for years instead of days.
I found myself wishing we had been.
The thought was dangerous, like all the others I’d been having lately. Thoughts about permanence. About belonging. About what it might be like to wake up beside Dungar every morning, not just during this temporary arrangement, but always.
We hadn’t asked if the plumbing in my hotel room had been fixed. I suspected neither of us wanted to know.
Since our encounter in the hallway, we hadn’t shared more than kisses. I’d fallen asleep in his arms each night, and woken the same way, but nothing more had happened. I wasn’t sure what I thought about that.
Dungar transferred the steaks to plates, adding potatoes.
“The steak is medium-rare,” he said, handing me one. “As requested.”
“You remembered.” I accepted the plate, our fingers brushing.
“I remember everything about you.” The simple statement, delivered as if it was the most obvious fact in the world, stole my breath.
We ate at the outdoor table, the setting sun warming our backs. Dungar had prepared a salad to accompany the steaks, each ingredient cut into identically sized pieces. The meal was delicious, the steak cooked exactly as I liked it.
“This is amazing,” I said between bites. “For someone who just learned to grill, you’re a natural.”
“I follow instructions well. Though I may have overcooked yours slightly. The center should be exactly 135 degrees for true medium-rare.”
“I love it.” I reached out to touch his hand lying on the table beside my plate. “Really.”
He turned his palm up, capturing my fingers in his. “I wanted it to be special, because you deserve everything wonderful.”
No one had ever looked at me the way Dungar did, like I was something precious, something worth preserving.
It terrified me how much I wanted to believe him, how easy it would be to let myself fall completely for this meticulous, gentle giant of an orc who bought grills because I mentioned liking the taste of food cooked over flames.
Later, we cleaned up together, falling into the same rhythm we’d established. I washed while he dried, each dish placed in its exact spot in the cabinets. When our hands accidentally touched beneath the water, neither of us pulled away.
“Dungar,” I said softly when we’d finished.
He leaned toward me, his dark eyes reflecting the kitchen lights. “Yes?”
Words caught in my throat, questions about what was happening between us, fears about what it might mean, hopes I barely dared let myself dwell on. Instead, I stretched up on my toes and pressed my lips to his.
He responded right away, one hand coming up to cup my face while the other settled at the back of my waist. The kiss felt like a question at first. When I deepened it, parting my lips to invite him in, he groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me.
We broke apart, both breathing hard.
“I should finish putting away the dishes,” he said, though he made no move to let me go.
“They can wait.” I leaned into him, feeling the solid warmth of his chest against mine.
His eyes darkened. “Riley…”
Whatever he might have said was lost when his phone rang, the sharp sound cutting through the moment. He reluctantly released me to answer it, his expression shifting from tender to professional as he listened to whoever was on the other end.
“Understood. We’ll handle it first thing tomorrow.” He ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “That was Ruugar. They’ve found evidence of another intrusion at the luminook pens.”
Reality crashed back, reminding me why I couldn’t afford to get lost in whatever was building between us. “Same pattern?”
He nodded. “We’ll need to move quickly.”
Just like that, the moment was gone, replaced by the familiar tension of an investigation. But as we finished putting away the dishes, the memory of his lips on mine lingered, a ghost of possibility I couldn’t quite shake.
Morning light streamed through the kitchen windows as I sipped my coffee, watching Dungar organize his notes from yesterday’s surveillance.
“So Mary and Ava had tea together at the saloon,” he said, consulting one of the pages. “Then Mary left town in her truck while Ava returned to her room at the hotel.”
I nodded, setting my mug on the coaster. “They appeared friendly but not particularly secretive. Their conversation seemed casual from what I could observe through the window.”
“Yet Joyce’s phone call was anything but casual.” Dungar frowned, tapping his pen against his notepad exactly three times. “‘Everything’s proceeding as planned’ and ‘Tomorrow night is our best window’ doesn’t sound innocent.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I pushed my hair back from my face. “But we still can’t confirm they’re working together or exactly what they’re planning.”
Dungar’s methodical mind had already mapped out the connections on a chart he’d created last night after I’d gone to bed. Three names—Mary, Ava, Joyce—each with bullet points of suspicious activities beneath them, linked by red lines indicating possible collaborations.
“We need more,” he said. “Concrete evidence.”
“Then let’s get it. We know they’re likely planning something for tonight. Let’s set up more surveillance on the luminook pens and catch them in the act.”
“And view the surveillance footage we set up at all entrances to the maintenance shed. Someone ordered that cage and they’ll be back for it.”
We spent the next hour planning the operation, with Dungar creating a detailed map of the area, marking optimal observation points with small Xs. I contributed suggestions on rotations and backup positions, drawing from my years of investigative experience.
“If we position ourselves here,” I pointed to a small ridge overlooking the pens, “we’ll have sight lines to all three access points. And your brothers can cover these areas.” I indicated the perimeter points we’d identified as vulnerable.
Dungar nodded, adding my suggestions to his map. “Perfect. We’ll need communication equipment. I have radio headsets with encrypted channels.”
“You’re always prepared.”
His expression softened, and he covered my hand with his.
“While we wait for nightfall, I want to dig deeper into Sillavar Research,” I said, reluctantly pulling my hand away. “Something about that name keeps nagging at me.”
Dungar cleared a space at the table, setting up his laptop. “What do you need?”
“Access to financial databases would be ideal, but I can work with public records for now.”
He pushed the laptop toward me. “I have subscriptions to several research databases through the sheriff’s office. Will those help?”
I couldn’t hold back a grin. “You really do think of everything.”
For the next several hours, I immersed myself in following the money.
My years as a forensic accountant had honed my ability to see patterns in data that others might miss, to connect disparate pieces of information into a coherent whole.
Dungar worked beside me, organizing equipment for the stakeout while occasionally glancing over to check my progress.
“Found something,” I finally said, sitting back as pieces clicked into place. “Sillavar Research is a biotech company specializing in revolutionary medical imaging technology.”
Dungar moved to stand behind me, his large frame radiating warmth against my back as he leaned down to see the screen. “What kind of imaging?”
“That’s where it gets interesting.” I scrolled through a press release dated three months ago.
“They’re developing what they call a ‘groundbreaking bioluminescent compound’ for non-invasive diagnostics.
According to this, it could revolutionize how doctors visualize tissues because it doesn’t need radiation or contrast agents. ”
“Bioluminescent.” Dungar’s voice deepened. “Like the luminooks.”
“Exactly.” I clicked through to another page showing a corporate photo of smiling scientists in a state-of-the-art lab.
“If they’re involved in whatever’s going on, they could be after the luminooks’ unique glowing properties.
The genetic material could be worth millions in pharmaceutical applications. ”
Dungar was quiet for a moment. “So we’re looking at corporate espionage, not some connection to your past?”
The relief in his voice mirrored what I felt. If this was about the luminooks themselves, not about me, then maybe I wasn’t putting everyone in danger by being here. Maybe the Blainsworth sons didn’t know where I was hiding.
“It’s possible,” I said. “Though we can’t rule anything out completely yet.”
As we continued preparing for the stakeout, we moved in sync, anticipating each other’s needs without having to voice them. When I reached for a pen, Dungar was ready to set one in my hand. When he needed the topographical map, I’d already unfolded it to the correct section.
He handed me a mug of fresh coffee. I passed him the red marker right as he finished with the blue, knowing his color-coding system by heart now.
“You remembered I like the east vantage point,” he said when I marked it as his position on the stakeout map.
“Of course.” I glanced up to find him watching me, his dark eyes filled with something that made my heart stutter. “What?”
“Nothing.” He smiled, the expression transforming his usually serious face. “It’s just nice to be known.”
Wasn’t that what everyone wanted, deep down? And somehow, in the span of less than two weeks, this methodical, careful orc had come to know me better than people I’d been close to for years.
I knew him well. The way he tapped his pen three times before starting a new section of notes.
How he arranged his equipment by size and function.
The slight furrow that appeared between his brows when he was thinking.
I’d cataloged these details without conscious thought, storing them away like treasures.
As afternoon faded to evening and we made our final preparations for the stakeout, I caught him watching me again. This time, the tenderness in his gaze couldn’t be missed, and it sent warmth rushing through me that had nothing to do with the coffee I’d been drinking.
“You’re remarkable,” he said. “The way your mind works, how quickly you process information. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
The quiet admiration in his voice made my chest tighten. “I could say the same about you.”
We stood there, the air between us charged with unspoken feelings, until the alarm on his phone chimed, reminding us it was time to gather the equipment and head out. We’d planned to add more surveillance cameras, then head back to the jail to watch, see if we could catch anyone on camera.
As we loaded the truck with the gear, it felt like we’d been partners for years, not only a short time. I loved how natural it felt.
And that terrified me more than any corporate thief or Blainsworth hitman ever could, because I didn’t do long-term. I couldn’t. Not without risking the man I was coming to love.
The thought froze me in place as I handed Dungar the last of the night vision equipment. Was that what this feeling was, this sense of rightness, of belonging, of finally finding a place where all my broken pieces fit?
If it was, I was in more danger than I’d ever been.
Because loving Dungar Bronish meant giving him my heart.
And hearts, once given, left you vulnerable in ways no amount of running could protect you from.