Chapter 1 #2
She studied me for a moment, something soft and unreadable in her dark brown eyes.
Her gaze traced over my biceps, following the twisting ink that wrapped around my forearms, then settled on my hands wrapped around the glass.
I could feel her taking in my size and the way I took up so much space on her small porch.
When her gaze shifted back to meet mine, color rose in her cheeks. "Why are you so nice to us?"
The question caught me off guard. I took another sip of tea, buying myself time to figure out how to answer that without sounding like exactly the kind of creep I'd insisted I wasn't.
"You're my neighbor," I said finally. "And you've got enough on your plate without worrying about porch lights and bike chains."
She shuffled a little closer, just enough that the scent of something warm and faintly floral drifted over. I had a sudden, vivid thought of reaching out. Of brushing one of those loose curls back from her face. Of letting my thumb trace the curve of her jaw. I locked my muscles and didn't move.
Before she could respond, the sound of rattling metal announced Lucas's arrival. He came around the corner of the house, walking his bike, frustration written all over his face.
“The chain slipped again," he muttered, not looking at either of us.
I set down my glass and headed his way, grateful for a reason to focus on something other than the woman standing too close and smelling too good.
"Let me see."
He hesitated, then handed over the bike. I flipped it upside down and knelt next to it, examining the chain. It had come completely off the gears, probably from being too loose for too long.
"You got any tools?" I asked Lucas.
“No.”
“My toolbox is sitting on the work bench in my garage. If you want to go grab it, I’ll show you how to fix it. Bring the can of WD-40 too.”
Lucas jogged off toward my garage, and Marisol came up behind me.
"You really don't have to do this," she said.
"I know.”
Lucas came back with what I’d asked for, and I guided him through threading the chain back on, how to adjust the tension, and how to clean and oil it so it wouldn't keep slipping.
He paid attention, his earlier frustration giving way to focus. I'd worked with enough young men during my Army days to recognize the signs of someone who could use a steady hand and a little patience.
When we finished, Lucas tested the pedals. The chain held, smooth and quiet.
"Thanks, Mr. Stone." He glanced at Marisol. "Can I go over to Derek's?"
She checked her watch. “It’s almost time for dinner.”
“We have a big project we have to work on. I can eat when I get home.”
“Fine. Be back by nine.”
“Okay.” He hopped on the bike and took off, throwing a wave over his shoulder.
I stood and wiped my hands on my jeans, aware of Marisol watching me.
"He doesn't open up to many people," she said. "But he seems comfortable with you."
“He’s a good kid.”
She smiled, but her eyes still seemed sad. "His friends have been... I don't know. Different lately. He's been staying out later and gets annoyed when I pry. I'm probably just paranoid, but..."
"Trust your gut," I said. "If something feels off, it probably is." I knew that from being the kid who kept secrets and caused Mama Mae more than a few gray hairs.
She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself despite the early spring heat. The movement pulled the scrubs tighter across her body, pulling my attention to her waist again. I forced myself to study the sunset instead of the swell of her hips.
"Stay for dinner," she said offered. "Please. It's just tacos, nothing fancy, but I'd like to thank you for your help with my tire, the lightbulb, and now helping Lucas.”
Every instinct I had told me to say no. Sitting at her table, sharing a meal, pretending to be something more than the neighbor who fixed things… that would be crossing the line I'd been careful to stay far away from.
"I appreciate the offer, but I should get back. I’ve got some things to take care of before dark."
"Of course." Her forehead furrowed and her lips softened into a frown as she headed back to the porch and picked up the glasses from the railing. "Thanks again for everything."
"Anytime."
I picked up my toolbox and headed home, feeling her eyes on me the whole way.
Before the last bit of daylight disappeared, I fed the horses, then cleaned up and reheated a leftover piece of lasagna. The whole time, I couldn’t stop looking out of the window that faced her house.
The porch light came on. Through her side window, I could see her moving around the kitchen. A spot under my ribs ached, but I told myself to leave it alone. To stop watching. To stop caring more than a neighbor should.
So I washed my dishes and stepped out onto the porch to distract myself by checking on the stars.
They weren’t nearly as bright on the edge of Valor Springs as they were back in Broken Bend where I’d grown up, but there was something about being able to find the north star no matter where I was that made me feel at peace.
As soon as I stepped outside, the soft rumble of a car engine came from down the road. A dark sedan with tinted windows and lights off sat to one side. Something about the way it just sat there—waiting—made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I grabbed my phone and took a photo of the license plate, zooming in as much as I could. The car didn't move. Just sat there for another five minutes before finally pulling away, slow and deliberate, like whoever was behind the wheel wanted me to know they weren’t afraid.
Unease settled in my gut.
Not even two minutes later, my phone pinged with a text from Gray, the founder of Lone Star Security.
Gray: Potential collateral in Valor Springs. Check your email.
I stared at the message, my jaw tight, hoping for once that my instincts were wrong.
Once I logged into the portal, I skimmed over the encrypted email.
According to Gray, Lucas Vega had been running packages for a development firm.
Small-time stuff, but the firm has connections to some serious players.
He saw something he shouldn't have, and the higher ups weren’t going to let it slide.
I closed my eyes for half a heartbeat, refusing to let myself skip ahead. This was going to kill Marisol. She’d suspected something was going on, but Lucas was way in over his head.
The email continued with a personal note from Gray.
I know this isn't ideal, but you're the best option. Keep the sister safe until we can neutralize the threat and watch your six.
My assignment wasn’t protecting Lucas Vega. It was protecting Marisol.
I pushed back from the table and walked to the window. Her porch light was still on. Through the glass, I could see her at the kitchen table, a laptop open in front of her, her head bent over her work. She had no idea.
The girl next door was now my job.