Chapter 2 #3
But now, his job required him to be under her roof, and the sheer proximity was already pushing his self-control to its absolute limits.
“I’ve slept in dirt trenches and on the metal decks of patrol boats.” Brayden shrugged. “This kitchen floor is no problem.”
She stared. “You’d actually do it.”
In a heartbeat.
“I’m not taking any chances with you.” He studied her. “Would you be comfortable in the double suite upstairs?” The room he was thinking of had two queen beds and plenty of space. It left him a bit further from the likely access points, but it kept Veronica away from those same potential threats.
She blinked. “You’ve done your homework.
” Shaking her head, she made a noise he couldn’t decipher.
Something caught between amusement and dismay.
Holding his gaze, she squared her shoulders.
“We’ll share the suite down here,” she stated.
“We added an oversized chair that unfolds to a full bed.” She held up a hand before he could speak.
“I’ll take the chair. You do not get to argue with me on that.
Trust me, it’s no hardship. That fold-out is fabulous.
And look at yourself, your frame needs the bigger bed. ”
He chuckled. She glared. He laughed outright. “I’m allowed to be impressed by your commitment to hospitality.”
Her mouth twisted. “You know Celeste and her standards. It’s a whole process.”
“And you never do anything halfway.” He’d seen her apply that focus and intensity time and again.
Feeling more at ease on familiar ground, he took his bags into the suite and got comfortable.
He changed into cargo pants and a clean t-shirt, then armed himself with a few essential items. He familiarized himself with the layout and checked the lock on the exterior door.
When he spotted the sheets and pillow for the chair-bed on the shelf in the closet, he made up the bed for her.
Back in the kitchen, Roni had sandwiches plated and bowls ready for them at the island.
The Hideaway kitchen was grand and a top selling-point of their rental.
Well-designed, the space was a beautiful blend of commercial-grade appliances and relaxed Southern charm.
As they sat down, he noticed the slight tremor in her hands.
She was putting on a brave face, but the stress was still there.
“We’ll get through this,” he murmured.
Her brave smile wobbled. “Thanks. My mind keeps replaying that moment with the survey team. I was so mad. I… I put myself in a bad situation. What was I thinking? It could’ve gone so wrong.”
Because she’d proudly taken on the role of the neutral sister, never getting too high or too low. Letting Celeste lead the business, giving Natalie room to thrive as the dreamy, emotional artist.
Once more her shoulders rolled back and her chin lifted. “It’s easier knowing you’ve got my back.”
“Today and always, no matter what.” He shifted and his knee brushed hers. Did she feel the small jolt of electricity that flared at the contact? He wanted to ask and yet didn’t want to wreck the moment. She trusted him, needed his help, without any concerns about extra factors.
He dug into his sandwich, happy when she started to eat as well. After a few minutes, he said, “Indigo Reef might be determined to run off the Hargrave sisters, but they made a critical error.”
“What’s that?”
“They didn’t account for me.” He gave her all the confidence he could. Polishing off his sandwich, he chased it with sweet tea. He was so tempted to just open a vein and tell her everything he was feeling, give her the whole truth behind his commitment.
Not the time. He moved to clear the dishes, but she stopped him, her smaller hand resting lightly on his.
“Brayden.” Her breath hitched. “There’s more, right? You can tell me.”
Her blue gaze held him captive and his heart pounded in his chest. The air in the kitchen felt suddenly thick, charged with an undeniable, intoxicating heat. He gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. When she leaned into the touch, his heart rabbit-kicked. “Roni—”
A sharp, metallic clink sounded outside, near the house, far too close to Roni.
He shifted instantly into protector mode. His cold, tactical instincts taking over. “Stay here,” he ordered. He did a mental pat down, confirming he had his cell, a flashlight, and the revolver at his ankle.
“Brayden—”
He paused at the slider. “Lock the door behind me, Veronica. Do it now.”
Without waiting for her reply, Brayden went out, pulling his flashlight from his pocket. With silent, fluid movements, he melted into the deep shadows behind the house.
The coastal night was dark, the moon obscured by a thick bank of low-creeping fog.
Thunderstorms were an ever-present threat this time of year.
He listened for the source of that metallic sound, but only the rhythmic, distant roll of the surf and the rustle of the breeze moving through the dune grasses came back to him.
Keeping his flashlight off, he crept along, relying on his natural night vision, honed by training and years of tactical experience.
Rounding the corner, he spotted the movement at the front of the house.
Shadows from the front porch showed someone struggling near the ground.
Hearing another scrape and screech of metal, followed by a curse, the pieces clicked.
The water main. When would these guys stop? This was more than trespassing, it was sabotage, designed to impede Hideaway business. The audacity was appalling.
Brayden moved soundlessly toward the person and he was almost within reach when the man swung out with the long, heavy shut-off key, before bolting across the front yard.
On an oath, Brayden ducked. Mad about his mistake, he rolled to his feet and gave chase.
A twig snapped and Brayden followed the sound.
He’d expected the guy to run for the street, but instead he went straight for the trees.
He flicked his tactical light to full strobe, the blinding, disorienting beam cutting through the fog to illuminate a dark, hooded figure standing about twenty feet away.
“Hey!” Brayden roared, springing forward with explosive speed. “Guardian Agency! Freeze!”
The figure scrambled for the Indigo Reef site.
Brayden didn’t hesitate, launching himself into the dark woods after the trespasser.