Chapter Fourteen
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The words blurred on her phone screen. Cassidy’s brain registered them, but her heart refused to accept what she was seeing.
One of the bodies is believed to be fugitive Travis Prescott.
Her breath stalled in her throat, and her chest felt as if it had collapsed in on itself. A wave of nausea rolled through her, chased by a storm of panic. No. Not Travis. Not her brother.
She tried to hold it together, tried to shove the rising emotions down deep where they couldn’t choke her, but it was no use. The room tilted slightly, and her fingers gripped the edge of the table to steady herself.
Kincade was out of his chair in a second. He moved to her side and took her arm gently but firmly. His voice was low but packed with steel.
“This interview’s over,” he snapped to the two sheriffs. “We’ll reschedule.”
She heard Becker sputter something, Vance curse, Moran clear his throat like he was going to object, but Kincade didn’t wait for anyone’s permission.
He guided her out of the room, his touch steady and grounding.
Jericho fell into step with them, already on the phone, his tone clipped and urgent as he talked to Ruby.
Cassidy didn’t look back to ask him what info he was getting. She couldn’t. Not yet.
Not when the world had just cracked open beneath her feet.
Kincade opened the passenger door and helped her in. Cassidy dropped down on the seat, her whole body trembling from the shock.
Jericho appeared at their side. He was still on the phone, and while he continued his muttered conversation, Cassidy’s own phone buzzed. She looked down, her heart catching in her throat.
The message was from Travis.
It’s not me. I’m alive. No clue who the bodies are or why they think one is me. Don’t respond. Stay out of sight. I’ll be in touch. T.
A sob of pure relief slipped past her lips. Her eyes stung, but this time it wasn’t from grief or fear. It was something closer to gratitude. She sucked in a breath and blinked fast, her pulse slowing.
She held the phone out toward Kincade and Jericho. “It’s not him,” she said, her voice still raw.
Jericho leaned closer, read the message, and nodded. “Well, that’s the kind of news I can live with.”
Kincade took one look at Travis’s text, and he let out a breath as if he had been holding it for hours.
He took a moment, no doubt steadying himself, and then pulled her into his arms. She welcomed the hug.
Welcomed their shared relief, and he held on for a couple of seconds before he went around the front of the SUV and got behind the wheel.
Jericho rapped his knuckles on the roof and shut her door. “Get her home,” he said to Kincade. “I’ll start digging into what the hell is going on.”
Cassidy managed a nod. She had no intention of going back into that building. Not when she had nearly crumbled in front of the people trying to bury her brother.
Kincade put the SUV in gear, pulled away from the curb, and they left the sheriff’s office behind them. Inside, Becker, Moran, and Vance were probably still hoping the body belonged to Travis.
They were going to be disappointed.
Her brother was still alive. And Cassidy had no doubt he was still fighting to finish what he started.
They were still several miles from her house when Kincade’s phone buzzed on the console between them. He took his eyes off the road just long enough to glance at the screen.
“It’s from Jericho,” he said, handing her the phone. “Tell me what it says.”
Her stomach was already bracing for more bad news. But it wasn’t.
“Ruby got photos from the responding cops. She ran facial recognition,” she relayed to him. “One of the bodies does look like Travis. Enough to fool someone at a glance. He was carrying a fake ID with Travis’s name on it.”
And she couldn’t think of a single good reason why someone would have that on them.
“Who was he really?” Kincade asked.
“Darrell Knox. Mid-thirties. History of assault, fraud, impersonating federal agents. Got booted from some private security outfit five years ago.” She paused, sighed. “So someone who knows how to pass as law enforcement.”
“Exactly,” Kincade said. “Who’s the other guy?”
“Victor Greer,” she supplied. “Record for weapons trafficking, smuggling. Ruby says he had a fake cop’s badge on him.”
Cassidy stared out the window, the Hill Country landscape rushing past, and her thoughts were reeling.
“They killed Daniel,” she said quietly. “These two killed him and set up Travis to take the fall.”
Kincade’s hands gripped the wheel tighter. “I’m betting you’re right.”
Cassidy turned back toward him. “Then someone paid them to do it. Someone who wanted Daniel silenced and Travis framed.”
“Yeah. And whoever it was just lost their hired help.” Kincade tapped his thumb against the steering wheel, obviously thinking. “If Knox and Greer were working for someone, we need to know who. And if they were killed, maybe it was to keep them quiet.”
Cassidy turned her head toward him. “You think whoever hired them got spooked?”
“Or maybe the two were getting sloppy,” Kincade said. “Too visible. Too risky. People like that only stay useful as long as they stay quiet and controlled.”
Cassidy’s stomach knotted as they pulled to a stop in front of her house. “Then whoever’s behind this is tying up loose ends.”
“Exactly,” he agreed. “Ruby’s already on it, I guarantee. She’ll be looking at bank transfers, flagged purchases, travel records. Anything that might link a payment to those two.”
“Even small deposits might help,” Cassidy said. “A trail is a trail.”
Kincade shot her a glance. “And Ruby doesn’t miss much.”
Cassidy looked back out the window. “We need something to connect this back to Vance. Or Becker. Or Moran. Whoever’s pulling the strings.”
“Then we better find it fast,” Kincade said. “Before whoever’s doing this turns their sights on us.”
After a sweeping glance around them, Cassidy stepped out of the SUV, and with Kincade right beside her, they went into the house.
She locked the door behind them and reset the security systems. The silence that settled around her was heavy but welcome.
She didn’t hesitate. She turned straight into Kincade’s arms, burying her face against his chest.
His arms came around her without a word, holding her tight, strong, steady. The moment she felt the press of his body to hers, she let out a long, slow breath.
The tears didn’t fall, but the emotions still surged through her like a wave. Relief. Anger. Fear. Exhaustion. She clung to him like he was the only solid thing left in her world.
They stood there for minutes, unmoving, hearts beating in sync. His hand rubbed slowly along her back, grounding her. Eventually, she leaned back just enough to meet his eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For getting me out of the county sheriff’s office. I was a heartbeat away from falling apart.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured.
But when she looked at him, when she really looked at him, everything she’d kept tightly locked down threatened to crack wide open again. She didn’t think. She didn’t plan.
She just kissed him.
At first, it was soft, desperate, a way to hold on to something that didn’t feel like it was slipping away. His lips met hers with that same gentleness, as if he understood exactly what she needed.
But then the kiss changed.
His hand slid into her hair. Her fingers tightened on his shirt.
The soft press of lips became something deeper, something hungry.
Fire curled in her stomach and shot through her chest, and when he pressed her closer, she didn’t resist. She wanted more.
Needed more. Her body ached from the fear and adrenaline and grief, and now it ached for him too.
What had started as comfort flared into heat. The kind that burned away every thought but one.
She wanted him. Here. Now.
Cassidy couldn’t think. Not clearly. All she knew was the solid feel of Kincade’s arms around her, the heat of his mouth on hers, and the rising wave of emotion that threatened to pull her under.
The fear and worry she’d been holding in for hours began to shift, replaced by something powerful and grounding.
Kincade.
The way he held her wasn’t rushed or demanding. It was steady and sure, as if he knew she needed to feel safe again, needed to feel something other than the panic that had chased her all day.
Her fingers curled in his shirt as their mouths moved together, heat building in layers. She pressed closer, seeking more, and when his hand slid under her top, skimming the skin of her stomach and higher, she shivered. Not from the touch alone, but from how much she wanted this. Wanted him.
He paused, his forehead resting lightly against hers, breathing hard. His voice was rough with restraint. “Cassidy…”
She opened her eyes and looked at him, her answer written in every beat of her heart. She wanted this. Not out of fear or desperation, but because with everything falling apart, he was the one thing that made her feel whole.
Cassidy kissed him again, slower this time, her hands moving to his face, anchoring them both. The kiss deepened, and they started moving together, step by step, toward her bedroom. She didn’t remember who turned them, who led the way. It didn’t matter.
All that mattered was this moment. Him. Her. The quiet promise in every touch.
They reached the doorway, still wrapped in each other, and she thought maybe she should stop, pull back, take a breath.
But she didn’t want to.
She wanted him, and this, and everything they hadn’t let themselves feel until now. She needed to feel alive. And she only felt that way with him.
They landed on the bed in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter that quickly turned into more kisses.
Kincade’s hands were everywhere, reverent and warm, peeling away layers until nothing separated them.
She tugged his shirt over his head, her fingers grazing the hard lines of his chest, and he did the same to her, their clothes falling to the floor.
The heat between them didn’t flare fast and reckless. It built slow and deep, fed by everything they had carried—grief, longing, guilt, and hope. All of it threaded through every kiss, every touch.
He paused long enough to retrieve a condom from his wallet. Their eyes met as he rolled it on, and there was something steady in his gaze, something that anchored her more than any touch could.
When he came over her, their bodies fit together like they were meant to. There was no rush. Just movement. Breath. Hands finding familiar places. And emotion, so much of it, that it cracked something open in her chest.
Cassidy held on to him like she never wanted to let go. And maybe she didn’t. Maybe after everything, this was where she was supposed to be. With him. In this moment.
Their rhythm built, slow at first, then urgent, like neither of them could bear to hold back any longer. When it crested, it wasn’t just physical. It was a release of everything they’d been holding in. A breaking point and a beginning, all at once.
She came with a cry against his neck, and he followed, their bodies locked together, hearts pounding in sync.
And for the first time in a long time, Cassidy felt at peace. Not because the danger had passed. Not because they had answers.
But because Kincade was here.
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