Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Regan sliced lemons like a madwoman. Her hands needed something to do while her mind circled back to last night.
The kiss that had turned into something more—her hands in CB’s hair, her back against the wall, both of them breathing hard when the security alarm had startled them.
And after the late-night visit by an Outlaw, she’d gone to bed aching and confused. She’d woken up the same way.
She wrung out the rag and draped it over the edge of the sink, and circled back to being lonely. Feeling alone. That had to be it. Between the endless hours, the financial stress, and the weight of trying to save her father’s legacy, dating had fallen completely off her radar.
And now here was CB—this impossibly handsome, quietly brilliant man who listened when she talked and looked at her like she mattered.
Handsome. Smart. Caring. A triple whammy she hadn’t been prepared for.
But he’d been withdrawn and quiet all morning. Because of the kiss or the note? The note was about crackers. Why would that make him act awkward around her?
It had to be the kiss. He regretted it.
Her heart fell to her knees. She sliced more lemons, the knife striking the cutting board with far too much force.
The front door opened, and CB walked in, followed by a woman Regan didn’t recognize. She wore her dark hair in a high ponytail, had skipped makeup, and moved with confidence in a navy blue suit.
“Regan,” CB said, “this is Special Agent Claire Dawson from the FBI, Missoula field office.”
Claire extended her hand. Regan hurriedly wiped hers and pasted on a smile. “Hi. Thank you for coming.”
Her grip was firm, her smile warm. It lit her face. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I’ve listened to your podcast. You’re doing great work.”
Her cheeks heated. “Thank you.” Regan gestured behind her. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? A soda?”
“Coffee would be great, thanks.” Claire glanced around the bar and its handful of customers. “Is there somewhere private we can talk? I’ll need to take your statement first, then CB’s.”
“My office.” Regan gestured toward the back hallway, removing her apron. “It’s small but quiet.”
She glanced at CB. He gave her a brief nod of encouragement. That was it.
She poured two cups of coffee and led Claire through the swinging door, past the kitchen, to the cramped room she used for paperwork and inventory. A battered desk, two chairs, and stacks of invoices she’d been ignoring. Not impressive but functional.
Claire settled into one of the chairs and pulled out a handheld recorder. “I’m sure CB told you, I need to record this.”
“Yes, of course.”
For the next forty minutes, Claire asked questions, and Regan walked her through everything.
The first letter arriving. The escalating demands.
The careful way she’d handled each piece of correspondence, using gloves from the moment she realized what she was dealing with.
She opened her desk and pulled them out.
Claire made a note in the recorder and tucked them into her briefcase.
Regan continued about the attack in the alley. Denny Crue’s threats, CB’s intervention. Ryder’s appearance yesterday morning and his comment about her mother.
Claire was professional but also kind. The type of agent who made witnesses feel heard rather than interrogated. “I’ve been in contact with Kristina. Based on this testimony, she’ll file the cease and desist order today. You should have a copy in your inbox by tomorrow morning.”
“And I just…give it to whatever Outlaw shows up for the extortion money?”
Claire smiled. “Ryder Briggs will be served officially with the papers.”
Regan drew in a shaky breath. “And if someone still shows up Friday? Do you need to be here, just in case?”
“If anyone shows up, CB will alert me, and he will handle it until I arrive. Once we have prints confirmed from the letters, we’ll have a solid evidentiary foundation.
” She clicked off the recorder. “I appreciate your thoroughness, Ms. Hill. The gloves, the careful handling. Most people don’t think about forensics until it’s too late. ”
“Journalism taught me well.” Regan managed a tired smile. “I’ve covered enough crime stories to know better than to contaminate evidence with my own fingerprints.”
Claire stood. “I’ll take CB’s statement now, if you’ll send him back?”
Regan found CB at the bar, nursing a tall glass of iced tea with a lemon wedge and reading something on his phone. The sliced lemons from her earlier rampage were gone—he must have gathered them up and put them in the fridge.
He looked up when she approached, and she felt that pull again—the magnetic tug toward him that she’d been trying to rationalize away all morning.
“Your turn,” she said.
He nodded, pocketed his phone, and headed for the office without a word.
Regan busied herself restocking the cooler, trying not to watch him go. The door to the hallway swung shut, and she was alone with her thoughts again.
“So.”
She nearly dropped a bottle of Coke. Her mother stood at the end of the bar, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in that knowing way that had terrified Regan as a teenager.
“Mom. I didn’t hear you back there.”
“Clearly.” Lucy walked over and retrieved a stack of napkins from under the counter. “Want to tell me about what happened last night?”
Regan’s face went hot. Did her mom know about the makeout session in CB’s room? “I don’t know what you mean.”
“The booth. You and CB. His hands on your face, your lips in a lock.” Lucy leaned against the bar. “Ring any bells?”
“That was—” Regan fumbled for an explanation. “We were just working on something.”
“Kissing. You were kissing. I have eyes, Regan. And I’m not senile.”
“I never said you were.”
“Good. So talk to me.” Lucy’s tone softened. “What’s going on with you two?”
Regan set down the soda and pressed her palms against the cooler’s frosty metal.
She should have known Lucy would bring this up.
Her mother had always had impeccable timing for uncomfortable conversations.
All Regan could be grateful for was the fact Lucy seemed in the dark about the intense kissing session that had happened in her own house.
“I don’t know,” Regan admitted. “It just...happened.”
“Things like that don’t just happen. Not with men like him.”
“Men like him?”
Lucy considered. “Careful men. Controlled. He’s not the type to kiss someone on impulse.” She paused. “Which means he’s been thinking about it. About you.”
Regan’s stomach tightened. She didn’t want to examine that too closely—the idea that CB had wanted her, specifically, rather than just responding to proximity and circumstance.
“It doesn’t matter what he’s been thinking,” she said. “We’re in the middle of a crisis. I’ve got Ryder threatening me, the Outlaws watching my every move, and now the FBI taking statements in my office. This isn’t exactly the ideal time to start a relationship.”
“There’s never an ideal time.” Lucy reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind Regan’s ear.
“Your father and I met during one of the worst periods of my life. I’d just lost my sister, I was broke, and I was about to drop out of college.
And then I walked into this bar, your dad shoved a beer in front of me, gave me that lopsided smile of his, and I thought—this one. This is the one .”
She’d heard the story dozens of times. It always made her smile. “It’s not like that for me.”
“I’m just saying, don’t let fear talk you out of something good.” Lucy stepped back. “That’s all.”
Her mom thought she’d witnessed the beginning of something. She had no idea how far it had already gone.
Before Regan could respond, CB emerged from the back, his expression unreadable, followed by Claire. Her demeanor was serious now, her mouth set in a firm line. CB introduced her to Lucy.
“Mrs. Hill,” Claire said. “I need to speak with you.”
Her mom straightened. “Me? You need a statement from me, too?”
“From what Regan and CB have told me, the situation with the Outlaws has escalated to a point where I have concerns about your safety.” Claire’s voice was calm but direct.
“Once the cease and desist is delivered, they may retaliate. I think Ryder will look for leverage against Regan because of her past investigation into his father. The easiest target is you.”
Lucy’s chin lifted. “I’m not afraid of that boy.”
“With respect, ma’am, you should be. While local law enforcement has been quiet about him, the FBI knows he has a violent streak. I’d like to move you to the Shadow Point Security compound until this is resolved. You’ll be safe there, and it removes you as a pressure point he can exploit.”
“Absolutely not.” Lucy’s voice sharpened. “This is my bar, and I’m not leaving my home. My dog. He’s not taking that from me.”
“Mom.” Regan gripped her arm and squeezed. “Claire’s right.”
Lucy turned to her, surprise flickering across her face. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. Ryder’s made it clear he will come after you to get to me.” Her voice cracked. “That’s the real reason I hired CB—to protect you.”
Lucy gaped.
“Knowing you’re safe at SPS would relieve both our minds,” CB interjected. “It would take a lot of stress off of Regan.”
Lucy looked from him to Regan. Her jaw worked, and Regan could see the war playing out behind her eyes. Pride versus practicality. Stubbornness versus love.
Finally, she exhaled a loud sigh. “Fine. But I’m bringing Desi.”
“He’s our dog,” Regan told Claire. “Her dog.”
“Of course.” Claire’s expression eased slightly. “I’ll escort you home to pack a bag and pick him up. He’ll have plenty of room to run, and the guys will love having a dog around.”
Lucy didn’t look happy, but she nodded. She gave Regan a long look—the kind that said we’ll talk about this later —before she grabbed her purse.
CB waited until they were gone before speaking. “I have to go.”
Regan turned to him. “Go where?”
“To see my dad.” He didn’t meet her eyes. “There’s some family business I need to handle.”
“Groceries?”