Chapter 12
12
C utting through the trees, Travis stopped the second he heard the twig snap underneath his boot. Dammit. He’d been moving through the woods like a panther until now. The sound must have alerted whomever he was making his way toward because the person froze.
Weapon drawn, he crouched low and waited.
At some point, the person would reveal himself, and he’d be ready.
Seconds turned to minutes. Had he misjudged the situation? Or had the person slipped away without him realizing?
He bit back a string of curses. Just as he was about to move, a figure sprang at him from the bushes.
Sitting on his heels, he aimed. His finger hovered over the trigger mechanism.
“Chloe?” he whispered the second she came into view.
Midjump, she attempted to stop her momentum. In her right palm, she gripped a jagged-edged rock.
Travis ducked and rolled just in time to get out of the way. Chloe landed hard on the ground with a groan and a thud.
“No time,” he said to her. “Are you injured?”
The way she’d sprung at him like a jaguar after prey had caught him off guard.
“Trav?” came the desperate tone. The fear and pain in her voice cracked more of the ice encasing his heart.
“I’m here,” he reassured in a whisper.
“Okay,” she said with the kind of hope that made him even more determined to ensure she made it home safely.
He assumed she could walk and wasn’t injured after the leap she’d taken registered. No one could pull off a feat like that with a serious injury. So, it surprised him when she stood up and hopped on one foot toward him.
“My knee,” she said. Since time was the enemy, they couldn’t stop long enough to assess the injury.
“Hold onto me,” he said, checking his cell for bars. When he saw the words, no service , he fired off a quick text to Margie and Sandy, relating his current location, where they were headed, and the need for help. The text would go through when he got a signal. With any luck, Sandy would meet them at Chloe’s house.
“I’m okay,” she said, taking a couple of steps on her own. “Take me home, Trav.”
Those words found a crack and burrowed in deep into the place he’d sworn never to allow anyone else. Chloe deserved to have a big family someday. He could never give that to her.
Best to nip it in the bud.
Shoving thoughts that didn’t belong in the middle of a rescue aside, he reached for her hand with his left so he could hold tight to his weapon with his right. “How many are there?”
“One,” she supplied, keeping their voices low. “I got turned around.”
“You’re not lost anymore now that I’m here,” he said, ignoring how much that statement covered.
Chloe nodded. The only time they stopped was for him to take his jacket off and give it to her. Despite her protests, she needed it more than he did. She’d been out here longer. The hand he held inside his was ice.
He didn’t stop or let down his guard until they were safely inside the trailer with the door locked behind them. Sandy was close, according to her text. Three minutes max, she’d said.
“Do you have a name?” he asked Chloe once they were inside.
“No,” she admitted.
“Any idea as to who he might have been?”
“No,” she repeated as he set his weapon down and then took her hands in his, rubbing them to warm them. The second they touched, a warm electrical current rippled through him. Based on the dilation of her eyes, the same was happening to her, too. “He was big. Didn’t get close enough for me to get a good look, and his face was completely covered.”
His mind snapped to Guy. Couldn’t be, though. Right? She would know her neighbor.
“There was something familiar about him.” Blood returned to her fingers. “But I can’t be sure.”
Guy just made the suspect list again.
“He had on bulky clothes,” she said. “Dark and bulky.”
“Anything else?”
“Not much,” she said. “He roared up behind my bumper. The hit scrambled my thoughts for a few seconds. Then, someone was coming toward me. I felt threatened so I bolted.”
Guy’s truck had been at the bar last night.
His cell dinged. Sandy was at the broken metal gate inspecting Chloe’s vehicle and taking pictures of the damage to the back bumper. Bad weather had slowed her down.
“Can I change into something warmer?” Chloe asked.
“Go for it,” he said. They had fifteen minutes, give or take, until Sandy arrived. “Mind if I put on a pot of coffee?”
“Please do,” she said as she headed toward the hallway. She paused long enough to say, “I can’t imagine if Grayson had been with me.”
Travis nodded, frowning. Then, he went back to work on the pods.
By the time Sandy arrived, three mugs filled with fresh coffee sat at the kitchen table. Chloe opened the door and invited the deputy inside, closing and locking the door behind her.
“The tire tracks at the scene were scrubbed,” Sandy began as she held out Chloe’s handbag and a couple of plastic grocery bags. “I figured you would need these.”
“Thank you,” Chloe said as they walked over to the kitchen. “I’m lost without my cell, and I don’t even want to think about someone having access to all my personal information.”
“I locked the doors, too,” Sandy said.
“What did you mean about the tire tracks?” Chloe asked as they each took a seat at the table.
Sandy glanced down at the mug and asked if it was for her. She was five-feet-eleven inches tall with dark hair perpetually tied back in a ponytail. She’d been a decent point guard at the University of Texas at Arlington. She’d graduated with a criminal justice degree before returning home and applying for a deputy’s spot. Sandy had a two-year gap between college graduation and her first day on the job.
Now that Travis was acting sheriff, he could open her employment file and find out why. It seemed…intrusive. Like he’d be violating her privacy. Sandy was a solid deputy. If she wanted him to know about her background and the gap, wouldn’t she have brought it up by now?
Chloe urged Sandy to take the cup while she waited for a response.
“Someone went to the trouble of getting out of their vehicle and brushing something across the tracks behind yours to make them impossible to see,” Sandy said. She held the mug in her hands, no doubt to warm them. “The evidence would be circumstantial since there are only so many types and brands of tires, not to mention even fewer when you consider what most folks drive around here. But someone is going the extra mile not to get caught.”
Travis took a sip before giving her a brief rundown of what had just happened. Despite the fresh caffeine, he was tired. He needed to eat and grab a few hours of sleep. The storm would stop any forward progress on the investigation for the night. He’d learned a long time ago to take the rest when you could get it. Experience came in handy in terms of pacing yourself. Being gung-ho didn’t equate to solving a case any faster. Though to be fair, most cases in Jackson County amounted to rowdy teenagers and cow tipping, recent events aside.
Too many questions swirled in his thoughts with no answers in sight.
Sandy finished her coffee, set the cup down, and said, “I’d better check on some of the town’s older residents in case power goes out again. Make sure they have flashlights and firewood.” She stood up. It went without saying that she would keep an eye out and an ear open for anyone suspicious. She looked directly at Travis. “Get some rest. I got this.”
Travis nodded and then thanked her before she left, locking the door behind her.
“Are you hungry?” Chloe asked, moving to the plastic grocery bags. “I bought all the fixin’s for hamburgers, and I have a George Foreman.”
“What can I do to help?”
Chloe got up and gathered supplies. “Are you good with a knife?”
“I’m all right.”
“Then, you can slice these.” She set down a tomato, onion, and head of lettuce.
Travis went to work, pulling a knife from the block on the counter while she washed the lettuce.
Standing side by side, he couldn’t help but notice how easy it was to be around Chloe. It was almost like they’d known each other intimately for years. She’d been too young to notice when they’d been in school. He hadn’t seen much of her after she’d moved back to town since she worked late nights at the bar. Jep ran a tight ship, so folks rarely stepped out of line on his watch.
Which also made it that much more shocking someone had slipped past his radar.
Travis was overthinking. He needed to shove all thoughts aside and focus on slicing vegetables before he cut off a finger.
Dinner was on the table in less than thirty minutes. The new George Foreman didn’t disappoint.
“This might have been the best burger I’ve ever eaten,” Trav said with a smile. He was exhausted. She could see it in his eyes, so she appreciated the effort he was making to compliment the food. Cooking together had stirred up a whole mix of emotions that she couldn’t deal with at the moment.
Mostly, it reminded her of what she was missing.
As much as she loved Grayson and Miguel, not to mention Annmarie, she missed having the closeness that came with a real relationship. The feeling might have faded with Blake, but its echo was strong. To be young again without any responsibility. Chloe could scarcely imagine what that might look like at twenty-four. Technically, she was still young. But she was the oldest young person she knew.
Did that even make sense?
Maybe what she really meant was that she’d been forced to grow up early while living at the ranch under Beaumont’s thumb. And then, looking back, she’d become more of a caregiver to Blake, managing his daily life. She’d cooked, cleaned, and ensured he’d gotten to the places he needed to go. Studio time was expensive, as Craig had so often reminded her.
The manager had also delivered the final blow before she’d walked out of his office after telling her about the other woman. He’d asked if she thought Blake had ever loved her.
“Hey,” Trav said, snapping his fingers to get her attention. “Where did you go just now?”
“Sorry,” she said, biting back a yawn. “I must be more tired than I realized. I tend to space out when I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“Why don’t you get ready for bed while I take care of dishes,” Trav said.
“I can’t let you—”
“Believe it or not, I’m pretty handy in the kitchen,” he said with a smile.
“I’d just hate to get used to having someone like you around,” she said before she could reel the words in.
“I can be a real pain in the ass,” he joked, thankfully letting her comment roll off. She wasn’t trying to insult him or get any pity. She’d made her choices.
“You couldn’t if you tried,” she said, then excused herself down the hall before she said something else she couldn’t take back—or revealed the fact her feelings for Trav ran deeper than she wanted to admit.
Chloe knew what she wanted, even if it was just for a night. But she couldn’t do that to Trav. She couldn’t ask for something that would cross a professional line for him.
A shower did little to clear her head but made her feel human again. The night’s events were taking a toll on her mentally, causing her to check in the closet before she hopped in the shower to make sure no one hid inside. Of course, her encounter with the Reaper already had her nerves on edge. However, life had been supposed to return to normal after his arrest. The person who’d tormented her was safely locked behind bars in a maximum-security Houston prison. Still.
After what had happened earlier and the night before last, Chloe couldn’t exactly relax. The suggestion to move to the ranch full-time, now that Beaumont was gone, might be worth considering. Grayson had loved it there the instant he’d seen it.
Could Chloe erase the past and get over all the abuse and neglect that had happened within the ranch walls? Could she bring her son up there?
Her lease was up in a couple of months. She could save a lot of cash if she didn’t have to pay rent and utilities every month. Of course, she’d take Annmarie and Miguel with her.
If Chloe couldn’t live in the main house, there was always the bunkhouse to consider. Kade wouldn’t mind. Those decisions could wait. Getting dressed for bed couldn’t.
She rummaged around for a comfortable sleeping outfit. Normally, she didn’t have to worry about having anyone sleep over. With Grayson and Miguel at home most of the time, there was no risk of sex happening in this house. You had to go on a date for sex to be on the table. Or on the carpet. Or on the counter.
Had her mind slipped into the gutter?
After throwing on a clean pair of flannel pajamas while laughing at her own warped sense of humor, she rejoined Trav in the kitchen. Head in his hands, he’d fallen asleep sitting up.
For half a second, she considered leaving him right there, except he’d wake with a serious crick in his neck if she did. The man looked hella uncomfortable.
She crossed the room, gave a little headshake, and inside, laughed at how worried she’d been about what to wear to bed.
“Trav,” she said softly as she touched his arm.
He came flying up and had her backed against the counter in two seconds flat.
“It’s me, Trav. Open your eyes.”
His eyes opened. His gaze focused. He let go of her, then took a step back and apologized.