Chapter Two
Sierra stood on the cabin’s hardwood floor just inside the front door as the police chief locked it behind them, no doubt still suspicious that she was trying to trick him and that her father’s men were waiting outside.
She couldn’t fault him for that. No doubt he’d heard only bad things about her family.
“Do you mind if I use your restroom?” she asked.
“It’s your five minutes. Use it how you want.”
She put her hands on her hips. “I told you I need ten. You’re not honestly counting a bathroom break as part of my time, are you?”
He gave her what barely passed for a smile as he pulled out his cell phone. “I need to make a call anyway. We’ll start the clock when you return.”
“Gracias.”
“De nada.”
She hesitated. “You speak Spanish, or are you throwing out the few phrases you learned in high school?”
“One of my former officers spoke more Spanish than English. I learned enough from him to understand the gist of what he said. But speaking more than a few words, actually holding a conversation, is a skill I haven’t mastered.
” He motioned toward the right side of the cabin.
“Bathroom’s down the hall, second door on the left. ”
She headed that way, noting the ranch-style home’s layout as she went.
He’d maintained the integrity of its log-cabin exterior here on the inside.
The floor, walls, even the ceilings were wood.
Tall windows and sliding glass doors off the back flanked a huge stone fireplace and framed a picturesque view of Tennessee’s beautiful Smoky Mountains.
Her curiosity had her wanting to open all of the doors in the hall to see the rest of the place.
But he’d probably toss her out if she did.
Once inside the bathroom, she quickly rid herself of the cheap jewelry she’d donned before coming here and tossed it in the trash.
Her research on the internet had shown that Beau Dawson was an incredibly handsome, fit man.
She’d made the assumption that accentuating her figure and adorning herself with flashy jewelry and heavy makeup would appeal to him so that he’d be more inclined to listen to her.
But he hadn’t seemed all that interested.
Either she wasn’t his type or he didn’t care for the gaudy look.
Either way, it no longer mattered. She’d won an audience with him. And she wasn’t leaving until he heard her out.
She eyed her reflection in the mirror above the sink. The bright red lipstick and heavy eye makeup really did make her look cheap. Not the kind of image she typically went for, especially since she preferred to blend in rather than draw attention.
After finding a washcloth in the linen cabinet, she soaped it up and went to work removing everything but the barest hint of eye makeup.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she tossed the stained cloth in the garbage.
He wasn’t likely to feel the loss of one washcloth.
And she didn’t want to risk him tossing it in with the rest of his laundry and ruining anything.
Wishing she had time to grab another outfit from the overnight bag she always kept in her car, she tugged at the T-shirt to try to loosen it.
But it still pulled tight across her breasts.
Instead, she untucked it, leaving it to hang over her shorts.
She no longer looked as if she was ready to cruise the bars looking for a hookup.
Well, except for her spike heels. But there was nothing to be done about that right now.
When she returned to the large open main room, his phone was sitting on top of the kitchen island in the front of the house, and he was frowning down at it.
She stopped on the other side. “Did your phone call not go well?”
“It didn’t go at all. My officers are too busy to answer and haven’t responded to my texts yet.” He finally looked up, his eyes widening as his gaze took in the changes to her appearance. A slow smile curved his lips. “Better.”
“Thanks.” Her face warmed at his admiring look. She motioned toward his phone. “Seems odd that all four of your police officers are too busy to talk to their boss. Kind of makes you think they’re afraid to tell you anything until the secret meeting is over.”
His eyes narrowed, his expression laced with suspicion.
“The daughter of a known mobster travels to a remote mountain town, knows where the chief of police lives, how many officers he has, and claims to have knowledge of a secret meeting at the police station. Give me one good reason not to slap you in handcuffs and haul you down to the station to find out what you’re really up to. ”
“You said I had ten minutes.”
“I gave you five.” He started a timer on his phone.
She frowned in frustration. “It’s hard to concentrate with you watching a timer.”
“Four minutes fifty-five seconds.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll start with this. I’m not a threat to you or anyone else. I’m here to save lives. Including yours.”
His gaze shot to hers, his brow furrowing. “Explain.”
She pulled out a bar stool. “May I at least sit?”
He sighed and stopped the timer. “Just get on with it.”
She let out a ragged breath of relief and sat.
With obvious reluctance, he pulled one of the other bar stools to his side of the island and sat across from her.
“I’m listening,” he said. “And I’m not known for my patience.”
“No kidding.”
His lips twitched as if he wanted to smile. But he didn’t give in to the urge.
“I’ll try to make this as quick as I can,” she said.
“My family is a blended one. My mom, Theresa, was Cuban, along with my bio dad, Carlos. We immigrated to America when I was ten and my two brothers were in high school. My dad died of a heart attack a few years later, and Mom did what she could to put food on the table. We had a wonderful life together, still do, except that my mother… Theresa…passed away a few years ago. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry for the loss of your parents. I heard you and your mother, especially, were very close—”
“You heard? What do you police do, sit around talking about my family when you’re bored?”
This time he did smile. “In a way. There are bulletins shared between agencies about ongoing investigations or potentially dangerous situations. It can’t be a surprise that some of those bulletins refer to your family.”
She grimaced. “I suppose not. But I hate that details like my family’s relationships are fodder for the police.”
“I can imagine it’s not a great feeling. Maybe I can spare you some discomfort and speed this along by telling you what I know about your family’s background.”
She crossed her arms. “Okay. Let’s see what part you get right. Or wrong.”
“Fair enough. I believe your mother was working as an exotic dancer when she met your stepfather, Michael Covington.”
She stiffened, not sure whether she detected censure in his voice or not. “She did what she could to pay the bills, to feed her kids. It was an honest living, even if people don’t approve.”
“No judgment here. Just telling you the facts, at least what I’ve been told. Michael Covington ended up marrying her. It was his third marriage, her second. He had four sons already and adopted you and your two brothers, Esteban and Rafael.”
“We don’t use the step title in my family. Michael is my father. And his sons—Thomas, Vincent, Anthony, Charles—they all welcomed us into their home and family as if we were blood-related. They’re my brothers and I’m their sister, period.”
He crossed his arms on top of the island.
“As touchy as you seem about your family, I’ll skip all the legal issues your father, and brothers, have been caught up in through the years.
Let’s get to the part that matters right now.
You said you came here because my life, and others’ lives, are in danger.
Why do you think that? What’s going on?”
“To answer, I need to add something else about my family. In addition to being close, we’re also extremely private.
We try to avoid being in the public eye as much as possible, mainly to avoid harassment by law enforcement.
Which is why you might be surprised to learn that my oldest brother, Esteban, died quite some time ago. ”
His eyes widened. “That is a surprise. Last I’d heard he was in Europe managing the family’s international crime interests.”
“International business.”
“Semantics. But let’s not get into that. My condolences, again, on another terrible loss for you and your family. That’s a lot to have endured.”
She nodded her thanks, surprised at the sincerity in his expression, his tone. That wasn’t what she’d ever expect from a cop.
“And you’re right,” he continued. “I had no idea that your brother had died. Are you trying to say his death is the reason that you feel others are in danger?”
“Yes.”
“But he lives, lived, in Memphis with the rest of your family, right?”
“All of us live there, within a few miles of my father’s home.”
“Then what does his death have to do with people being in danger here in Mystic Lake, nearly six hours away? That’s what you’re saying, right? That his death is somehow tied up with the danger you mentioned?”
She clenched her fists in her lap. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
He shook his head. “I’m lost, unless…how did Esteban die? I’m guessing it wasn’t natural causes or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“He drowned. In the lake not far from this very mountain.”
“Esteban died in Mystic Lake?”
“Yes.”
He slowly shook his head in denial. “Impossible. As the chief of police, I’m aware of every death in town, natural or otherwise. There’s no way your brother could have drowned without me being told and my team investigating his death.”