Chapter Sixteen
When Beau woke up the next morning, he immediately realized his world had changed forever.
The incredible night he’d spent with the delightfully sassy woman still sleeping beside him had left him sore and tired.
But it had also left a mark on his heart, maybe even his soul.
He’d fallen for her, hard. And he hadn’t even known it, not until she’d shed those heartbreaking tears and asked him to help her get him out of her system.
She was now entrenched in his. And he didn’t even feel guilty about it.
As a lifelong law enforcement officer, he knew the risks, knew the payment that this night would require.
He’d never be able to go back into law enforcement again, not after having a relationship with the daughter of an organized crime boss.
No reputable agency would want him within a mile of them.
It didn’t matter that Sierra was innocent, not caught up in that life of crime.
It was guilt by association—her because of her family, Beau because of Sierra.
And he didn’t care.
At least, not now. Not yet. It would come, eventually.
The regret about destroying his career. All he’d ever wanted in his professional life was to help others, get criminals off the streets.
That deep yearning for that life would come back.
It had been ingrained in him too long not to.
But he instinctively knew it still wouldn’t matter.
Trading Sierra for a career wasn’t an option.
Not for him. He would eventually grieve for what he’d lost. But he’d rejoice over what he’d found.
Sierra.
That is, if she wanted him in her life. That was the worry that had him lying there so long, watching her, waiting for her to open her eyes.
He needed to know how she felt now that their wild night was over.
Would she regret it, in spite of insisting that it was what she’d wanted?
Would she be relieved that she had, indeed, gotten over him?
Not knowing was killing him. If it was simply a one-night fling for her, he’d have to figure out how to pretend that was okay.
He silently swore. When had he become a dramatic, melancholy love-sick fool? This was ridiculous. He had work to do, a mystery to solve, a woman to protect. He’d never been this sappy in his life, and he damn well wasn’t going to start now.
He flipped back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He’d made it to the bathroom door, when an irritated voice called out behind him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
He looked over his shoulder, his mouth watering at the sight of the disheveled naked beauty sitting up in bed glaring at him.
“I need a shower,” he said, barely able to force the words through his tight throat. Good grief, she was beautiful. Her long dark hair cascaded down her body in glorious disarray, a soft curl teasing him as it dangled over one breast.
“So do I.” She crawled out of bed and padded across the carpet to stop in front of him. “Or do you prefer to shower alone?” She ran her tongue across his chest, then leaned against him, her soft curves crushed against his stomach. “Well?”
He groaned as his body jumped painfully to attention.
She grinned.
“Does this mean last night didn’t work?” he asked, the love-sick puppy inside him holding its breath waiting for her reply.
“Not even a little bit. Guess we’ll have to try again.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him into the bathroom.
It had been another long day for the two of them, but this time Beau had kept Sierra in the cabin.
They hadn’t risked going out again because Officers O’Brien and Fletcher had documented no fewer than five sightings yesterday by witnesses who believe they’d seen someone matching Esteban’s description.
If it truly was her brother they’d seen, then he’d kept to the outskirts of town, away from the more populated parts of Mystic Lake.
And he was definitely searching for something.
Or someone. That was enough for Beau to decide his primary duty today was as Sierra’s bodyguard.
He was leaving the knock-and-talks to his former team.
Time passed quickly. Their relationship was fresh, new.
They both wanted to know everything they could about each other.
Of course, he already knew a lot about her family, having read many law enforcement briefs and bulletins about them over the years.
And she’d studied up on him online and learned more by planting those cameras—which he’d forgotten to follow up on—in the police station and the mayor’s office.
She wasn’t perfect. No one was. But she wasn’t her father either, not even close.
She shared the personal side to the statistics and facts he knew about her family.
Like that her mother had passed away a year before Esteban had allegedly died, and how hard both of their losses were on the family.
Her mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer.
She was determined to fight it, then when the treatments weren’t going well, she’d decided to take her own life.
She’d overdosed on pain pills and had been found by Sierra’s father.
“He was devastated, of course,” she said. “We all were. I still don’t understand why my mom did that. But I haven’t been in her situation either. If I was in all of that pain, feeling miserable every day, maybe I’d give up too.”
He’d hugged her and offered what comfort he could.
But in the face of a loss like that, he felt completely inadequate.
One thing was clear: she’d worshiped her mother and adored her father.
And she felt the same way about her brothers, both biological and step.
Even knowing that Esteban might be her enemy now, until she understood why, she couldn’t quite accept it.
It was obvious that part of her desperately hoped there was another explanation.
When it was her turn to ask questions, she’d wanted to know about his family and what he’d been like as a child. He told her some of the details about his rather average life. A schoolteacher mom. A father who was an engineer. He had three younger brothers.
“An engineer? And you lived here, in Mystic Lake? Where did he work?”
“Chattanooga. Lots of people here work there since our only real industry is tourism. Long drive, a little over an hour and a half each way because of it being across town. When I was in middle school and my brothers were starting elementary school, he and my mom both got jobs in Florida, down near Tampa where some of our distant relatives live.”
“That’s quite the move. How did you end up back here?”
“I never left. I pitched a fit, ran away. Dad tanned my hide when he found me and brought me home. But I ran away again. I was a brat, not wanting to leave my friends. My dad pretty much gave up in disgust. Mom worked out an agreement with some close family friends to let me stay with them until I graduated high school. Remember me telling you about the chicken farmers not far from the safe house?”
“No way. Is that where you ended up? At their farm?”
“No. I lived on a horse ranch, in a valley at about the farthest corner of the mountains where you can go without leaving the official Mystic Lake town limits. But those nice people I still owe egg money to are distant cousins of the family who took me in.”
“Small town.”
“Small town,” he agreed. “That’s pretty much my story. I went to college after high school, never moved to Florida. I see my family at Christmas every year, when my brothers fly in from where they’ve moved and started their own families. That’s our annual reunion, more or less.”
“You only see each other once a year? But you’re family.”
“Without much in common, little to talk about.”
“That’s sad,” she said. “I can’t imagine not seeing or at least talking to my family on a regular basis.” She grimaced. “Then again, it’s been a ridiculously long time since I’ve seen, or at least really spoken to Esteban. The jerk. Pretending he was dead.”
She’d gone on to fuss and cuss about her brother, as Beau would expect.
They’d discussed other things, details about the investigation too.
But what she never mentioned was any regret over spending last night with him—or this morning.
There was no awkwardness between them. And the hungry looks she gave him off and on had him wanting to take her back to bed.
But with so much unresolved around the shootings, and neither of them wanting to have to hide out the rest of their lives, they were determined to be proactive.
They agreed that they needed to focus on trying to solve the mysteries surrounding her brother.
To that end, they sat at the kitchen table for hours, reviewing information they and the officers had gathered the day before.
They only got up for bathroom breaks and food.
Then they would come right back to the table to pour over reports and old files on other disappearances in case there were any similarities.
There weren’t.
He sat back and stretched. “When I briefed you earlier today on the status meeting you missed, there’s one thing I forgot to mention.
There’s evidence the tunnel that we used to get to the safe house was how Esteban and his men found us.
They had cut away the vines and bushes that camouflaged the entrance.
Shoeprints in the tunnel matched ones found outside the safe house, prints that were in addition to yours and mine. ”
Her eyes widened. “Do you think they found it because I used that burner phone to talk to Rafael? They somehow traced a call in the area and it helped them find the tunnel?”
“Tracing the call wouldn’t have helped them discover the tunnel entrance. It would have only gotten them to the general area of this mountain. Did you mention anything to Rafael about the tunnel?”