Chapter 31
Thirty-One
“I TRIED TRIANGULATING IT, but it keeps moving,” Christian said as they all gathered to sit at the table.
“Like it’s bleeping out?” Deck asked.
“More like it’s moving.”
“So . . . someone is relatively nearby?” Deckard asked. “I assume the range of that thing isn’t too far.”
“That level of drone . . .” Christian raked a hand through his hair. “A handful of miles, maybe. Military drones can go for hundreds of miles, but not this kind.”
Riley came to stand behind Greyson and rubbed his shoulders. He cupped his hand over hers, brought it to his lips, and brushed a kiss across it.
Fully without intention, Harper’s gaze fixed on Deck.
The thought of him lovingly touching her like that .
. . It was ridiculous. She wasn’t anywhere near fully healed yet.
And Deckard had been pretty clear when they met that he wasn’t the sort for relationships.
Riley had shared her eldest brother hadn’t been on a date in over a year, and even prior to that hadn’t gone on more than a couple of dates with the same woman.
It was like he’d ousted himself for relationship status and was parked there.
She couldn’t handle that. She needed a guy willing to step up like . . . Like Deckard had.
He’d stepped up in a huge way to be there for her. To be her friend and maybe more? She studied him. Was there more there?
He caught her staring. Actually, everyone at the table did, and her cheeks flamed. They all politely looked away, but it was too late. Mortification sunk in.
She cleared her throat. “I’m going to go change.
” She gestured over her shoulder. “I’ll be back.
” She got to her feet as Deck pulled the chair out for her, then headed down the hall to the guest room, shutting the door behind her.
She leaned her weight on it, and her breath left her lungs in a whoosh.
She pushed off the door and strode across the room.
Her gaze flitted to the window, and she’d moved to pull the shade when a shadow slipped across it.
She stilled. Her heart ramping up a notch, her chest squeezing. She stayed still. Very still.
Nothing.
She released her breath again.
You’re a mess, and now you’re seeing things.
She reached to lower the shade, and movement once again flickered in the dark.
Her throat narrowed, her hand frozen on the shade’s string. She braved a step closer to the ice-smattered glass. Maybe she really was seeing things. What was the chance of two drones in the same night? But before she could react, one flew up in front of her and then away.
Deck stood as she re-entered the kitchen in a flurry.
“That was fast . . .” he began, then frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“There was another drone out there.”
Deck dipped his chin. “Now?”
She nodded. “Outside my bedroom.”
Deck strode for the foyer.
“It flew off when I got to the window,” she called behind him, but it did no good.
Ten minutes later, Deck retook his seat, his hands chilled, but the area surrounding the house was clear, at least as far as he could tell.
Those stupid birds could be anywhere—and they meant someone was close.
But it also meant that someone was limited in how far away they could keep track of them.
He’d rather face his opponent head-on than have him sneak up from behind.
Gadgets and the vibe Nick gave off worked well together. A guy-and-his-toys kind of man. It was a shame his focus seemed to rest on the latest shiny object, because Taylor sounded like a great lady. Anyone close with Harper had to be.
Close with Harper. His focus shifted to her and how he loved having her close. Hoped she’d stay that way, but once the danger was passed, she’d go back to her condo, and the notion left him empty.
He prayed her trauma healed at least some before she went out on her own.
He wanted to be there for her. Even the remotest guess of what she might have been through busted him up.
Made him hurt in a way he’d never done so before, his childhood included.
He’d never thought he could say that, but Harper was so much more.
Far more important to him than he’d even realized.
He swallowed and smiled at a joke Ri made.
But . . .
When this was all over, Harper would go back home, and, while not out of his life by any measure, it wouldn’t be the same as always having her near. Maybe he needed to rethink his stance on relationships. Or maybe he already had without realizing it.
“She was in prison, but—” Christian’s words cut through.
“Wait. Who was in prison?” he asked, trying to snap his focus back to the conversation he’d apparently missed.
“Bristol,” Christian said, giving him a Where have you been? glance.
“When?”
Christian’s confusion turned to a smirk. He’d knock it off his little brother’s face if he didn’t lose it fast.
Clearly, Christian sensed his mood, because he smothered it and continued. “Bristol was in the pen for a stint but got out early.”
Deck’s brows shot up. “For good behavior?”
Christian shrugged. “She is good at playing roles, but no. Feds hoisted her out.”
“She’s a snitch?” He never thought he’d see that day.
The one thing that was never okay when they were growing up was being a snitch.
Conning? Sure. Stealing someone’s life savings?
Sure. But snitching was for the lowest of lows, and, “We are hardly common criminals, darling,” his mom used to say.
“Not common criminals.” Like that all somehow made being a criminal better.
“You okay?” Harper whispered by his ear, tickling the side of his neck with her breath.
“Mm-hmm.” He’d inquire why she asked, but he knew better. Don’t ask questions with answers you aren’t ready to hear.
“So they have her snitching on who, exactly?” Grey asked.
“I don’t know. I couldn’t get it out of my contact.” Christian sat back. “I could find out, but that would mean—”
“Nope,” he and Riley said in unison.
They were not going there. Getting near Bristol or their parents would bring nothing but pain. It was their golden rule not to enter their lives, and it had worked well until their dad had risen from the grave. Now they were fighting two break-ins and apparently two drones.
He leaned toward attributing the drones to the murdering husband. His dad’s enemies, Big Max, in particular, were more fists-in-your-face than flying insects buzzing around for a view. Which begged the question . . .
“What was Nick trying to see?”
“Huh?” Christian frowned. “We were just . . .” He shook his head. “Never mind. Why is Nick, what?”
“What was he trying to see? He must have followed us from the remembrance ceremony, but I didn’t notice him at the lab or the sheriff’s office. It’s like one minute he wasn’t around and the next he was.”
“There was that car behind us when we were leaving Jeopardy Falls that had you curious,” Harper said.
He nodded. “Then it pulled off. . . .”
“And the drone appeared,” Grey said.
“No.”
“No?” Grey arched a brow.
“No. We got out of the truck, and it was already here, buzzing overhead. I mean, maybe it was following us home high overhead so we didn’t see it from inside the truck,” Deck said, “but why bother showing us it was here? If they can fly so high so as not to be heard, which I’m guessing they can.
” He looked at Christian, who nodded. “Right. So why did Nick bother showing his hand?”
“Intimidation?” Andi suggested.
“Nick’s not very intimidating,” Harper said, “but I totally see what you’re saying, and from his point of view, he probably wants us to know he’s watching.”
“He needs to mind his step,” Deck said. Hovering overhead might be one thing, but hovering outside of Harper’s window . . . Adrenaline seared through him.
“The fact he knows we’re watching him, that we’re on to him . . . that worries me,” Harper said.
“Why?” Andi asked, dipping her tortilla chip in the queso Riley must have set out beside salsa and guacamole.
“Because he might try covering his tracks far better than he has up until now.”