Chapter 9
Nine
Sarah had to move.
She’d spotted the intruder slipping out the window and landing with precision. His head snapped directly toward the shop. Why the shop? Why not just vanish into the night like any other burglar? Except this was no regular burglar. And Sarah was done standing still.
She calculated the exits and the distance between herself and the intruder as he stalked toward the shop. Ryder had wanted to protect her, to keep her out of danger.
She slipped out of the shop through the back door and remained in the shadows, making her way to a large boulder on the edge of the thick tree line.
Once there, she crouched and peered from behind it to watch.
What was this prowler up to? Had he followed Sarah and Ryder?
Or . . . had he known that she would end up here?
Unless, of course, this had to do with Ryder and not her, or this was a random intruder.
Nope. This was a professional. She knew those moves.
And she couldn’t underestimate what she would face.
She feared she’d brought trouble to Ryder that he hadn’t wanted and might not be prepared for.
The intruder crept around the shop, then pressed his back against it. He peered into the night, searching the woods. Looking for her? Did he suspect she wouldn’t hide in the structure? Maybe she should have.
Heart pounding, she watched Ryder—she barely saw him as he used the same furtiveness he must have used in countless operations.
Then . . . the intruder, who was on the far side and couldn’t have seen Ryder, entered the shop through the side door.
Ryder didn’t know she’d left, and he was going into the shop to protect her, to save her.
She knew that to her bones. And she had to stop him.
To warn him without getting taken out herself.
Time to act. She couldn’t be the reason Ryder got hurt. She doubted he would, but it remained within the realm of possibility. Sarah rushed toward the back door, kicked it open. Gun out, she rolled to the floor and into the shadows to dodge expected gunshots.
From behind, a hand pressed over her mouth. She moved to free herself, then turned her gun on the intruder. He held his hands up in surrender.
He wore a black mask, so she couldn’t make out his face. “Who are you? Who sent you?”
The lights came on. Sarah sensed Ryder’s approach.
Not like he could really hide in this space.
Only, the thought of him approaching was distraction enough, and the intruder dove through the back door.
She took off after him, racing into the woods, but she didn’t know the terrain and it was dark.
Without a flashlight she’d end up falling face-first.
As she slowed to give up the fight, Ryder caught her by the waist. Lifted her up and around.
“What are you doing?” She tried to free herself, but his grip was too strong.
“You don’t see it,” he said.
“See what?”
“The ledge. Sarah, calm down. Stop. Look. Give your eyes a few minutes to adjust.”
Only a few steps and she would have stepped onto nothing but a big drop-off.
“You nearly stepped off a ledge.” He kept his voice down.
“I don’t understand. Where did he go? How did he get away? Did he fall?”
“I don’t have my night-vision goggles on me.” He huffed his frustration. “Let’s get out of here so we’re not a target.”
Ryder maintained a gentle grip on her arm.
“I’m good now, Ryder. I’m not going to fall off a cliff.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because I’m fine guiding you.”
“I’m sure.” Yes, she was beyond frustrated the guy got away. He hadn’t tried to harm her. Hadn’t shot at her or stabbed her.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “I know this terrain.”
“Exactly why I want to hire you.”
She followed him as he hiked up the hill to his property. She hadn’t realized that she’d chased the guy this far.
Ryder headed for his shop, where the lights were still on. “What did that jerk want in the shop?”
Inside, Sarah caught her breath. Triathlete. Right. She probably hadn’t convinced him she was still in that kind of shape. He stalked over to the box where he’d stowed their clue.
Sarah moved closer to peer down at the charred, damaged piece of metal.
The box was empty. “Where is it?”
“It’s gone.” He kicked the box. “You tell me. Where is it?”
“I didn’t touch it. I don’t have it. Ryder, you don’t think I would take it, do you?”
“I don’t know what to think. You were in here with the intruder. Did he take it?”
“I wasn’t, actually. I was hiding by the rocks. I saw him come into the shop and I saw you heading for it, so I came back to . . .”
“To what?”
This would probably sound ridiculous to him. “Well, to save you.”
He narrowed his eyes, his expression unreadable. Did he like that she’d wanted to help him? Or did he find it laughable? Regardless, his scrutiny made her uncomfortable.
“If you didn’t take it, then the intruder must have. How did he even know to come here?”
This looked bad. “I . . . I don’t know what to say. I don’t know. I only just found out tonight. You know that.”
She expected Ryder to question her more about the intruder, who appeared to have come specifically for the piece he found, but Ryder said nothing more. Instead, he led her back to the house.
Ryder closed the blinds. “I don’t have security alarms. I’ve never needed them in this quiet, sleepy tourist town or up on this secluded parse of land.” He paced the kitchen.
“Oh, come on.” Sarah leaned against the counter. “These days, everyone should have a security system, no matter where they live. And you have a trained guard dog, so you have a form of security.”
True enough. He set his Glock 9mm on the kitchen counter and stared her down. “He wasn’t after me. He was after you. I get the feeling you’re still keeping the truth from me.”
“He wasn’t after me. He was after what you found on the mountain. I thought we already established that. We still don’t know how he knew it was here.”
He stared up at the ceiling as if it had answers.
“Maybe he came for you but found the piece and settled on the metal. Or . . . it’s possible he was informed by the one other person I told.
But I don’t see her as the kind of person to pull this off.
I’ll have to pay her a visit to find out what she knows.
But until then, why don’t you fill in the blanks? ”
That accusing, demanding stare again.
“I’ve told you everything I can tell you.” What am I going to do? “Assuming you still plan to help me, when can we get going?”
He leaned against the island counter across from her, his eyes, as always, penetrating as they searched for truth—the truth she couldn’t give him.
“I’ll need a day to gather the gear for us both.
” His brow furrowed and his shoulders sagged.
“I don’t know who was behind tonight, and since you can’t tell me, I can only imagine some illegal activity.
I don’t want to get on the wrong side of things. ”
“And you’re not. I would never either. That doesn’t mean someone might not try to paint me in a bad light.” She was asking a lot of him. Like that he trust her. He didn’t even know her.
“Someone. The federal government? Is that who you mean?”
Sarah lifted a shoulder. “If I knew, I wouldn’t even be here.” She could find another way to get justice for Aaron.
“I’m going to call the sheriff and let him know about the intruder.”
“Please, be careful what you tell him. I have no proof of anything. I can’t afford the information about my brother’s murder or that I’m here to find the crash on the mountain getting into the wrong hands.
This is . . . I don’t know who to trust. My brother trusted the wrong person.
The wrong people. Do you understand?” Was Ryder second-guessing his decision?
“I hired you to take me up the mountain. You’re the one who demanded to know the reasons. ”
“Looks to me like the wrong people already know, but I hear you. I’d take you back to your motel, but I don’t think it’s safe. You have your backpack. You get the guest room. That’s the room where the intruder escaped.”
“Thanks a lot.” She offered a smile to give some levity to this long, hard day. “Do you think the intruder will come back?”
“If they got what they came for, no.”
“And if they were coming after me? You don’t have an alarm system, and the intruder probably knows that. He could be back.”
“Then we’ll be waiting.” Ryder hitched a half grin as if he looked forward to it.
Time to put space between them, but . . . she couldn’t move. This man . . . something about him drew her in. “You’d use me as bait?”
“Do you have a better plan?”
Actually, she liked his idea, but she wouldn’t let him know that.
He stepped closer and she couldn’t breathe.
Since he was a whole head taller, she stared up into his gray eyes.
Eyes that searched her soul to find her secrets, and that scared her.
But something about him pulled at her, and she had to fight not to step even closer and right into his arms. And suddenly, she longed to know what that felt like again.
It had been four years since her husband died. Four very long years.
“Honestly,” he said. “I don’t think it’s going to matter where we stay tonight, if he’s coming for you, he’ll find you. At least this way, we’re on home turf.”
“I didn’t say I agreed to stay.”
“And you are free to leave.”
Ryder Goodwin didn’t pull any punches. He didn’t have to. He could read people.
She lifted her face in frustration as she stepped back, putting much-needed space between them. “Where’s the guest room again?”
His grin caught her off guard. “Down the hall, second door on the left. I’ll grab your backpack from the truck. Hold on.”
Ryder disappeared and left Sarah staring after him. What have I gotten myself into? She’d wanted none of this, but it was the path that lay before her. He returned and set her backpack on the counter.
“Thanks.” She grabbed her pack.
“I’ll call the sheriff and ask about Mom,” he said. “Make sure she’s okay and tell him about tonight too.”
“Should I bother going to sleep?”
“He’ll pay me a personal visit in the morning. I’ll show him the shop. The guy was wearing gloves, so no prints.”
“I noticed. And . . . by the way, nice house for a single guy.” She almost winked and now wished she could take those words back. She left him and headed down the hall to the guest bedroom.
She found a cozy room decorated in lavenders and greens with a matching quilt on the bed. Must be Dinah’s doing because the rest of the home’s living space was decorated by Bachelor Pads R Us.
How often did he have guests anyway? Friends or relatives? He had two siblings—Holt and Lainey. Holt was a fed, and Lainey a seismologist.
Sarah stepped into the bathroom and found it stocked with towels and all the essentials to take yet another shower and wash off the grime of the last three hours. It was already well past her bedtime, and she was exhausted.
The hot water didn’t wash away the fact that she knew entirely too much information about Ryder.
More than she should. Stuff that wasn’t on the website.
She had to act like she knew nothing and ask normal questions.
She’d been trained to do just that, but it felt disingenuous to keep all that to herself.
Still, she was obligated to keep those secrets.
In her backpack she searched for nightwear. Then again, what if that guy came back? Did she want to chase him in her panda bear sweats and T-shirt—a Christmas gift from Tessa and Aaron?
Whatever. Panda-wear it was, and she’d sleep with her Sig. If she slept at all.
An envelope fell out of her pack and slipped to the rug. She picked it up. “Where did you come from?”
I think I know. Maybe she had it wrong, but could the intruder have come inside to slip her the note, then ended up sticking it in the pack in the truck? One way to find out.
She quickly opened the paper.
Mercy Ridge City Park.
MH
Malcolm Hoyt?
Oh. Now. This . . . this only confirmed her suspicions. She’d kept them at bay. Hadn’t wanted to believe or think he could somehow be involved. So maybe she had seen Reid Maddox after all. Nausea rose in her stomach.
Seriously? What was he up to? Leave that note and then snatch the plane part? He couldn’t reach her by cell because she was using a burner.
I don’t work for you anymore.
Sarah turned off the lights and lay on top of the covers, arms behind her head. This was going to be a long night.