True to You Page 8

  Two more cookies disappeared into his mouth. Their sweetness didn’t dim the intensity in her uncle’s eyes.

  She tried to fill the silence between them. “The governor received another death threat.”

  “Probably gets them all the time. Someone should shoot his ass. The man wants to approve drones. Drones! More spying on good, honest people.” Her uncle didn’t blink, or even look up at her when he snarled out those words.

  “Grumpy today,” she teased. “Some are upset about the drones, but there are practical uses for them.”

  “Give an inch, they’ll take a mile. They’ll say it’s for the forestry or the weather service, but they’ll really be spying. Just like how they listen to cell phones. They track people with the GPS in your phone and car. They know everything. You’ll see.”

  She wondered if this had more to do with the distillery her uncle had hidden on the property. He made and sold moonshine from an old family recipe he hoarded. Not that she wanted it. Well, maybe for historical and nostalgic reasons, but she didn’t want to take up the family business. Her uncle’s, or her father’s. They shared a few comparisons, both being illegal the biggest one. But her uncle only sold a little to neighbors—people he knew—and wasn’t hurting others to protect his small business.

  “How’s the shop?”

  “Better. My new employee is more efficient and competent than anyone I’ve ever hired.”

  For the first time, her uncle looked up from devouring his cookies and the newspaper. “You sure he’s not looking to join up with your daddy?”

  She didn’t think of Iceman like that. Not for a long time. Not since she was too young to know better. Seven was too young to learn the hard lesson that sometimes daddies were bad men.

  “Flash says no.”

  Her uncle held her gaze. “What do you say?”

  “He won’t be here long.” The truth of that should make her feel better. She didn’t want to want him the way she did, but the image of him chopping wood, his muscles flexing, the strength and speed and controlled precision, burned bright in her mind, like some spotlight to show her what she couldn’t have. “He’s smart. A good worker. Keeps his head down and his word.” If she asked him to do something and he said he’d do it, it got done. He learned the operation at Crossroads Coffee with lightning speed. Not that it took a rocket scientist, but still, he made a point to learn how to do something, then did it to the best of his ability because slacking off and getting by weren’t his style.

  Which made her wonder again how the hell he ended up in jail and at her place.

  Her uncle’s head tipped to the side as he studied her. She didn’t like the scrutiny.

  “You like him.”

  She didn’t want to acknowledge the thing he’d woken up inside of her the moment he walked through her door. She wanted him. Plain and not so simple. His presence taunted her with one undeniable fact. “He’s a nice guy.” She believed that.

  “But?”

  “He’s too good to be true.” She had to believe that to justify keeping her distance.

  “Ain’t that true about most things? Oreos are the best, but they’re full of sugar and fat and therefore the government says they’re bad. They’ll make you obese. Hell, they tried to take them off the shelves years back.”

  Before he went off on the state adding a special tax on soda, she interrupted him. “Flash checks out on everything he told me. Still, his interest in me, my place, Iceman . . . I wonder.”

  “Never let your guard down.” He looked at her hand. “Ever again.”

  She rubbed her hand and held it to her chest, trying desperately to push the ugly, scary nightmares out of her head. She didn’t need his warning, but her reasons for being guarded around Flash weren’t rooted in suspicion that he wanted something from her. She knew he did. A job recommendation. But she kept her guard up because she wanted something from him. Something she hadn’t wanted in a long time. Her attraction to him grew each and every day she spent in his company—and the long hours she dreamed about him at night.

  She didn’t like it. She didn’t want it. But deep down, she wanted him like she’d never wanted any other man.

  Her uncle read her thoughts and frowned. “I thought he was just another guy passing through.”

  “He is.” She didn’t like how that thought disturbed her, but he’d been up-front about the job being temporary.

  “Maybe I should check him out.” He made it sound like someone else suggested it.

  “Leave it alone. I can handle him.”

  “I’d believe that if you were indifferent toward him and he was like the others. Like your father. Nice guy or not, if he’s dipped his toe in the pond your father drowns in, come a hot enough day, he’ll jump in if the money is right.”

  “Everyone always thinks the money is right soon enough.”

  “Then you won’t be surprised when coffee shop boredom gives way to the danger and excitement that life lures good men into with a whisper of glory that’s nothing but death come calling.”

  Her father served as the angel of death all too often, recruiting people to do his bidding and never letting them go until they burned in a lake of fire, their wasted life one way or another up in flames.

  “What do you want me to do? The guy’s done nothing wrong. I can’t just fire him for doing his job well and being nice about it.”

  “Watch your back.”

  “I always do.” Which is why she trusted no one and lived one step away from Hermitsville, just like her uncle.

  “You staying for stew?”

  She normally stayed for a couple of hours and hung out, but today she needed to keep moving, even if she couldn’t outrun her crazy thoughts.

  “I’m headed back. I’ve got things to do. Anything you want the next time I come?” She eyed the open pack of cookies. “Besides more Oreos.”

  He eyed the single apple left in the crockery bowl on the counter. “More fruit. I’ll be needing some oatmeal and brown sugar soon, too.”

  “You got it.” She hesitated to leave because Flash might still be chopping wood.

  Moth. Flame. Burned alive.

  His presence drew her, but she tried to fight her natural but destructive instinct to go to him.

  “We could go fishing for a while. It’ll give you time to sort out whatever’s got you tied in knots.”

  If she kept this up, one day she’d unravel. “I have to go.” She gave her uncle a quick hug and headed for the door.

  He snagged her arm and held it a bit too tight. The intensity in his eyes surprised her. “It’s a rare thing to find the kind of love and trust required to withstand this life. People will come and go in your life, Cara. Take the good from them and get out before the bad takes too much of you.”

  She looked deep into her uncle’s eyes, trying to see what she felt inside reflected back there, but didn’t see anything close to it, so she asked, “Are you lonely, Uncle Otis?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve lived a good long life. All the people I’ve known—some good, some bad, some just trying to get by the best they can—went their way and I went mine. Maybe it was them. Maybe it was me. Whatever the case, I’m better on my own. I have you. For me, that’s enough. You need to figure out what’s enough for you. Things haven’t worked out in the past when you gave your heart. They didn’t deserve you. You didn’t deserve them or what they did to you. You can have someone in your life if that’s what you want. But keep your eyes open and your heart out of it.”

  “Act like a guy, you mean.” She was half teasing, but her uncle gave her a very serious look and nod.

  “It’s simpler that way.”

  She unlocked the three bolts and walked out the door, hearing her uncle relock them behind her, relegating himself to his peace, quiet, cookies, and desired isolation.

  She headed straight home, lost in thought about whether she could be the kind of person who took what others were willing to give and kept her heart on lockdown.


  Could that be enough?

  Wasn’t it better than this lonely existence?

  Wasn’t having part of what she wanted better than having nothing at all?

  Chapter Eight

  Flash stopped short of the fishing line tied low between two towering trees. A small bell hung at one end. If he tripped over the line, he’d set the bell to tinkling and give himself away. He didn’t know what the hell he was looking for out here, but Cara’s increasingly odd behavior made him abandon chopping wood. He’d needed the distraction and to work off the excess energy he had from the desire to get his hands on Cara generated in him from just thinking about her. Which he did way too often. He tried to blame his increased libido on the fact he’d been in jail and away from women far too long, but Tandy practically dry humped him every time he worked with her and she brushed her body against his but nothing happened. He didn’t want her. His dick had become obsessed with one woman.

  He didn’t like it.

  Couldn’t do anything about it.

  And reminded himself constantly that he was on the job. Cara was his target. Gather information. Do not touch.

  But God, he wanted to touch her. He wanted to break down the walls that hid her smile, laughter, and everything else she kept to herself and from the world. He wanted to know her secrets and desires and not so he could put her father behind bars. He wanted to know everything she didn’t want to share with anyone else. He wanted her to want to share it with him.

  Right. She never spoke to him unless it was to tell him what to do. Every attempt he’d made to get close to her ended with her silence or her walking away.

  This morning when he caught her staring at him through the window, he finally saw an honest, and raw, glimpse of her. She actually looked at him as a man. Not a guy who worked for her. Not someone she thought wanted something from her. Not a guy lying to her to get what he wanted. All those things were true, but though she suspected all those things of him, she didn’t know for sure they were true. But in that moment, her suspicions evaporated, the walls came down, and she wanted him.

  And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  Not if he wanted to stay on this assignment and not put another black mark on his conscience. He couldn’t lie to her face about who he was and what he was doing here and then sleep with her. Even if that was the only real and honest thing between them.

  Once she found out he was DEA and on assignment, she’d know the kind of bastard he could be, even if he did it for a good cause.

  The one thing he knew for sure about her: she didn’t want to be used and lied to by anyone. She’d endured that her whole life. And he wouldn’t add to it if he could help it.

  The qualification he put on that thought bothered him. He’d never crossed the line for work. She almost made him want to abandon his mission, jump over the line, and take what he wanted. Almost. But he’d never get that day out of his mind when her father set him up to kill Manny. He’d never do someone’s dirty work again. He’d take down Iceman, put him behind bars, and walk away knowing he did the right thing, the right way.

  So what the hell was he doing out here? If the old guy in the cabin with the dead opossum hanging from the porch was cooking meth, it wasn’t in that shithole cabin. Not with a fire burning, sending smoke up the stovepipe. He’d blow himself up that way. Plus, Flash didn’t smell any chemicals that tinged the air with that paint thinner, cat piss, or hospital scent that meant he was using something like volatile ethyl ether to cook meth.

  The improvised fishing line and bell alarm piqued his interest. If the guy was making or storing drugs out here, Flash would find them. So far, he discovered the old man had a knack for hiding his tracks. Why all the secrecy? A cabin in the middle of nowhere. A truck hidden beneath a camouflage net. An alarm to announce a potential intruder without there being anything to see or take. As far as he could see, there was nothing out here but trees, the occasional squirrels and birds, and quiet.

  The kind of quiet where you couldn’t ignore your thoughts or feelings.

  But Flash’s senses told him there was something out here. Something the old guy didn’t want anyone to find. Not even the beautiful visitor he pulled a shotgun on ten minutes ago.

  Flash nearly ran from cover to protect her, but she didn’t even flinch despite the gun barrel pointed right in her face. She went into the house without hesitation. Which meant she knew what she was getting into going into that house alone and unarmed as far as he could tell.

  What the hell was in her backpack? Was she delivering drugs to the old guy to move somewhere else? He didn’t think so, but he couldn’t cross it off his list of things that appeared suspicious on the surface. If he could get closer to her, maybe he could dig deeper.

  He needed something soon to justify staying on her and not going after Iceman in a more direct manner.

  Flash stepped over the bell on a string, watched his every step for another alarm or booby trap. He didn’t have a path to follow. Not even a sign on the ground that indicated the direction he should take. But the number of three stones placed in a line on one side or another of a tree seemed too coincidental to dismiss. If the stones appeared on the left, he went that way. The right, he went that way. Before he knew what he was looking at, hidden in thick brush and covered by another of those camouflage nets, he smelled the acrid solvent scent.

  He smiled to himself. Not a meth lab. The old guy was a moonshiner.

  Flash almost laughed. Expecting the worst, this wasn’t quite so bad. Illegal, but not exactly as lethal as meth. Not a pile of cocaine either.

  When he finished his case with Iceman, he’d shut the old guy down. Though he’d probably just build a new still on another part of the vast property.

  Flash pulled out his cell to check his GPS and mark the location, but found exactly what he expected: not a single bar. No cell service out here. He barely got a signal at Cara’s place.

  No problem. When the time came, he’d lead the team out here to take the still down and arrest the old guy.

  Flash shook his head and headed back through the woods, still careful to watch for anything that would give him away. He even took a meandering path back to the cabin, so as not to leave his own trail. It took time and concentration, but he found himself on the outskirts of the cabin just as Cara walked out and headed back to her place.

  He followed her, taking a wide arc to avoid being seen by the guy in the cabin or alerting Cara that he watched her. Not that she’d notice. She seemed lost in her thoughts, as if she contemplated some decision and struggled to make up her mind. Her eyes were intent on the terrain in front of her, but he had a feeling she looked inside more than at the ground she covered with exceptional speed and dexterity given the rough path.

  She moved like a cat, all sleek and smooth and sure of herself. But deep down, something weighed on her.

  Someone so young and vibrant shouldn’t be this . . . sad.

  She broke through the trees and headed straight for the barn. His heart sped up thinking she meant to see him. Then his heart pounded when he realized that’s exactly what she intended, seeing as how Ray spent Saturday mopping the floors and washing the windows after the shop closed.

  “Shit.”

  Cara entered the front of the barn. He ran for the back and climbed through the bathroom window he left open to air out the room this morning after he cleaned. He rushed past the showers to the toilet stalls, flushed one of them, then went to the sink and washed his hands.

  “Flash,” Cara called out a moment before she stood in the bathroom doorway.

  He dried his hands on a towel and turned to her. “Hey there. How was your hike?”

  Her gaze swept up him and settled on his face and messed-up hair. After chopping wood and rushing through the forest with her, he needed a shower. And a shave, since he’d skipped that this morning after spending most of the night out checking local abandoned warehouses to see if Iceman was using them as storage. He had ye
t to track down Iceman’s headquarters despite following several of his guys from the coffee shop on multiple occasions, when he could get away at the end of a shift without being noticed.

  “Um, fine. I, uh, wanted to talk to you.”

  “Well, that’s something new.”

  Nervous energy made her shift from one foot to the other. Her gaze dropped to the floor before it came back up and settled on his chest. He’d never seen her this unsure and out of sorts.

  He stepped closer to her, concerned something might actually be wrong. Maybe something happened out in that cabin with the old man.

  If he hurt her, he’d kill the bastard. “Cara? You okay?”

  She reached out to place her hand on his chest, but pulled it back at the last second. Every fiber of his being woke up having her this close, but the thought of her touching him sent a bolt of heat sweeping through his system.

  Before she stepped back, he grabbed her hand and held it in his.

  “What is it, Cara?” He really had no idea how to read her odd behavior. She didn’t try to pull free, but gripped his hand in hers and stared down at it, testing the feel of his skin against hers.

  “Are you, uh, happy here?”

  Her unexpected inquiry caught him off guard. Her indifference to anything except him doing his job made it clear she didn’t care one bit about him. If he hadn’t seen the way she looked at him this morning, he’d have never guessed he got to her on some level.

  “It’s a hell of a lot better than where I stayed the last few months. Why? Ready to get rid of me?”

  She shook her head, still staring at their joined hands. Hers gripped his tighter. “No. Um.”

  He touched his fingertip to the underside of her chin and made her tilt her head back and look at him. Her eyes filled with uncertainty. “Talk to me, Cara.” To reassure her, he squeezed her hand back.

  “I’m not Tandy.”

  He swept his gaze from her pale hair, over her beautiful face, down her sweet curves, and back up to her gorgeous blue eyes intent on him. “No, you’re not.”