you be sure I won’t sneak out while you’re asleep?” she asked quietly as he dropped the rucksack on the low coffee table and began to unpack supplies.
He slanted a look toward her. “You’re not my prisoner.”
“Forgive me if I feel that way.”
He waved his hand toward the door. “You know how dead bolts work. Feel free to let yourself out.”
She actually took a couple of steps toward the door before she stopped, her chin dipping to her chest. Not looking at him, she asked, “Why were they trying to kill me?”
There was a strange undertone to her question that piqued his curiosity, as if she already knew the answer but needed him to say the words aloud.
So he did. “You’re in the way of their plan.”
Her gaze flickered up to meet his, confusion glittering in her eyes. He saw with a jolt of surprise that one of her brown eyes had gone light gray with a touch of hazel around the pupil. He blinked a couple of times before he was sure what he was seeing.
“What?” she asked, noticing his reaction.
“You wear brown contacts.”
Her brow furrowing, she blinked a couple of times herself. “Damn.”
“Why would you want to hide your eye color?” he blurted.
She looked down. “I like variety.”
She was lying.
“You didn’t finish answering my question,” she continued, her gaze stubbornly averted. “I’m in the way of what plan?”
He might as well tell her, he supposed. If anyone had a right to know what was going on, it was the woman who’d damn near given up her life for what the BRI had planned.
“A militia group called the Blue Ridge Infantry is planning to sabotage the law enforcement convention being held at the hotel this weekend.”
Chapter Five
“Why?”
The question spilled from Susannah’s lips before she had time to formulate a rational thought. If she had, she might have asked a more important question, such as how he knew these things and how the attack was supposed to take place.
But she supposed “why” was a good start.
Especially since her cousin McKenna was going to be one of the attendees.
Another question popped into her head. Could the Bradburys have made the connection between Susannah and her cousin? Had they targeted the upcoming conference knowing McKenna was going to be there?
Wouldn’t that be ironic? Targeting the conference because of McKenna, never realizing that Susannah herself was right there in the thick of it all.
But the Bradburys had never been connected to any militia groups, had they? They’d always been freakishly clannish, prone to trusting nobody but family, however vile and revolting those kinsmen might be.
Hunter’s growl of a voice interrupted her musings. “Two hundred top cops from three states in one hotel? Hell of a temptation to a bunch of people who loathe authority.” He waved toward the sofa, a tacit invitation to have a seat.
She limped to the sofa and sat on one end, surprised to find the piece of furniture sturdier and more comfortable than it looked. She glanced up at him, putting aside the thoughts of her cousin and any possible connection to the Bradburys of Boneyard Ridge. Sometimes coincidences were just coincidences.
“And you’re part of the plan?” she asked.
“I was what you’d call a forward scout, I suppose.” He answered with his back to her, crossing to the fireplace that took up half the near wall. But instead of logs, a large space heater filled the width of the fireplace. He plugged it in to the wall socket and a few seconds later, the unit hissed to life, giving off blessed heat and ambient light.
“What do you do for heat when the power’s out?” she asked.
He glanced at her. “There’s a woodstove in the bedroom and another one in the kitchen. But the lines to this place were laid underground, so there aren’t as many outages as you might expect from a place this far up the mountain.”
“How did you ever find this place?”
“My grandfather built it. Let’s just say, he
He slanted a look toward her. “You’re not my prisoner.”
“Forgive me if I feel that way.”
He waved his hand toward the door. “You know how dead bolts work. Feel free to let yourself out.”
She actually took a couple of steps toward the door before she stopped, her chin dipping to her chest. Not looking at him, she asked, “Why were they trying to kill me?”
There was a strange undertone to her question that piqued his curiosity, as if she already knew the answer but needed him to say the words aloud.
So he did. “You’re in the way of their plan.”
Her gaze flickered up to meet his, confusion glittering in her eyes. He saw with a jolt of surprise that one of her brown eyes had gone light gray with a touch of hazel around the pupil. He blinked a couple of times before he was sure what he was seeing.
“What?” she asked, noticing his reaction.
“You wear brown contacts.”
Her brow furrowing, she blinked a couple of times herself. “Damn.”
“Why would you want to hide your eye color?” he blurted.
She looked down. “I like variety.”
She was lying.
“You didn’t finish answering my question,” she continued, her gaze stubbornly averted. “I’m in the way of what plan?”
He might as well tell her, he supposed. If anyone had a right to know what was going on, it was the woman who’d damn near given up her life for what the BRI had planned.
“A militia group called the Blue Ridge Infantry is planning to sabotage the law enforcement convention being held at the hotel this weekend.”
Chapter Five
“Why?”
The question spilled from Susannah’s lips before she had time to formulate a rational thought. If she had, she might have asked a more important question, such as how he knew these things and how the attack was supposed to take place.
But she supposed “why” was a good start.
Especially since her cousin McKenna was going to be one of the attendees.
Another question popped into her head. Could the Bradburys have made the connection between Susannah and her cousin? Had they targeted the upcoming conference knowing McKenna was going to be there?
Wouldn’t that be ironic? Targeting the conference because of McKenna, never realizing that Susannah herself was right there in the thick of it all.
But the Bradburys had never been connected to any militia groups, had they? They’d always been freakishly clannish, prone to trusting nobody but family, however vile and revolting those kinsmen might be.
Hunter’s growl of a voice interrupted her musings. “Two hundred top cops from three states in one hotel? Hell of a temptation to a bunch of people who loathe authority.” He waved toward the sofa, a tacit invitation to have a seat.
She limped to the sofa and sat on one end, surprised to find the piece of furniture sturdier and more comfortable than it looked. She glanced up at him, putting aside the thoughts of her cousin and any possible connection to the Bradburys of Boneyard Ridge. Sometimes coincidences were just coincidences.
“And you’re part of the plan?” she asked.
“I was what you’d call a forward scout, I suppose.” He answered with his back to her, crossing to the fireplace that took up half the near wall. But instead of logs, a large space heater filled the width of the fireplace. He plugged it in to the wall socket and a few seconds later, the unit hissed to life, giving off blessed heat and ambient light.
“What do you do for heat when the power’s out?” she asked.
He glanced at her. “There’s a woodstove in the bedroom and another one in the kitchen. But the lines to this place were laid underground, so there aren’t as many outages as you might expect from a place this far up the mountain.”
“How did you ever find this place?”
“My grandfather built it. Let’s just say, he
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