urge to cower in a corner like a lost child waged its quiet waragainst grabbing her Python to hunt Baker down like a crazed vigilante.
Jess gritted her teeth, fighting off the itch to nail Baker—now.
“He stole my backup gun. A Glock 21,” she muttered.
“Do you know what he wants?” Sam asked. When Jess didn’t answer right away, Sam grabbed the cell phone clipped to her belt. “I’m gonna call this in. Get a team over here to dust for prints.”
Jess held out her hand to stop her overzealous friend.
“No, don’t. Let me handle this, my way.” She locked her gaze on Sam, but turned away the minute her friend opened her mouth.
“You know more than you’re letting on. I know you. What’s this all about, Jessie?”
Sam didn’t stop there. She ranted on about reporting her stolen weapon and about not taking the law into her own hands, but Jess stayed focused on the problem at hand, struggling to regain her composure. Baker wanted his property back, but she couldn’t tell Sam everything about her recent skirmish with the bastard. At least not yet. She had to respect Sam’s position as law enforcement. And her friend had done too much already, risking her job to tell her about Baker. This was her problem, and she’d deal with it her way.
With Seth’s help, she’d get her shot at Baker’s computer. By the looks of her place, she’d paid a hefty price for the right to invade his privacy, returning the favor he’d just bestowed on her. But she had no intention of getting Seth more involved than he already was. With Baker acting as an informant to the cops—a fact she hadn’t known until today—one of them might have leaked the information on her address. And that thought scared the hell out of her. She didn’t have the heart to tell Sam what she suspected. And no way would she drag Seth into this cesspool. After the kid dissected Baker’s laptop, he’d be out.
“Aw, Jessie.” With her voice laden with disappointment, Sam shook her head. Her eyes filled with the sympathy of a friend—absent the judgmental glare of a jaded cop who knew better. “What have you gotten into now?”
Getting in hadn’t been the problem. Walking away in one piece would be the real challenge. She always figured that if you’re gonna walk on thin ice, you may as well dance. And she and Baker weren’t done with their time on the dance floor.
Outside Talkeetna, Alaska
Mid-morning
Warm sheets felt good against his bare skin, especially with the soft patter of rain tapping its sweet music along his rooftop and windowpanes. He’d always been a sucker for rain, Nature’s version of a lullaby. Behind closed eyelids, Payton Archer pictured a steel gray morning, heavy with the smell of rain, commonplace in Alaska this time of year. The summer sun rarely made an appearance through the constant and dense cloud cover, even with the longer daylight hours.
With eyes shut, Payton could imagine his world a different place. Rapt in the last vestiges of sleep, he lay perfectly still, clinging to the twilight before he opened his eyes to the reality of his life. He listened to the sound of his breaths as if they came from someone else. A slow steady rhythm. The simple ebb and flow of a man who didn’t know failure.
Today, things might be different. Maybe he’d changed.
Like hell.
The serene moment of complete denial didn’t last long. When he rolled to one side, the top of his head nearly exploded. Shooting pain charged up his shoulders and neck, burrowing behind his eyes like it had a perfect right to be there. And who was he to argue? Hell, his brain took upprime real estate in his skull and certainly wasn’t working hard enough to pay its own way.
“Shit.” His rumbling baritone vibrated through his aching head with all the finesse of a shrill air horn at close range.
Bleary-eyed, he squinted across his small cabin, propped on an elbow. Every detail rolled in and out of focus—clothes strewn along the floor, an
Jess gritted her teeth, fighting off the itch to nail Baker—now.
“He stole my backup gun. A Glock 21,” she muttered.
“Do you know what he wants?” Sam asked. When Jess didn’t answer right away, Sam grabbed the cell phone clipped to her belt. “I’m gonna call this in. Get a team over here to dust for prints.”
Jess held out her hand to stop her overzealous friend.
“No, don’t. Let me handle this, my way.” She locked her gaze on Sam, but turned away the minute her friend opened her mouth.
“You know more than you’re letting on. I know you. What’s this all about, Jessie?”
Sam didn’t stop there. She ranted on about reporting her stolen weapon and about not taking the law into her own hands, but Jess stayed focused on the problem at hand, struggling to regain her composure. Baker wanted his property back, but she couldn’t tell Sam everything about her recent skirmish with the bastard. At least not yet. She had to respect Sam’s position as law enforcement. And her friend had done too much already, risking her job to tell her about Baker. This was her problem, and she’d deal with it her way.
With Seth’s help, she’d get her shot at Baker’s computer. By the looks of her place, she’d paid a hefty price for the right to invade his privacy, returning the favor he’d just bestowed on her. But she had no intention of getting Seth more involved than he already was. With Baker acting as an informant to the cops—a fact she hadn’t known until today—one of them might have leaked the information on her address. And that thought scared the hell out of her. She didn’t have the heart to tell Sam what she suspected. And no way would she drag Seth into this cesspool. After the kid dissected Baker’s laptop, he’d be out.
“Aw, Jessie.” With her voice laden with disappointment, Sam shook her head. Her eyes filled with the sympathy of a friend—absent the judgmental glare of a jaded cop who knew better. “What have you gotten into now?”
Getting in hadn’t been the problem. Walking away in one piece would be the real challenge. She always figured that if you’re gonna walk on thin ice, you may as well dance. And she and Baker weren’t done with their time on the dance floor.
Outside Talkeetna, Alaska
Mid-morning
Warm sheets felt good against his bare skin, especially with the soft patter of rain tapping its sweet music along his rooftop and windowpanes. He’d always been a sucker for rain, Nature’s version of a lullaby. Behind closed eyelids, Payton Archer pictured a steel gray morning, heavy with the smell of rain, commonplace in Alaska this time of year. The summer sun rarely made an appearance through the constant and dense cloud cover, even with the longer daylight hours.
With eyes shut, Payton could imagine his world a different place. Rapt in the last vestiges of sleep, he lay perfectly still, clinging to the twilight before he opened his eyes to the reality of his life. He listened to the sound of his breaths as if they came from someone else. A slow steady rhythm. The simple ebb and flow of a man who didn’t know failure.
Today, things might be different. Maybe he’d changed.
Like hell.
The serene moment of complete denial didn’t last long. When he rolled to one side, the top of his head nearly exploded. Shooting pain charged up his shoulders and neck, burrowing behind his eyes like it had a perfect right to be there. And who was he to argue? Hell, his brain took upprime real estate in his skull and certainly wasn’t working hard enough to pay its own way.
“Shit.” His rumbling baritone vibrated through his aching head with all the finesse of a shrill air horn at close range.
Bleary-eyed, he squinted across his small cabin, propped on an elbow. Every detail rolled in and out of focus—clothes strewn along the floor, an
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