Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

CONNOR

I ran the town perimeter daily, a ritual that had become second nature. Sure, it was partly about keeping fit, but it was more than that. I couldn't shake off the need to protect, to keep an eye on things. Not just for Quinn—though he was still my boss and was always at the forefront of my mind—but for the town itself. This place was slowly becoming home, and I felt a responsibility to look out for it.

The misty rain clung to my skin as I ran, the damp air heavy with the scent of wet earth and fallen leaves. The trees, their leaves a riot of autumn colors, seemed to watch over me as I moved along the familiar path.

Each morning, I took note of the small details: a broken fence post that needed fixing, flowers at the newest burial in the graveyard, a stray dog that seemed to have made a new home near an abandoned barn, and the sheriff's SUV sometimes parked at odd angles near various houses. Little things, but important—signs of life and movement, and I made it my business to stay aware .

Today, as I reached my usual vantage point overlooking Whisper Ridge, I paused to catch my breath. The view never got old, and today, the streets were shrouded in the early morning mist. From here, I could see everything—the quiet streets, the fields stretching out to the mountain, and the occasional figure moving about, starting their day.

I spotted the sheriff's SUV heading south at speed, and I wondered what criminal was causing mischief enough to get Neil's normally sensible driving style to switch. I watched it until it was out of view, my thoughts drifting to the man himself. He was a complex, intriguing man who somehow, with me, had a quick temper and sharp tongue that drove me fucking mad. Yes, there was mutual respect between us, an unspoken understanding, but even after the hottest sex of my entire freaking life, he was a closed book, revealing only enough to keep me guessing. It wasn't as if we'd hooked up again in the week since the landslip, but that was just as much on me.

He had a way of knowing things without saying much. His eyes always seemed to be two steps ahead of his words. Neil was a puzzle to me. He was intriguing, definitely. It made him interesting, and that scared me.

The SUV vanished around a bend, and I turned back toward my apartment, my mind still churning with thoughts of the gun that might or might not have been buried under the landslip when the walls collapsed. It could stay there forever if the bones and the cases returned as nothing, but if there was a dig? If someone wanted to search the area in more detail?

I'll cross that bridge when I come to it .

The run back was a blur, my body moving on autopilot while my brain sifted through the fragments of information I'd collected. The gun that had killed the cult leader, Callum Prince. The shooter, Rachel Lennox, and then her brother Micah, the man who was willing to take the fall to protect his family.

I'll fix this. Whatever happens.

Once home, I peeled off my damp clothes and headed for the shower. The hot water was a welcome relief, washing away the chill of the morning and the hint of tension that had settled in my muscles despite the run. Afterward, with a towel wrapped around my waist, I went to the spare room.

This space was where I kept all my research on the cult that had taken my cousin, everything I had on the Lennox Ranch and family, and most importantly, the security I had around Quinn. I sat down at the desk and powered up my laptop. The encrypted files glared back at me. I entered the passcode and watched the file open, revealing a labyrinth of documents, photos, and notes.

Each piece of information was a thread, and I thought everything was quiet now. The cult was no more. Rachel was safe, married to Scott, and back home with her brother. Quinn was married to his Levi, and happy since falling in love and having the pressure released from him when he stepped away from the city and gave away most of his money.

This gun thing, though? That put a kink in matters. The cult, the gun, and Micah/Rachel were my focus right now, and I had feelers out for what kind of autopsies had been done on any of the bodies found after the fire at the compound. I knew most of the evidence had been dealt with superficially—one of the young men at the compound had been a senator's son, and a ton of things had been buried. Still … what was on file? What could I find out? I sifted through new data, my fingers flying over the keyboard as I cross-referenced details and updated timelines.

As I delved deeper, I couldn't shake the feeling this might raise red flags. Maybe I should go directly to the senator and tell him what had happened—it was always good to have a politician in my pocket—but then that would expose me and make someone aware of my every move, which could shine a spotlight on Whisper Ridge. It was a paranoid thought but not unfounded, given the nature of the cult and the way things had been covered up. I had to be more careful now. The missing gun was a reminder the stakes were high, and one wrong move could open a can of worms that needed to stay shut.

An hour passed in a blur, but I still didn't have autopsy information, and that meant questions remained unanswered.

I leaned back in my chair and glanced at the clock. I needed coffee and breakfast, and then maybe I'd visit my friendly neighborhood sheriff and mess with him a little. Poor Neil wouldn't know what hit him, particularly when I held him against a wall and kissed him into tomorrow.

I'd let him stay away far too long. Seven days too long.

I would track him down as soon as he returned to town from wherever he'd been so early.

But first, as my belly reminded me, I needed breakfast. Plus, coffee for the win, and I headed to my usual corner booth at the diner.

"Morning," Noah said with a wave, already turning to get me coffee. "The usual?"

"Please."

He passed me a mug. "Go sit."

Nursing my coffee, I watched as the drizzle became more. It wasn't quite as bad as the storm we'd had, but it was heavy and so damn wet for late September, turning Whisper Ridge into a small sea of mud and puddles.

Noah placed a plate of bagels with everything in front of me, and I fell on it like a lion on a fresh kill. The man was a genius with bacon and eggs.

"Top up?" he asked, and I nodded, chewing on a mouthful of bacon and watching the black stuff fill my empty mug. "What the hell?" Noah asked with exasperation, and I glanced up, but he wasn't talking to me. He was commenting on the two boys loitering outside, huddled together under the awning, and staring in at us. He gestured for them to come in, but they shook their heads.

Even through the blur of raindrops, I recognized them: Laurie and Archie, their body language all too familiar. Heads bent together, they were talking, and they glanced at the diner every so often. I took another sip of my coffee, my eyes never leaving them. They were up to something, and it wasn't just a casual chat in the rain.

Whatever they were planning, Archie was the ringleader, no doubt about it. Always the first to come up with some harebrained scheme, with Laurie tagging along, hesitant but loyal. They had an uncanny knack for finding trouble, and this morning seemed no exception.

I took another sip of my coffee, my eyes never leaving them. The boys' coats were shiny wet, and they shivered in the chilly wind.

On their third glance towards the diner, Noah decided enough was enough, demanding they come inside. Laurie and Archie's faces lit up with relief, and they bolted for the door, tumbling in like enthusiastic puppies. They brought the storm with them, rainwater dripping from their clothes and a gust of wind following them in, causing the chimes to jangle.

"Hey, boys," Noah greeted. "Who wants to tell me what's going on?"

They looked at each other, then at Noah, then back at me, their faces flushed from the cold and the excitement of their dash inside. Laurie spoke first, his voice a mix of guilt and determination. "We were just … talking."

"Talking, huh?" Noah raised an eyebrow, glancing at Archie, who nodded. "It looks more like you're planning a heist during a rainstorm."

I expected them to laugh, but Archie was nervous, and Laurie was talking, his chin tilted just like his uncle Quinn's. "We need to talk to Mr. Mason," he exclaimed. They wanted to talk to me? My spidey senses were on overload—was this something to do with Quinn? I motioned for them to sit down.

"Go on, then," Noah encouraged. "You want some hot chocolate?"

They exchanged glances. "We don't got the money for that," Laurie announced .

"My treat." I gestured to Noah, who raised a hand in acknowledgment. He'd know better than me what two boys would want to drink or eat on a rainy day. They scrambled into the booth opposite, Laurie sitting down, Archie on one knee, rooting in his bright red raincoat pocket.

"This is for you," Archie announced as he dumped a pile of bills and coins on the table between us. Laurie reached over and helped to shuffle the coins around in tidy piles. At first glance, there looked to be about twenty dollars or so, but why it was for me wasn't obvious.

The boys were quiet, and I played the long game, waiting for one of them to spill. Our mutual silence was interrupted by the arrival of mugs of cocoa and a plate with two cookies.

The boys waited until Noah left, and we went back to silence. As a former SEAL sharpshooter turned PI, I could outlast anyone in the staring-quietly stakes, but the boys were wriggling, and then Laurie elbowed Archie in the side, and Archie squirmed before adding a watch to the pile, placing it with care as if it were important to him. It wasn't flashy, a Timex with a worn leather band and a scratched face, and the second hand was stopped, so I guess it didn't work.

When I stared at it, Archie nudged it closer. "Look," he demanded.

I picked it up and checked the back. Some initials were engraved there, but I couldn't make them out.

"Whose watch is this?" I asked, wondering if the boys had helped themselves to it at the ranch.

"My dad's," Archie murmured. "My real dad. It's mine, I didn't steal it." He was red in the face now, an unfortunate by-product of his pale skin, and I thought maybe he was about to cry.

"I know you didn't," I said, and he rubbed his eyes. "It's okay," I added.

He glanced at me, unsure. "Is that enough?" he asked, keeping his hand close to the pile of coins and notes as if he couldn't bear to let the watch go.

"Enough for what?"

The boys exchanged a furious conversation that I could barely make out because it was so fast and full of unfinished sentences.

"You said?—"

"Just tell him?—"

"What if he?—"

"We can't do that?—"

"Boys!" I interrupted after a minute of them bickering again. They snapped their attention to me. "Start from the beginning."

It was Archie's turn to elbow Laurie—they were doing that a lot, as if they had a script they'd rehearsed.

"Momma said you were like Magnum ," Laurie blurted. "The new one, not the old one with the ‘stache who momma said isn't as sexy." Laurie sank into his chair—clearly, his first part of the speech was over. There was a new Magnum ? I'd watched reruns of Tom Selleck with his mustache as a kid, but who would spoil an outstanding PI drama by remaking it? And what was the connection between Magnum and me? Oh… wait…

"You mean I used to be a private investigator." My being a registered PI ceased after I learned my sister had never made it out of the Brothers of Chiron compound. I'd only gone into the PI business to find her and give myself something to do after retiring from the Navy and no longer being a SEAL. It was never my end-plan in life, hell I still don't know what my end-plan was after the search for my sister had taken me to multimillionaire Quinn, who'd lost his brother to the same cult.

"Yeah. A PI." Laurie tilted his chin again.

I wanted to reach over and ruffle his hair, but I didn't because the boys were serious, and I needed to respect whatever they were trying to do.

"Is that enough?" Archie said with an anxious tone.

"Enough for what?"

"Can you find my sister?" he blurted, and his eyes were filled with so much hope that the kids could have left me three bottle caps and a trading card for a lower league baseball player, and I would have said yes to whatever they wanted.

Still, I took a moment to think things through. Archie had a sister? I had assumed it was just him and his mom, and I knew he was living with Micah and Daniel now, with his mom having moved into long-term care six months before. I'd done security checks on his birth dad and his mom, but widening it out to a non-blood-related sister, the daughter of his mom's old ex, hadn't been dug deep in the dossier I had on people at the ranch. "Your sister?"

"Grace," Archie half-whispered and swallowed, then passed over a piece of lined paper with a carefully written list of facts.

Grace Miller. Dad Ezekiel Miller. Age Six. Birthday 3 September. Hair, blonde, eyes, blue. Plays with dolls and clay and reads books with no words.

Why didn't I know Archie had a sister? Where was she? Was this an amber alert situation?

"Zeke isn't my dad," Archie said. "He was my mom's boyfriend, but he left when she was drinking badly and took Grace."

"So, Zeke is Grace's dad and not your dad?"

"Right."

"But your mom is also Grace's mom?"

"No. Grace and me? We're not even related, but … she was important. She was like my sister, and I looked after her, and I wanna know she's okay."

I knew Archie's biological father was long dead. I knew enough about LouAnne, Archie's mom, to know she'd signed legal documents to say that Micah and Daniel were his legal guardians, but nowhere did I recall a potential stepdad. Way to drop the ball . Micah and Daniel had to know. The stepdad wouldn't have a legal hold over Archie. Right?

"You gonna do it?" Laurie demanded, and I reached over and took two five-dollar bills from the pile, pocketing one and sliding all the coins and the watch back.

"This is enough, and yes," I said because Laurie and Archie asked, and I loved the kids and the Lennox family. If a final adoption was approved and someone out there could throw a wrench in the works, I'd fix it.

"What about the rest of the money and the watch? We know you ain't cheap."

"Aren't," I corrected a suspicious Laurie. "This is called a retainer. That means when I find her, you owe me more money."

The boys exchanged worried glances.

"How much more?" Archie asked.

"I'd want at least another five dollars in coins."

Archie's eyes widened, and then he smiled. "We got that," he announced.

I held out a hand, and Archie shook it, followed by Laurie.

The door to the diner flew open, and a frowning man entered—Daniel.

"I told you to wait by the car," he began.

"My bad," I interjected before the kids got into trouble. "Noah and I called them in for a drink and cookie.

"Outside," Daniel said fondly. As soon as they were back out of the cafe, I stopped Daniel following them with a hand on his arm. "We need to talk."

He stiffened and then stared out where the kids were crouched by a puddle on the sidewalk. "What's wrong?"

"Archie wants me to find a little girl called Grace. His mother's boyfriend's daughter," I waited for his reaction, and it was telling that Daniel relaxed.

"Yeah, he asked us, and we've tried to track down Ezekiel. He's a bull rider, and we always seem to get to where he is just after he's left. He's not returning our calls. Archie used to look after Grace when her dad was away and when LouAnne was … ill. Poor Archie wants to know Grace is happy."

"Are you okay with me doing some research?"

"It would help, thank you."

I pressed the ten dollars the kids gave me into Daniel's hand. "This is what they paid me. Can you keep hold of it for them?"

"We can pay you."

I shook my head. "I don't need money from family."

We shook hands and I watched as Daniel and the kids left until they turned a corner.

"You're a teddy bear," Noah announced from my side.

I should defend myself, tell Noah I was a hard man, a dude on a mission, a trained killer with no soft parts at all.

But where those kids were concerned? Or Quinn? Or this town? Or Neil? I'd be lying.

"Whatever."

All Noah did was chuckle. Asshole.