Page 30 of Caught in His Sights

“I never intended to stop you from working on your VanishingVoice blog.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a USB drive. “My tech guy made a backup of your computer on this.”

Focus on him, I curl my fingers around the small memory stick. “All of my files are on here?”

“Everything except your pictures of me.” He leans down. “You don’t need them when I’m standing in front of you.”

I purse my lips. “What about when you’re not standing in front of me?”

“Use your imagination until I return.” His expression hardens. “But no more gossip columns about my family.”

“Why not?” I open the laptop and plug in the backup to format the computer.

He scowls. “Because that’s what got you in this mess to begin with.”

“My DynastyDish stories only got your family’s panties in a twist.” I tap the accept key to overwrite the hard drive. “My VanishingVoice blog is what put me on someone else’s hit list.”

His hand curls into a fist on the desk. “I’m handling that.”

“Which I appreciate.” I turn the chair to face him. “And wouldn’t it be convenient if I was dealing with what’s being said about the Rockfords? Because if it’s not me, it will be another journalist.”

His head cocks to the side. “So you’re offering to write articles for my family?”

“I could point attention in whatever direction you want, spin things to benefit you.” I shrug. “It wouldn’t be hard.”

He considers the idea for a moment. “I’ll talk to the others about it.”

I check the empty drawer. “What about my cell phone?”

Caleb shakes his head. “You’re not getting it back until we figure out who tried to kill you. It could be used to locate you.”

I nod in agreement, swallowing the disappointment. He’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I haven’t changed numbers since high school, and some small spark of hope keeps waiting for Dylan to call.

Caleb’s hand settles on my shoulder. “It should only take a couple of days to track down whoever has been sending those death threats. If we’re lucky, it will be the same person who took a shot at you last night.”

“A couple of days,” I repeat, my heart constricting at the thought.

As much as I want to be safe, the idea of leaving this place—leaving Caleb—hurts more than I care to admit. With the blackmail video, he can ensure I toe the line with whatever articles run in DynastyDish. There’s no reason to keep me in his sights, invading his home.

Caleb’s rough palm cups my cheek, pulling me from my thoughts, and he searches my face. “What are you thinking about?”

Will you kick me out? Will I go back to meaning nothing to you?

I choke down the questions and instead nod at his tattoo. “Does it have a special story to tell?”

Caleb glances down at his bare torso, as if he forgot for a moment about the black ink that covers his right side. “It’s something all my brothers and cousins got when they turned sixteen. The clock represents our family, and the cogs symbolize how each of us plays a part in keeping it running.”

“Did you choose to be the cog that kills people? Or did someone else decide that for you?” The question slips out before I can stop it, but an insatiable curiosity is what drove me to aim for a degree in journalism.

How did Caleb end up as an assassin?

He studies me for a moment, weighing his response. “It doesn’t affect me the way it might others. So if it means protecting and bettering my family, I’m fine pulling the trigger.”

I nod as I process this information.

Logic says I should be afraid of him, or even horrified, but my feelings for him remain unchanged. Maybe I am crazy, because being with a man who’s willing to kill makes me feel safe.

I turn back to the laptop, see that the backup is installed, and access my email. “You know, I can just start a new folder filled with pictures of you. Or I can plaster them all over this office.”

A warning rumble comes from him. “If you do, I’ll take away your computer privileges.”

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