Page 12 of Walking the Edge

That was so not going to happen.

His mission was to produce one fricking fugitive.

Within seven days. Even less time if his brothers deemed him incompetent and took over.

At the hospital, Hal had urged him to make friends with this woman and gain her trust. Then she’d spill what she knew. How was that going to work, anyway?

She’d thought he’d hurt her brother. Worse than that, the kid had a hearing loss, like his oldest brother, Kurt. Mitch rubbed the twinge in his chest, wishing he’d known this ahead of time. Not that he could have handled Hurley differently.

Mitch hadn’t known about his own brother’s hearing loss in time to make a difference. Hurley had likely adjusted to his disability the same as Kurt now, but Mitch wanted to be the one to find this woman’s brother. Before the police. Before anyone who didn’t understand.

In some way, that might make up for his not being around for Kurt.

If Cath really was his fugitive’s sister, she would protect him to her dying breath. She could still unsuspectingly reveal the guy’s habits and usual haunts. Mitch just had to stick to her like the straps on his cargo pants.

Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink from the cold. Fog beading in her hair turned the strands a darker bay color, and he itched to smooth back those plastered to her face. The pixies decorating the pages of the storybook his mom used to read him could have been modeled on Cath. She had the requisite slim ankles and slender legs, legs he easily imagined wrapping around his hips.

She laughed at something a customer said, the throaty sound skating over his raw nerves. Mitch exposed the face of his watch. Her chat session had been going on sixteen minutes now. Added onto the length of the tour, he’d already wasted two hours and forty-nine minutes.

The last of her tourists finally left in the direction of the French Market coffee and doughnuts stand. Mitch straightened, but the woman in white walked away without a backward glance. No wave. No “good night.” No nothing.

“Wait.” His voice carried loud enough for her to hear, but she only sped up. In another second, she’d disappear into the fog like one of the ghosts she channeled. “Hey, wait a minute.”

He jogged past her and spun around, watching for a feint to right or left. Instead, she slammed into his chest. His protective vest cushioned the impact, but she hit hard enough for everything inside him to jostle to a halt. He caught her arms, and the softness of her skin caused his heart to hiccup.

“You okay?” Touching her only made his mission harder. Stop then.

Mitch dropped his hands but remained close in case she stumbled. Who did he think he was fooling? He simply wanted to stand close.

Her cheeks darkened. Why was Cath Hurley blushing? “That’s the end of this tour, Mr. Guidry.”

“I gathered as much. Cath.” He couldn’t let her file him in the Forget folder. Not after all the attention she’d been giving him during her tour. If nothing else, the incident with their brothers bound them together.

“If you’d like to book another tour, Crescent City Haunts has a cemetery visit tomorrow.” She gestured for him to move aside.

“I can call your office again if I want a recording.” He drummed his fingers against his thigh, not budging.

“I’m merely stating a fact.” She stepped off the curb to go around him. “We do have a cemetery tour tomorrow as well as a repeat of tonight’s.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” He needed to stay cool. Not pick a fight.

She halted to stare at him. “Well.” She gulped and sidled two steps. “In that case, I don’t know how I can help you.”

Mitch eased the same distance, hooking his thumbs in his belt in the most nonthreatening gesture he could think of. On Ranger missions, he always let teammates interrogate an enemy for intel. If anyone fell under the hostile label, this slender nymph of a woman did.

Person. He needed to think of Cath Hurley as a completely neuter person.

Not a beautiful woman. Women seemed to like him but smiling hadn’t cut it with this person. Neither had teasing. Long, heated looks got him nowhere. No matter what he did, her quills still bristled. He had to change tactics.

“That didn’t come out right. My bad.” Mitch flashed her what he hoped she’d see as an apologetic smile. “But I need to ask you some questions.”

“Sorry.”

She expected him to believe that?

“I’m all out of answers.” She stepped up onto the dark sidewalk again.

He rubbed the back of his neck. This woman—person—wore a nonstick surface like the one on his aunt’s skillet. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

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