Page 7 of Taking Root

Danny’s chest tightened. Word of her father on the move meant an imminent change of location. “Where am I relocating to?”

“You’re not,” Eve responded. “We have a crew closing in on him, and we think he might try to find you if he managed to track down your mother. We’re going to have a squad following his trail but also one waiting for him in Charleston.”

“So, I’m the bait?” Danny asked. She stared at the night sky studded with stars. The tightness in her chest didn’t release.

“If you’re up to it.” Eve spoke in a matter of fact tone, like the operation was a done deal, but if Danny said no here, her handler would shut the whole thing down in a heartbeat. Danny didn’t have many people she could trust in her life, but her handler was one of the few. Every memory of her father came through a broken lens, shattered in the wake of the rash of murders he was responsible for. And after witnessing the locked room in their basement—the Feds had everything they needed to toss him in jail for the rest of his life. If they could catch him.

Her skin crawled. She needed to answer, but the words gummed in her mouth. Her mind splintered at the idea of him heading anywhere nearby, white noise rising to blank out the memories it took years of therapy to resurrect. The longer Kyle Peterson remained a free man, the more of a chance he had to kill again. Even if the fear shot through her like Novocaine, she knew what she needed to do.

“I’ll be the bait,” Danny responded, even as the ground spun beneath her. Dancing wouldn’t be enough to cut the stress tonight. She needed a stiff drink and a tumble in the sheets with a stranger.

“Good,” Eve’s voice heated in response. “The squad will meet at your apartment tomorrow.”

“Roger that,” Danny responded, attempting light and casual even though it tumbled out like a death sentence. Based on how this played out, it very well might be. She sagged against the bricks behind her, the scrape across her bare arms reminding her of where she was. The music pulsed through the building, spilling out through the front doors, but the magic from before disappeared in the wake of a single phone call.

She slipped the phone into her boot with a sigh before striking a path toward the entrance. As she headed past the bouncers, she lifted her wrist to display the flimsy band and return inside. Danny needed something heavy on the gin before her nerves could settle enough to step out onto the dance floor again.

Her heels clicked on the tile as she entered the club, the heat and pounding music washing over her. Camilla was a rose amidst hydrangeas in her bright red dress, sitting at the same spot along the bar, except she’d gained some friends in the interim. Danny couldn’t suss out who Camilla talked to, but she didn’t care if she cockblocked. She needed someone to latch onto.

When she got close enough, Camilla spotted her and waved her on over, the welcoming gesture settling some of the percolating unease. Her friend chatted with a guy and girl, both the sort of tall she’d never be.

The guy turned around to follow Camilla’s gesture, and Danny pumped the brakes.

His trim black button-down displayed broad shoulders and a tight, muscled frame, highlighting olive skin she wanted to lick. His dark hair was styled with some gel, long enough to run her fingers through. The man was sex on a stick and everything that got her hormones revving. Except those blue eyes were unforgettably intense, ones she’d seen a week before when she ran into him in the Gin Mill.

Despite or maybe because of her careful attempts to avoid him, here he was again. Adrian Dukas.

---