Page 61 of Crosshairs

Ainsley tilted her head. “Is there any record that Robert Chamberlain denied shooting Elliott?”

“I haven’t found any.”

“Then why does Cora believe he didn’t kill him?”

“The first diary that Cora found alluded to Robert being innocent. It’s the one that she found before I started helping her.”

“The first one that went missing.” Then she yawned. “What I’m trying to figure out is why anyone would break in here and steal the journals.

“Ifsomeone did.”

She nodded. “I’m too foggy to think it through. I have to get some sleep.”

“You and me both.” He stood, offering Ainsley his hand. Without hesitation, she took it, sending a current of electricity through his arm. Her blue eyes widened. She’d felt it too.

“Up you go,” he said, tugging her to her feet. Inches separated them. His desire to take her in his arms and kiss her sent blood thrumming through his body. Her lips softened and she leaned into him. He caught his breath. He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted to feel her in his arms, his lips on hers.

Linc tucked a strand of her black hair behind her ear and forced himself to step away from the woman he’d never stopped loving. Kissing Ainsley right now would be taking advantage of her lack of sleep and stress. When he did kiss her, it would be the right time and place.

31

Ainsley slept so soundly, it took a few minutes to figure out where she was when she woke. It wasn’t the first time she’d slept in a place that wasn’t her own and wouldn’t be the last. And yesterday wasn’t the first time she’d gone twenty-four hours without sleep.

She took a couple of deep breaths to shake the fogginess from her brain. To her chagrin, the image of Linc pulling her to her feet, his intentions clear, replaced the fog. But then he hadn’t kissed her. Even now, disappointment surprised her.

This wouldn’t do. Linc was her past, not her future.Go forward, not backward.That had always been her mantra. She’d left Natchez behind without a backward glance. Same thing when she’d walked away from her singing career.

But Linc wasn’t the same person he’d been fifteen years ago.

Could she get past the fact that he’d sided with her father, and eventually gave her an ultimatum—choose him or her singing career? She’d chosen the career. And he’d been right. It was a cutthroat business, one she was ill-prepared for.

That hadn’t been the point. Like her father, Linc had demanded that she turn down the opportunity to join a group that opened for one of the top country/gospel singers in the country.

He’s changed. And for the better.

Ainsley ignored the voice in her head and sat on the side ofthe bed. She called the hospital to check on Cora, and after learning she was a little confused, she asked about Connie Hanover. Her condition was still rated as serious. Ainsley stood, and the faint aroma of coffee beckoned her to the kitchen. Clothes first.

She padded across to the bathroom and wet a cloth with warm water and pressed it to her eyes as details of the shooting bombarded her. It wasn’t like her to miss someone tailing her, twice possibly. So why yesterday? Or, in both instances had the person figured out where they were going and hadn’t needed to tail them at all? That would rule out Maddox as the shooter at the Hanovers’ since he wouldn’t know them or where they lived.

It was something to discuss with Linc. But first she needed that coffee. Ainsley pulled her hair back and wrapped a band around it. She slipped the gray pants from the hanger that she’d hung on the back of Cora’s door and pulled them on. She quickly donned her body armor before grabbing her shirt.

A tap at the door startled her.

“Are you decent?” Linc’s voice came through the door.

She finished buttoning her shirt and tucked in the tail. “Yep. Come on in.”

He pushed the door open and entered with two mugs in his hand. “Thought you might need this,” he said, handing her one of the steaming cups of coffee.

“I need something stronger than decaf,” she said.

“You didn’t see the text?”

“What text?” She pulled her phone out. She’d completely missed Gran’s message telling them she’d left a bag of assorted coffee pods on the front doorknob. All caffeinated. Grinning, she looked up. “Real coffee.”

Ainsley nodded toward a sitting area in the bedroom with two chairs and a small table between them. She almost asked him what he’d done with therealLincoln Steele. It never would have occurred to the old Linc to bring her coffee, further proofhe’d changed. “Join me. I’m not quite ready to face the sunshine pouring into Cora’s kitchen.”

Once they were both seated, she sipped the strong brew. “You make a mean cup of joe.”

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