Page 29 of Stealth Mission

“I’ll buy you another.”

After making a scoffing sound, she motions for me to move out. But I’m not happy, I’m even more concerned. The faint sliver of the moon above is the only light illuminating our path. “Darlin’, are you out here all alone?”

“There is a man on the property, my farm manager. He lives in one of the eight cabinas that are on the eastern edge of the farm.”

“It’s too dark here, you need more lighting.”

When she doesn’t answer, I ask, “Who does your maintenance?”

She cuts me a look, but the shadows hide her eyes. “Please, not tonight. Some other time. I’m all talked out right now.”

As she reaches for the door, minus a key, I step in front of her. “You didn’t lock up.”

“This is the middle of nowhere. I don’t need to.”

Scowling, I block her from opening the door. “This is dangerous, Marianna. At least let me sweep the house.”

“Whatever. The broom is in the hall closet.”

I chuckle. “Last time I checked, I didn’t need a broom to clear the house.”

She follows me inside even though I tell her not to, and tosses her purse on the entrance table. The urge to drag her back to the car and make her wait with the driver has my hands twitching, but she waves me off. “Have at it, whatever it is you’re doing. I’ll be sitting on the couch. I’m too frazzled to care.”

Her exhaustion bothers me on a primal level. I want to take care of her. Tuck her in. Make sure she rests.

Stumbling tired, she moves to a large leather sofa and collapses.

Unable to set aside my protective instinct, I search the sprawling ranch home. Without the broom.

Instead, with my pistol drawn.

Room by room, closet by closet, I check her space, until I’m satisfied she’s safe.

The only things of interest is a closet full of men’s clothing that looks twenty years old and a house that was furnished decades ago. Otherwise, there are no signs a man lives here. No extra toothbrush. No shoes by the back door. No men’s clothes in the laundry room.

Yeah. I looked.

I’m relieved. I’m also even more protective. There’s no one here looking out for her.

Especially when I return to the living room and Marianna’s out. She’s curled up in a little knot. The sight makes me lock up.

What is that feeling in my chest? My skin is hot and cold at the same time.

It drives me crazy that she’s so small and alone on this farm.

Hands under her cheek, knees drawn up, hair fanned over the leather sofa’s arm, she looks like an exhausted angel.

I rip my feet off the floor and step closer.

A foreign sensation slides up from my lungs and takes root in my throat.

Fuck, can I just leave her here alone?

Chapter Twelve

The sun is coming up as I let myself out of Marianna’s house and lock the door behind me.

The first thing I notice is the way the light paints the orderly rows of agave plants. The second is the weird tugging sensation that walking away from Marianna’s house causes in the pit of my stomach.

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