Page 110 of One Last Promise

Moose followed, but when she rose from picking up her mug, he caught her arm, then turned her to him. Met her eyes, an earnestness in his. “Tillie, I?—”

“Don’t, Moose.”

And she didn’t know why she couldn’t hear it, whatever declaration might issue from him. Just, “Save it for when this is all over.”

He closed his mouth. Nodded.

She turned and walked into the cabin.

CHAPTER 11

Moose wanted to follow along with Flynn’s sketchy synopsis of Rigger’s motive, but really, all he had in his brain was the feel of Tillie in his arms, the taste of her lingering on his lips, and the screaming ofbrakes,brakes!in his head.

So much for calm.

Or control.Sheesh, what had he been thinking, pulling her over to him, tucking her into his lap and kissing her?

Really kissing her, like he’d wanted to for months.

And as he’d expected, he’d lost himself.

Shoot. He knew better. Had made rules for himself years back, and again after coming home from war, and most recently when God had given him a second chance.

No drinking. Healthy eating. And he’d closed the door on romance—at least, until he’d met Tillie. And even then, it had taken him more than a year to ask her out. Not that he didn’t want a romance, but . . .

But after Pike’s story, he never wanted to be a man who walked away from a promise. And one of his promises was to focus on Air One, to be the rescuer Godhad saved him to be.

And then there was the fact that Tillie wasn’t a Christian. And as much as Moose’s heart stirred for her and Hazel . . .

He stood behind Flynn’s chair, gripping it, trying to focus as she sorted through her information, not looking at Tillie. Not hearing the words that had been about to leave his mouth on the porch.Tillie, I think we need to slow down.

“You’re right, Tillie,” Flynn was saying. “Matthew Lopez went missing over five years ago. He washed up on shore at the Newport Fishing Pier, his body badly decomposed, dead from unknown injuries. I reached out to a contact I have in the Miami Police Department, a friend of a friend. We’ll see if he can give us more information.”

Tillie nodded, her face hardening.

“As for Richer’s gyms, the Fight Factories, they are serviced by one security firm, Sentinel Vision Security, out of Hollywood, Florida. I’m going to call them in the morning, see how far back they keep their security tapes.”

That’s it?Moose looked at Axel. Probably a good thing he’d interrupted them, but?—

“That’s not the interesting part, however,” Flynn said. She was working on Moose’s computer, the glow against her face turning her hair a deep amber. “I kept asking, Why would Richer start a custody proceeding two years after Pearl and Hazel and Tillie disappeared? Why not sue immediately?”

“Maybe he was afraid of what I would do,” Tillie said.

“Maybe,” Flynn said. “But I watched the video on Pearl’s phone, Tillie. There are grounds there for assault with a deadly weapon, and he never filed a complaint against you for that, either.”

Tillie stiffened.

Flynn looked up at her. “I think you could reasonably counter with self-defense.” She smiled. “I’m just trying to thinkobjectively here.”

Tillie nodded. Axel went over and pulled up a chair for her, tapped her shoulder, and she sank into it.

Flynn continued. “According to the current news, Richer is running for mayor against an incumbent whose platform is the fentanyl problem and the import of it through Miami harbors.”

“Richer’s against the control of fentanyl?” Moose said.

“No, of course not,” Flynn said. “He’s very outspoken about the drug problem. But his platform is for affordable housing, and he recently spoke at a gathering of people who want to legalize prostitution. Apparently, he says that criminalizing it makes the workers less likely to report crimes.”

“Probably wants to keep himself and his cronies out of jail,” Tillie said.

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