Page 41 of Call Back

Chapter 9

As soon aswe got into Colt’s truck, he shot me an apologetic look. “Sorry to play dirty in there—literally—but we need whoever’s watching to think we’re lovers, and that you’re playing Brady.”

“Why? You already pulled that stunt yesterday,” I said. “And trust me, Brady didn’t act like he was suspicious of anything.” Should I pretend like I didn’t hear him on the phone or confront him? Who was I kidding? “So what was that phone call about?”

He paused and turned to face me. His expression was carefully guarded. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know you’re supposedly meeting someone.”

“It’s a false lead. I had to make whoever put the cameras in your apartment think it was real.”

“I thought you said you were planning something tomorrow.”

“It came to me on the fly . . . so we can get those cameras out sooner.”

His call seemed premeditated, so I wasn’t sure that was true. “And how do you plan to catch them?”

“I have my ways.” He gave me a long look. “You changed clothes in your bedroom. Even though you know the cameras are in there.”

I shrugged, not wanting to admit how violated I felt. “I flashed my boobs to millions of people on the internet. What’s a bra and panties to some pervert? He’s probably pissed that he couldn’t watch us do it.”

Colt didn’t say anything, but after he steered out of the driveway, he reached out and took my hand. He drove a block before he finally said, “This is probably going to get harder, Mags. I still think you should change your mind about digging deeper.”

“Here’s a little thing you don’t seem to know about me, Colt Austin,” I said, jerking my hand free. “I’m pretty damn stubborn.”

He broke out into a genuine laugh. “You think I haven’t figured that out? I’m not that stupid.” Something in his tone jolted me.

“I never said you were stupid, Colt.”

He didn’t respond.

I turned in my seat. “Why are you doing this?” I asked.

He kept his eyes on the road, but his hand was squeezing the steering wheel with more force than necessary. “We’ve already had this conversation. More than once. It’s becoming tedious.”

“But you didn’t answer me. Not really.”

He pulled to the side of the road, across the street from the restaurant where I was supposed to meet my mother. His grip tightened and he stared out the windshield. “You really haven’t figured it out?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I had.”

He shook his head and turned to face me. “I told you. I’m a greedy son of a bitch, and I want half the gold.”

Four weeks ago, I would have bought that answer, but not now. I’d just have to accept that he was helping and figure out the why of it later. Colt Austin—the man who wrote country songs about pickup trucks and beer—wasn’t used to feelings.

“Colt.”

“Your mother’s waiting, and there’s something I need to do before I show up at the Belles.”

“What?”

He tilted his head to look at me. “Now, I didn’t go asking what you did with Detective Hot Stuff last night, did I?”

I flushed.

His eyebrows rose slightly. “On the other hand, based on the way you’re blushing, maybe I should reconsider. You know I like a sordid tale.” His clenched jaw was at odds with his glib tone.

I opened my mouth, about to apologize, but for what? Sleeping with Brady? That was ridiculous. Sure, Colt and I flirted, but he flirted with everyone—men included. He’d never once given me any indication that he wanted something more. In fact, he’d done exactly the opposite.

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