Page 61 of Recurve Ridge

I opened my mouth—to protest, shriek, whatever—but he stepped inside Robe’s room and shut the door behind him with a definitive click.

“How many doors have you listened at since you arrived?” he spat, clearly validating his suspicions.

A futile glance over his shoulder confirmed that the solid oak door stood between me and the relative freedom of Robe’s and Jon’s lesser interrogation at my surprise appearance. Being locked in a room with a man who’d appeared to hate me on sight would never top my to-do list.

“I got up to get coffee. You were all talking. I stayed back. That’s all.” I shrugged.

His lip rose in a cruel, knowing smile. “You think I don’t know who you are or why you’re here?” He took a menacing step toward me.

I couldn’t focus on anything other than the slim gap between him and the door.

Instinct took over before I could think it through. I dashed around him, turning in circles on feet that knew his best moves as intimately as he knew mine. But that didn’t stop me from escaping the dangerous man who stood between me and the relative freedom available.Somethingworked in my favor. I shoved at the door—which stuck in its frame right at the wrong time.

Miller shouted his displeasure at being outmaneuvered. He grabbed my wrist, twisting me into a Mari-shaped pretzel. I managed to use my momentum to pull us both against the frame. He managed a death grip on the door handle, yanking on it to imprison me against the solid wood. Paired with a dose of Miller-sized determination, our combined weight proved too much for the minor inconvenience of a jammed door.

We busted through together, presenting a knot of stumbling limbs and snarled words before the rest of the household that congregated in the living area beyond, along with the newcomer.

Miller let me go, and I stumbled on alone.

It didn’t matter if he followed me now; every head not already aware of my intrusion turned in my direction. The unknown man faced me, his mouth dropping open. Behind him, Robe’s usual scowl deepened. Forest-green eyes flared with deep-seated rage—directed at me.

“Get her out of here.” His tone brooked no argument.

A calloused hand gripped my arm, yanking me backward. Ignoring Miller’s insistent tugging, I held Robe’s stare, begging silently for his permission to stay. Dipping my head, I tried to offer no resistance other than to the hand dragging me away from him.

I’m not a threat to your life.

A healthy dose of fear slipped in there as well. I didn’t want to be left alone with Miller; the ex-soldier looked like he might attempt to beat some sort of truth out of me that I could never give him.

“It’s fine. I’ll go.” The new man, Brandon, looked up at Robe, gratitude etched across his weathered face.

Robe nodded, answering the stranger though his attention remained fixed on me. “Never a problem.” He escorted the blue-clad man out the door.

Miller towed me backward, away from the company of the men and the freedom I sought. I flashed my gaze about the room, projecting that silent plea Robe refused to honor. Will wouldn’t look at me, and Jon’s attention remained on the new man and Robe’s back.

I glanced sideways at the bar, but Alan’s usual spot stood empty.

Alan said he’d always be there when I needed a rescue.Like right now.No amount of fighting or screaming would change Robe’s mind. Ineededan intervention, and he could have helped me.

Robe’s absence when I needed him hurt deeply because I put my trust in him. All of it.

My shoulders sagged, and I let Miller pull me away, offering no more resistance. He bared his teeth at me over his shoulder, triumph glittering in his yellow-shot predatory gaze.

“If I can’t get the girl to come to the coffee, I’ll bring the coffee to the girl.” Alan appeared at my side, holding a full pot of coffee and three pristine China cups stacked on top of one another. He wiggled a cheeky eyebrow, then raised his gaze to look over my head. “Chop-chop, Miller. Off we go.”

“You could pass for a British spy with those sorts of talents,” I muttered under my breath, waving at the plate-and-teacup stack he carried with flawless grace along with his endless supply of sass, my relief leaking through the facade I threw on without understanding why.

Alan had seen me at my barest moment. I didn’t need to fake it with him.

Miller dropped my arm. Glancing at the man behind me, he strode back toward Robe’s bedroom. His back ramrod straight, he paused at the threshold as if straining against some invisible force and then pushed through.

I ignored his temper tantrum and stared up at Alan.

Concern laced his azure eyes that vied for brightness against Miller’s odd yellow-struck ones as he looked me over, his lips thinned, then handed me a teacup. “I’d take that as a compliment, Mari Merripen, but right now I prefer to stay an American spy.”

He winked and slid past me as I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. Not that I should be surprised; I’d sort of gotten the idea of what Robe and his odd little adopted unit did, an understanding gleaned from their continued interrogation since the moment I fell out of my reality and into his forest.

Alan admitting it outright, even if he only spied for Robe… I doubted he joked about that sort of thing.

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