Page 22 of Heston
He’d slowed to bask in her laugh, when he noticed the slightest bulge under her left arm. Sure wasn’t extra-downy fluff.No, she was carrying. A twinge of pride slithered up Heston’s spine.That’s my girl.
“My bad,” the cheeky brat giggled. “I should’ve warned you guys to bring snowshoes.”
“No worries,” Asher chuffed once they were at her side. “Walking in crap this heavy builds muscle. It’ll keep the fat off Heston’s ass.”
“My ass isn’t as fat as your head,” Heston volleyed back. “Show us what you’ve got, London.” Man, it felt good hearing her name roll off his tongue. He wanted to say it again, just for the way it felt.
They were downhill from the footbridge. London was standing between him and Asher. She took her cell phone out of her pants pocket, leaned into Asher and said, “See?”
They put their heads together, her cheek almost against his, she was standing that close. Didn’t help that he was taller and had to hunch his big ass down to her level to look at her damned phone. That he’d put a gloved hand on her shoulder, the dog. Heston knew damned well what Asher was doing. Why should Heston care? They weren’t kissing. Or hugging. Asher hadn’t made a play for her. But he was close enough they were breathing the same air.
“See?” London stuck her phone in Heston’s face next. But some butthead had breathed all over it, and condensation fogged the lens, and—
“Can’t see a thing,” he griped like a petulant child instead of the special operator he was.
London leaned in closer. She was nearly under his arm, where she belonged. Still chuckling, she swiped her thumb over the screen to clear the view. Which Heston still couldn’t see, not standing as close as he was to the woman he’d let get away. Not with her flowery scent suddenly in his nose and his brain digging up memories—one after another—of his previous life with thisaudacious creature. Not with his blood on fire and his stupid heart pounding in his throat.
London hip-checked him to get his attention. Like she used to—a long time ago—back in the days when they’d played around. Teased. Enjoyed each other. Were carefree and—
Time warped, and once again, they were just a couple college kids in love, on their way to fame and glory. So damned happy that being poor hadn’t mattered. They’d had each other. Almost made the emptiness of the last few years fade away. Almost…
Except London was no longer the woman he’d known before. The FBI might not have been smart enough to keep her, but she’d gained a butt load of confidence while being on her own. At least, he hoped she’d been on her own. Was still on her own. Might make groveling easier if he knew he stood a chance. Her last name was still Wilde. That had to mean something.
“Do you see it or not?” she asked breathily.
He looked down at her, not at her phone. She was looking up at him. And once again, he fell into the jeweled wells of her eyes. He reached out automatically, rested a hand on her jacket-covered shoulder. Just her shoulder. Might as well have been her bare breast the way electricity sparked between them. Heston felt like he’d grabbed hold of a live wire. The shock was stunning. Tempting. Made him hungry as hell.
“Hes,” she growled. “Look. At. The. Picture.”
He jerked his mind out of bed, any bed, because that was where it’d gone. Them—naked—under the sheets—in bed—somewhere else. Loving. Holding. Playing. He cleared his throat, nodded ‘message received,’ and finally studied the damned evidence in her hand. It took a few blinks to get the roaring caveman out of his head, but the moment his eyes focused, he cursed. “What the hell is that? A cattle guard?”
“Finally,big guy,” Asher teased. ‘Big Guy’was the too-often-heard, cutesy nickname coined by Agent Everlee Yeager, soonto be Mrs. Everlee Yeager-Hayes, for her fiancé Shane Hayes. It had been used so often in the office that it became a joke.
“Stow it, Downey,” Heston shot back at the real‘big guy’on the team, ignoring London so the spike in his pants would stop beating its hairy chest and bellowing,‘Me get girl!’
There is no way we’re getting the girl, bud. We blew it a long time ago, so shut up.
“Yup, a cattle guard,” London answered, an unsteady tremor in her voice.
Which didnothelp. Heston was damned if he’d rearrange his junk in public.
She cleared her throat twice, then swallowed hard and asked, “S-see the brackets still attached to the framework below the planks overhanging this side of the bridge? There’s two of them. Two brackets. They’re what held the cattle guard in place. That’s how they caught Kelsey Stewart’s body. That’s why she’s still alive. They sh-shot her, then waited until she hit this grate and pulled her out of the river.”
Yeah, London felt the attraction, too. And she was right. The cattle guard was a sturdy steel device, more or less a massive grate used by farmers the world over, to keep their cattle from crossing a fence line and leaving the farm. It would surely also stop a body traveling downstream. This area of the river was wider and the water less turbulent. The cattle guard was painted USFS green and was nearly invisible, bracketed under the overhang of the bridge and in the shade like it was. Anyone observant enough to notice it would’ve thought it was Forest Service property. But Heston saw it for what it was: the first clue that would lead him to the man or woman who’d shot Kelsey.
“And the guys?” he asked. “You said you had pictures of some guys. Were they who dismantled it?”
London’s head bobbed as she swiftly tapped her cell phone ,then showed him several grainy photos that didn’t revealshit. At least not clear shit. All he could make out was, yes, two shadowy men alongside the river. Both slender and dressed in black. Both holding cell phones to their ears and continually looking over their shoulders. They weren’t exactly dismantling anything but they certainly knew about the cattle guard.
“I couldn’t get close enough to get better shots, and I know they’re pixilated but—”
“They’re better than what we’ve got. Good job, London.” Heston gave her Mother’s number and ordered her to, “Send these to Sasha Kennedy. She’s our technical genius. Maybe she can work her magic and help you identify these guys.”
“Oh, okay.”
Heston jerked his gaze to the White River. “Did you see them take it apart?” How else could they have gotten something that large out of the river?
“Sorry, no. A couple hikers interrupted me. They’d just found their lost dog and needed my phone to contact their vet because she was hurt and I... I got distracted.”
