Page 124 of Capturing You
Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be that easy. He hadn’t told Grandmother about the smugglers. About how Brooklynn had taken pictures of them. About how he’d protected her, or about how she’d been at the house for days.
He hadn’t told Grandmother anything like that because none of it mattered.
Heaviness lifted from his shoulders as that thought registered. The smugglers, The Network…
If he never found his family’s murderers, he could live with that.
If he could convince Brooklynn to give him another chance, maybe…maybe the two of them could try a relationship. Maybe there could be more than just attraction and friendship between them.
Maybe he could have the family he’d always craved.
He could never be Forbes Ballentine, not if Grandmother was right and he was still in danger.
There were so many unknowns, and he hated unknowns.
But he cared about Brooklynn. A lot. In fact, though it was crazy to say so, he thought he could love her, someday.
Could he forget the past and focus on the future?
Could he leave justice to God?
If he let go of his need to know who’d killed his family, could he hold onto the woman he was falling for?
Maybe.
But the better option was to find Brooklynn, get her somewhere safe, and then take down The Network for good.
God willing, he could have both Brooklynn and justice.
* * *
Forbes should just dowhat Brooklynn wanted and leave her alone.
He should certainlynotstillbe lurking on Center Street, looking for a tall, older woman wearing a shoulder-length wig with a full crown.
He assumed it wasn’t a real crown, with diamonds and such.
Of course, because he was looking, he’d swear he’d seen a hundred sixty-plus women in the hours he’d searched. None who looked anything like Brooklynn.
Where are you?
After grabbing a hot dog, chips, and a soda from a fifties-style diner, he parked on the opposite side of Center Street from her gallery. He ate and watched the people who went in and out.
Someone stepped in the way, and a knock sounded on his window. The man backed up enough to be seen.
Forbes stifled a curse word, then rolled it down. “Taggart.”
“It’s Baker, right?”
He dipped his head. The cop wasn’t wearing his uniform today, just jeans and a short-sleeved golf shirt. “Want to search my truck again?”
“What are you doing here?”
He lifted his cup. “Enjoying my dinner. How about you?”
“Seems to me, if you were here to take in the view, you’d be facing it.” He gazed down the hill toward the Atlantic.
“Parking isn’t a crime.”
