Page 79 of Tabitha

And he doesn’t look happy.

My good mood instantly sours. I have to remind myself that this is a job. Being near the guys is a distraction that I can’t afford, especially with the chance of a future with them looming over our heads.

Banks scans Bast, then dismisses him, his attention coming to rest on me. “Were you snooping around the woods this morning?”

“Snooping?” I lift a brow at his challenging tone, not missing the suspicion darkening his eyes. “You mean when I went for a run this morning? The one I told you about yesterday?”

I’m an expert at avoiding the truth and admitting nothing.

He reaches forward, straightening a curl that has fallen over my shoulder, and I can’t get over the impression that there is something threatening in that gesture. “So you had nothing to do with the gunfight that took place?”

“Do you mean when we were followed into the woods, then hunted like criminals? Was I just supposed to let them kill me?” I scoff, then yank the strand of hair away from him and fling it over my shoulder, not wanting him to touch any part of me. “We set some traps to dissuade them from following us, but that only seemed to make them more determined to kill us. They left us with no choice.”

Banks stills, scanning me from top to bottom before turning toward his second-in-command. “Why was I not informed?”

“The militia is not happy that a Buford is back in residence.” Bruce shrugs, but a muscle ticks in his jaw at being thwarted. “They must have decided to take action on their own.”

I would almost believe him if it weren’t for the malicious gleam in his dark eyes.

There is no doubt in my mind that the man ordered our execution. That he’s working against Banks would normally be a good thing…except he wants me dead.

Bruce rests his hand on the grip of the gun, his fingers drumming impatiently, as if itching to draw the weapon. “That doesn’t explain why you were tracked all over the hillside, wandering off the beaten trails.”

My skin pebbles at the thought he might have been watching.

Watching and doing nothing but waiting for us to die.

My hands itch for my blades at the thought.

But the facts don’t add up. If he was watching, he would’ve known we weren’t the shooters. And if he wasn’t on the mountainside, the only way he could know about the fight was if he ordered the hit.

Totally irrational concern for my father flashes through my mind. Although my initial response had been to scour the countryside and kill the bastard before he could kill me, I now actually feel nauseated at the thought of someone hunting him.

I flash Bruce a pointed look, then turn away like he’s unimportant and face Banks. “We wandered from the beaten path because we were trapping rabbits. While packing, we stumbled across my grandfather’s rabbit stew recipe. It brought back memories of my father cooking the same. I needed to get out of the house, take a break from packing. I can drop off some stew later if you want to give it a try.”

Though Banks might be a soldier, trained to give nothing away, he’s unable to mask his grimace of distaste. “Thank you for your kind offer. Why don’t you come over tomorrow instead and allow me to cook for you in apology for the misunderstanding? I’ll investigate the incident and get to the bottom of it. You have my word.”

Bruce’s lips flatten in displeasure, hardness entering his expression, and I suspect anyone connected to this morning’s incident will be dead before the end of the day.

“That’s it?” Bast crosses his arms, my eyes immediately dropping to the impressive flex of his muscles. The man is a beast, the size of his arm alone bigger than my thigh. “You and your men put her in danger after you swore she would be safe. If she’d been alone, she would’ve been killed.”

“Thanks,” I reply dryly, a tiny bit annoyed at his lack of faith, and I roll my eyes at the overprotective baboon. “I would’ve managed just fine.”

“I said I would look into it,” Banks says through gritted teeth, glaring back at Bast, both men completely ignoring me. The mercenary doesn’t like being confronted. If I weren’t present, no doubt Bast would mysteriously go missing like all the others who challenge him.

People in the town are watching us closely, the crowd clearly split into two groups—those who love the drama, and those who want to avoid drawing any attention to themselves. The militia looks uncertain which side they would choose if it came to a fight.

I barely hold back a grimace, then I do what I can to avoid a fight. I reach forward, latching onto Banks’ arm, and flutter my lashes up at him. “You invited me to a fair. I’ve never been to one. Why don’t you show me around town?”

Banks reluctantly glances down at me, then a twisted smile lights up his expression. “I have just the thing. Come.”

He slips his hand possessively over mine where it rests on his arm, and I have no choice but follow when he walks away or risk being dragged behind. I glance over my shoulder toward Bast. A massive scowl darkens his face, but he tails us closely, eyeing the guards that fall into formation around our group.

We pass booth after booth, heading toward a field of picnic tables at the edge of town. Men have gathered around in bunches, chatting and shifting to get a better view of the two six-foot tables that stand in the middle. A mound rests in the center, covered by a dingy sheet. As we draw closer, I see Pierce, Gage, and River scattered through the groups, their expressions grim.

When I get a look at the tables, I immediately recognize dozens of different guns arranged along the perimeter. I’m not really worried, since most of the people in the crowd are already armed. A few more guns aren’t going to make a difference. “Are you selling guns?”

I dismiss the thought of having his permits checked. Banks isn’t a man who will be taken down by something so trivial, or I wouldn’t have been handed the case. It bothers me that I’m still unable to discover what he’s really after. At first, I thought it was drugs, then weapons, but I’m not so certain anymore.

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