Page 66 of Nicole's Shelter

“Cute place,” he said.

She didn’t have to watch him to know he was taking in all the variables with a quick, casual look around. “It does the trick. The last renters left two weeks ago.”

“Hang on? You rent out this place?”

She suspended her key search, looking up into his eyes this time. The hard expression matched his voice. “Sure. It’s financially smart.”

He slung his backpack down to the step and turned her to face him, his palms heavy on her shoulders. “You rent out a space where you keep vital evidence stored?”

She pitched her voice low to match his. “Who’s going to look here? No one who knows me now or knew me way back then can connect me to this place.”

“Good lord, Nicole!”

“Hush.” It was her turn to look around, but they were alone. She squirmed out from under his grip. “Come on in and you’ll see.”

Chapter 12

Rick told himself to shut up. Bottom line, it had been her problem and her business for years and she’d apparently done a good job of protecting the evidence so far. He was new to the situation and shouldn’t criticize the choices she’d made. Still, her cavalier attitude about such damning proof bothered him. The negatives were probably stashed in the bottom of a cookie jar or wrapped up in the back of the freezer. Why would she risk a stranger tripping over something that could end her ordeal?

Assuming she had what she thought she had.

In his gut, he knew she did. Worse, he believed Clifton suspected the same thing.

He followed her up the steps of the cottage, his gaze roaming the neighboring properties and layout while she fiddled with the lock. The area was quiet enough he could hear the surf meeting the nearby beach. “Is the beach public access?”

“Not on this end. There’s a stretch of a little more than a mile that’s reserved for owners.”

Score one for campground security. “Nice perk.”

“One of many.” The door swung open and she walked inside. “Home sweet home.”

“Uh-huh.” The layout was roomier than first glance from outside, and it was clean and bright inside. Neutral colors on the furnishings and décor, with the requisite coastal prints on the walls. Except for one panoramic sunrise in the place of honor over the loveseat.

He walked closer, knowing the truth. “You took this one.” It was in the composition, the way she used the light and seemed to catch the life of one individual swell.

She stepped up beside him. “It was a good day.”

“You thought it might be your last day here.”

She paled, and pushed a hand through her hair. “That’s silly.” Her protest only confirmed his theory. “I own the place and come here at least once a year.”

That was another concern about her plan. Alias or not, if she traveled here frequently, her handlers at WITSEC had probably figured it out. At this point, he might count it in the positive column. Based on Clifton’s long reach, he and Nicole would need some back up. “You really were planning to run away.”

“Eventually.” She shrugged. “If they wouldn’t bring the case to trial, well… no one likes to wait forever.”

“Have you already moved the evidence out of here?”

“No.” Her eyes went wide at his sharp accusation and he coached himself to ease up. “I’ve always had a reserve file. In case one or the other gets compromised by nosy renters.”

He ignored that. “What’s your end game, Nicole? Tell me right now.” He caught her wrist when she started to back away. “Have you already put something in motion?”

“How would I do that?” She tugged, but he held fast. “I didn’t even know who to bait. My end game, as you put it, was simply to regain control of my future.”

She wasn’t lying, but he didn’t think it was all of the truth. His gaze shifted between the framed photo and the brave woman who’d taken it. “Fine.” He released her, guilt digging at him as she rubbed her wrist. “Sorry.” There wasn’t anything else to say, no explanation he could offer that would make sense to her. She called to something deep inside of him. More than the job, stronger than simple chemistry. She stirred up feelings and hopes that felt bigger and more vital than what he’d felt with his wife. How was that even possible?

He looked away from her big brown eyes and scrubbed at the stubble on his jaw. A long shower and a close shave might have him feeling and acting more civilized. Unfortunately that only put him in mind of sharing that shower with her.

“Do you know your neighbors?”

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