Page 63 of Into the Fire

As if he was worried.

That made two of them.

She rounded the corner, and as she lost sight of him, a shiver rippled through her.

While it was possible her misfortunes this week were coincidence, more and more they were feeling intentional. As if someone was targeting her.

Was it the same person who’d targeted Les with deadly results? And if that was the case, could these incidents be the preamble to a more lethal attack?

Or was she being paranoid?

Except Jack and Marc were concerned too, and the sharp, perceptive ATF agent who’d come into her life a mere two weeks ago didn’t seem like the type to worry without cause.

But if someone was lurking in the shadows, waiting for another opportunity to further upend her life, how could she ward off an unknown foe?

A yellow “Proceed with Caution” sign appeared on her right, and she slowed as she passed the work zone.

Not a bad warning to heed in the days ahead in her personal life, either.

Because much as she wanted to believe she was overreacting to the two car incidents this week, every instinct in her body said they were more than unlucky flukes. That nefarious intent was behind them.

And that there was more to come.

TWELVE

THIS WAS THELIFE.

Travis stretched, yawned, and refilled his mug from the pot of extra-strong coffee his most hospitable hostess had brewed to his specifications before she left for work an hour ago.

Sleeping late, answering to no one, being waited on hand and foot—he could get used to this.

Too bad he had to work.

And too bad Bri had made that so difficult.

Scowling, he stalked over to the window and took a swig of the potent brew.

At least he was making her life difficult now. Or rather, continuing to make her life difficult. After all his surveillance, it was clear she was still dealing with repercussions from the Idaho incident.

That was satisfying.

Travis finished off his coffee in a few large gulps, shrugged into his jacket, and picked up the keys to his rental car. Maybe he’d tool over to Bri’s, do a drive-by to see the damage from last night. That would be entertaining.

Afterward, he could drop by Marcia’s gym, use her guest privileges to get in a workout. It was important to stay in peak physical condition. He had to be ready to hit the ground running when he returned to his job.

He left his dirty mug in the sink, let himself out the front door, and strolled toward his car.

Why not drop in at that diner he’d found too? The one with the attractive waitress. Eat lunch, flirt a bit, try to convince her to meet him for happy hour somewhere before Marcia got off work. That would be fun, and—

Travis halted as he reached the driver-side door. Frowned at the white square stuck under his windshield wiper.

What was that all about?

He leaned around and pulled it free. The small envelope bore his name.

Huh.

Sealed missive in hand, he opened the car door, slid behind the wheel, and used his key to slit the flap.

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