Page 26 of Property of my Boss

“No need,” I say, leaning against his solid chest. “This is normal. I’ve got the medicine in my system. I should be fine now.”

The man from the trail grins and stands, tucking the inhaler back into his pocket. “God works in mysterious ways. I don’t usually carry this thing anymore, but my allergies have been bothering me up here.”

Tucker nods slowly and helps me up from the grass. “Well, we appreciate it. If you ever want a campsite in the future, you’ve got one. Payment is on me.” He nods toward the man’s leg. “You heal quick.”

Nick tilts his head to the side and nods. “Quicker than most. I, ugh, I’ve been wanting to talk to you privately. Do you have a moment?”

Tucker tightens his grip around my waist and the air changes, though I can’t figure why. “What do you want with me?”

The man leans in. “That’s what I need to speak privately about.”

I want Tucker to say that thing people say when they’re like, ‘no, anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of her,’ but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses the top of my head, hands me the keys to his truck, and tells me he’ll be with me in a minute.

Chapter Thirteen

Tucker

The man from the trail with the tattoo of a pirate ship on his forearm holds his stare steady on the bandstand as he says, “I know what you’re doing out there at that campground.”

I narrow my brows, my fists tightening. Of course, this fuck wasn’t here to help. He was here with a motive. I should’ve known that the second he faked an injury. “I’m sorry?”

“Just listen,” he snarls.

Just listen? Who the fuck does this guy think he is?

My chest squeezes as I stare blankly ahead, another round of fiddlers taking the stage.

“I was hired as a private investigator by the mayor of the Springs. I’m sure you remember Wren speaking of her ex-husband and his place in the community.” The man pauses dramatically. “He has reason to believe his wife was pregnant, and that you helped her disappear.”

I cross my arms over my chest and stay completely still, focusing on the one kid with a banjo as a breeze blows. From this angle, I can see that Tilly got to the truck okay, and all I want to do is knock this guy out and drive away with her.

“Trouble is,” the man groans, “the mayor is a blowhard asshole, and I’d wager to bet he wasn’t the greatest guy to be married to. I’m sure that’s why she left.” He sighs. “So, being the nice guy I am, I’m opening up the bidding. You pay more than he’s paying me and I’ll walk away.”

I laugh under my breath, still nothing to say. My gaze keeps drawing between the stage of fiddlers and the truck idling a few hundred feet away.

“I know who you use for documents. I know the trail you follow to get people out of town after dark. I know where Kade and Wren are living. I’m the one that dropped that photo by your house. This isn’t a game. I’m going to need two hundred grand by tomorrow morning, or I’ll take the evidence I have to the mayor.” He glances toward the truck. “You want that pretty little angel to know who you really are?”

“You’ve got some balls, sir.” I laugh and uncross my arms before walking away, though my chest is tight. “Good luck with all that.”

“I’ll be by in the morning with more proof, and I’ll trust you’re gathering the funds. Oh,” there’s a grin in his voice, “and if you’re thinking about running, think again. I’ve got my bases covered and the outcome won’t be kind.”

Jesus Christ.

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to gather my thoughts as I head toward the truck where Tilly is waiting in the passenger seat with a downturned expression, like she has the world on her shoulders.

I hate this. I hate that I’ve let myself touch her. That I’ve let myself believe that I was allowed her softness for even a second. That I’ve deceived her about who I am, what I’ve done.

Fuck!

“You don’t want to drive back?” I say, glancing toward her. “It’s even more fun taking the hills on the way home.”

She shakes her head. “It’s already getting dark. I’m not good once the lights go out.” The fun, cute, energy she had earlier has been drained from her voice. I can’t imagine why. The last few minutes have left a lot to be desired. “What’s going on with that guy?”

I groan and grip the steering wheel tighter, the truth about my entire life on the tip of my tongue like a poison. “He’s a private investigator.”

Her eyes widen as she stares at me in the moonlit cab of the truck. “What does he want with you?”

Here it is… the conversation that ruins everything. The thread that pulls my whole story apart.