Page 109 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

Then he becomes still.

Grant rises cautiously, keeping himself between me and the scene. “Wait.”

I remain inside the truck until Carver retrieves the gun and Morales searches Mercer. Only when Grant receives confirmation through his radio does he let me stand.

Rocco is still kneeling beside Mercer.

Red clay streaks his jeans. One side of his jacket is torn, and blood marks his lower lip. He looks unharmed otherwise, but I need to touch him before I can believe it.

I move around Grant.

“Loralee,” he warns.

“They have him.”

“Wait for Rocco.”

I can’t.

I cross the parking area as Carver pulls Mercer to his feet. The man’s cap has fallen away, exposing thinning brown hair and a face twisted by something deeper than anger.

His eyes find me.

“You,” he says.

Rocco steps between us.

Mercer gives a short, breathless laugh. “You weren’t supposed to see anything.”

The words reach me around Rocco’s body.

“You thought I knew what you planned,” I say.

“You kept looking at the lodge.” His gaze locks onto Rocco. “Then he changed everything. More cameras. More guards. He made you important.”

Rocco moves closer until Mercer can no longer see me. “She was important before I arrived.”

Carver leads Mercer toward the patrol vehicle. He continues talking, insisting the festival ruined him, the coordinator lied, and everyone would have known the truth after tomorrow. His words lose shape as distance swallows them.

Rocco turns toward me. I touch the blood at his lip.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“He caught me once.”

My fingers travel over his jaw and down his neck, confirming what my eyes cannot. His pulse is fast and strong beneath my touch.

Rocco catches my hand. “You promised to stay in the truck.”

“I stayed until he was in handcuffs.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“It is exactly what I promised.”