Page 73 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

“Yes.”

The answer arrives without hesitation.

“Rocco.”

“That is my job.”

“No. Your job is to protect the festival. You being directly in front of me is something else.”

His eyes hold mine. For one second, the security professional disappears, leaving only the man who carried me to his bed and left his own cabin because I needed to be alone.

“Then don’t stand where you were standing in the vision,” he says.

“How do I avoid that if I don’t know when it happens?”

“You won’t remain near this entrance.”

Neither will he if I have any influence over it. Before I can tell him that, Wade approaches.

“The caller used one of the courtesy phones near the food vendors. No camera faces the phone directly, but we may catch whoever approached it from the main path.”

“Pull the footage. Assign someone to watch the phones and check whether any other calls came from them today.”

Wade nods and leaves.

The auction volunteers wheel the emptied case deeper into the lodge. They position it against an interior wall, well away from any entrance or exit. The necklace and other valuable items will be secured in the lodge office overnight rather than returned to the display.

The physical arrangement from my vision no longer exists. Relief should follow. Instead, the warning remains alive beneath my skin.

Rocco senses the change in me. “What?”

“Moving the case was right.”

“But?”

“I still feel it.”

His gaze moves across the lodge. “Here?”

“Yes.”

“Tonight?”

“I don’t know.”

He breathes through his nose, accepting the answer because demanding another will not produce one.

The radio reports nothing unusual at the vendor lanes. A deputy completes another pass through the parking area. The festival continues beneath warm lights and autumn decorations, unaware that its security plan has shifted around a future only I can see.

“I want you away from the event,” Rocco says.

“I thought you might.”

“I’ll take you to your rental.”

“And then come back.”

“Yes.”