Explosive Attraction - By Lena Diaz Page 0,60
bed and making him sleep on the couch, but she knew there was no point in arguing. Rafe was old-fashioned, always opening doors, carrying her bag when she could have carried it herself. He’d probably be horrified if she suggested she sleep on the couch.
“Is it yours?” she asked, waving her hand as if to encompass the entire cabin.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the dresser. “It is now. Dad’s arthritis pretty much keeps him home these days. But when I was a kid, we used to come up here for a whole month every summer—fishing, shooting, canoeing. Good times.”
“We?”
“My brothers, dad, me...and Trina.”
“Trina is your mom?” Darby ran her hand across the forest-green comforter on the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles.
“My middle sister, Katrina. She could outfish all of us, and outshoot everyone but Lance.”
“Lance...your youngest brother?”
“You remembered.”
“Told you. I’m a good listener.”
“So I hear.”
The lack of sarcasm in his voice surprised her. A few days ago he probably would have added a snide comment about her being a therapist. Instead, he quietly watched her, a half smile on his lips. Maybe being here in this cabin where he had so many good childhood memories was a balm for his soul with everything else going on.
She envied him that, envied the closeness he obviously shared with his family, memories he treasured.
Instead of memories he wanted to forget.
“Do you want to talk about it?” His deep voice cut through the dark thoughts swirling through her mind.
“Talk about what?”
“Whatever makes you so sad when I talk about family.”
She stiffened and snatched her hand back from the comforter. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Was it really that bad? Your childhood?” His mouth tilted up at the corner. “I’m a good listener.”
She shot him an annoyed glance and grabbed her small suitcase from the foot of the bed. “I’m going to take a shower. And after that, I’ll probably go to bed. It’s been a...trying day. Good night.” She hurried into the bathroom and closed the door.
* * *
RAFE CHECKED EVERY WINDOW, the front door, the sliders that opened onto the back deck. Everything was secure, but the lightning and thunder outside, along with the tinny sound of rain pounding down on the roof, made it difficult to hear any other sounds from outside besides the storm. If the killer somehow managed to figure out where Rafe had taken Darby and he drove up to the cabin right now, Rafe doubted he’d even hear the sound of the car’s engine.
That made him nervous as hell, especially since he was on the first floor and Darby was on the second.
Lightning cracked overhead, followed by a boom so loud it made Rafe wince. The lights flickered, and the cabin plunged into darkness.
He yanked his gun out of his holster and held it pointing down to the ground because he didn’t want to risk shooting Darby. He didn’t move for several moments, listening intently for any sounds that didn’t belong in the cabin. But all he heard was the storm.
And the shower running upstairs.
Having grown up in a house with three sisters, he knew what they would do if the lights went out while they were in the shower. First they’d scream, then they’d run out of the bathroom.
But Darby hadn’t made a sound.
That uneasy feeling Rafe had felt earlier kicked into hyperdrive. Guided by his familiarity with the layout downstairs, he hurried through the dark into the kitchen. A red, blinking LED light guided him straight to the flashlight mounted on the wall charger.
He positioned the flashlight at his shoulder, holding it like an ice pick, ready to use it as a weapon if it came to that. With his gun still aimed at the floor, he clicked the flashlight on and made a quick sweep of the room. Windows and doors still secured. He turned the flashlight off and lifted the edge of the curtains from the front window. A few seconds later, the flash of lightning illuminated the porch and yard beyond.
Nothing. No other cars, no stranger skulking through the grass or hiding on the porch.
But Darby still hadn’t made a sound. She hadn’t called out to him in the dark. And the shower was still running.
Rafe forced his breathing to remain slow and steady as he made his way to the spiral staircase.
He turned the flashlight back on, sweeping it up the stairs to the loft. Then he hurried up the stairs to the bedroom. Empty.