that his youngest sister was still in danger.
Tyson didn’t know for certain but believed somehow, probably inadvertently, Ashley had tipped Owen off.
In many ways, she was a liability.
As much as Holly and Poppy Duval had been.
And now she was acting all high and mighty. Noble. Well, it wasn’t flying. Not with him.
“Well, you’re in it now, aren’t you?” He felt the old rage flare up and as she stared at him he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he just grabbed her, pulled her close and let his hands circle her throat, his thumbs pressing hard, cutting off her air, hearing the tiniest of snaps as he choked her like he’d done with that stupid spying Holly Duval and her sister.
Tyson felt a sudden rush of adrenaline in his bloodstream, the anticipation as tempting as sex. Maybe more so. He felt himself growing hard, itching for release of a different kind. He licked his lips and rubbed the tips of his fingers as he fantasized.
But a noise brought him up short. A loud creak that was more than the old lodge settling on its ancient foundation.
“You hear that?” he asked suddenly, his cock shrinking, his gaze narrowing on the window.
“Hear what?”
He strode to the French doors and peered out at the night, to the darkness and a faint ribbon of moonlight seeming to float on the restless water of the river. His eyes narrowed. His ears strained. He felt it then . . . unseen eyes. Boring into him. He held his pistol tight and strode to the window. “I’m telling you, Ash, someone’s out there.”
* * *
Nikki gasped.
She flattened herself to the old floorboards as she heard footsteps approaching the window. Biting her lip, she inched her body sideways and caught a glimpse of Tyson staring out into the night; she didn’t dare breathe. She’d heard enough, she could leave now. If she risked retrieving her phone from the ledge.
That would be tricky.
Sweat from the heat of the day and her raw case of nerves trickled down her forehead and nose.
She felt the seconds of the night ticking away with each of her heartbeats, smelled the scent of cigarette smoke and dust flowing out of the small opening beneath the window. And something more. The musky scent of male sweat. Tyson was anxious, worried and now, she knew, had a hair-trigger temper and a lust for killing.
Her throat closed.
The realization that she had drawn her husband into danger struck a terrifying chord in her. What had she written him in her text?
At the Marianne Inn. Settler’s Road. Get here fast. Be careful!
But she hadn’t said anything about danger, that she was chasing down a psychopath. Reed would be careful, wouldn’t he? He was a cop, a detective, and had been in tight places before. He’d know what to do. His instincts were razor sharp, his intuition spot-on.
Inadvertently she crossed her fingers. Despite trying to tell herself otherwise, she couldn’t fight the overwhelming sense of dread that she’d lured her husband into desperate, fatal danger.
* * *
Tyson glared through the dirty glass to the sultry August night and saw nothing out of the ordinary. But there was someone out there. He was sure of it. He could feel the unseen eyes watching his every move. He swiped at the sweat beading on his forehead.
“You’re paranoid,” Ashley said from in front of the charred, oversize fireplace, where he’d seen his damned father and that whore fucking like damned rabbits so many years ago.
“What?”
“I said, ‘You’re paranoid.’ No one followed me!”
He whipped around, his eyes focused on the woman he’d loved for so long, too long. “Don’t,” he warned, and he listened hard, still thinking someone was out there, someone intending to ruin all he’d worked so damned hard for.
“You called me out here,” he reminded her. “After that reporter bitch rattled your cage. You could have been followed.”
“What? By whom?”
“Nikki Gillette. Face it, Ash. You were played.”
“And you’re paranoid. This is out of control!”
“We’ve been through worse.”
“Have we?” she charged, and rubbed her arms as if she’d felt a sudden chill when the interior of this old forgotten inn was sweltering. When she fumbled for a cigarette and shook one from her pack, her hands were trembling.
“Of course we have! Just calm down. I told you the cops are going to think Owen offed himself, so we’re clear there.” Tyson was thinking. Second-guessing himself. And he hated that. “Everyone knew Duval was nuts, and they’ll take his