a nasty little stab of hurt. It didn’t matter what Parker thought. No one had ever believed her—not her teachers, not the social workers who’d paraded through her childhood and definitely not the police. So why should she expect anything different from him? Just because he was Tommy’s brother, just because they had this mind-boggling chemistry ricocheting between them didn’t mean he was on her side.
Besides, he was right. Living on the streets, she’d had to reinvent herself continually to survive.
“I’ve been around a lot of runaways,” she said by way of explanation. “I know the profile well.”
Parker didn’t answer. He just continued to watch her, scrutinizing her with those wary eyes. Cop eyes. Eyes that took in every detail but gave nothing of his thoughts away. She turned her face toward the passenger-side window again. He was dangerous, all right. And no matter how tempted she was to trust him, she couldn’t forget that fact.
Seconds later, they crested a hill and the sign for High Rock Camp came into view. Brynn leaned forward, her heart beating double-time as Parker turned in at the gravel drive. The gate hung ajar. The guard shack stood unmanned, allowing them to pass unimpeded into the camp. But the security camera mounted on the high, steel fence took her aback. She hadn’t expected to be caught on film.
They drove past the gate, then followed a meandering track through the woods, gravel crunching under their tires. A squirrel bounded into their path. Leaves fluttered from the trees, doing cartwheels across the truck. A quarter mile later they reached a one-story log building bearing an office sign. Parker pulled into the parking lot beside it and stopped.
And suddenly, a clammy sweat broke out on her brow. Dread slithered through her veins, the terror she’d suppressed for years surfacing again. She’d entered her stepfather’s world. But she was older now. Smarter. Far less vulnerable.
And she would never suffer that abuse again.
Beating down the instinctive panic, she climbed out of the truck and shut the door. Then she forced herself to inhale, taking long, steadying gulps of the mountain air. A cardinal whistled overhead. A stream gurgled nearby. She turned her attention to the office, the freshly painted logs and flower boxes brimming with chrysanthemums giving it a tidy, welcoming look.
The setting was tranquil. Picturesque. Perfect. But then, her stepfather always had excelled at creating the right facade.
Still trying to calm her heart rate, she waited for Parker to join her, then started up the flagstone path. But he caught hold of her arm and tugged her to a halt before she’d taken a dozen steps. Startled, she tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re concerned parents, right?”
“So?” This close, she could trace the razor stubble emerging on his jaw, the intriguing hollow at the base of his muscled throat, his disturbingly sexual mouth. The woodsy scent of his aftershave teased her senses, disquieting her even more.
“So we need to look the part.” He linked their hands, and the feel of his warm, calloused skin set off a rush of heat in her blood. Then he pulled her into motion, adjusting his pace to hers. She was still trying to regain her equilibrium as they neared the office door.
Appearances, she reminded herself firmly. They were only playing a part. But the banked strength in his massive hand, the coiled power in his easy strides, had the oddest effect—making her feel sheltered, protected. Safe.
Which didn’t make the least bit of sense. Parker was a cop, and he clearly distrusted her. So why did she have this insane urge to burrow against him and let his broad shoulders shield her from harm?
At the door, he released her hand. More off balance than she cared to acknowledge, she swept past him and went inside. Then she stopped and glanced around, determined to quit worrying about Parker, quash the intense dread threatening to consume her and concentrate on the reason they were here—finding out the truth behind Erin’s death.
The office looked like an upscale lodge. A huge stone fireplace dominated one wall. Thick wooden beams yawned overhead. Generously sized leather armchairs surrounded a coffee table made of antlers, while a Western rug covered the wide-planked floor, adding splashes of color to the muted room. Nature sounds fluted over the sound system, the soft chirping of birds and a splashing stream designed to calm.
A blonde woman about Brynn’s age rose from the corner desk, a gracious smile on her face.