It can’t be Gideon or Jamie. They would never do that to Harley.
A million different theories run through my head, but the only logical thing I can think is that one of the hotel staff knew it was Harley staying under that alias and told their friends. It would be a huge coincidence that they would know Webber.
My head hurts, but I don’t stop thinking about it the whole way back. I can’t.
It feels like the answer is right there, but I can’t reach it.
I’m no closer to figuring it out when I pull into the ranch’s long driveway, but the Gideon and Jamie thing still niggles at me.
I can almost certainly rule out Gideon. He’s Trav’s cousin, and if Trav thought something was up, he’d tell me.
Jamie is sweet and na?ve. Maybe easy to manipulate.
I’m putting the groceries away in the kitchen when Harley comes to find me.
“Way to freak me out. Maybe call out that you’re home?” He folds his arms across his chest. “I was sitting in the room wondering if someone had found me like they did at the hotel.”
I force myself to play it off and make a joke. “Honey, I’m home.” I must not pull it off because Harley’s face drops.
“What’s wrong?”
I continue unloading the bags. “I’m only going to ask this once, and if I’m completely off base, tell me to drop it, but”—I glance at him—“how much do you trust Jamie?”
“What the fuck?”
I put up my hands. “Okay. Sorry. I had to ask. I’ve been wondering how someone found out our room number. I’m grasping at straws.”
“And you assumed Jamie?”
“The only other people who would’ve known were the hotel staff, Gideon, and Trav.”
“It can’t be Jamie.” His words are firm, but I see a tiny bit of doubt in his eyes.
“Are you sure?”
The doubt is gone this time. “It’s not her.”
“Okay, I’ll drop it.”
“Did Trav look at the security footage?”
“He did.”
Harley stares at me waiting for me to elaborate, but I don’t know if I should. “It was Webber, wasn’t it?”
I nod.
The large floor-to-ceiling windows let in the bright daylight, and as if in slow motion, I see the color drain from Harley’s face.
I wrap him in my arms, wishing I could take it all away from him. He doesn’t deserve this. No one does. “Trav is working it out, okay? And until then, you and I can hang out here where it’s safe. You can write.”
“It’s annoying sitting back and doing nothing. It’s like I’m just waiting for him to get me.”
He said it, but I’m not going to agree with it. No matter how much I wish I was out there trying to find this guy, I’m where I need to be.
I hold Harley tighter. “Remember what I said outside of Denver’s party that first week I worked for you?”
“It’s okay to do nothing.”
“This is one of those times. I trust Trav to find this guy.”
He buries his head in my chest. “I know. I just—”
“Want to do more. I get it.”
I have faith in the Mike Bravo team, but this has been a clusterfuck ever since Billy Webber sent that letter.
What I can’t work out is how Webber found us.
The answer is right there, I know it.
What the fuck am I missing?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Harley
I wish I could say our next few days are filled with getting lost in each other and forgetting about the threat hanging over my head, but that’s not what happens at all.
Not even close.
Brix doesn’t come to bed when I do. He stays awake until there’s an update from Trav.
He’s preoccupied and barely listens when I talk.
I can tell he wants to be out there in the action instead of stuck inside with me all day.
He took me to the shooting range at the back of the property once as a distraction, but it wasn’t like last time. We each took our own booth, and it was less fun than when he was teaching me.
Plus, I still suck at aiming.
I know Brix’s attitude has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the situation in general, but I don’t know what to do. Or say.
It’s kind of awkward between us.
I walk into the formal dining room where a twenty-seat mahogany table sits. The crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling shines under the bright light. A brick fireplace along one wall gives the room ambiance. It’s without a doubt the fanciest room in the house. The décor in this place is definitely not