his phone, he snapped a couple pictures, hoping the action hadn’t been noticed. Accelerating, he caught sight of Katrina as she made a left turn at a large park.
Several houses down, she parked in front of a modest home with a small patch of grass and a few flowering bushes. Stopping across the street, he waited until she left her car and went inside.
Gunner didn’t follow right away. He spent a couple minutes studying the neighborhood and memorizing the vehicles, including a bicycle leaning against the side of Katrina’s house.
As he waited, a car passed by him. Sitting up straighter, Gunner watched as the driver of the car he’d followed from the nursery pulled over fifty yards ahead, then made a U-turn, parking several houses down from where Katrina lived. A moment later, he lifted binoculars, focusing on the modest house.
A slow burn crept through Gunner. There was no doubt the man was a stalker, spying on the family inside.
From his vantage point, Gunner snapped several images, sending them to Raider and Wrath. He’d bet the car was a rental, but running the plate would confirm it, and with luck, provide a name.
Five minutes passed before a teenager Gunner guessed to be Katrina’s brother stepped outside, grabbed his bike, and took off. His attention swung back to the man down the street. He stiffened when the stranger lifted his phone, pointing it toward Katrina’s house.
Slowly, the man shifted to face a house closer to where he’d parked. Gunner saw a man and woman step outside, both glancing nervously around. A moment later, the couple embraced, kissing and stroking each other before the woman pulled away.
The stalker in the car appeared to be clicking one photo after another, his movements changing to follow the man to a sports car parked down the street. When the car pulled onto the street, the man Gunner thought had been watching Katrina, pulled out behind him.
Shoving a hand through his hair, Gunner released a relieved breath. He’d been wrong. The man wasn’t spying on Katrina, but on what appeared to be a couple having an affair. Your everyday private investigator, hired by either a wronged husband or wife to catch their spouse cheating.
Stepping out of his truck, Gunner crossed the street, taking the narrow walk to Katrina’s front door. Lifting his hand to knock, he paused, shooting a look behind him. Satisfied the man hadn’t returned, he rapped three times and stepped back.
After several long moments, the door drew open. “Gunner.” Katrina looked around and behind him. “What are you doing here?” Her brows furrowed. “And how do you know where I live?”
“Can I come inside?”
Crossing her arms, she gave him a level stare. “Maybe. First, answer my questions.”
Scratching his stubbled jaw, he grinned. “I asked Janie for your address.”
“She’d never give it out without contacting me.”
“No?” His lips twitched enough for her mouth to thin.
“All right. Suppose she did tell you where I lived. Why would she?”
“There’s something you need to know about and Janie thought it better if I explained it before you hear it from someone else. Any chance you have a beer, or glass of water?”
The change of subject had her lifting a brow. “I have both.” She looked him up and down, coming to a decision. “All right. Come on in. I’ll get you a beer, and you can tell me what big news you have.”
Taking a bottle from the refrigerator, she removed the cap, handing it to him. Taking another for herself, she motioned for him to sit down on the sofa.
“What have you got, Gunner?” She sat close to him, taking a slow sip of beer.
“Did you know Janie put the nursery up for sale?”
“What?” Katrina sat up, setting the bottle on the table.
“She’s getting tired of all the responsibility. Wants to spend time traveling and visiting friends.” Reaching out, he tucked errant strands of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers caress her cheek. “Eternal Brethren own several businesses in town. Wrath heard about her desire to sell and made an offer. By the end of the week, we’ll own Maas Nursery.”
She paled at the news. Picking up her beer, Katrina took a couple long swallows, rolling the bottle between her hands. “Does this mean you’ll be bringing in your own people?”
He took her hand in his, squeezing gently. “Just me, Kat.”
“You?” She continued to hold his hand, making no move to pull away.
“Seems a farm boy from Nebraska has the experience to operate a nursery. Go