From the Shadows (Buckhorn, Montana #2) - B.J. Daniels Page 0,7

what you’re doing here.”

“I thought it was obvious,” he said, cocking his head at her.

“Not as obvious as the shower. You’re trespassing on private property.”

“You’ve got me there. I definitely have been.” He smiled, softening the sharp planes of his face and making her aware of how much more handsome he was now than in the photo she’d seen of him on the TV news. In that photo, he’d looked way too serious compared to the killer smile he was laying on her right now. The smile, though, seemed to make him more of a threat, since it was a little crooked and charmingly disarming.

“If I tell you why I first came here, promise not to laugh,” he said almost shyly.

That was a promise she could keep. She was not in a laughing mood.

“I was hoping to see Megan’s ghost before you had the hotel razed. I figured it might be my last chance. And, no, I didn’t see her, but there were times when I swear I felt like she was trying to run me off,” he said with a laugh. “The banging, the digging, the footsteps in the hall...” He shook his head. “I can tell you think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. Although actually admitting I originally came here looking for a ghost makes me sound...a little odd.”

“No, not at all,” she said sarcastically. His answer confirmed what she’d feared. The man was delusional. She really had to get him out of her hotel. If he was telling the truth. “But just to be clear, Devlin Wright didn’t hire you?”

He frowned. “Devlin Wright? Why would he hire me?”

To get the price on the hotel down. Devlin had been slow on getting her a definite offer for the place, so she wouldn’t have been surprised if the man was trying to pull a fast one. She knew Devlin. He’d worked here the summer Megan was murdered. That was why she’d been suspicious when he’d contacted her about buying the hotel and land for some investors he said that he’d gotten interested in the place.

“You need to leave,” she said now to Finnegan James. “There’s a motel in town called—”

“The Sleepy Pine. If you’d prefer that, although I wasn’t planning on leaving until Monday since...” He cocked his head again. Those midnight blue eyes shone in the afternoon light. She could feel them drilling into her with an intimacy that made her uncomfortable. “You did invite me for the weekend.”

* * *

FINN WATCHED CASEY CRENSHAW’S eyes widen in fresh alarm. He’d startled her again. Clearly, she hadn’t expected to find him here. He’d thought it was just because he’d obviously arrived early—months early. Now as she took another step back toward the open doorway, he half expected her to pull the trigger on that peashooter she had pointed at him.

“I’m calling the marshal,” she said as she reached into her shoulder bag with her free hand and came out with her cell phone. “I hope you enjoy the Sleepy Pine—after you’re released from jail for trespassing.” She thumbed in three numbers. He’d thought about stopping her but instead crossed his arms over his chest and simply watched her. It would have been so easy to disarm her and take both the phone and the gun from her.

“Yes,” she said into the phone moments later. “This is Casey Crenshaw. I own the Crenshaw Hotel here in Buckhorn. I found a trespasser living on my property.” Her gaze locked with his. “Yes, I’m in possible imminent danger. He looks very dangerous. You’re on your way? Wonderful. Yes, I’ll do that. I’m on the second floor. Come in the back. It’s where he broke in.” She tapped the phone.

“Are you finished?” Finn asked. “I could see that you didn’t make the call. We both know it would take Leroy longer than twenty minutes to get here since the marshal has to come clear across the county to get to Buckhorn. Also, the last thing you want is people in town to see a cop car come racing into the parking lot of the hotel. Everyone would know that you’re back in town, something I’m betting you want to avoid as long as you can, given what they’ve been saying about you.” He took a breath and let it out. “Shall I go on?”

* * *

CASEY GLARED AT HIM, hating that he’d seen through her ruse. Worse, he’d seen through her. She hadn’t called 9-1-1 because, like he’d said, it could be an