Concealed Identity. Jessica R. Patch

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СКАЧАТЬ her to her feet, and ran his hand over her head. “No bumps?”

      “No.”

      Holt put his arm around her waist and helped her to the back door.

      Blair shivered against him. “Did you see his face? What do you think he was doing, prowling in Mitch’s pasture?”

      “I think he was hiding out. Waiting on us to leave the barn. Blair, I have to ask. Is there anything in your truck or the barn someone might want?” This was now the second attack since the auction.

      “No.”

      “I saw him grab you. Did he say anything?”

      She opened her mouth, then froze. Something brewed in her eyes and Holt knew it right then. The trust he thought he’d been building in the barn had shattered. She backed up a step.

      Something the attacker said had her spooked. And it must have to do with Holt. “What is it? I see he scared you. What did he say?”

      Blair looked away. “Nothing. He didn’t say anything.”

      Holt let out an exasperated sigh and shoved his gun in his waistband. “Let’s get you inside, then I’m going to take a look around. Make sure whoever it was is long gone, okay?” No point pressing her in this state.

      Blair nodded and opened the door, stepping inside.

      “Lock the door behind me. I’ll be back as soon as I check it out.” He kept his irritation in check. The longer she held out, the worse off it would be for Jeremy and Agent Livingston. But he couldn’t tell her that, because he couldn’t blow his cover.

      Several minutes later, Holt knocked on the kitchen door and Blair jumped like a scared rabbit before she opened it.

      “I didn’t see anything but headlights down the road. Could have been the guy. Maybe not. Too far to tell.” He scratched the back of his head. “I should stay. In case he comes back.”

      Blair’s eyes turned wary. What had that guy said? “You know I carry a gun, too. I’ll lock up and be careful.”

      Grinding his jaw, he surveyed the backyard again. “What if I said please?”

      “I’d say I appreciate your politeness but we’ll be okay. You’re just across the street. Besides, I don’t want Gigi to worry. She’s had enough to deal with already. I’ll worry for her.”

      And Holt would worry for Blair. Maybe he could charm her into letting him stay. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m quick on the draw.” He smirked. “And I run fast, too.”

      Her face relaxed and he had her. He hated the way he had to do it, although charming Blair wasn’t all manipulation. He rather enjoyed it. Liked seeing her smile and getting to know her.

      Suddenly, a new resolve formed in her eyes. “You can watch me lock the door again.”

      What happened? He blew a resigned breath and pointed to the door. “Get locking.”

      He’d have to watch from across the street or take up vigil in her front yard. Not to mention, he needed access to that barn. Something had to be of value inside, and later tonight, he was going to do some sneaking around of his own.

      * * *

      Holt’s hunt inside Blair’s barn had been a bust last night. She’d padlocked the truck and he hadn’t found anything he considered valuable in the actual storage areas. Of course, she might have put money, drugs or other questionable items in a hiding place before Holt had arrived to help her unload.

      Now it was Sunday afternoon and Holt had to pretend to build a fake store under his cover. Blair and Gigi had gone to church this morning, which made it even harder to believe that Blair was directly tied to anything illicit. With each moment, Holt became more convinced she’d been targeted. Possibly from what Jeremy had found out and wanted to divulge to Holt. Possibly over something Hector had done—or not done.

      This morning, he’d eaten breakfast at the Magnolia Inn and done a little surveillance, since Agent Livingston had stayed a couple of nights. He’d had lunch at the Black-Eyed Pea, hoping to hear some gossip that might help him somehow. All dead ends. He’d called his handler. No news in Memphis, either. Jeremy’s disappearance was still being looked into and Holt had called his cousin, FBI agent Bryn Hale, to have her pull FBI data. Bryn had put her husband, Eric, an MPD homicide detective, on it locally. Just some unofficial snooping by his friends.

      So far, crickets. Where had Jeremy gone? He’d asked Holt to meet him about some information he’d gathered—against Holt’s wishes—but he’d never shown up to the meeting. That was over a week ago.

      The door opened to his store.

      “We’re not ready for business yet.” He turned to see Gigi holding two cups of coffee.

      “Just peeking in on my neighbor. How’s it coming along?”

      “Hopelessly.” Story of his life. “I need a vision.”

      “You didn’t already have that?”

      No. He had a budget from the DEA to make it look real and that was about all. But he had to confess, he’d enjoyed hanging fishing equipment and scouring a few pawn shops for items while doing a little subtle investigating. “You have any outdoor equipment you’d want to sell?”

      Gigi shrugged. “You’d have to ask Blair. Didn’t you see anything in the barn last night?”

      “Not really.”

      “She just opened up. Sunday afternoons are popular with the tourists.” She studied the store. “I could help you, you know.”

      “With Blair?” Holt raised an eyebrow.

      A slow grin spread and Gigi waggled a finger at him. “With inventory for your business.”

      He took the coffee she presented and thought about it. He might have found a way to get closer to Blair. “You say Blair’s next door?”

      “She is.”

      He stepped outside, Gigi right behind him, into the summer heat and stared at Blair’s window display. A winter wonderland. “What’s up with your sister and Christmas?” From the store’s name, to the Christmas tree on the side of the truck and the Christmas window display...in June, there had to be something to it.

      “Ask her.” She opened the door; the bell tinkled. “An angel just got some wings, sis.” She motioned for him to enter. “I’m running over to Felicity’s for a green tea.”

      He darted his sight to the bell and shook his head. Blair stood at the counter, handing a stack of mail to a woman with long black hair, olive skin and raven-colored eyes.

      “Thanks so much for this. I didn’t mean to be gone as long as I was. I owe you one, Blair.”

      “You get a lot of mail, Lola.”

      “Mostly boutique stuff.”

      Ah. She must run the uppity-looking СКАЧАТЬ