Kaylee swung her leg over her bike and set the kickstand down. On any given day, she’d rather be reading a book than nearly anything else. It wasn’t like real life was all that great, anyway. Books had always been a source of comfort and probably would be for the rest of her life.
She could go anywhere. Be anyone but herself, walking around with the memories she kept in her head, even though she prayed every day she would forget them.
Kaylee walked up to the front door of the huge house that was nestled in the trees. Most people probably didn’t even know it was here, but she’d done extensive research before she moved to Last Chance. Google Maps Street View had shown her everything—and that included the warehouse behind the main house.
Kaylee had looked up the address on her work computer. The police database indicated the property was owned by Chevalier Holdings LLC, though she knew Dean Cartwright lived here, along with his brother, Ted, who was the police department’s tech expert. And also he lived in this house.
It was better not to even think his name.
There were reportedly also four others who bunked in the multi-room house along with them, bringing the total to seven. She’d seen the four around town, driving their big, black SUV with the tinted windows. They weren’t here much as far as she could tell, but Kaylee steered clear of them anyway.
The way she tried to do with Stuart.
And that was before he’d attacked the chef.
Kaylee had called Savannah before she left the diner to tell her what went down, but Stuart had left so fast, no one knew where he’d gone. Not even Dean, and they were supposed to be friends. He’d just attacked that man and then walked away. Like it was nothing.
That “nothing” settled in the pit of her stomach.
She knocked on the front door, then saw the bell. She rang that as well. Ted had told her that Dean was home, so she figured he was the one who would answer the door. Stuart was who knew where. Probably running from the law by now.
It was only after she’d seen Dean at the diner that she’d had the idea to speak with him. Kaylee had been thinking on it all afternoon. How to find out the answers to her questions.
Without actually explaining—to anyone—what was going on.
There was no way she would reveal her secrets.
The door opened. “Oh. Hey.” Dean shook his head. “What’s up, Kaylee? Is everything okay?”
“What?” Her stomach churned. Why couldn’t more of the men who lived in this town be ugly?
She’d been watching her friends fall for them, one by one. Mia. Savannah. Now Ellie had met Dean, and while she wasn’t exactly a friend, Kaylee liked her. Then there was Jess, who was Ellie’s sister and had a serious thing for Ted, who was Dean’s brother. It was serendipity—two brothers and two sisters who fell in love with each other.
Like all good love stories. The kind that ended with a double wedding.
Unfortunately for her, the men were all falling for exciting, adventurous women. Ones who were everything Kaylee was not.
“Kaylee?” He jogged her from her thoughts.
“Um…yes, everything’s fine. If, uh, everything’s fine here, that is. I mean, is your friend okay? Did the police find him?”
“I can’t talk about Stuart.” He moved to shut the door.
“I need some help!” She blurted out the words, practically shouting at him.
She didn’t want to talk about Stuart, but he was also not the reason she was here. Kaylee didn’t need to think about him, either. Not more than she already had, because that would reach creeper territory. Stuart and whatever his deal was didn’t have anything to do with her.
And given the way he’d erupted in the diner kitchen, that was for the best.
“I’d invite you in, but I’m the only one here.”
He thought she would be inappropriate, or that someone might think something inappropriate might happen?
“That’s fine.” She grasped her backpack strap with one hand. “I just...”
He waited.
How was she supposed to start?
“It’s my brother.”
“You have a brother?”
She nodded. “You were in the Navy, right? One of the SEALs?”
“Yes.”
“So you know people who do jobs like that.”
“Like your brother?”
Kaylee pulled in a slow breath. The truth was far more complicated than that. “He was supposed to have contacted me by now.”
“What does he do?”
“I don’t know. It’s black ops, or clandestine, or something.” Or she’d read too many spy thrillers lately. “I’m really worried. I wondered if you knew anyone that you could call, and then maybe mention his name. See if someone knows what happened to him, or where he is? Maybe he’s hurt or in trouble.” She shivered just thinking about Brad being in danger. Or injured, unable to escape. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”
“It’s okay, Kaylee. Give me his name and I’ll ask around. I know a few people with connections in that world. They can find out if your brother is all right,” Dean said. “But one of those people I know is Stuart.”
Dean wanted her to talk to him?
“Oh, well… I wouldn’t want to bother him. He seems to have a lot—” She had to clear her throat. “—going on.”
The skin around Dean’s eyes flexed. She knew he was a therapist, licensed to help people through their trauma. Hopefully he assisted Stuart in that way. She didn’t want to be judgmental or anything, but it seemed like he maybe could use professional help. That, of course, would take plenty of time and meant Dean wouldn’t need to worry about her in the meantime. No one needed to worry about her.
She was fine.
Dean lifted his chin. “What’s your brother’s name?”
“Bradley Caldwell.”
He opened his mouth but paused a second before he asked, “Military?”
What was that pause about? Did he know her brother, or recognize his name?
Kaylee’s eyes filled with sudden tears she couldn’t blink away. “Is he dead?”
“What? No.” Dean touched her shoulder. “I don’t know your brother.”
It took her a minute to compose herself, while she glanced aside and stared at the trees. “He’s not military, but it’s some kind of agency and it’s international.”
The idea her brother might be CIA had crossed her mind many times before. Usually after reading one of those spy novels. The only problem was that he didn’t appear to be affiliated with any one group in particular. He floated around like a transient, living out of the camper that was strapped on the bed of his truck and taking odd jobs when he wasn’t off somewhere on a “mission.” When he was gone, he was all over the place. He’d come back tanned or suffering from the aftereffects of hypothermia. One time he’d had some tropical skin infection, and he’d had to be quarantined.
Then there were the injuries.
It almost seemed like he was some kind of mercenary. A gun for hire. Maybe a thief, or arms dealer.
Maybe he was a criminal, wanted all over the world, and she would end up exposing him.
She’d considered going to the storage unit where he left his truck and camper, but that would be an invasion of his privacy. The package he’d sent her months ago was enough of a clue that something was going on.
Was he okay?
“I just want to know if he’s all right.” She blinked away more tears. “He’s never been gone this long before, not without contacting me somehow.”
Brad knew how she felt about being left with no word of whether he was dead or alive. One time he’d sent a postcard. She’d had voicemails and packages. Even an email. Never the same thing twice and never from the same account or name.
That was how she knew something had to have happened to him.
Dean’s eyes softened. “I think you should consider talking to Stuart. He may have the time to spare. If you’d like someone to try and look for your brother.”
She saw in her mind, the second Stuart had reacted. Through the opening between the diner and the kitchen, she’d seen his arm swing out. Faster than she’d ever seen anyone move. Like a trained fighting machine. A killer.
“I know you’re busy.” She took a step back and almost stumbled off the front stoop. “Sorry to bother you. Just…don’t worry about me. Okay?”
Kaylee didn’t wait around for an answer. If Stuart was the person she needed to help find her brother, then maybe Brad didn’t need to be found.
Was that the kind of man her brother also was? She didn’t like to think about that kind of violence. Not after what she’d seen with her own eyes eight years ago. The memory was blurred now—except when she dreamed it.
Kaylee flicked back the kickstand and set off, letting her helmet dangle from the handlebars while she pedaled back toward town with tears streaming down her face.
Brad, what did you get yourself into?
He’d always been rough. Not unkind, but far more capable of wading into a mess where a bully picked on someone, or where there were two dogs fighting. He’d broken up plenty of altercations when they were kids. Kaylee had been scared of everything, even before the night their parents were killed.
And every day since.
She pedaled fast and when she reached the main road, she stopped to put on her helmet. Biking might be safer than driving a car, but that didn’t mean she could go without head protection.
Two people honked, and she lifted her hand to wave at both. Small town life suited her just fine. So long as everyone did what they were supposed to. Kaylee didn’t need any surprises, she just wanted things to be the same as they always were. Definitely no scary and attractive, dark-haired men with too much scruff on their face erupting and whacking another man.
What was that about anyway?
Were the police looking for him?
Kaylee wondered if she should ask Conroy. Her boss was the chief of police, but she’d never asked him about an actual case before. Could she do it now or would he question the fact she was changing things up? Getting personal. Involved.
The idea she might need to face her fears was all well and good, but it wasn’t like they were unfounded. She had every right to be afraid. Then she would read her Bible. Or go to Maggie’s weekly Bible study in the common room at Hope Mansion where she lived with a group of other women. After some songs, and being “encouraged by the Word” or however they put it, she had to admit she would feel better.
It started on the back of her neck. The way it always did.
A tiny itch. The urge to turn around and make sure there was no one behind her. Kaylee heard the rumble of a diesel engine, probably a half-ton truck. Some local, clowning around in their gas guzzler just to pick up milk from the store or whatever.
Kaylee pedaled faster. She was almost to the street where she needed to turn, the road that would take her back to Hope Mansion. The perfect, safe, place for her to be. Everyone knew Maggie had a shotgun.
But first, Kaylee had to make it there in one piece.
Someone was following her.