She didn’t want to let the fantasies go, but whoever said life was easy? He was here today and gone tomorrow. Not her kind of man. She wanted more.
“You wish He-Man. Put me down.” She’d tried to make her voice sound gruff, but it came out a hoarse whisper.
She felt his sigh more than heard it. The slight rise of his chest made her curl her fingers into his T-shirt, take in a last whiff of his cologne. She couldn’t place it, but it reminded her of dark rooms and unleashed desire.
After a moment’s hesitation, he lowered her until she stood on the asphalt.
A jolt of pain shot through her right foot. She gasped. Balancing on her left leg flamingo style, she examined the one-inch gash on the ball of her right foot. She flashed back to the hard thing she’d stepped on.
“Great.” She’d have to hobble on one foot back to Harvest.
Chris scrambled up the embankment. He stopped beside her.
“That’s nasty. God knows what you stepped on out here. What kind of person runs in an alley barefoot?” He peered closer at her face. “Oh, and your eye is starting to puff up. Nice.”
She flipped him the bird. Immature? Yes. Satisfying? Uh-huh.
Hank stepped into the alley and held up a folded piece of paper. “I found this near the railroad tracks.”
They crowded around Hank. He unfolded the grimy square to reveal a younger Kendall Burlington. She smiled shyly up at them. It looked like a copy from an old yearbook photo. Her then dishwater-blonde hair hung in a low ponytail. She wore a strand of white pearls and a black, scoop-necked dress.
“Why would the Voice of Doom kill her? She looks so sweet,” Claire said quietly.
All three men turned to stare at her.
“The Voice of Doom? Who the hell is the Voice of Doom? And what kind of dumb name is that?” Hank asked.
“I had to call him something. Whacked Out Killer Who dumped a Body in my Dumpster seemed a little too long.” Claire twisted a strand of hair around her fingers. She had to tell them about the call and the threats. This would not be fun. Hank would be irate that she had held it back from him. Who knew what Jake would think? She felt like crap already, best to get it over with.
She took a deep breath, then told them about the call and the demand for Kendall’s flash drive and phone.
“I was going to tell you all of this at Harvest, but then my car got blown up.”
“You knew all of this and took off after this guy anyway?” Hank smacked his head with his hand as he hollered. “Do you have some kind of death wish?”
“Hank, stop acting like my older brother for a minute. We have proof this guy is tied to Kendall. Isn’t it worth something?”
“It’s not worth your life.”
The worried look on Hank’s face shut her up. She’d scared him when she’d run after the killer. To be honest, now that the adrenaline had leaked out of her system, her reaction frightened her, too. She hadn’t thought first, she’d let impulse rule her actions. Again.
She wouldn’t actually tell Hank she had acted reckless. No, confession went against the little sister code. Instead, she hobbled over and gave him a hug. He squeezed her back. She was sorry. He understood.
“All right, all right. Enough PDA here.” Hank gave her a quick peck on the forehead and headed toward Harvest.
She shuffled, hopped, shuffled down the alley to keep her weight off her injured foot. It felt like she’d been stung by a bee the size of a mountain lion, but wouldn’t cripple her for life.
Hank, already ahead, didn’t notice her discomfort, but Chris did. He hunkered down. “Piggy back?”
She awkwardly pulled herself up onto Chris’ back. Glancing back at Jake, she saw he hadn’t
moved. A look of stark yearning lay bare on his face.
For her? For her crazy but loving family?
He caught her staring and the emotional display disappeared. He ran his fingers through his short black hair and looked into the distance.
A pang of regret squeezed her chest.