Giorgio (Vigilance 1)

“So you’re back to being an asshole. It would be easier for me if you’d just stay that way.”

I hated the pain in his eyes. I was really fucking this up.

Lane pushed his chair back from the table and started to rise, but the sound of tires crunching on gravel made us both freeze.

“Go into the bedroom, close the door, and wait for me to tell you it’s safe to come out.”

“But what if…”

“I may be an asshole, but your safety is my number one concern. Do what I said. Now.”

“Okay, but be careful.”

I watched him until he shut the bedroom door, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest. He was pissed as hell at me, but he was still concerned I would get hurt.

I pulled my gun out of the holster, walked to the window, and lifted the edge of the curtain.

A red quad-cab truck sat in the driveway next to my SUV.

There was one occupant, and it wasn’t Hendon. As I watched, the man stepped out of the truck and adjusted his baseball cap. He looked like he was in his late thirties. He was tall and thin and wearing worn jeans, a black winter coat, and boots.

He rubbed his hands together as if trying to warm them and headed toward the front door. He wasn’t holding a weapon or showing any sign that he was a threat. It would be easy to assume he was just a neighbor or someone who’d made a wrong turn the way we thought we had the day before, but something about the situation didn’t sit right with me. I took a quick picture before the man knocked on the door.

I answered it, my gun held behind my back. I wanted all the information on this man I could get, but I was ready to defend Lane in any way I needed to. “Can I help you?”

The man looked confused, like he was expecting someone else. “I’m not sure. I think I may have the wrong cabin.”

“Who were you looking for?”

“My friend’s nephew, but you’re not him.” He acted casual, but there was a tick in his jaw that belied it.

“Nope. I’m sure not, and there’s no one here but me.” Thankfully Lane didn’t make any noise.

The man smiled, but it seemed forced. “Sorry to bother you.”

“No problem.”

He turned and walked back to his truck. I stepped out onto the porch, wanting him to know I was watching him leave.

His story was completely plausible, but it didn’t sit right with me. He hadn’t held himself naturally, and it seemed more like he was playing a role. That could be nerves about disturbing the wrong person, but my instincts told me he was lying. If he was, that likely meant the “nephew” he was looking for was Lane.

How the hell had Hendon already found us? Did he have some connection to Lane’s mother? Who had she told? Maybe Hendon was connected to the owner of the cabin.

As the man turned his truck around and headed down the driveway, I called X.

“A man just came to the cabin. I think he was looking for Lane.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” I gave X more details, including my sense that something was off. “We need to check out the cabin owner more closely and anyone else Sandra may have told about the situation.”

“I’m on it.”

“I’ve got a picture of the man and the truck he was driving. I’ll send them over.”

“Good. Keep him safe.”

“You know I will.”

“I’ll call as soon as I learn anything.”

I ended the call and waited on the porch for a few more minutes, listening carefully for any sound that might indicate the man wasn’t continuing on down the road. I wanted to follow him, but I couldn’t leave Lane there unprotected.

When I no longer heard the truck’s engine or any sounds other than birds chirping and squirrels rustling leaves in the trees, I stepped back inside.

“Lane?”

He stepped out of the bedroom with the damn statue in his hand again.

“I told you I’ll take care of you. All you need to do is follow my instructions.”

“I’m not taking any chances. What if someone gets by you?”

“They won’t.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not fucking invincible.”

“Close enough.” I was damn good at what I did. When I’d told him I didn’t miss, I meant it.

But sometimes—like my previous mission—I was too late. And I lost.

Not this time. This was a very different situation. Lane wasn’t a captive, and I was going to make sure he never would be.

He huffed. “No one’s that perfect.”

“You just don’t know anyone like me.”

“That’s for fucking sure.”

We stood there, staring at each other. Lane was breathing hard, which told me he was more scared than he let on. Adrenaline raced through me like it always did when I prepared to deal with a threat. I wished the man had come at me. It would’ve felt good to beat the shit out of him. I needed somewhere for all this aggression to go because the only option I had for calming my body was shoving Lane down on the bed and pounding into him, making him beg, making him cry out, feeling him struggle.