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Deep Cover Detective
Lena Diaz
A detective needed a mysterious woman's help–even if she had secrets to spare…In the heart of Everglade country, Detective Colton Graham lays his plans to catch a robbery kingpin. What he fails to plan for is Silver Westbrook. Proprietress of a local B&B, Silver is as sharp-witted as she is easy on the eyes. But Colton senses Silver is hiding something. Suspicious that she might be harboring the very criminals he's tracking, Colton keeps a watchful eye on her. It doesn't take long to learn her true motives and her involvement in the case. But unfortunately for both of them, attraction can be the deadliest distraction.



He straightened, looking like a nervous stallion scenting a mare, wanting to grab her and flee from her at the same time.
His eyes had darkened like a stormy night as his warring needs fought inside him. He didn’t bolt.
But he made no move toward her, either. Instead, he fisted his hands at his sides. A slight hitch in his breathing was all that she needed to know that she had a chance to win this battle.
She rose to her feet, keeping her eyes locked on his the whole time. Slowly, she padded across the thick carpet to stand in front of him, with only a few inches and the heat from both their bodies between them.
“Colton,” she whispered. “I want you.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “We’re working on a case. We don’t have time—”
“We do have time. Hours to kill.” She slid her hands up the front of his chest, delighting in the feel of his muscles bunching beneath the thin fabric of his T-shirt. “And I’ve got the perfect way to spend at least one of those hours.”
“Silver …” His voice came out a harsh rasp. He cleared his throat and tried again, still not touching her, hands at his sides. “I’m not what you’re looking for.”
“Now, that’s where you’re wrong, Colton.”

Deep Cover Detective
Lena Diaz

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LENA DIAZ was born in Kentucky and has also lived in California, Louisiana and Florida, where she now resides with her husband and two children. Before becoming a romantic suspense author, she was a computer programmer. A former Romance Writers of America Golden Heart
Award finalist, she has won a prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in mystery and suspense. To get the latest news about Lena, please visit her website, www.lenadiaz.com (http://www.lenadiaz.com).
This story is dedicated to Sean and Jennifer Diaz. My greatest, most rewarding accomplishment in life is having amazing children like you. I’m so proud of you both.
Thank you, Amy, Diana, Gwen, Krista, Manda, Rachel, Sarah and Sharon. KaTs rule.
Thank you, Angi Morgan and Alison DeLaine, for daily laughs and the magic room.
And, as always, a sincere thank-you to my editor and agent, Allison Lyons and Nalini Akolekar, for their constant support.
Contents
Cover (#u32907f84-9715-5c02-b699-e850b1d6cfdb)
Introduction (#u67128139-b1e4-5313-83dd-d1c1e08830dd)
Title Page (#u501f1147-3242-5e99-9bcf-80cdb96c36ae)
About the Author (#ud5214f06-5f16-5f32-a5b8-8174c4a9e09b)
Dedication (#u5331c117-0889-50e6-891c-e5ef8e66e42d)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#uba82c4ec-07f5-528b-9bc6-226d426de609)
Colton shook his head in disgust and thumped the nav screen on his Mustang’s dashboard. It had to be broken. Either that or the GPS tracker he’d tucked under Eddie Rafferty’s bumper in Naples was on the fritz. Because if the screen was to be believed, the budding young criminal had driven his car off the highway and directly into south Florida’s million-and-a-half-acre swamp known as the Everglades.
Driving a car into the saw grass marsh and twisted islands of mangrove and cypress trees was impossible unless the car was sitting on pontoons. And Eddie’s rusted-out vintage Cadillac boasted bald tires just aching for a blowout. Not a pontoon in sight.
Colton pulled to the shoulder of I-75 near mile marker eighty-four, just past a low bridge over a culvert. This was the last location where the navigation unit showed Eddie’s car before it had taken the turn toward the swamp. So much for using technology to follow the suspect. He should have stayed closer, keeping Eddie in sight instead of relying on the GPS tracker. But when the kid had taken the ramp onto the interstate, Colton had worried that Eddie might get spooked seeing the same black Mustang in his rearview mirror the whole time he was on the highway. So Colton had dropped back a few miles.
Where was the juvenile delinquent now? Certainly not on the highway, and not on the shoulder. Heck, even if the GPS was right and he had pulled off the road here, there was nowhere else to go. Eight-foot-high chain-link fencing bordered this east-west section of I-75 known as Alligator Alley. The fence kept the wildlife from running out onto the road and causing accidents. And yet the dot on the dashboard screen still showed Colton’s prey continuing south, past the fence.
He eyed the tight, solid-looking chain-link mesh twenty feet away. No holes, no skid marks on the asphalt to indicate that a vehicle had lost control. The safety cable along the bottom was intact. But he supposed that could be misleading.
Twice now, that he knew of, vehicles had managed to go airborne after clipping a guardrail and had sailed over the cables and slid under the chain links—without triggering the cable alarms that would automatically notify the police and the department of transportation to send help. Had the same thing happened to his burglary suspect? If it had, the GPS would show him as stationary. And yet that dot just kept moving. Had a gator swallowed the tracker on Eddie’s bumper and was swimming down one of the canals?
Determined to figure out exactly what was going on, Colton got out of the car and stepped to the edge of the road. And that was when he saw it. Another road. Single lane and parallel to the highway, it was set at a slightly lower elevation than I-75, making it nearly impossible to see when driving past unless someone was specifically looking for it. The road turned a sharp right before the fence, heading back in the direction that Colton had just come from. It went down an incline, toward the culvert beneath the bridge where wildlife could cross to the other side of the highway without interfering with traffic.
The culvert, of course.
That must be where Eddie had gone. Maybe Colton hadn’t been as subtle as he thought he’d been when following the kid back in town and Eddie realized he had a tail. So he’d hidden out down there, waiting for Colton to pass him by.
An even better scenario would be that Eddie didn’t know he was being followed, and he’d just accidentally led Colton to his secret hiding place for his stash of stolen goods. This could be the break Colton had been looking for. If he caught Eddie red-handed, he would have the leverage to coerce him into revealing the identity of the burglary ring’s leader. The case could be wrapped up in a matter of days. And then Colton could go back to his normal life for a while, at least until the next big assignment came along and he had to go undercover again.
Excitement coursed through his veins as he ran back to his car. He hopped inside and yanked his pistol out of his ankle holster, automatically checking the loading before placing it in the console. He didn’t think Eddie had crossed the line yet to becoming a gun-toting criminal, but he wasn’t betting his life on it. Be Prepared might be the Boy Scouts’ motto, but it was Colton’s, as well. He had no desire to end up on the wrong side of a nervous, pimply-faced teenager’s gun without firepower of his own at the ready.
He wheeled the car around and followed the mysterious road that he must have passed a hundred times over the years and never known was there. But after reaching the bottom of the hill, instead of continuing, the road turned a sharp left and dead-ended at the chain-link barrier with a line of tall bushes directly behind it. And the culvert on the other side was clearly empty. No sign of Eddie or his car.
Colton’s earlier excitement plummeted as he pulled to where the road stopped so he could turn around. But before he could back up, a section of the fence started rolling to the right, along with the bushes, which he now realized had been cleverly attached to what was actually a gate. The bushes must be fake, since they weren’t planted in the ground. And they were obviously someone’s attempt to obscure the view, so others wouldn’t realize what Colton could now clearly see—that the road did indeed continue south into the Glades.
It was narrow, and mostly gravel, but it was dry and elevated a few feet above the marsh that bordered it on both sides. It curved into the saw grass, probably by design to help hide it. But a section of it was just visible about fifty yards away, where it headed into the pine and live oak that began a thick, woodsy part of the Glades.
Figuring the gate might close on him while he pondered his next move, he pulled forward to block the opening. Then he called his friend and supervisor in the Collier County Sheriff’s Office, Lieutenant Drew Shlafer. After bringing Drew up-to-date on the investigation and the discovery of the hidden road, Colton was disappointed in Drew’s lack of surprise.
“You know this road?” Colton asked. “You know where it leads?”
“You said it’s just past mile marker eighty-four, right? Opposite a culvert?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Ever heard of Mystic Glades?”
“Rings a vague bell. Isn’t that where some billionaire crashed his plane a few months ago?”
“Dex Lassiter. He ended up smack-dab in the middle of a murder investigation, too. But that’s a story for another day. Mystic Glades is the small town at the end of the road that you found, the same town where Lassiter ended up, a few miles south of the highway. The residents are a bit...eccentric...but mostly harmless. From what I hear.”
“Mostly? From what you hear? You’ve never been there?” Colton accelerated through the gate. Just as he’d expected, it slid closed behind him as he drove down the winding road.
“Never needed to. It’s rare for the police to get a call from a Mystic Glades resident. They tend to take care of whatever problems they have on their own. There have been a few hiccups recently, like with Lassiter. But other than that, the place is usually quiet.”
“There’s no permanent police presence?” Colton glanced at the nav screen as he headed around another curve. The screen blinked off and on. He frowned and tapped it again.
“The people of Mystic Glades don’t really cotton to outsiders, or police. Although I hear they’re starting to cater a bit to tourists that have heard about the place because of Lassiter’s case. Still, I wouldn’t expect them to exactly welcome anyone unless they bring the almighty dollar with them and plan to leave without it. But don’t worry. You’re in an unmarked car and you’ve gone grunge, so I doubt they’ll even look twice at you. They might even think you’re one of them.”
Colton rolled his eyes and glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. Grunge wasn’t his thing, but the description wasn’t too far off for how he looked right now. Since going undercover, he’d let his dark hair grow almost to his shoulders and worked diligently every morning to achieve a haven’t-shaved-in-days look without letting it get out of control and become an itchy beard. His usual military-short hair and clean-shaven jaw would be a red flag to the types of thugs he’d been hanging with lately. They’d smell “cop” the second he walked through the door, thus the unkempt look. His new look did have the advantage of making getting dressed every morning a no-brainer. A pair of jeans and a T-shirt and he was good to go. Not like his usual fare of business suits that he wore as a detective.
“Just how far off the interstate is this place? I’ve gone about three miles and all I see are trees and saw grass.” A black shadow leaped from the ditch on the right side of the road just a few feet in front of his car. He swore and slammed his brakes, sliding to a stop. But whatever he’d seen had already crossed to the other side and disappeared behind some bushes.
“You okay?” Drew asked.
“Yeah. Something ran out in front of me. I’d swear it was a black panther, but that doesn’t seem likely. They’re pretty rare around here.”
“Nothing would surprise me in Mystic Glades. But I’d be more worried about the boa constrictors people let loose out there once they get too big and eat the family dog. And gators, of course. Watch your step when you get out of the car.”
Colton could hear the laughter in Drew’s voice. He could just imagine the ribbing he’d get at their next poker game if he did manage to tangle with a snake or gator. Assuming that he lived to tell about it.
“You sure you don’t want to trade places?” Colton asked. “You sound as if you’re having way too much fun at my expense.”
Drew didn’t bother hiding his laughter this time. When he quit chuckling, he said, “You couldn’t get me out there if you held a gun to my head. There’s a reason I traded undercover work long ago for an office. I like my snake-free, air-conditioned, pest-free zone. Did I mention how big the palmetto bugs are in the Glades? It’s like they’re on steroids or something.”
“Don’t remind me. That’s why my last girlfriend left me. She couldn’t handle the humidity or the giant bugs here in Florida.”
“Serves you right for dating a Yankee. And for picking up a woman while on vacation at Disney World. What did you expect? Wedding bells?”
Colton grinned and started forward again, keeping his speed low so he wouldn’t accidentally veer off the narrow path into the water-clogged canals now bordering each side. He didn’t mind Drew teasing him about Camilla. Dating her had been a wild whirlwind of fun. Exactly what each of them had wanted. Neither of them had expected it to last. He had no intention of ever leaving Florida and offered no apologies for his modest, blue-collar roots. And Camilla’s perfectly manicured toes were firmly planted in the upper-crust society back in Boston.
It had been a hot, sweet, exceptionally pleasurable three weeks and they’d parted friends, but with no plans to reconnect in the future. With the kind of life he led, that was for the best. Disappearing for months at a time while undercover didn’t create a foundation for an enduring relationship. And he loved his job far too much to consider giving it up, at least not for a few more years.
“Another thing to look out for,” Drew said. “I’ve heard that electronics go kind of wacky around there.”
Colton thumped his GPS screen, which alternated between showing a moving dot and blacking out every other second. “Yeah, I see that.”
“Cell phones are especially unreliable out there. Except maybe in a few choice spots. You might not be able to get a call out for backup if something goes wrong. Keep that in mind before jumping into anything. When you check back in with me, you’ll probably have to head outside Mystic Glades to do it.”
“Understood.” He drove around another curve and then pulled to a stop. Directly in front of him on an archway over the road was an alligator-shaped sign announcing the entrance to Mystic Glades.
He inched forward, then stopped again just beneath the archway, blinking at what seemed like a mirage. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said into the phone. “Mystic Glades looks like someone took an 1800s spaghetti Western town and plopped it right into the middle of the Everglades. I’m at the end of a long dirt-and-gravel road with a line of wooden buildings on either side. Instead of sidewalks, they’ve got honest-to-goodness boardwalks out front. Like in horse-and-buggy days.”
The phone remained silent. Colton pulled it away and looked at the screen. No bars. No signal. The call had been dropped. Great. He put the phone away and checked the GPS. That screen was dark now, too. Useless, just as Drew had warned.
He debated his next move. Going in blind didn’t appeal to him, with no way to let his boss know if he needed help. But working undercover often put him in situations where he couldn’t call for days or even weeks at a time. So this wasn’t exactly new territory. Plus, the kid he was after was just a few days past his eighteenth birthday and still had the lanky, gangly body of a teenager. Physically, he wasn’t a threat to Colton’s six-foot-three frame, and probably had half his muscle mass, if that. But if Colton discovered the other members in the burglary ring out here—and their leader—he could be at a huge disadvantage by sheer numbers alone, not to mention whatever firepower the group had.
His undercover persona so far hadn’t managed to get him inside the ring, but he’d been living on the streets in Naples where most of the burglaries had occurred, developing contacts. And he’d heard enough through those contacts, along with his team’s detective work back at the station, to put the burglary ring at around fifteen strong, possibly more. He even knew the identities of a handful of them. But without being sure who their leader was, and having evidence to use against him, Colton needed some kind of key to break the case open. Right now that key appeared to be the group’s weakest link, Eddie Rafferty. A small fish in the big pond, Eddie would be the perfect bait to draw the others out. But to use him as bait, first Colton had to catch him.
Even though he didn’t see the rust-bucket Caddy anywhere, he might have caught the break he needed. Because little Eddie Rafferty had just stepped out of a business called Callahan’s Watering Hole and was sauntering toward the far end of the street.
Time to go fishing.
Chapter Two (#uba82c4ec-07f5-528b-9bc6-226d426de609)
Silver stood in the front yard, shading her eyes from the sun as she faced the whitewashed two-story—her pride and joy, the first bed-and-breakfast ever to grace Mystic Glades. Thanks to the recent success of Buddy Johnson’s airboat venture that was bringing in tourists and the dollars that went with them, all but one of her eight bedrooms was booked for the next three months, starting tomorrow, opening day.
Bright and early, Tippy Davis and her boyfriend, Bobby Jenks, would be here to help Silver after Buddy’s airboats brought the B and B’s first guests. Everything was ready—except for attaching the large sign to the part of the roof that jutted out over the covered front porch with its gleaming white railings.
“A tad to the left, Danny,” she called out to one of the two men on ladders beside the front steps, holding either end of the creamy yellow, bed-shaped sign that announced Sweet Dreams Bed & Breakfast, proprietor Silver Westbrook.
“Looks perfect where it is, if you ask me.”
She smiled at skinny Eddie Rafferty, who’d just walked up. The beat-up junker that he was so proud of was nowhere to be seen. Since he lived several miles away, deep in the Glades, she figured maybe he’d parked his car in the lot behind the building next door, Mystic Glades’s answer to Walmart, Bubba’s Take or Trade.
“You think it’s centered?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Stop right there,” she called out. “Eddie said the sign’s perfect.”
Danny gave them both a thumbs-up, and the sound of hammers soon shattered the early-morning quiet. Snowy egrets flushed from a nearby copse of trees and the razor-sharp palmetto bushes that separated her little piece of town from Bubba’s and the rest of the Main Street businesses. On the other side of her B and B, more trees and lush, perpetually wet undergrowth formed a thick barrier between the inn and Last Chance Church. Beyond that, there was only the new airboat dock and the swamp with its ribbons of lily-pad-clogged canals.
She loved the illusion of privacy and serenity that the greenery provided, along with the natural beauty that her artist’s soul craved. Being this close to nature, instead of seeing concrete and steel skyscrapers out her attic-bedroom window every day, was one of the reasons she’d returned to her hometown after being gone for so many years. But not the only reason.
“You’re right, Eddie. It’s perfect. You have a good eye.”
He flushed a light red and awkwardly cleared his throat. It practically broke Silver’s heart knowing how much her compliments meant to Eddie. He was like a stray cat. Once offered a meal or, in her case, friendship and encouragement, he’d made a regular habit of making excuses to visit her.
Unlike a stray, he wasn’t homeless. But since he’d turned eighteen a few weeks ago and was technically an adult, he would be homeless soon. His foster parents, Tony and Elisa Jones, were anxious for him to move out so they could put another foster kid in his bedroom and continue to receive their monthly stipend from the state. Eddie was supposed to be looking for a job every day in Naples, but Silver suspected he was up to something else entirely. Probably hanging out with the wrong crowd, like Ron Dukes or Charlie Tate, the two little hoodlums she blamed for half the trouble that Eddie got into.
In spite of their friendship, Silver didn’t know all that much about him except that, unlike her, he hadn’t grown up here. She knew he didn’t have any blood relatives. But whenever she’d tried to get him to open up about his past, he would shut down and disappear for days. So she’d stopped asking.
Town gossip, assuming it could be trusted, said that Eddie had spent over half his life in the foster system. And for some reason, even though there had been interest off and on, no one had ever adopted him.
It was a chicken-and-egg kind of thing. Did he continually get into trouble because he didn’t have a family, or did he not have a family because he kept getting into trouble? Either way, he was too young to be thrown away like a piece of garbage. He had potential, and she fervently hoped he would turn his life around one day, before it was too late.
Danny Thompson and his friend exchanged a wave with her as they folded their ladders and headed back to Callahan’s. Buddy was probably champing at the bit for Danny’s return. The morning airboat tours couldn’t start without him to pilot one of the three boats. But Danny had insisted there was plenty of time to help her hang the sign before the boats were due to push off. After all, the tourists were enjoying the “free” breakfast portion of the tour package right now at Callahan’s.
It was a point of contention between Fredericka “Freddie” Callahan and Labron Williams, the owner of Gators and Taters, the only official restaurant in town. Callahan’s was a bar, and had added the “grill” part of their service only after Buddy decided to add breakfast as a stop on his daily tours. Labron felt the tours should have breakfast at his place and was furious with Freddie for undercutting his bid. But, secretly, Silver believed that Labron—who’d always run a lunch-and-dinner-only place anyway—just wanted an excuse to see Freddie every day, thus the melodramatic feud going on between them.
“I brought something else that I think will look good in your inn,” Eddie said.
She noted the brown bag tucked under his left arm and had to fight to hold on to her smile. Please don’t let that be another expensive piece of art that I know you can’t afford.
He pulled a short, thick, cobalt-blue vase out of the bag.
Oh, Eddie. What have you done now?
Unable to resist the urge to touch the beautiful piece, she reverently took it and held it up to watch the sunlight sparkle through it. The color was exquisite, so deep and pure it almost hurt to look at it. She’d never seen anything like it and was quite sure she never would again. It was a one-of-a-kind creation. And probably worth more than she’d earn in a month. She carefully lowered it and handed it back to him.
“It’s gorgeous. Where do you manage to find such incredible pieces?”
“Here and there,” he answered with a vague wave of his free hand while he hefted the vase in the other, making her heart clutch in her chest at the thought of him dropping it. “Do you want it or not?”
Yes. Desperately. She absolutely adored all things blue. Opening her eyes every morning to the sun filtering through that thick glass and reflecting the color on the walls of her bedroom would be like waking up in heaven. But she could never afford it. Still, letting it go wasn’t an option, either. No telling where the vase might end up, and whether its new owner would realize how precious it was or be careful to keep it from harm.
Once again, she’d have to become the temporary caretaker of a priceless piece of art to keep it from falling into someone else’s hands, at least until she could figure out how to return it to its rightful owner—along with several other pieces Eddie had brought to her over the past few months. If he ever suspected what she knew about him, and her ulterior motives for coming back to Mystic Glades, he’d disappear faster than a sandbar in high tide. And then she’d have no way to protect him or help him out of the mess he was making of his life.
“How much?” she asked, careful not to let her disappointment in him show in her voice.
He chewed his bottom lip, clearly debating how much he thought he could get. “Fifty dollars?”
She blinked in genuine surprise. He had no clue what that vase was worth. Add a couple more zeroes to the end of his fifty-dollar price and it would be much closer to the true value.
“Forty-five?” he countered, probably thinking she was shocked because the price he’d asked was too high.
Knowing that he’d expect her to bargain with him, she shook her head and played the game. “I can’t afford that, not with all the expenses of opening the inn. I just spent a small fortune at the Take or Trade to get a shipment of fresh fruit and vegetables for my guests tomorrow.” She eyed the blue vase in his hand again. “Will you take...thirty?”
The rumble of an engine had them both looking up the street to see a black muscle car of some kind heading toward them. Silver didn’t recognize it, so she assumed it was probably a tourist. But even that seemed odd, since most tourists didn’t drive here—they came by airboat, courtesy of Buddy’s new tour company. Almost no one but the residents of Mystic Glades could even find the access road off Alligator Alley.
“Thirty’s fine.” Eddie’s gaze darted between Silver and the approaching car. He tended to be shy and nervous, even around people he knew. So she could understand his trepidation around a stranger. But was there something more to it this time? He seemed more nervous than usual.
“You can pay me later. I’ll put the vase inside.” He jogged to the steps and rushed into the B and B, letting one of the stained-glass double doors slam closed behind him.
Silver winced, half-expecting the glass inset to shatter. When it didn’t, she let out a breath of relief. It had taken her weeks to design and painstakingly put together the glass in those doors. And she didn’t have the money to fix anything until her first paying customers arrived tomorrow.
Or until payment for her other job was deposited into her banking account.
She turned around as the black car pulled into one of the new parking spots she’d had paved just last week—with real asphalt instead of the dirt and gravel that dominated the rest of the town. Just one more thing to set her inn apart, a diamond in a sea of charcoal. Not that she minded charcoal. She’d made many a sketch with paper and charcoal pencil, some of which were hanging on the walls inside. But she wanted her place to sparkle, to be different, special. She’d paid, and was still paying, a hefty price for the inn. She needed everything to be perfect.
As she watched the sporty car, the driver’s door popped open and a cool-drink-of-water of a man stepped out. Silver’s concerns about Eddie faded as she appraised the driver, studying every line, every angle, appreciating every nuance the same way she would any fine piece of art. Because he was definitely a work of art.
Graphite. If she sketched him, that was what she’d use—a graphite pencil across a dazzlingly white sheet of paper. The waves in his shoulder-length, midnight-black hair would look amazing against a bright background. And that stubble that stretched up his deeply tanned jaw? She could capture that with a pointillism technique, then shade it ever so carefully to emphasize his strong bone structure.
Her fingers itched with the desire to slide over his sculpted biceps not covered by his ebony, chest-hugging T-shirt. The curves of those muscles were perfect, gorgeous, the way God meant them to be. And his lips...they were sensual, yet strong, and far too serious. She would want to draw them smiling. Otherwise, the black-and-white sketch would be too severe, intimidating. Yes, definitely smiling.
She tapped her chin and studied the narrowing of his waist where his dark T-shirt hung over his jeans. Did he have one of those sexy V’s where the abdominal muscles tapered past his hips? She’d bet he did. And his thick, muscular thighs filled out his faded jeans as if they’d been tailored—which maybe they had. A man like him, so tall and perfectly proportioned, probably couldn’t buy off-the-rack.
Scuffed brown boots peeked out from the ragged hem of his pants, making her smile. A cowboy in the Glades. That might be a fun way to draw him, maybe with a lasso thrown around that big stuffed gator Buddy had recently put in his store, Swamp Buggy Outfitters, to draw in tourists. She’d have to add a hat, of course. Or she could change those boots to snakeskin and draw him—
“Ma’am? Hello?”
She blinked and focused on his face. He must have been talking to her for a moment, but she hadn’t heard him. No surprise there. Happened all the time. He stood a few feet away, his thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets, watching her with a curious expression.
As she fully met his gaze for the first time, something inside her shifted beneath an avalanche of shock and pleasure. His eyes...they were the exact shade of cobalt blue as the vase. They were, quite simply, amazing. Beautiful. Incredibly intriguing. Her fingers twitched against her palms as if she were already grasping a pencil. Or maybe a paintbrush.
His eyes widened, and she realized she still hadn’t said anything. “Sorry, hello,” she said. “I tend to stare at people or things and zone out.”
The almost-grin that curved his sensual lips seemed to be a mix of amusement and confusion—an unfortunate combination of emotions that she was quite used to people feeling around her. When she was a child, it had hurt her feelings. As an adult, she felt like telling people to just grow up and deal with it. So she was different. So what? Everyone was different in one way or another. That was what made the world interesting.
He motioned toward the inn. “Yours?”
“Yep. You looking for a place to stay?”
“What makes you think I’m not a local?”
She laughed. “Not only are you not a local, you’ve never been here before or you’d know that was a silly question. There are only a few hundred residents in Mystic Glades. And there’s not a stranger in the bunch. We all know each other.”
“What about that young man I saw go inside a minute ago? You know him, too?”
Her smile faded. Was this one of the men Eddie was mixed up with? This man, as ruggedly gorgeous as he was—looked like the wrong crowd, dangerous even. She crossed her arms. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “Just testing your theory—that you know everyone. Maybe he’s a tourist like me. Doesn’t matter.” He held out his hand. “I’m Colton Graham. And if you’ve got a room available tonight, I’d appreciate a place to stay.”
She reluctantly shook his hand, not quite ready to trust his claim of being a tourist. “Silver Westbrook.”
Still, if he was a tourist, then his interest in Eddie was probably just harmless curiosity, nothing she really needed to worry about. And that meant that she didn’t have to feel guilty for wanting to enjoy the play of light across the interesting planes of his face. She rarely painted anymore, preferring to sketch with pencil or charcoal, sometimes pen, without all the mess or work involved with setting up her paints and then cleaning up afterward. But the best way to capture him might be with paint, perhaps watercolors.
“Ma’am?”
She blinked. “Sorry. Spaced out again, didn’t I?”
The almost-grin was back. “Yeah, you did. Is something wrong? You seem preoccupied.”
“No, no. Everything’s fine.” She waved her hand impatiently, tired of having to explain her unfortunate quirks to everyone she met.
At his uncertain look she sighed. “I get lost in shapes, textures, colors. I can’t help it.”
“Ah. You’re an artist. I know the type. My sister does that a lot.” He smiled, a full-out grin this time that reached his incredible blue eyes. And completely transformed him, just as she’d thought it would. Smiling, he looked approachable, warm, perfect. She had to put him on canvas. It would be a sin not to. And she wouldn’t use watercolors. They were too muted for this vibrant man. No, acrylics...that was what she’d use to capture every detail in vivid color.
Her gaze dropped to his narrow waist. “Have you ever modeled?” she asked. “I’d love to paint you nude. I would pay a sitting fee, of course. I’m a bit strapped for cash right now, but I could let you stay a night without charge and call it even.”
He made a strangled sound in his throat and coughed. “Um, no, thanks. That’s not really my thing.” He waved toward the inn again. “But I would like to rent a room for the night, if you have a vacancy.”
Swallowing her disappointment, she glanced around, suddenly very much aware of how alone the two of them were and how separated the inn was from the other businesses. The street was deserted, with most of the residents out of town at their day jobs or inside the local businesses. The idea of taking this man, this complete stranger, into her home had her feeling unsettled.
“You don’t have any vacancies, then,” he said, interpreting her silence as a no.
“It’s not that. Actually, the grand opening is tomorrow. I hadn’t really planned on renting out any rooms tonight.”
He waited, quietly watching her.
Why was she hesitating? This wariness was silly. If she was going to run a bed-and-breakfast, she’d have to get used to renting rooms to people she didn’t know. And drop-ins were bound to happen. It certainly wouldn’t be nice to turn him away when she was fully capable of offering him a place for the night. And the extra income was always welcome.
“Okay, why not?” she said. “But don’t expect me to cook for you today. That starts tomorrow, when my help arrives.”
“I’m sure I’ll figure something out so I don’t starve.”
His smile was infectious, and she couldn’t help smiling, too. “Just one night, then?”
He glanced toward the front doors, then in the direction of the airboat dock about fifty yards away, which was barely visible from here. Or maybe he was looking at the church with its old-fashioned steeple and bell that the ushers rang by pulling on a rope every Sunday morning at precisely nine o’clock.
“Just tonight,” he said.
His rich baritone sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine. He really was an exquisite specimen of male. And she really, really wanted to paint him. Maybe she could ask him again later to model for her and he might change his mind. And if she could convince him to stay longer than one night, she’d have more chances to try to sway him into modeling for her. Plus, starting tomorrow, the place would be full of other people. Any concerns about being alone with a man she didn’t know wouldn’t matter at that point. When it came down to it, more important than the painting was the money. A fully rented inn was far better than a partially rented one.
“If you want to stay just one night, that’s okay,” she said. “But there are only eight rooms and seven are booked solid for the season. I expect the last one will get snatched up pretty fast once the first group of guests begins to spread the word about their stay here. If you don’t take it now, it might not be available later in the week.”
“You’re quite the saleswoman. Okay, I’ll book a week. Might as well. Never been in the Everglades before and this looks like a great spot.”
Yes! That put her at 100 percent occupancy. She couldn’t ask for a better start to the business she’d been saving her whole life to start. And her other job would be over soon, God willing, so that income wasn’t something she could rely on indefinitely. Every penny counted now.
“Aren’t you even going to ask the price?” She crunched down the gravel path toward the front doors with him keeping pace beside her.
“That was going to be my next question.”
She gave him the particulars and he handed her a credit card before holding one of the doors open for her.
“Sounds more than reasonable,” he said.
“Great. And thanks,” she said as she stepped through the door he was holding. She led him to the check-in desk beside the staircase. She took an impression of his credit card on an old-fashioned carbon paper machine and set it on the counter for him to sign.
“Haven’t seen one of those since I was a little kid,” he said as he took the pen from her and scrawled his signature across the bottom.
“Yeah, well. You do what you have to do without reliable internet and phone service. Don’t worry, though. There are hundreds of movies in the bookshelves in the great room for you to choose from if you want to watch something while you’re here. I’ve got the classics along with tons of newer titles in all genres. And each guest room has its own TV and DVD player.”
“Sounds good.” He pocketed his credit card and scanned the lobby as if he was looking for someone. Then he suddenly grew very still, his gaze settling on something behind her.
Fearing that a wild animal had somehow managed to sneak inside, Silver whirled around. No furry attacker was waiting to jump at her. But what Colton was staring at was just as dangerous...for Eddie.
The network of cubbies on the homemade bookshelf that spanned the wall behind the desk held the blue vase prominently in the middle where Eddie must have placed it. And that was where Colton’s gaze was currently riveted. A shiver shot up Silver’s spine at the intensity of that look. And this time it wasn’t a good shiver.
Without asking her permission, he rounded the desk and hefted the vase in his right hand. “This is...beautiful. Where did you get it?”
Beautiful? She’d bet her last sketch pad that he’d been about to say something else and stopped himself. Did he recognize that piece? Suspect that it was stolen?
After taking the priceless vase from him, she set it back in the cubby. “I bought it from a friend. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t pick up any pieces of art that you see around here. Some of them have been in my family for generations.”
“But not that one.” He eyed it as if he was itching to grab it again.
“You seem quite interested in that.” She waved toward the cubby. “Do you have one like it back home, wherever home is?”
“Atlanta, Georgia. And no, I don’t. But I’d like to. This...friend you bought it from. Do you think I could meet him? Maybe see if he has another one for sale?”
“What makes you think my friend isn’t a woman?”
He shrugged. “Him. Her. Doesn’t matter. My sister recently bought a new house and I’ve been meaning to pick her up a housewarming gift. I know she’d love something like that.” He pointed to the vase. “She adores bright colors. Like I said earlier, she’s an artist, too.”
Sure she was. Silver doubted the man even had a sister, or that he lived in Atlanta. His story sounded too pat, as if he’d quickly made it up to cover his unusual interest in the vase and his sudden appearance in Mystic Glades—just a few minutes after Eddie had approached her. Coincidence? Maybe. Maybe not.
“How did you happen to find the entrance to our little town?” she asked as she recorded his name in the registration book. “It’s unusual for anyone but residents to know that exit.”
He shrugged. “Honestly, it was an accident. I ran over some debris on the highway and pulled to the shoulder to check my tires. That’s when I saw the exit. Figured I might as well take it and see where it led. After all, I’m on vacation. Have all the time in the world.”
His story was plausible, she supposed. But the timing of his arrival, along with his interest in the vase, still bothered her. Did he have a hidden agenda for being here? He seemed like a man with a purpose, not the kind who’d randomly pull off a highway and take a gravel road that seemed to lead nowhere. She sorely regretted having rented him a room for the night, let alone the whole week.
“About that vase—”
“Sorry. Can’t help you.” She snapped the registration book closed and grabbed a key from the drawer underneath the counter. “The person I bought it from isn’t around right now. Here’s your key, Mr. Graham.” She plopped it in his hand. “Your room is upstairs, room number eight, last one on the right.”
Unfortunately, his room was right beneath her room in the converted attic, with the door to the attic stairs right next to his door. That was far too close for comfort. But all the rooms were decorated with specific themes, and the guests chose the themes they wanted when they made their reservations. She couldn’t reassign them.
Maybe she should drop into Bubba’s Take or Trade and buy a lock for her bedroom door. If Colton ended up snooping while he was here, he might discover the other items that Eddie had brought her, including several in the attic. Until she could be certain why he was so curious, and whether he was a threat, she’d have to be very careful.
“As I mentioned earlier, there aren’t any formal meals planned for today,” she continued. “But you’re welcome to make full use of the kitchen.” She waved toward the swinging door to the left of the entry. “I’m sure that you’ll find everything there you could possibly need. You certainly won’t starve. And there are toiletries in the bathroom attached to your room—shampoo, soap, even a toothbrush and toothpaste in case you didn’t think to bring them. Do you have any luggage you’d like me to get for you?”
His eyebrows rose. “I’ll get my bag myself in a few minutes. Thanks. I’ll just go up and check out the room first.” He headed toward the stairs to the right of the desk.
Silver hesitated as he disappeared down the upstairs hallway. She worried about the attic and whether he’d snoop. But she had a more important errand to do right now than babysit her first guest.
She hurried to the front door, determined to find Eddie.
And warn him.
Chapter Three (#uba82c4ec-07f5-528b-9bc6-226d426de609)
Colton leaned back against the wall upstairs, just past the open banister, waiting. Sure enough, the inn’s front door quietly opened below, then clicked closed, just as he’d expected. He jogged to the stairs and caught a glimpse of Silver Westbrook through one of the front windows as he headed down to the first floor. Her shoulder-length bob of reddish-brown hair swished back and forth, a testament to how fast she was going as she turned right.
She looked like a little warrior, ready to do battle as she marched up the street—except that he couldn’t quite picture her holding a weapon while wearing a tie-dyed purple-and-lime-green poncho with bright blue fringe brushing against her tight jeans. And the flash of her orange tennis shoes would be like a beacon to the enemy on a battlefield, just as it was a beacon to him.
The woman certainly wasn’t subtle about her love of color. The fact that the outside of the B and B was white was the real surprise, because the inside was just as colorful as Silver’s outfit—a mix of purple, blue and yellow hues on every wall, and even on the furniture. But instead of being garish as he’d expect of an inn decorated with that palette, somehow everything combined to work together to make the place feel warm, inviting. She really did remind him of his artistic sister. Too bad the two would never meet.
Because Silver Westbrook would probably end up in prison when this was all over.
Once she was a few buildings up the street, he headed out the door after her. But instead of skirting around the backs of buildings to follow his prey, he forced himself to walk up the street in plain sight. He didn’t want anyone looking out a window to think he was anything but an interested tourist exploring the town. And all the while he fervently hoped that Silver wouldn’t turn around and realize he was following her.
The concern in her eyes, and the wariness when he’d foolishly grabbed that vase, had put him on alert that she knew far more about its origins than she was letting on. And he’d figured she would want to go warn whoever had sold it to her as soon as he was out of the way. That was why he’d gone upstairs. And sure enough, she’d bolted like a rabbit.
He regretted that he’d shown his interest in the piece. He’d just been so stunned to see it that he hadn’t managed to hide his surprise. That blue vase was at the top of his stolen goods sheet and worth several thousand dollars. The owners were anxious to get it back. And Colton was anxious to catch whoever had stolen it.
The fact that the vase had been taken two nights ago in Naples and ended up here today, along with Eddie, couldn’t be a coincidence. He really, really wanted to get that little hoodlum in an interrogation room and get him to roll over on his thug friends. But now there was another wrinkle in the investigation.
Whether Silver Westbrook was part of the burglary ring.
He would hate to think that a woman as intriguing and beautiful, and smart enough to run her own business, would get involved in illegal activities. But how else could he explain how defensive she’d gotten when he’d asked about Eddie and, later, the vase, unless she knew she’d accepted stolen property?
From the moment he’d met her and had been the recipient of such a brazen evaluation of his...assets...and then propositioned to pose nude so she could draw him, she’d fascinated him. Her tendency to space out and get lost in her own little artist’s world was as adorable as it was frustrating. He’d love to get to know her better, find out what other unique quirks she was hiding, and how her fascinating artist’s mind worked—which wasn’t going to happen if he ended up arresting her.
And that was what made this whole trip so frustrating. Because he was pretty sure that if things turned out the way it looked as though they would, he’d end this day by hauling both Eddie and Silver to jail.
Near the end of the street, almost all the way to the archway that marked the beginning of Mystic Glades, she turned right, jogged up the steps to the wooden boardwalk and went inside one of the businesses. The same business where Eddie had been earlier, Callahan’s Watering Hole. Coincidence? Not a chance. Silver was definitely going there to find the kid, probably to warn him that a stranger seemed far too interested in his whereabouts and the stolen goods he’d brought with him.
Colton increased his stride and hurried to the same building, which appeared to be a bar, based on the name and the tangy smell of whiskey that seemed to permeate the wooden siding. He couldn’t worry about stealth now. He had to hurry to catch both of his suspects before they managed to disappear completely.
His boots rang hollowly across the wooden boardwalk. He pushed the swinging doors open, bracing himself for something like a line of saloon dancing girls and drunken patrons lined up at the bar, even though it was still morning. After what his boss had told him about Mystic Glades, and what little he’d seen for himself, nothing could surprise him.
He stopped just past the opening. Okay, wrong. He was surprised, surprised that everything seemed so normal.
The mouthwatering, sweet smell of sugar-cured bacon hit him as his eyes adjusted to the dark interior and more details came into focus. There weren’t any saloon girls or patrons at the bar guzzling whiskey. But the place was packed, and from the looks of the cheap, souvenir-shop types of Florida T-shirts on most of the people sitting at little round tables throughout the room, they were mostly tourists. This must be why the street out front was so deserted. Everyone was in here, eating breakfast.
There was no sign of Silver, though.
“Are you part of the airboat tour group?” a well-endowed young woman in a tight T-shirt and short shorts asked as she stopped in front of him, a tray of drinks balanced on her shoulder and right hand.
“No. I’m alone.”
“Okay, well, there are a couple empty seats over there.” She waved toward a pair of vacant tables near the bar. “I’ll take your order as soon as I give these airboat peeps their refills.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank me with your pocketbook, sugar.” She winked and bounced off to a table on the far side of the room, her long blond ponytail swishing along with her hips.
Good grief. She didn’t look old enough to serve alcohol, let alone dress like that or flirt with him. He looked away, feeling like a perv for even noticing the sway of her hips. Hopefully she was older than she seemed. But one thing was for sure—he felt far older than his thirty-one years right now.
He scanned the tables again, more slowly this time, the booths along the right wall, the short hallway on the left side of the room, just past the bar. But there was no sign of Silver. And no sign of Eddie, either. He eyed the set of stairs directly in front of him that ran up the far wall. A red velvet rope hung across the bottom with a sign on it—Employees Only. Was that where she’d gone? If not, she had to be in the kitchen, or in one of the rooms down the hallway.
Maybe he was too late and she’d already ducked out a back door. He decided to check the hallway first, to see if that was where the door was. But all he found were the restrooms, which he presumed had no exits. He did a quick circuit of the men’s room and then paused outside the ladies’ room, debating whether he should check it, as well.
“Something wrong with the men’s room?”
He turned, surprised and also relieved to see Silver standing about ten feet away, at the opening to the hallway. She hadn’t gotten away. Her eyes, which he’d already realized were a fascinating shade of gray, a silvery gray—her namesake perhaps?—narrowed suspiciously and her hands were on her hips. Or maybe Silver was a nickname because of her taste in jewelry. Right now she had on silver hoop earrings and a long silver necklace.
A peacock. Her unique, colorful ensemble—topped off with purple laces on her left shoe and neon green laces on her right—reminded him of a beautiful peacock with its feathers spread in all their glory. That made him want to smile, which only made him irritated. She’s a suspect, Colton. Get a grip.
“Just checking the place out,” he said, seeing no benefit in giving up his cover just yet, not without knowing where Eddie was and whether she’d warned him. “I was curious what was down this way.”
“Right. Was there a problem with your room at the inn? Is that why you followed me?”
The accusation in her tone, in every line of her body, swept away his earlier amusement. She was the one accepting stolen property at best; in league with the robbery ring at worst. And she was acting as if he was in the wrong? He was tempted to take his handcuffs out of his back pocket and put an end to this charade right now. But there was too much on the line to let his anger, justifiable or not, rule his actions. He needed to play it cool, try to calm her fears and, if possible, make her trust him.
He stopped directly in front of her. “Okay, you caught me. I didn’t actually go into my room. I changed my mind and thought I’d explore the area first. And when I noticed you going in here, I figured—” he smiled sheepishly “—I hoped, maybe I could catch you and convince you to have breakfast with me.” He braced an arm on the wall beside her and grinned. “After all, you did ask me to take off my clothes. Sharing a meal is nothing compared to that.”
Her eyes widened and her face flushed. Good. He’d knocked her off balance. And hopefully deflected her suspicions. If he could get her to believe he was interested in her, then maybe she’d think his earlier questions had been an excuse just to talk to her.
It wasn’t as if he really had to pretend. He was interested in her. If he wasn’t on the job right now, and didn’t believe she was mixed up in criminal activity, there’d be no question about his intentions—he’d pursue her like a randy high school teenager after his first crush. Because Silver Westbrook was exactly the kind of woman he liked—beautiful and smart. And unlike his last fling, Camilla, Silver was a Florida native. And she was blue-collar, like him. On the surface, there didn’t seem to be any reason to keep them apart.
Except for a little thing called grand theft.
“That is why you came in here, right?” he said. “To eat?”
Now she was the one looking as though she was worried that he’d caught her in a lie.
“Of course,” she said. “Yes, I’m here for breakfast. Starving. Let’s find a table.”
She practically ran to one of the empty tables near the bar, and Colton followed at a more sedate pace, trying not to let it bother him that she seemed so anxious to get away from him. Man, he really needed to focus here—on the case, not on the way she made his blood heat as he sat across from her.
They quickly ordered. Just a few minutes later, a brawny man in his mid-to late-thirties helped the overworked waitress by bringing Colton and Silver’s food to their table. Faded tattoos decorated his massive arms, intricate patterns of loops and swirls that meant nothing to Colton. But the ink did—it looked homemade, like the kind convicts used in prison.
Colton nodded his thanks while he studied the man’s face, automatically comparing it to the wanted posters back at the station. The cook nodded in acknowledgment, his dark eyes hooded and unreadable as he returned to the kitchen through a doorway behind the bar without saying a word.
“Who is that guy?” Colton asked.
Silver shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve ever talked to him. I think his name’s Cato. He’s one of the new guys from out of town that Freddie hired to help out with our little tourist boom.”
“Freddie?”
“Fredericka Callahan. She owns the place.” She waved toward one of the larger tables on the opposite side of the room. “She’s the elderly redhead arguing with the elderly bald guy.”
“Arguing with a customer doesn’t seem good for business.”
“Labron Williams isn’t a customer. He owns Gators and Taters on the other side of the street, a little farther down toward the B and B. I’m pretty sure he came in here just to gripe with Freddie.”
“Gators and Taters?”
“Uh-huh. They like each other.”
“The gators?”
She rolled her eyes. “Freddie and Labron.”
He glanced toward the rather odd-looking pair. Freddie was built like a linebacker. Labron would probably blow away in a stiff wind and was a foot shorter than her. And while Freddie’s unnaturally bright shock of red hair was rather loud, it had to compete with Labron’s bald pate that reflected like a headlight beneath the bright fluorescents overhead, as if he’d just applied a thick coat of wax and polished it until it shone.
“But they look like they want to kill each other,” Colton said.
“That’s because they like each other.”
She casually took a sip of water as if nothing about their conversation seemed strange. Then again, maybe to her it didn’t.
“Why did you ask about Cato?” She set her water glass down and pinned him with her silvery gaze.
Colton was still trying to figure out why two mature adults who “liked” each other would face off like a pair of pit bulls over a bone. But Silver’s question about the cook had him focusing on what was important—not blowing his cover as a tourist.
“No reason. I was just curious. He doesn’t seem to fit in with everyone else around here.” He waved toward the waitress. “Neither does she. Too young. Did Freddie hire her from out of town, too?”
“No. That’s J.J., Jennifer junior. She’s lived here all her life. She’s J.S.’s daughter, on summer break from college. She graduates next semester from the University of Florida. A year late, unfortunately, but at least she hung in there.”
The young waitress was old enough to have already graduated from UF? Thank God. Now he didn’t feel quite as bad for noticing her figure. “J.S. Jennifer...senior?”
“No, silly. Jennifer Sooner. She used to live closer to town but just built a cabin about five miles southwest of here, not too far from Croc Landing.”
Croc Landing. Why would someone name a place Croc Landing around here when there were only a few hundred crocodiles in south Florida and probably a million alligators? He decided not to ask. No telling where that conversation might lead.
He took a bite of eggs, and was pleasantly surprised at how fluffy and delicious they were. Maybe ex-con Cato had learned some cooking skills while he was in prison.
As the two of them ate, the silence between them grew more and more uncomfortable. For his part, he kept thinking about the case and was annoyed that the intriguing, sexy woman across from him chose to be a criminal. For her part, he supposed, she was trying to figure out why he was here and who he really was.
By the time J.J. arrived with the bill, they were both so desperate to end the stalemate that they grabbed for the check at the same time.
Colton plucked it out of Silver’s hand. “I’ve got this.”
“Thank you,” she snapped.
“You’re welcome,” he bit out.
J.J.’s eyes got big and round as she glanced from one of them to the other. As soon as Colton handed her his credit card, she scurried off like a puppy afraid it was about to be kicked.
An older man who’d been making the rounds from table to table, talking to each group of tourists, stopped beside Silver and gave her a warm smile. “Who’s your new friend, young lady?”
Colton didn’t figure he needed an introduction. It was pretty hard to miss the man’s name, since it was written in big white letters across his dark brown T-shirt.
“Hey, Buddy,” Silver said. “He’s a guest at the inn. Colton Graham, meet Buddy Johnson, owner of Swamp Buggy Outfitters next door, the airboat operation down the street, and a handful of other businesses. He practically runs the town.”
He puffed up with self-importance, reminding Colton of that peacock he’d likened Silver to earlier, but minus all the colorful plumage. This man had arrogance stamped all over him. But he must have some redeeming qualities, too, because Silver appeared to like him.
“I wouldn’t say that,” he corrected Silver as he shook Colton’s hand. “But I’m definitely vested in our little piece of the Glades.” He put his hand on the back of Silver’s chair. “I thought the inn didn’t open until tomorrow.”
“It doesn’t. Not officially. But Mr. Graham needed a place to stay so...” She shrugged.
Buddy eyed him speculatively. “Decided to come see the Everglades, have you? First time in Florida?”
“No. I’ve come here every summer since I was a kid.” And fall and spring and winter, too.
“Ever been on an airboat tour, Mr. Graham?”
“Can’t say that I have.” Another lie. Normally, hiding the truth wasn’t a big deal. It was part of his job. But for some reason, lying to this white-haired man was making him uncomfortable. It was like lying to his grandfather.
“Well, then. I insist that you take a tour.” He waved toward the other tables. “I run airboat tours daily. Picked this passel up this morning at the main dock twenty miles south of here. We’re heading out in a few minutes. Three boats, plenty of room. Come along. I’ll give you ten percent off for being a guest at the inn. Silver and I offer cross-promo discounts, since I bring guests to her inn, starting tomorrow, that is. But I’ll give you a discount a day early.”
“That sounds like a great idea.” Silver sounded way too enthusiastic as she smiled at Colton. “The airboats are the best way to see the Everglades. You should go.”
The reason behind her eagerness to get rid of him was pathetically obvious. While he was gone, she’d probably rush to have a powwow with her criminal friends. His fingers itched to grab her shoulders to shake some sense into her and ask her why she was so foolishly throwing her life away.
“I’ll think about it.” He had no intention of going on a tour. He planned to keep Silver in his sights.
“Now, son. There’s no time for thinking. The tour is going to take off in a few minutes. And you won’t want to miss out. You’re going.” Buddy nodded as if it was a done deal. “And, Silver, since he’s your guest, you can both sit together on the same boat.”
Her eyes widened. “Ah, no. I’m not going to—”
“I’ve been trying to get you on one of my tours for weeks,” he interrupted. “This might be your only chance this season, since the inn opens tomorrow and you’ll be busy after that. You’ll come, right?”
“I really don’t think that I can...”
His face fell with disappointment.
Silver’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Okay. I’ll take the tour today. But I’m sure that Colton has other plans.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Her narrowed eyes told Colton exactly what she thought of his sudden change of heart.
“Excellent,” Buddy said, grinning with triumph. “You can both pay the cashier at the dock. Make sure you tell her about the discount.” He waved his hand in the air and headed toward another table.
Silver frowned after him.
“He basically forced you into taking a tour,” Colton said. “And he’s still going to charge you for it.”
“Yeah. I noticed.” Her voice sounded grumpy. “I’ll have to return the favor if he ever wants to stay at the inn.”
Colton grinned. And, surprisingly, Silver smiled back. For a moment, they were simply a man and a woman enjoying each other’s company, sharing their amusement at Buddy Johnson’s tunnel-vision focus on making a buck, even at a friend’s expense—quite literally. But then Buddy’s voice boomed through the room, telling the tour group it was time to go. Silver’s smile faded and she looked away. The magic of the moment was lost.
“Let’s go, let’s go, ladies and gents,” Buddy called out. “We need to get going before the skeeters and no-see-ums start biting.”
Chairs scraped across the wooden floor and the buzz of voices echoed through the room. The tourists headed toward the front door like a herd of elephants, waved on by three men dressed in khaki shorts and brown T-shirts the same color as Buddy’s, but instead of their names across the front, there were logos of airboats with the company name, Buddy’s Boats.
The last of the tourists headed out. Silver mumbled something and hurried after them. She and Buddy were out the swinging doors before Colton could stop her. He had to wait for the waitress, who was heading his way with his credit card and one of those ridiculous carbon papers for him to sign. This place really was stuck in a different decade.
After taking care of the bill and thanking J.J., he hurried outside. The tourists were already halfway down the street. Buddy had Silver by the arm and was talking animatedly about something while she nodded.
Good, she hadn’t managed to escape.
Chapter Four (#uba82c4ec-07f5-528b-9bc6-226d426de609)
In spite of Buddy’s promise to ensure that Silver and Colton could sit together on one of the three boats, Silver did her best to thwart that plan. Since the boat that Danny Thompson was captaining was the most full, she hopped on it and almost squealed with triumph when she got a seat without any empty ones close by. But, at the last minute, the man beside her got up and hurried to a different boat. And who should plop down in his place but Colton Graham.
As he settled beside her, his broad shoulders rubbing against hers, she glanced toward the man who’d just left and saw him shoving one of his hands into his pocket. The flash of green paper left no question as to what had just happened.
“You bribed that man to let you sit here,” she accused.
His very blue eyes widened innocently. “Why would I do something like that?”
Since she couldn’t answer that without voicing her suspicions about the vase and Eddie, she didn’t bother to reply. Instead, she looked out over the glades as the boat pushed away from the dock, and she did her best to ignore her unwanted neighbor.
Once out in the middle of the waterway, the giant fan on the back of the boat kicked on. Any questions Colton might have planned on asking her would be difficult at best to ask now. She gave him a smug smile before turning away.
When they reached an intersection of canals, the boats split up, each going down a different waterway. Buddy grinned and waved at her from one of the other boats and she returned his wave, unable to fault or even resent him for pressuring her into this trip.
He’d been asking her all summer to take one of the tours so she could recommend them when her B and B guests asked about the airboat rides. Today really was the last realistic chance this season for her to take the tour. And without him bringing a boat of B and B guests every morning as agreed, the chance of her inn flourishing, or even surviving, was practically zero. She owed Buddy a debt of gratitude that he’d come up with the idea once she mentioned her desire to start the B and B.
She glanced at Colton, who was studying the passengers rather than the twisted, knobby-kneed cypress trees they were passing. Everything about him seemed...off. He wasn’t acting like a tourist. A feeling of alarm spread through her every time he looked at another one of the handful of men and women on their boat, as if he was memorizing their faces or looking for something. Or someone.
Who was he? An insurance investigator trying to save his company money by finding that vase? A family friend of the vase’s rightful owner? Or, worse, one of Eddie’s so-called friends who was looking to settle some kind of debt? Her fingers curled around the edge of the seat cushion beneath her as her mind swirled with even worse possibilities, including the very worst—that he might be a cop.
That would ruin everything.
He turned and caught her staring at him. And just then, Danny cut the engine, dramatically dropping the decibel level as the loud fan sputtered and slowed and then fell silent. Great. Just great.
“We’ll drift here for a few minutes so you can catch some gator action or maybe see some cranes fishing for an early lunch,” Danny announced. “We’ll tour the salt marsh after that.”
A low buzz of excited conversation started up around them as the others took out their cameras and phones and began pointing and clicking.
“About that vase—” Colton began.
“Don’t you want to take some pictures?” she interrupted. “There’s a gator sunning himself on the bank over there. You’ll probably never get another chance to take a picture this close without getting your arm bitten off.”
“Seen one gator, you’ve seen them all.”
“I thought you’ve never been to the Everglades before.”
“There’s this thing called a zoo,” he said drily.
“Don’t you live in Georgia?”
“I do.”
“Atlanta, right? Like your sister?”
He frowned at her. “I’m pretty sure that I already told you that. Why?”
“I’ve been to Zoo Atlanta. They don’t have gators.”
He gave her a smug smile. “Then you haven’t been there lately. They brought in four from Saint Augustine this past year.”
She had no clue whether he’d made that up or not. But she had a feeling he was telling the truth. Which meant...what? That he really was from Atlanta?
“About the vase—”
“Where in Atlanta? I have friends there. Which subdivision?”
He let out an impatient breath. “No subdivision, just some land outside town.”
“Where?”
One of his eyelids drooped. “Where what?”
“Where’s your land?”
He cleared his throat. “Peachtree. Can we get back to my question about—”
“Peachtree.” She laughed. “Seriously? Everything in Atlanta is on Peachtree. Which Peachtree?”
He stared at her, his dark, brooding eyes and serious expression making no secret that he was frustrated with her evasion of his questions. Finally, he let out a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something else.
Silver quickly turned to the woman sitting on the other side of her and tapped her shoulder. “Look.” She pointed toward the bank. “There’s a snowy egret. Ever seen one of those before?”
The woman’s eyes widened and she grabbed her camera. “It’s so pretty!”
As the woman snapped pictures, Silver told her everything she knew about egrets, which turned out to be a lot, since she’d grown up in the area. On her other side, she heard another one of Colton’s deep sighs, and when she carefully turned ever so slightly a few minutes later to see what he was doing, he was staring out at the bank on his side of the boat. Good, maybe he’d finally give up trying to ask her questions. She could keep up her conversation with the other woman and maybe even some of the other tourists if she had to in order to survive the boat ride. But what was she going to do once they got back to the inn?
She’d figure something out.
Maybe she should invent some kind of disaster—like a burst pipe in a wall—to get him to leave. No, that would cause real harm to the inn and she couldn’t afford that. The air conditioner? She could take a fuse out or something to get it to quit cooling. That would make the place miserably hot as the sun got higher in the sky this afternoon. Yes, maybe that would work.
Danny used a long paddle to edge them closer to the bank on Colton’s side and pointed out several different species of plants to his picture-snapping audience.
“What the...” Suddenly Colton raised his left arm in front of her and angled his body so that his back was to her.
“Stop the boat against the bank,” someone yelled. The voice sounded as though it came from the shore. And it sounded...familiar.
Someone in the boat screamed.
Silver leaned over to see what was happening.
On the bank about ten feet away, beneath a twisted cypress tree, a man stood with a bandanna tied across his face with holes cut out for the eyes. On his head was a Miami Marlins baseball cap. And in his hand, pointed directly at Danny, was a gun.
Excited chattering erupted all around as the tourists began to realize what was going on. Danny did as he was told, poking his guide pole beneath the water into the mud to push the boat toward the bank. A low grinding noise sounded as the bottom of the hull scraped across weeds and mud, then stuck and held.
The gunman rushed over to the boat but didn’t try to board. He aimed his pistol at Danny and pitched a large burlap bag into the boat. “Jewelry and cash,” he said. “Fill it up. Hurry.”
Oh, no. She suddenly recognized the voice. Eddie, what are you doing? She groaned and shook her head.
Colton moved his left hand down between them, the back of his fingers skimming her calf as he slid the leg of his jeans up his boot.
Silver blinked with horror when she saw why. He had a gun. It was strapped in a holster against the side of his boot.
She grabbed his arm just as his fingers closed around the gun. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
He jerked his head around and frowned at her. “I’m a cop,” he whispered. “I’m an undercover detective with the Collier County Sheriff’s Office. Don’t worry. It’s okay.”
A cop? Her stomach sank. Everything had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. And dangerous. He was about to ruin everything. She had to stop him. She shook her head back and forth. “Too dangerous,” she whispered back. “Someone could get hurt.”
“Someone could get hurt or killed by that kid holding the pistol. Now stay down.” He pushed her hand off his arm.
Silver clenched her fists. Danny was passing around the burlap bag while Colton slowly pulled his gun out of the holster, his gaze never leaving Eddie.
This was a disaster waiting to happen. She had to protect Eddie. The gun in Eddie’s hand was shaking so hard Silver was afraid he was going to shoot someone by accident. And Colton had his gun completely out of the holster now.
Silver leaned back and raised her right hand as if swatting away a bug. The movement caught Eddie’s attention, as intended. His head swiveled her way, and his eyes widened. Silver made a gun signal with her pointer finger and thumb and pointed at Colton’s back. It didn’t seem possible, but the gun in Eddie’s hand started to shake even more. He nodded, and Colton snapped his head around to look at her suspiciously.
She dropped her hand from behind his back and gave him a nervous smile.
His eyebrows slashed down and he whipped his head back toward Eddie.
“Your jewelry, Silver,” Danny said, pushing the bag toward her.
She hesitated, glancing from Colton to Eddie. They were staring at each other like two gunmen about to have a shoot-out.
Do something. You have to stop this before someone gets hurt.
Silver started to pull her necklace over her head.
Eddie turned his gun away from Danny and toward Colton.
Colton started to bring his gun up.
Silver dropped her necklace and it clattered against the floor of the boat in front of Colton. “Oh, darn it. Sorry.” She braced her right hand on his shoulder and leaned across him.
“Out of the way,” he snapped.
“Sorry, sorry, oops.” She fell across his lap, slamming her right arm on top of his gun arm and trapping it between her breasts and his lap.
She jerked her head up and looked at Eddie. Go, she silently mouthed to him.
He whipped around and ran for the trees.
Colton swore and tried to yank his gun out from beneath her, but she clung to him like pine sap on a brand-new paint job. He looked toward the bank, then shook his head and looked back at her. His glare was so fierce she was surprised she didn’t turn into a human torch on the spot.
“I should arrest you right now,” he growled. “You let him get away on purpose.”
“I fell.” She blinked innocently and braced her hands on his thighs, pushing herself upright.
He swore viciously and let his gun slide back into the holster, then yanked his pants leg down over it. No one seemed to have even noticed his gun. The rest of the passengers were all chattering excitedly. And Danny had turned away to try to comfort a loudly crying woman.
Colton leaned down toward Silver, his face a menacing mask of anger. “Until I figure out my next step, you keep quiet. Not a word to anyone about me being a cop or I will arrest you. Got that?”
Bristling at his tone but understanding his anger, she decided to comply—for now—and gave him a curt nod.
He crossed his arms and looked away, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of her anymore.
A hand touched her left shoulder. The woman who’d been so excited by the egrets earlier looked ready to pass out. Her eyes were like round moons brimming with tears about to spill down her cheeks.
Her lips trembled as she whispered, “I can’t believe we were almost robbed. We could have been killed.”
Silver’s heart tugged at the poor woman’s fear. Her own anger at Eddie probably rivaled Colton’s anger with her. Thank God, no one had gotten shot, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been hurt. This poor woman, and others, would probably have nightmares and no telling what other lasting effects because of Eddie’s stupid stunt. Silver squeezed the woman’s hand and pulled her into a hug, rocking her and patting her back as she tried to soothe her.
“You’ll want to take the boat to the main dock where everyone’s cars are parked.” Colton’s deep voice cut through the conversations around them as he addressed Danny. “We’ll have cell phone coverage there and can call the police to report the gunman.”
Danny hesitated, then nodded. “Right. Of course. Um, ladies and gentlemen, my apologies for the fright you just had. The tour is over. We’re returning to the south dock.” He gave Colton another curious look before using the pole to push the boat off the mud.
Chapter Five (#ulink_f4434fbc-e2ae-5292-adb9-4cc0cc58a64a)
Colton switched his cell phone to his other ear and leaned against the police cruiser as he and his boss debated his next move. The airboat captain had brought the tourists to this main dock near the Interstate. This was where the tourists had parked their cars earlier this morning before being taken in the boats to Mystic Glades for breakfast.
Half a parking lot away, on the mini-boardwalk outside Buddy’s Boats Boutique, a team of four Collier County Sheriff’s deputies were interviewing the few remaining airboat riders. Most of them had already given their statements and had been allowed to go. Only Silver, Danny Thompson and a couple of others were left.
A different group of deputies had taken one of the department’s airboats out earlier, with Danny as their guide, to the spot where the gunman had been, in order to search for clues. But other than some muddy footprints that the soggy marsh had rendered useless as evidence, there wasn’t much to find. And no trace of the gunman. They’d brought Danny back and now those deputies were already on their way back to Naples.
As Colton listened to Drew, some of the store’s staff members came outside on another one of their rounds, checking on everyone and passing out bottles of water—at four bucks a pop. Colton supposed that was entrepreneur Buddy Johnson’s brand of Southern hospitality.
“Okay,” Drew said. “Since the B and B owner interfered and it’s unlikely the perp even saw your gun, what do you think had him spooked?”
“Miss Westbrook must have signaled him, warned him, just before she threw herself on me so I couldn’t draw my gun.”
“You think she interfered on purpose?”
“Yes. But I can’t prove it. When I drove into Mystic Glades and saw Eddie talking to her, I should have confronted her then and there. Instead, before I continued to the B and B, I waited to see what they would do. Eddie disappeared. And Miss Westbrook’s been playing cat and mouse with me ever since. Did she interfere on purpose? I’d bet my next raise on it.”
“All right. Then how do you want to play this?” Drew asked.
He’d already given it some thought and knew exactly what he wanted to do. Namely, get out of Mystic Glades. “Once all the passengers have been interviewed, the airboat captain is going to take Miss Westbrook and me back to the dock in Mystic Glades. Once there, I’ll arrest her and drive her to the station for an interrogation. And while I’m working on getting her confession, one of our guys can get a search warrant for the inn. My statement that I saw that blue vase should be good enough to get a judge’s signature.”
He kept an eye on Silver while his boss considered his recommendation. She seemed to have made it her personal mission to help the mostly older crowd of tourists after each one of them was interviewed by the police. She hugged them as if they were old friends, put her arms around their shoulders and helped them to their cars. Anyone watching her would think she was a saint and that she really cared about those people. And yet she was covering for the man who’d pointed a gun at them. It didn’t make sense.
“What about Rafferty?” Drew asked. “Can you peg him as the gunman?”
Colton thought about it. “My gut tells me it was him. But he had his entire face covered, and since he wore a ball cap, I couldn’t even tell you his hair color. No way could I swear in court that it was him. A defense attorney would hear me describe the guy as Caucasian, average height and build, and then he’d remind the jury that half the people in the country could be described that way.”
“All right. Then, basically, this is where I think we stand. Your cover as a tourist is still intact with everyone except Miss Westbrook. If we can ensure her silence, you can still hang around Mystic Glades and try to get in with the town gossips, or maybe listen in at the bar you mentioned. Someone is bound to know where Rafferty’s hiding and give him up. Then you can confront him, lie, tell him we’ve got his prints at one of the burglarized homes or something. Get him to roll over on the ringleader.”
Colton straightened away from the police car. “Hold it. What are you saying? There’s no way we can trust Westbrook.”
“Maybe, maybe not. You told her not to tell the other tourists that you were a cop. From what you’ve said, she’s kept her word.”
“Only because either I or one of the other deputies has been with her the whole time. She hasn’t had an opportunity to spill the truth. We have no way of knowing whether she’ll continue to keep quiet.”
“Then you’ll have to stay with her. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“Drew—”
“It’s not a request, Colton. You’ve spent months and plenty of resources on this case. Other than pegging a few minor players that we agreed wouldn’t have access to the man at the top of the food chain, we’ve got nothing. We were putting all our chips on Rafferty because he seemed knee-deep in this thing and might lead us to the higher-ups. But if he was the gunman today, then it’s a safe bet that he’s going to lie low for a while. I want you to try to flush him out, but we have to consider that the ship may have sailed. Which leaves us with Westbrook as our only link to the whole ring. That’s the angle you need to work.”
“I can work it by hauling her to the station and interrogating her.”
“Or you can go back to the bed-and-breakfast, threaten to arrest her for interfering with a police investigation if she doesn’t cooperate, then step back and see what happens. If she thinks the jig is up, she’ll want to warn the other members of the burglary ring. My guess is she’ll do that after she thinks you’re asleep. So follow her. See where she goes.”
Colton shook his head in frustration. Drew’s plan was too risky. Rafferty had already gotten away and might not be seen again. What if Silver slipped away, too? It would be far safer to take her into custody right now. And although he’d never admit it out loud to Drew, in spite of everything that had happened, he was worried about her.
He knew her type, how her creative mind worked, from growing up with a sister much like her. To Silver, the world was a fascinating, enchanting place full of interesting people and things to study and capture in some kind of medium. She judged people based on their faces, voices, maybe even the colors they wore. She put faith and trust where it wasn’t always warranted. To someone like her, “bad guys” could be hard-luck cases and she felt sorry for them. He doubted she saw true evil in anyone. And that made her particularly vulnerable.
In spite of how angry she’d made him by risking her life and throwing herself on him when he was pulling out his gun, he was also shaken that he could have hurt her. And damn it, he didn’t want her hurt. Even though she frustrated the heck out of him, and was likely involved with the criminals he was after, she didn’t strike him as a “bad” person. His instincts, honed from years of working with some of the worst excuses for humanity out there, told him that by most people’s measures she was probably a “good” person who’d gotten caught up in something and didn’t know how to get out of it.

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