Holden. Delores Fossen
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sign that something was wrong.
Nicky didn’t let the cat outside—ever.
So, was Nicky inside? And if so, had something happened to her? Holden cursed himself for not having done a silent approach. That way, he could have parked up the street, slipped around to the side of the house and looked in the windows. It might have alerted her neighbors, but that was better than dealing with some of the bad scenarios going through his head. Still, he hadn’t taken that precaution because he hadn’t figured he would run in to any kind of immediate trouble.
Well, no trouble other than an argument with Nicky.
When he’d called Nicky an hour earlier and told her that he was on his way to their hometown of Silver Creek to talk to her, she hadn’t said a word about anything being wrong. In fact, she sounded as if she’d been expecting his call. But then, she’d sent a text just a few minutes later, saying she wouldn’t be available after all.
Right.
Holden wasn’t about to believe that lie. She was dodging him. And not doing a very good job of it, either, because her garage door was up, and he could see her car. That meant she was probably inside and that there was a good explanation for no lights on and the cat being outside. He hoped there was a good explanation anyway.
He kept watch around him, kept watch of the house, too, and made his way to the porch. However, before Holden could even ring the bell, the front door flew open, and he braced himself for what he might see.
But it was only Nicky.
He looked at her, from head to toe. She was wearing jeans and an old concert T-shirt, and had her auburn hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail. No visible injuries or signs of distress. She was scowling at him, but over the past year or so, that was the norm whenever she laid eyes on him.
“Didn’t you get my text?” she asked.
“Got it. Ignored it. Because we need to talk.” Holden moved to go around her and inside, but she stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
“It’s not a good time.” She paused. “I’m expecting someone.”
All right. That gave him a new theory. Maybe Nicky had a hot date who was on the way over. That might explain the lack of lights if she was aiming for something romantic.
A thought that bothered him a lot more than it should have.
Nicky was an attractive woman. Bullheaded and reckless, too. And she was married to her job as an investigative reporter. That said, she was still human and she probably did have a man in her life.
It still didn’t mean Holden was going to skip that talk with her. He wouldn’t.
Because he needed her to know that she was on the verge of being arrested.
He owed her that much. Barely. After the stunt she’d pulled last year, though, some members of his family might believe he owed her nothing. Still, here he was. He didn’t play Mr. Nice Guy very often, and he hoped he didn’t regret it this time.
“Tomorrow, you’ll get a visit from an FBI agent,” he told her.
Nicky didn’t even blink. “I don’t have time for this.” And she would have shut the door in his face, if Holden hadn’t blocked it with his foot. The edge of the door smacked against his cowboy boot.
“Make time,” he snarled.
She blew out a quick breath. “Look, I know you’re still in love with me,” she said, “but you have to leave.”
Holden tightened the grip on his gun. Yeah, something was definitely wrong. Because there was no way in hell he was in love with Nicky, and she knew it, too.
She shook her head, just a little, and glanced at the hold that he had on his gun. Was she telling him not to draw? Or was that head shake about something else?
Holden intended to find out.
But it was best not to confront this head-on. Because the living room behind her was dark, he couldn’t tell if there was someone waiting in the shadows. Someone armed and ready to kill her. Or maybe she’d discovered her house was bugged and she didn’t want to say anything incriminating.
Holden hoped it was the second option.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Holden lied. “And we will talk then.”
Leaving was a risk—anything he did at this point could be. But Holden hoped if there was someone inside that it was a good sign that the person had let Nicky answer the door. The person didn’t want her dead.
Not yet anyway.
In her quest to get info on a story she was working on, she could have gotten herself mixed up with some very dangerous people, and that involvement might be coming back to bite her. To bite him, too, since Holden had to see what was going on. This was well past being a nice guy.
This had just become the job.
He drove his truck up a block, parked and fired off a quick text to his cousin Landon, who was now a deputy in Silver Creek. Holden didn’t request backup but told Landon that if he didn’t hear from him in fifteen minutes, to send some help—fast.
With that done, Holden hurried to Nicky’s house. Not going through the front yard but rather through the back. The houses in the small neighborhood didn’t have fences, but there were plenty of mature trees that he ducked behind and used for cover. The darkness helped, too, and for once he was glad Nicky didn’t have all the lights blazing.
Holden knew the layout of her house. He’d even spent the night there a couple of times, and he knew the best way to approach this wasn’t through the back porch. Instead, he drew his gun and went to the French doors off her bedroom.
Unlocked.
He silently cursed. Since Nicky was afraid of the dark, you’d think she would be equally concerned with locking up, but Holden knew she could be lax about that.
He eased open the door, slipped into her bedroom and stood there. Listening. He didn’t hear anything at first, only someone moving around in the living room where he’d last seen Nicky.
“You’d better be sure he doesn’t come back,” someone said. A man. And Holden didn’t recognize his voice.
In case this was a lover she was meeting, Holden waited for more. He didn’t have to wait very long.
“If that marshal does come back, I’ll kill him,” the man growled.
Hell. So, probably not a lover unless it was some jealous nut-job. Holden sent a second text to Landon requesting that backup, and he made his way to the bedroom door and then into the hall.
The house was old and had creaky floors in spots. He prayed he didn’t step on one of those because he wanted to get the drop on whoever it was that had just threatened to kill him.
“The marshal won’t be back,” Nicky assured the man. “Not until tomorrow anyway.”
“He said the FBI was coming. Your doing?” her visitor demanded.
“Hardly. The FBI will be looking for the same thing you want. Something I don’t have.”
Holden didn’t know specifically what she was talking about, but it might have something to do with her latest project. A state senator who’d been missing over two weeks. Nicky had been investigating his disappearance and had cut some corners. Ones that could land her in jail.
Of course, at the moment that seemed to be the least of her worries.
“You have those files all right,” the man argued. “Now, where are they? And don’t try to hold any of them back. I want every file you stole from Conceptions Clinic.”
Everything inside Holden went still.
Conceptions Clinic?
It was the name of the fertility