Danger On Dakota Ridge. Cindi Myers
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porch where he and Paige had been standing. The house was only about a hundred feet from the street, making for an easy target.
As he stood at the curb, a Rayford County Sheriff’s Department SUV pulled up. Dwight rolled down the passenger window and leaned toward Rob. “I just heard from Travis. You and Paige okay?”
He glanced over his shoulder to where Paige sat, upright now, hands gripping the edge of the bench, staring at the floor between her feet. “She’s a little shaken up,” he said. “But she’ll be okay.”
“We’ve got a BOLO on the car you described,” Dwight said. “Can you show me where the bullets hit?”
The two men walked up on the porch. “Hello, Paige,” Dwight said. “You okay?”
She nodded.
“Did you get a look at the shooter?” Dwight asked.
“I never saw them. Rob pushed me out of the way before I even knew they were there.”
Dwight nodded, then bent to examine the damaged door. He took some photos. “At least some of the bullets are embedded in the door,” he said. “We’ll get someone out here to collect them. Is there anything else you can tell me—about the car or the shooters?”
“I’m sorry,” Paige said. “I can’t think of anything.”
“We’ll do our best to patrol here more frequently,” Dwight said. “But you might want to think about staying somewhere else for a while.”
She stared at him. “I can’t do that. I have guests. And Parker is here.”
Dwight’s eyes met Rob’s. “It would be better if you went somewhere safer,” Dwight repeated.
“How do you know I was even the target?” Paige asked, with more strength in her voice. “I imagine a DEA agent has made all kinds of enemies.”
Rob looked at the door again. “Maybe so,” he said. “But the shots were fired where you were standing.”
Her face paled, but she set her jaw. “I’m not leaving my home and my business,” she said.
“I can’t force you,” Dwight said.
“I’m staying here,” Rob said. “I’ll keep an eye on things.”
“Let us know if you see anything suspicious.” Dwight nodded to Paige, then left.
When they were alone again, Rob turned to Paige. “Where’s Parker?” he asked.
“He’s out.”
“Out where?”
“None of your business.”
He almost smiled. This was the Paige he was used to. “Do you know where he is?” he asked.
“He’s an adult. I don’t keep track of his every move.”
Somehow he doubted this was a philosophy she had adopted willingly, having seen her mother-bear act in court. “Do you want me to call him?” he asked.
“No!”
“I thought maybe you would feel better with him here.”
“No. There’s no need to worry him.”
“Did you tell him about what happened this morning? The other shooting?”
“No. He doesn’t need to know.”
“There’s such a thing as being too independent, you know,” Rob said.
She stood. “Come on. Let’s get you checked in.”
He could have pressed the issue, but what would be the point? Paige wasn’t going to change on his say-so. He reclaimed his roller bag from beside the door and followed her inside.
The interior of the home was comfortably furnished with a mixture of antique and contemporary pieces. Art on the walls depicted local scenery. Rob saw none of the chintz and cutesiness he had feared when his admin had suggested a B and B for his stay. Instead, the decor was low-key and classy—like Paige herself.
She moved to a small desk in what must have been the home’s front parlor or formal living room and unlocked an adjacent cabinet to reveal a computer. “What name is on the credit card you’ll be using?” she asked, typing.
“Robert Allerton.”
“Not Robert Allen?”
“As I said before, I’m not here on business.” Not exactly. He had sworn his admin to secrecy. After he talked to his boss in the morning, he might be assigned to the case, but for now, he was on his own dime.
She scanned the card he handed her, then returned it, along with a set of old-fashioned keys on a brass fob. “The round one is for the front door,” she said. “The other is for your room. You’re in the Grizzly Suite. Turn left at the top of the stairs and go all the way to the end of the hallway. Breakfast is from seven to nine each morning.”
He replaced the card in his wallet. “Dwight was right,” he said. “You’d be safer if you moved to a location that was unknown to whoever is targeting you.”
“I have a business to run and a life to live. I can’t stop everything to go hide out in a cave somewhere until you or Dwight or whoever decides it’s safe to come out. I’ll be smart and take precautions, but I won’t do what these men want.”
“What do you think they want?” he asked.
She shut the cabinet door and locked it. “For me to keep quiet about what I saw. That has to be the reason they want me dead. They think they can frighten me into shutting up. But all they’ve done is make me more determined to find out what is going on up there.”
She started to move from behind the desk, but Rob blocked her, one hand on her arm, near enough that when she inhaled sharply, the tips of her breasts brushed his sleeve. He fought the urge to pull her close and kiss the protest from her lips. Did she have any idea how maddening and enticing he found her? “Don’t get any ideas about investigating this on your own,” he said. “That could be dangerous.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Careful might not be enough, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere arguing with her about it. He moved aside and started to turn toward the stairs, but she put out a hand to stop him, then grabbed hold of the sleeve of his jacket. “Rob?”
He turned back, looking into her eyes, which were the color of storm clouds, fringed with thick brown lashes. Eyes that could make a man forget every angry word she had ever leveled at him. “Yes?”
She swallowed, color rising in her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“What are you thanking me for?”
“For saving my life.”
He could have dismissed this with a denial that he had done anything special. He had reacted on pure instinct, with no time to think about what he was doing or why. But he wouldn’t let her off the hook that easily. “You know that old superstition,” he said.
Two shallow lines formed between her eyebrows. “What old superstition?”
“When you save a person’s life, then you’re responsible for them.”
She released her hold on him as if she had been scorched. “No man is responsible for me.”
He smiled, a heated curve of his lips that had reduced more than one woman to breathlessness. “Have I ever told you I’m a very superstitious person? And I take my responsibilities very seriously.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, feeling the heat of her skin and breathing in the herbal scent of her shampoo.
When he stepped back, he half expected her to slap him. Maybe he even deserved it, but that kiss had been worth it. Instead, she only tried to wound him with her gaze. Still smiling, he picked up