Agent Undercover. Lynette Eason
Читать онлайн книгу.
find out. Of course, with the way he was attracted to her, it was obvious that wasn’t going to be a hardship. At least not for him.
He cut those thoughts off as she directed him to turn into the drive of a small, yet cozy-looking house with gray vinyl siding and green shutters. “Ah, you rented this from the Jacksons, didn’t you?”
“Yes. My … brother found it for me.”
“Well, I know they’re relieved to have it rented. They’ve had some serious financial difficulties since he was laid off six months ago. Rose Mountain is a great little town, but unfortunately, it doesn’t offer much in the way of employment unless you have a specialty.”
“Like medicine?”
He smiled. “Like medicine—or teaching. Or owning your own business.” He turned the engine off and started to climb out.
“You don’t have to get out. I can make it.”
He knew she could, but for some reason he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her yet. “Do you mind if I see you in? Make sure you have everything you need?”
She narrowed her eyes and he held his breath until she said, “Sure. Thanks.”
The joy that stirred in his heart didn’t shock him at this point, but it did make him remind himself to take it easy. His heart ignored the reminder and thumped faster.
He followed Paige up the steps to the covered porch. She slid the key in the lock and opened the door. “My garage door opener is in the car.” She froze. “My bike! I totally forgot to ask anyone about it.”
Dylan grimaced. “I’m afraid it was pronounced dead at the scene.” He flushed. “But I told Principal Bridges I would keep it at my house until you could decide what you wanted to do with it. The dump is probably the best place for it.”
She eyed him and he squirmed under her gaze. She asked, “It’s that bad?”
“Trust me. It’s that bad.”
She sighed. “Okay. I’ll come by and take a look at it when I’m feeling a little better.”
A bush rustled to her left and she shot a glance over her shoulder. Visions of the car speeding into the school crosswalk flashed momentarily, and she blinked.
Another rustle. An animal? A neighbor child playing hide-and-seek?
Dylan must have heard it, too, as he turned to look at the bush.
She tensed. Or something more sinister?
The bush shook and she heard—a sneeze?
She moved toward the sound. “Whoever you are, you better come out now, or I’m calling the police.”
Absolute stillness.
Paige narrowed her eyes. Was she being paranoid? Dylan walked up the steps of the porch and grabbed the broom she’d left next to the door.
Coming back down, he flipped it so the handle pointed toward the shrubbery.
Paige’s adrenaline rushed through her as he poked into the bush.
A grunt sounded. “Ouch! Stop!”
Tempted to run inside and grab her gun, she ignored the feeling. Instead, she pulled out her cell phone. “You have two seconds to show yourself or I’m calling the cops. I—”
“All right, all right.” The voice sounded frustrated. Then a head popped around the side of the bush. “Paige Worth?”
A young man in his mid-thirties with shaggy blond hair gradually revealed himself. He had a smile on his face that Paige immediately didn’t trust. He looked—oily was the word that popped into her head.
Dylan didn’t look like he was too happy to see the guy, either.
Paige narrowed her eyes and drilled him with a harsh glare. “Why are you hiding in my bushes?” she asked.
The trespasser rubbed his chin and studied her. She saw his eyes settle on the bandage around her head. “Aren’t you the one who saved the little boy yesterday?”
“Again, who are you and why were you in my bushes?” Paige responded without answering the question.
The man held out a hand. “I’m Simon Moore. A reporter for the Bryson City Journal.” Paige shook his hand and felt her insides cool.
His eyes zeroed in on Dylan, and Paige watched Dylan narrow his eyes at the man. “And you’re the doctor, right? The little boy’s dad?”
“Uncle,” Dylan replied.
A “gotcha” look appeared in the reporter’s eyes, and Paige grimaced at Dylan’s slip. He’d just confirmed that the reporter had the right people. “I’m sorry about the hiding thing. You didn’t want to talk in the hospital and I thought I could—”
“—convince me to talk to you by ambushing me outside my home?” Paige raised a brow in disbelief. The man didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed.
“Look,” Dylan said before Mr. Moore could open his mouth again. “She’s still not feeling well and needs to get inside and rest. Why don’t you come back another time?”
“Actually, don’t bother. There’s not a story here, all right? Please.” Paige softened her tone. “I have a headache and want to lie down. Feel free to report what happened, just leave me out of it.”
“Why?” A calculating look crossed his face as he assessed Paige, then Dylan. “Do you two have something to hide?”
Paige drew in a pained breath. “No, Mr. Moore, we don’t have anything to hide. Will is a little boy who needs a little less excitement in his life. I simply …” She trailed off. “It doesn’t matter, does it? You’re just going to write what you want.” She gave a snort of disgust. “Happy reporting.”
She stepped inside, and Dylan followed after one last look at the reporter who stood sideways, speaking into his little voice-activated recorder before stomping toward the car Dylan just now noticed parked two houses down.
Once inside, Dylan shut the door behind him. “He looks familiar.”
Her eyes drilled into his and he raised a brow. She asked, “Where have you seen him before?”
“I think he was the guy standing outside your hospital room earlier.”
“What guy?”
Dylan thought she looked pale, and he wondered if it was from the pain in her head or the thought of the reporter. She definitely hadn’t been interested in any media attention at the hospital. He couldn’t help it that a small part of him wondered if maybe she did have something to hide. His gut twisted at the thought. “When I came to see if you needed a ride earlier, there was someone standing outside your door. I asked him if I could help him and he said he had the wrong room.”
She stood perfectly still, thinking hard about something. Dylan wondered what was going on inside her head.
“What did he look like?”
Shaking his head, Dylan squinted as he thought. “I’m not sure. He had on jeans and a green polo shirt. A ball cap covered his head and face. I didn’t get a good look at him.”
Paige’s eyes met his and he could tell she was processing this information. “That guy had on jeans and a green polo shirt but no ball cap. I’m willing to bet that’s not a coincidence.”
Dylan shook his head. “He was probably hoping to catch you alone in the hospital to try and get a story out of you.” Shrugging, he gave her a smile. “Anyway, I’m relieved you’re not interested in doing the story for that reporter.”
“It’s no problem. I’m not into that kind of thing.”
“You’re right about Will. He has been through enough.