Mountain Refuge. Sarah Varland
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in her mind, almost pushing away the niggling fears that reminded her that someone wanted her dead.
Almost.
But not quite.
* * *
Clay didn’t know what had gotten into him earlier, snapping at Summer when she’d tried to tell him to go after the guy. He could count on one hand the number of times in his adult life he’d lost his temper. He had his own struggles, wouldn’t say he was 100 percent the man he wanted to be, but temper wasn’t usually one of his issues. It disconcerted him that fear for Summer’s safety, combined with him being upset over her persistent stubbornness, had made him lose it like that.
He looked over at her stretched out across the couch, eyes closed. Clay had tried to convince her that her room was actually safer, tucked away and on the second floor, but she hadn’t listened, just like she hadn’t listened to her brother when he’d brought up the idea of the safe house earlier.
She was stubborn. On one hand, the stubborn ones usually survived when they were attacked, something Summer had already proved true in her first and hopefully only encounter with the attacker. On the other, the stubborn ones were bad about taking precautions and following advice—something Summer had also proven. She clearly wasn’t going to listen to anyone, even when it would be wise, if it went against what she thought.
Clay exhaled.
This wasn’t what he’d wanted from his fresh start in Alaska. He’d known Tyler’s brother was in law enforcement, but he hadn’t expected to have any part in it himself. Not that he blamed them for asking for his help. It was the logical choice, Clay just wasn’t sure he was ready for it, wasn’t sure he trusted himself to have the instincts he used to have, before he’d started to doubt himself.
But he owed it to his friend to try to keep his sister safe.
And doing that, he was seeing now, also probably meant he couldn’t keep his distance, not even emotionally. The Dawson family needed as many people as they could get on their side convincing Summer to listen to whatever recommendations law enforcement made—and he wouldn’t be able to do that unless they were something resembling friends.
He glanced at her again while she slept.
It wasn’t that being Summer’s friend would be unpleasant. He admired her strength, her spunk, was intrigued by her and thought she was beautiful. Maybe those things were the problem. He had to think of her as a friend only, nothing more, because it was all she could possibly be. He wasn’t staying in Alaska long. He was friends with her brother. Reasons to keep his caring on a friend level and not allow it to go any further ran through his mind like facts on a ticker board.
The biggest one was that he wasn’t an emotional kind of guy. He kept emotions out of his work life and he’d been a good cop, the possible exception being that last case that even his chief insisted he couldn’t have seen coming. Besides that, he’d always done a good job keeping a cool head, staying logical and by the book. Letting himself get any closer to Summer might not allow him to detach the way he needed to in order to keep his focus sharp, keep his senses on alert.
Something he desperately needed to do. Because tonight he felt in his own gut the sinking feeling Noah had seemed to feel in his. Something about this ongoing menace toward Summer felt weightier, more heavy with evil than a random attack. Clay was almost sure Summer was the target of a serial killer. One who had been successful six times so far. Who would feel he’d been robbed of his seventh victim and would likely keep coming back until he could kill her too.
And it would be up to Clay to stop him.
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