don’t have someone in the FBI on their payroll.”
“Who, exactly, are these people, and what do they want from you?”
“That information is need-to-know.” She tucked another loose strand of hair beneath her hat. A nervous tic? he wondered.
“I need to know.”
“You are an intermediary. You only need to know that I’m not returning home. Not yet. Tell my brothers—”
A loud chirp interrupted her words. Two more followed in rapid succession.
He didn’t ask what it was.
He knew.
She’d set up a perimeter alarm and it was going off.
“What quadrant?” he asked as she pulled a cell phone from her coat pocket.
“West. Looks like the same way you arrived. You’d better go—”
The phone chirped again.
“Sounds like they have an army coming for you.” He sprinted back to the shed, pulling her along with him. She’d been trying to get inside since he’d arrived.
Now, she seemed determined not to enter.
She tried to twist away, but his fingers easily locked around her slender wrist. He dragged her into the shed, easing the door closed and sealing them inside. It smelled like sawdust and gas fumes.
“You have a vehicle in here?” he asked, keeping his grip on her wrist tight. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he wasn’t going to let her leave. Not on her own.
“That would be a likely scenario, since I’ve been trying to get in here since you arrived,” she grumbled, jerking away and moving toward the center of the shed.
“How about you show it to me so we can get moving?” he demanded, his gaze shifting to a lone window that looked out over the beach. It was too dark to see much, but a light bounced along the shore. He doubted it was a beachcomber looking for treasures.
“It’s under the tarp,” she responded, motioning to the center of the room.
“Then let’s go.” He crowded in beside her, blocking her path to the door. She had her reasons for continuing to run. He had his reasons for bringing her home. They could hash all that out, come up with a plan that would work for both of them. Later.
After they escaped whomever it was she was running from.
Someone had breached her security perimeter.
Someone else was on the beach.
Through the shed window, Arden could see the light moving along the shore—a small dot of white in the blackness. She doubted it was just one person. And she doubted it was the FBI.
Grayson probably told Kane to monitor the PetID database for a potential hit on Sebastian’s microchip, but there’s no way her brother would have shared that information with the FBI.
Arden’s ex-boyfriend Randy Sumner was another story.
He knew about Sebastian, and he’d have no qualms about tipping off GeoArray Corporation. He was in this deep and had just as much to lose if the company went down. And he, more than anyone, knew Arden could bring them all down.
She hadn’t been exaggerating about GeoArray’s power, resources and reach. The corporation was an army of sorts, and it would send its best soldiers to bring her in.
Soldiers? Thugs was probably a more accurate descriptor, and unless Arden missed her guess, they were trying to hem her in.
But she’d be gone before whoever was on the beach managed to make it up the bluff. Kane would be with her. She wasn’t happy about it. It would be easier to leave him behind, but he had no idea what Arden was up against; what he was now up against.
Arden knew. They’d killed before. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill again. No, she couldn’t, in good conscience, leave Kane to face off against them.
Sure, he was former Special Forces and looked like he could take care of himself. She’d seen him sparring with her brothers at the gym while he and Jace were on home leave one summer. She knew he was quick, sharp-minded and lethal, but GeoArray had money and power behind it. So did its CEO, Marcus Emory. They wouldn’t fight fair and could afford to hire the best fighters and trackers to hunt down what they wanted.
At this moment, what they wanted was Arden.
They were desperate to get their hands on her and the files she’d taken from their networks.
She’d given them a golden opportunity, thanks to her love for Christmas and Sebastian. Now, she had to get out of their reach, and she needed to get Kane out, too.
She dragged the canvas tarp off the motorbike her landlord had left in the shed. A 1952 Vincent Black Shadow. Admittedly, the bike had seen better days. But Arden appreciated the handcraftsmanship of the vehicle and the fact that, in its heyday, the model broke speed records. Very few had been made.
Arden suspected the property owner had no idea of the value the bike would bring if restored. If he did, he might not be so quick to leave it in an unlocked shed for his renters to use.
“A motorcycle?” Kane pressed close to her back, in her space again. Usually, she despised having people that close. Currently, she didn’t have time to worry about it or to tell him to back off.
“Does it look like something else?”
“It looks old.”
“It is.”
“Does it work?”
“Yep. It came with the rental—it’s a way residents can get up and down the access path to the parking area more quickly.”
“I’m afraid to ask how loud it’s going to be when you start it up.” He glanced toward the window. “There’s someone out on the beach. I can’t tell if he’s alone.”
“It’s too far down with no easy way up. Anyone on the beach shouldn’t pose much of a threat. The bigger threat is whoever’s coming up the access path. The shed’s in clear view of it. Once we’re in the open, we’d be easily picked off by anyone with a high-powered rifle.”
“What are you suggesting?”
She turned her attention back to her phone, scrolled through the live video feed from her security system. “They’ve got no clue I know they’re coming. Logic says they’ll head for the house. As soon as it’s breached, we can start her up and head for the trail at the back of the property. We’ll be out of the line of fire before they can make it to the back door.”
He glanced at the phone in her hand. “You’ve set up an elaborate monitoring system.”
“Wouldn’t
