interview with the ice sculptor and coverage of the upcoming competition. That’s all.
To that end, she’d have to ignore all the signals that there was something a little threatening going on here. Forget the look that could kill from the man on his cell. Forget that Jesse Dufour’s strange demeanor and worried frown only intensified the sense of suspicion in her gut. This could mean a much deeper story. Adrenaline coursed through her. This could be her chance to get her life back—under a different name.
Or, she could lose her life completely. Hadn’t she just driven over a thousand miles to escape a man who wanted her dead? Digging into his life for a story had been a mistake. But how could she have known?
Casey sighed and tugged the chair from the desk, plopping down.
It would be hard, but this time—if there was a story—Casey would let the truth lie buried. She had enough trouble already.
TWO
Jesse exited the room and stepped into the corridor, easing the door shut behind him. He prayed she would stay put but wasn’t sure God would listen to the likes of him.
Hopefully, the woman hadn’t just blown six months of work.
Because he’d had to stand idly by and watch people abused too many times at the hands of those he investigated, he reassured himself that he was justified in removing her, albeit a little brusquely. It could end up saving her life. But he’d created a new problem, because now he’d assured her an interview. What might she uncover about him? His real name, Jesse Mitchell?
He sighed and shoved open the door to the loading dock to retrieve her bag, hoping he’d find it before anyone else.
Carlos stood with Miguel, holding up a woman’s shiny black bag—big enough that it could have been a briefcase—and scowling. Jesse meandered toward them, forcing a lazy grin as he formulated a cover story plus a back-up plan in case they didn’t buy it.
Carlos dropped the bag to his side a little behind him and postured to block Jesse. “You know something about this?”
Jesse smiled and reached around Carlos for the bag, never taking his gaze from the man’s eyes. “Sure, a woman got lost. I escorted her out. What? You’ve been looking for a bag just like this one? You want to keep it?”
Carlos and Miguel eyed each other then burst out laughing.
Miguel slapped Jesse on the back and squeezed his neck. Jesse couldn’t afford to show his relief. He needed to keep his cool like he hadn’t been concerned to begin with. Unlike how he’d handled the reporter.
“That’s why I like you, Jesse. You make me laugh.”
Over the past few months, Jesse and Miguel had become friends. Miguel called them brothers. Just another reason for Jesse’s gut to sour every day. Growing close to people, becoming like family, then turning traitor on them was a tough gig.
Jesse held up the bag and laughed, too. “You want to look inside?” He feared they might already have done that, but then again, if she’d carried some sort of recording device or anything reporter-looking, they’d be having a different conversation right now.
“Nah. What do you think, I’m a criminal?” With that Miguel laughed again, mischief in his eyes. “Hey, Elena wants you over for dinner again. You like her cooking, sí?”
Jesse scratched his chin as though he’d have to contemplate his answer. Miguel narrowed his eyes. Jesse allowed a broad smile. “You know I do.”
“We’ll set it up. Oh, and little Rosita has a crush on you, so be nice when you see her.”
A truck backed up to the enclosure, drawing Miguel and Carlos’s attention away.
Despite the cold filtering from the refrigeration storing the ice, a drop of sweat trickled down Jesse’s temple. Not good. Jesse was grateful the men had been pulled away before they’d noticed that he was nervous.
He exited the loading dock and made his way back to the office, wanting to give Casey Wilkes a few choice words but knowing he couldn’t. Little did she know what she could have walked in on—a person didn’t just walk in on Carlos and Miguel these days.
Jesse marched toward the door, steadying his hands. He gripped the knob, hoping she’d waited like he asked, but if she wanted her bag she’d be there. Stepping inside, he smiled when he saw her sitting in the chair, her feet propped on the empty desk. He wondered what she’d say if he told her the man who used to occupy this office was dead, had been knocked off at this very company.
Upon seeing him, she grinned and shoved her gorgeous blond hair behind her shoulders.
“Well, you going to give me that?” Amusement filled her sea-green eyes.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry.”
Here it comes. Now that she’d had a few minutes to catch her breath, she was going to ask him questions about the dangers of the loading dock. Fortunately, he had at least five things he could list that didn’t include Carlos and Miguel.
She moved around the desk and stood next to him, offering her hand, bright pink polish on her nails. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Dufour. I realize I must have caught you at a bad time today. We got off to a bad start. Sorry for that—” she cleared her throat, a mischievous smile playing on her lips “—inconvenience. In addition to an interview, I’d love to stop by and watch you create your sculptures as you prepare for the big ice-sculpture competition.”
Jesse rubbed his jaw. Why wasn’t she grilling him? She had to be up to something more. Her light floral perfume wrapped around him while he studied her. He took a step away to distance himself and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall and gaining some control over whatever magic she was working.
If she wasn’t going to ask, he was going to offer. He couldn’t have a reporter leave the premises without an explanation, even if it wasn’t the complete truth. He didn’t want to think about what she could do with that.
“Listen, about the loading dock.”
She held up her hand, stopping him. “No need to explain again. Really. The loading dock is dangerous. You might want to post a warning sign to that effect. Then again, I got lost. Maybe a map of the entire facility would work better.”
Incredulous, he almost choked on a laugh. Was she for real? He held up his hands in surrender. “Look, I’m sorry you got lost and that I had to escort you out.”
He hoped she would leave it at that, satisfied that the loading dock was dangerous.
He liked her spirit, and he wanted to believe her story. That she’d gotten lost. That would keep things simple because what he didn’t need right now was a reporter snooping around.
The last person to cross Carlos and Miguel had been silenced—he had either stumbled upon them in the middle of a delivery and was at the wrong place at the wrong time, or he’d been part of the crime ring and had given them reason enough to get rid of him. The empty office where he stood with Casey attested to the fact.
Her eyes narrowed if only a little before she flashed a smile, but he didn’t miss it. “You’re
