Page 35 of Shephard

The silent treatment was alive and well and being utilized by the brooding guest standing in my kitchen. At least I knew he was alive, his chest rising and falling occasionally. Stoic wasn’t the right word for the man. More like he was a statue. I couldn’t read a single expression, including from his dark eyes.

After climbing from bed and retrieving both our sets of clothing, he’d said a single additional word—whiskey. So much for pillow talk. I might be a wine drinker, but on a cold winter’s night, a good glass of bourbon was the only drink that could warm the cockles of my heart. If I had a heart. At least that was according to Cane.

He’d milk getting his nose broken for days. Weeks. Now I stood with the sexiest mountain man alive drinking in the middle of the most awkward silence I’d ever experienced.

What the hell was he thinking? Had he enjoyed the sex? Did he think I was hot? Oh, hell, no. I wasn’t going down that road. I wasn’t that kind of chick. I wasn’t perfect, a little too rounded in the hips, maybe my breasts a little too small for a gigantic man. I also wasn’t a baby, my thirty-three years spent trying to remain bold and opinionated.

My mother told me I came out of her womb a sarcastic little wench. She hadn’t minced words either.

I did wonder about Shephard’s background, something I would check using my old sources now that I had his name. I did that with almost everyone, which is how I’d found out Cane was sucha womanizer. He was lucky he hadn’t been beaten to a pulp more than once by the husbands of married women he’d fucked.

No wonder he’d been provided with a transfer.

This hunky guy was a Marine. I’d seen the tattoo. I was certain he’d seen mine, but he hadn’t asked anything about my past. I hadn’t dared ask him about his. Somehow, I knew the subject was way off limits. Which, of course, made me want to look into his background even more.

He polished off his drink, his deliberate move of thudding the cheap rocks glass onto the counter his way of telling me he was ready to be taken back to his truck. This was when I really regretted not forcing him to drive. Maybe the only girlie part of me hadn’t wanted him to find a reason to change his mind.

I took another sip of my drink, immediately heading for my jacket and keys. Sleep was important and delaying the obvious wasn’t something I normally did.

Pepper huffed and I glanced at her. When she moved toward the visitor, I sighed. “Yes, baby girl. You can come.” I knew Shephard would follow me. He had to.

Once inside the Jeep, it took him a few seconds to buckle up. Meanwhile, Pepper was leaning her head on his shoulder from the backseat.

“Bomb or drugs?” he asked in his deep voice.

I thought I’d already bragged about that before. “Both.” I started the engine, hating the awkward feeling. As I backed out, he took a seriously deep breath. Did he think I was a bad driver too? Oh, there I went again.

“War or civilian?”

Now he was pushing the need for information. Civilian didn’t mean retired, which Pepper wasn’t officially at this point. “Both.”

“Thought so.”

Why did I have a feeling that was all I was getting?

I’d made it only one mile down the mountain road when my cell phone rang. I used to hate the cell phone towers were everywhere, but without them, there would never be any reception up here.

Grimacing, I slowed to a crawl when I realized my boss was on the other end of the line. Did the man ever get his beauty sleep? Nope. That was also obvious.

“What’s wrong, Greg?”

“Are you anywhere near Foxhead Resort?”

I hesitated before answering. “Why?”

“Because now, there’s a missing fucking tourist.”

The fact it was dark was about the worst scenario possible, especially to start a hunt. “What about your boy, Cane?”

“Drunk as a skunk.”

“I thought I’d been suspended,” I told him.

“You’ve done your time. Don’t beat anyone up again. Go find this kid. He’s got rich parents who are very influential. You get what I’m saying?” Other than with the other murder case, Greg wasn’t normally political or swayed by money or clout, which meant whoever I would be dealing with, and there was no choice, was aparty boy with a huge trust fund and his future mapped out for him.

I glanced at my passenger and grimaced. The resort was close, the woods behind it dense. All I’d need to do was take the limited access road that was coming up in a mile and I could be there much quicker than if I headed all the way down the mountain and dropped him off at his truck.

Great.