“Want me to come in? Check it out?”
“No, I’m good.” She glanced at the shadowed house.
“You sure? These empty rentals are a magnet for squatters. I’ve seen it before.”
“Squatters!”
“Yeah.” He stepped up to the blue front door. “But I’ll soon see ’em off if that’s the case.” From the inners of his leather, he pulled out a Glock.
“What … what is that?”
“What do you think it is?” He rolled his eyes at her.
“Well obviously, but—” How had she not known it was there?
“It would be stupid to go in without it. Squatters are not known for rolling out the red carpet to visitors.” He tipped the gun left then right, put his finger on the trigger.
“Yes, but—” Leah had a healthy respect for guns. She’d also worked enough MC cases to know they were very much part of the rally that descended each year. Members packed, that was how it was. It was clear Carter was no exception. Why should he be?
“Chances are I won’t have to use it,” he said, the right side of his mouth tugging into a cocky grin. “But if I do, don’t worry. I’m a great fucking shot.”
“I’m sure you are, and, well, I hope you don’t have to use it.” She moved next to him and unlocked the door. When she pushed it open to the dark hallway, the hinge creaked.
“I’ll go first,” he said.
Quickly, she stepped behind him and swallowed as she peered into the gloom.
“Alarm?” he asked.
“No, not that I was told about.” Why was she whispering? Was it because she’d conjured in her mind a group of druggies slouched in the living area, the air thick with smoke, beer bottles laying around, knives, guns…
“Hey, it’s okay.” He set his hand on her shoulder and studied her face. “I’m not gonna let anything or anyone hurt you, Leah.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“I promise.”
He looked so big and spoke with such sureness she believed him. He would protect her from demons, real or imagined.
He stepped in, his heavy boots surprisingly light on the stripped wooden floor as he held the Glock pointing forward.
Leah glanced at his bike, a sleeping beast once more, then followed him in, resisting the urge to snuggle against his back the way she had been for the last eight or nine hours.
The hallway was long and thin. She passed a coatroom, a study desk tucked in an alcove, the base of the stairs, and then arrived in a large open-plan room complete with a kitchen area. A pale wooden dining table and huge white sofa faced enormous floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the ocean as it welcomed a new day with a constant flow of frothing waves.
Carter was stealthily moving around, sussing the place out. “I’ll go upstairs,” he said softly, “you stay here.”
“Sure.” She was thankful he’d come into the house, and despite the gun’s appearance, she felt safer knowing he was checking the empty rooms and dark corners before she was left alone.
She walked to the window and gazed over the deserted dunes at the pitching waves. The watery horizon was vast and beautiful. Each roll of the ocean crested toward her then crashed, only to caress the sand as it retreated in a fizzy goodbye.
It was exactly as she’d hoped, and she wrapped her arms around herself, relieved to finally be where she’d wanted to be. It had been a sudden need, sure, but that didn’t detract from the desire to escape, which she now realized had been an itch she couldn’t reach.
Except now she had and, wow, did she feel better.
“All clear.”
She turned at the sound of Carter coming into the main room.