I don’t think you are, my friend.
“I’m looking for a wanted fugitive,” Tim announced as he jutted his chin up a little more.
“Is there any other kind?” Remy wanted to know, genuinely curious.
“Excuse me?” Tim’s brow furrowed.
“A fugitive,” he explained easily. “Aren’t they all wanted? Doesn’t that go along with being a fugitive?”
Anger tightened Tim’s features.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Remy nodded. He also rocked back on his heels and casually took in every part of the man’s appearance. Cheap brown coat and pants. Too tight dress shirt. Tennis shoes.
Tim attempted to peer around Remy. Remy moved his body to make sure that just wouldn’t happen. “I’m happy to inform you that there is no fugitive in my home.”
“I’d like to search the premises.”
Remy laughed. “Yeah, that’s not happening. My artwork is everywhere, and I’m not letting you prance around inside and potentially damage my masterpieces. You’re just gonna have to take my word for it—no fugitive is hiding inside.” Conspiratorially, Remy couldn’t resist adding, “I think I would have noticed him.”
“Her.”
“What?” Remy scratched his chin.
“I’m looking for a woman. About five-foot-six, one hundred thirty-five pounds. Dark hair. Green eyes.” He reached into his coat once more, and this time, he hauled out a picture of Jacqueline. A picture that showed her from a bit of a distance, as if the photo had been taken without her knowledge.
The plot thickens.Remy let loose a low whistle of appreciation. “I would know if a woman like her was in my cabin.”
“She’s dangerous.”
And it thickens even more.“No? That little thing?” He laughed. “What’d she do?” He would really, really like to know.
“Let me search your place.”
Remy arched one eyebrow. Someone was being very adamant. Time to up his game. “Let me see your warrant, and maybe that will happen.”
Tim glared at him. “What do you have to hide?”
Everything.“Oh, you know, the usual.”
“Is she inside—”
“Look, I don’t have any fugitive in my cabin. Not like I tucked the woman in my bed or something and then scrambled her some delicious eggs for breakfast. I mean, seriously, is that what you think is happening here? That I’ve snuck some dangerous predator in my cabin and I’m now treating her like a queen?”
“You think this is a fucking joke?” Tim’s features had reddened. More of a reddish purple, technically. Very unhealthy looking.
Remy considered the question. “I don’t find myself laughing so I guess it’s not a joke.”
Tim surged toward him. “I know you took her away from that bar.”
Remy didn’t even blink. “What bar?” He also didn’t back down. No way was Tim getting inside.
“Last night, you were at the bar in town. I talked to the bartender—”
“You mean the owner, Rodney?” Remy supplied in what he thought was a helpful manner. “FYI, Rodney is actually the bartender and owner.”
“Youleftwith a brunette. Where is she?”
“She went back to Atlanta. Headed out at sunrise.”