Lynette Eason - Agent Undercover

She caught her breath and stepped back. His arms dropped. Then Paige wiggled her fingers at him and said, “I think you need a towel. I’m not doing much good.”

Clearing his throat, he shook his head. “I’m fine.” He wiped his chin on his shirt and smiled at the flush on her cheeks. So, these feelings catching him off guard weren’t one-sided. That was good to know.

Dylan walked toward the couch. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get out of your hair so you can rest?”

Lying down and closing her eyes sounded wonderful. She’d pushed herself too hard today and was feeling the effects of it. However, Paige was determined to get some answers first—and push away the delicious feeling of being in his arms. Not that it was surprising that she’d enjoyed being there considering her instant attraction to the man. What surprised her was the desire to get to know him better on a personal level, not just in conjunction with her job.

And because of that desire, she had to tread carefully. Find out what she could about the fire and his sister, before she could even admit she was interested in him.

She had about twenty minutes before the pain pill would kick in.

“In a few minutes. Please, sit.”

He did, watching her with that concerned look on his face that made her do things she hadn’t done in a really long time. Like giggle. Really, what was up with that?

Paige told herself to focus on what he had to tell her—not the fact that he was looking better and better every minute she spent in his presence. She still had to rule him out as a suspect for the fire that had killed her friend and fellow agent.

And his sister.

But his background check had come back clean. She was here simply checking up on him as a formality. The fact that he had acted to save her life after her collision with the car, the fact that he was straight-up honest with her about his sister’s drug use and the fact that he didn’t seem to have a deceptive bone in his body had her convinced he’d had nothing to do with the fire.

But she’d press on with a few more questions and confirm her beliefs. As much as she would like to go with her gut, she needed some hard evidence that said he was innocent of any wrongdoing. Paige hated this deception, the lying to him, the constant watching of her words around him. She shoved the feeling aside.

Deception was the nature of the career she’d chosen and she’d do it well.

“So …” she settled on the other end of the couch “… what happened that night? I’d ask how Will is handling it, but I guess that’s pretty obvious.”

Grief clouded his eyes and she felt a pang of guilt for poking around memories that weren’t that old and were obviously painful. But she had to.

It was her job and she needed to find Larry’s killer. But she couldn’t help offering, “I can see the pain in your eyes. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Biting her lip, she continued her role. “But I’m going to be working with Will at school. It might help me with him if I know some of the story.” She’d prefer the whole thing, but would take what she could get for now.

Pulling in a deep breath, Dylan rubbed a hand over his eyes and said, “Whatever Will saw scared him enough—

traumatized him enough—that he hasn’t said a word since.”

Paige winced. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” He looked down at his hands. “Sandra, my sister, and her boyfriend, Larry, were at home when the fire started. I don’t know why they couldn’t get out.” His words slowed. “At first, I thought Sandra must have been smoking something and it was her fault the fire started, but the autopsy report showed she was clean.”

“Wow, you said she was trying to get off the drugs. Looks like she was successful.”

He shrugged and looked up to meet her eyes. “Maybe. She’d gotten clean before and gone back to it, so …”

Moved by his pain, she reached over and clasped his hand in hers. “I really am sorry.”

“Anyway, I don’t know what Will saw or heard that night, but until he deals with it, he’s never going to get over it … or stop having nightmares.”

“Poor kid.”

“Yeah. Some nights are rough.”

“Where were you that night?”

He grimaced. “I was with a patient at the hospital almost all night in Bryson City. I didn’t find out about the fire until the next morning when the social worker brought Will to me.”

He was with a patient all night. Easy enough to confirm. Her heart warmed. Her instincts were right. He didn’t have anything to do with the fire. Her eyes grew heavy.

Paige reached over and squeezed his fingers. “I’m sorry, Dylan, I’m fading. Can we talk later?”

“Sure. I shouldn’t have stayed so long.”

She was glad he had. With a pang, she realized she didn’t want him to leave. But he sure couldn’t stay.

Then she couldn’t hold back the yawn that hit her. Her eyelids felt like they had weights attached.

Dylan gave a small smile and glanced at his watch. “You’d better get some rest. I’m going to check in with Eli and see if he’s made any headway on who trashed my office.”

Paige nodded, grateful that her head only protested with a mild squeak instead of the raging scream that had accompanied that movement more than once since she’d awakened in the hospital.

With one last, lingering look that she wasn’t sure how to interpret, Dylan rose and headed for the door. Paige waited at the window until he got in his car and drove off. Then she made her way back to the couch. Light-headedness hit her, and she collapsed onto the cushions.

Grabbing the light blue blanket she kept thrown over the back of the couch, she pulled it over her and let her eyes drift shut.

Her last coherent thought was that she was more certain than ever that Dylan didn’t have anything to do with the fire that had killed Larry and Dylan’s sister. And that was a good thing because for the first time in her career, her heart was getting way too involved.

Thud!

Paige jerked awake. Heart thumping, blood humming in her veins, she sat up.

The first thing she noticed was the lack of pain in her head.

The second thing that caught her attention was the fact that she’d apparently slept all day because the sun was going down just outside the window behind the couch.

The third thing made her freeze, all senses on high alert.

Someone was in her house.

Her drug-induced haze had evaporated with the sudden rush of adrenaline. She needed her gun.

But it was in her bedroom in the end table in the gun box.

Making a mental note to keep it with her from now on, she slid off the couch and her bare feet hit the carpet. Her left hand grabbed the cordless handset from the end table.

She might need it.

Paige’s eyes scanned the open room, registering each detail. The family room blended into the kitchen separated by the large countertop. The breakfast area looked undisturbed. That left the two bedrooms.

One of which contained her gun.

Throat dry, breathing controlled into shallow breaths, thoughts slid through her mind as she crept on quiet feet toward her bedroom. Who would be in her house? And why? Had her cover been blown? If so, how? And where had the sound come from?

The laundry room? The only way to access that was through the breakfast area.

She just wasn’t sure. And she didn’t want a confrontation without her weapon. Physically, she didn’t think she could handle it. Not today.

Pulse pounding doubletime, all senses tuned for another noise that didn’t belong, she used the moonlight filtering through her still open blinds to guide her.

Paige passed the kitchen and paused at the door that led to the hallway. Cautiously, she peered around the edge, thankful she’d left the small night-light burning.