Kara Lennox - Hidden Agenda

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Work undercover, catch the bad guy, become a full-time Project Justice investigator. Simple enough plan, until Jillian Baxter recognizes the man she's investigating.Her new "boss" is none other than Conner Blake–her childhood crush. Luckily, he has no idea who she is, since Jillian is no longer Jillybean, the short, overweight teenager he publicly humiliated.Despite their past, Jillian knows Conner isn't a murderer. Nor is he that same cruel boy. In fact, there's much to admire about the man he is. Still, this is an ongoing case and whatever is happening between them will have to wait. As she gets closer to finding the killer, she must decide if she can trust Conner with the truth. And that could be her toughest decision yet.

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Conner seemed not to be listening. He was inspecting the stump, the fallen tree and the surrounding area. At one point he leaned over, and a silver medal of some type, suspended around his neck on a chain, fell out from under his shirt.

When he straightened the chain caught on a branch and the chain broke. The medal landed in the dirt.

“Aw, hell.” Impatiently he scooped up the medal and chain and handed them to Jillian. “Can you put that in one of your hundred pockets, please?”

He was making fun of her hiking pants. Well, he could think what he liked—the pants were practical.

The medal was a Saint Christopher. She gave it a brief look before tucking it away. Conner hadn’t grown up Catholic. She wondered why he would have such an object.

“We’ll put the tree back up,” he announced suddenly.

“Beg your pardon?” the ranger said.

“Yeah, it can be done. Get a forklift out here, maybe a winch and a truck and some strong guys. We’ll drill holes and sink some dowels into the stump, maybe erect some braces—yeah, it’ll work.”

“That sounds like an expensive project,” Jillian said.

Conner shrugged. “Gotta give Mrs. Owl back her house. And we’ll reimburse the university for the equipment that was destroyed, of course.”

“Really?” The ranger took off her hat, scratched her head, as if she’d never encountered someone so agreeable.

They hiked back to the road, where Conner informed the landowner that no more timber would be harvested until Conner himself had re-marked the trees to be taken—doing it right, this time. “We’ll start in the area that’s farthest from the owl nest, and we’ll make sure not to disturb that area any more than necessary. And, like I said before, we’ll compensate you for the extra trees taken above and beyond what was contracted.” He took out his phone, punched a few keys, then showed the screen to Mr. Whatley. “Would that amount be acceptable to you?”

Mr. Whatley tipped his hat back. “I expect so.”

“You should have a check in your hands no later than next Friday.”

“What about me?” the lumberjack said. “Me and my crew gonna sit around on our thumbs till the trees are re-marked?”

“You’ll be back to work by Monday, and you’ll be paid for the downtime.”

Everyone nodded, and then they just stood there. They’d come fired up to do battle with Conner, yet that hadn’t proved necessary. It was like a pall of anticlimax had fallen on the group.

Conner rubbed his hands together. “If that’s everything, then, I’ve got work to do. I’ll use red paint to mark the trees.” He addressed the lumberjack. “Tell your team to ignore blue paint, cut red paint.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Blake.” He and his men piled into an SUV, so covered in dust it was hard to tell the color, and bounced away.

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