Captivating Witness

Aha! And aren’t u working at lunch?

Did I say I was working at the diner right this second?

...

I’ve gotta go lie back down.

Reggie. Seriously.

What?

U okay?

Fine. Really.

Not kidnapped by aliens and forced to send these vague messages that I’m sure are half-truths?

Reggie smiled. Hardly.

It was easy to picture the resigned look on Jaz’s face as the next message came through. K. My parents r manning the bouncy castle today. I’ll make sure they tell people ur alive and well.

THX.

Luv u.

Likewise.

Reggie let the phone rest on her knee, guilt tickling at her again. She wasn’t in the habit of lying to anyone, let alone to her best friend. She hated that this situation necessitated it. And she had a feeling it would get worse before it got better.

And what about Dad? You’ll have to talk to him soon, too.

She cringed at the thought of trying to fool him. He was sixty-five, but he was as sharp as ever. Maybe sharper even, with his age. Reggie had never been able to sneak something by him—not as a kid, not as a teenager and definitely not now as an adult.

She inhaled and straightened her shoulders. The simplest way to avoid having to deceive him would be to figure out what was going on before she had to talk to him. Maybe she could even enlist Brayden’s assistance. He seemed eager enough to help her. And he already knew what was going on and was aware of the danger but didn’t seem too concerned about it. Working together might be the perfect solution.

“That’s an awfully determined look on your face.” The amusement-laced statement made her jerk her head up.

She found Brayden standing in the doorway, a tray of food in his hands and an apron tied around his waist. For a second, she forgot what she’d just resolved to ask him. The domestic look somehow suited him and was out of place at the same time, and the result was...good. Better than good. But more complicated words failed Reggie right then.

Was there anything more seductive than a man who brought her breakfast in bed?

“Toast?” he offered, then stepped closer.

As he set the tray on the bed, his scent mingled with the coffee aroma, and the combination made Reggie’s body warm. And it made her stomach growl.

Brayden laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I haven’t eaten since yesterday at about lunchtime,” Reggie admitted.

He tipped one of the mug handles her way and lifted a plate. “Don’t be shy.”

“Thanks.”

She devoured the first piece of toast quickly, offered Brayden an unapologetic shrug, then helped herself to another slice before adding a splash of cream to her coffee and taking a hearty slurp.

“Good?” Brayden asked.

“Perfect.”

“So.”

“So?”

“You going to tell me why you were making that gotta-get-it face when I walked in?”

She swallowed another bite of toast before answering. Was there a tactful way—without coming across as totally lascivious, either—to say that he was the “it” at the other end of her determined expression? Probably not. So she decided not to bother trying to find one.

“I want your help,” she stated. “Or I guess I should say more of your help.”

He took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. “Hmm.”

Her heart dropped a little. “That’s not an encouraging sound.”

“Just wondering what more you need. I’ve already run you over with my car, carried you through the woods and agreed to be your date to the prom. Er, Gala.”

Reggie relaxed a little. “Hilarious.”

He dropped a wink. “What do you need help with?”

“Figuring out who was on the bad end of Chuck Delta’s gun.”

Brayden’s face immediately stiffened. “That’s a job for the police.”

“I know. But you said yourself that there’s no way to know if the rest of the local cops are in on...whatever this is. What’s wrong with a little amateur sleuthing?”

“Aside from the danger to your life?”

“Aside from that...yes. What’s the problem?”

He set down his mug and met her eyes. “I need to tell you a secret.”

Reggie’s heart did a nervous jig as she waited for him to confess something terrible.

* * *

Brayden resisted an urge to get up and pace around the room. Guilt tickled at his mind, and he sighed and ran a hand over his hair, trying to convince himself that it wouldn’t do any harm for her to know why he was really there. In fact, with the danger she was already in, she’d probably want to know. Especially if she thought she ought to be digging into what happened. The idea that she might wind up on Garibaldi’s bad side made him grind his teeth together with worry.

She needs to know, he thought. But she also needs to agree not to share the info with anyone else.