Concealed Identity

Then again, Alejandro Gonzalez had been spotted here by Agent Livingston, so who knew what was going on? A place like this wouldn’t be on anyone’s radar. Could Alejandro have been meeting the head of the Juarez Cartel? No one had ever seen his face before. Which meant he could be hiding right under their noses.

Did Blair know who he was? Was that why she’d moved here after her husband had been gunned down by the Juarez Cartel? Had she been in on Mateo’s execution? Or had the head of the snake moved here to lie in wait and strike at Blair as a move against her former brother-in-law, Hector Salvador?

Too many questions clogging the wheel. Holt inhaled and exhaled, concentrating on the here and now.

“I’ll call the police once I get my sister to Doc Drummond’s.” Her tone didn’t sound convincing, and her eyes shifted before she looked away. Nope. She wasn’t calling anyone. Seemed odd for someone innocent. “Let me drive you. I know you managed to drive home, but neither of you seem to be in any shape to be behind a wheel.” It killed Holt to see a hurting woman. A stray thought of his high school love crashed into his mind. She’d hurt for so long before the cancer took her, ruining all their dreams for a future together.

But he didn’t want to think about it. Thinking meant feeling. And Holt didn’t want to feel. Not even right now while looking at the lovely Blair Sullivan. He was feeling something. Something he shouldn’t. She was an assignment. That was all.

Blair gnawed her bottom lip. “I think we’ll be okay.”

Gigi was already walking toward his truck. “Do you know where Doc Drummond’s office is?”

“I just moved here, but it’s a small town. In fact, it appears you and I are neighbors. I rented the McCowens’ house across the street.”

“Cool.” Gigi climbed inside the Ford F-150 he was using as his cover vehicle. “You have a head injury, Blair. I don’t want to wreck for the second time today. So get in.”

Blair hesitated and chewed on her thumbnail as if considering the offer. “So you live across the street.” She eyed him. “What brings you to Hope?”

“I’m opening up a used outdoorsman store. Kind of a dream of mine. That’s why I was at the auction today. Trying to stock the place.” And the lies continued. Worst part of his job—especially if he was lying to someone innocent. He wasn’t sure she was, but he wanted her to be.

Blair scowled at Gigi, who had taken up homestead in his truck. “And where is your business?”

Okay, this might be a little too coincidental, but he’d make it work. “Only place I could find for the right price. I leased a building on the square. Right by what appears to be your shop.” He pointed to her bulky box truck. The side was painted with a huge Christmas tree, and the name of her business was scrolled in red: It’s A Wonderful Life Antiques. “Guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, neighbor.”

Blair didn’t budge. She wasn’t buying it. The woman was tough. Smart. If she wasn’t a person of interest professionally, he’d admit she was definitely someone he’d like to get to know personally. But nothing serious. Holt’s heart couldn’t afford to do serious.

“Don’t worry, I won’t come knocking for a cup of sugar. I don’t bake.” If Holt could put her at ease, lower her guard, he could get close. At this rate, he wasn’t getting nearer than arm’s length, and that wasn’t good enough.

“Neither does she,” Gigi called from the cab of the truck. “My head hurts. Let’s go.”

Blair stepped forward and froze. “My gun! Where’s my gun?”

“I have it. You weren’t exactly thinking clearly back there.”

“I’d like it back before I go anywhere with you.” Her tone was laced with suspicion, caution.

Holt slipped it from his waistband and handed it to her. “What are you doing carrying a gun?”

“Why does anyone carry a gun? And I live in the South.” She grabbed her purse from her truck, tucked her gun inside, locked the doors and slowly made her way to his truck. He hoped she had a license to carry a concealed weapon. “Gigi, get out. I’ll take the middle.”

Safeguarding her little sister from the mysterious and probably—in Blair’s eyes—dangerous man. Something about her fierce protectiveness unraveled a cord he’d kept a tight rein over.

No doubt, this woman would sacrifice herself for her family. Whether she was the good guy or the bad. But which was she?

* * *

Blair sat next to Holt in Doc Drummond’s office, staring through the gold lettering painted across the large picture window announcing that this was indeed a doctor’s office. The heat filtering through the pane warmed her face.

“You doing all right?” Holt asked. He hadn’t budged since they entered. This man didn’t even know them. Why would he stick around like this?

“What do you think?” She hadn’t meant the question to come with a sting. “Sorry.” Blair lightly touched the bandaged area of her head where she’d hit it against the steering wheel. Thankfully, her hair covered it. She didn’t need the town asking a bunch of questions, although news traveled at warp speed, so they’d know about the wreck. Not the bullets, though. And she preferred to keep it that way.

Doc Drummond had bought her quick story, which wasn’t a lie, of losing control of the wheel and running off Farley Pass. She probably should have come here in the first place, but she’d been rattled and frightened. She’d wanted to get home. Safe.

Down the cobbled streets, neighbors bounced in and out of shops. Kids licked dripping ice-cream cones; friends laughed and peeked inside each other’s shopping bags. Vehicles lined the area in front of the regal courthouse.

Felicity Potts, the owner of Read It and Steep Bookstore and Tea Company, was sweeping the welcome mat. Blair caught her eye and she waved.

Blair waved back.

“Tea shop. How about I go over there and get a cup for you?” Holt asked.

Blair tried to see past Holt’s good looks to the kindness he showed. Was it real? When it came to men, her judgment stank. Mateo had proven that. “Are you going to get some for yourself, too?”

“Yeah, I don’t do tea.”

Blair smirked; couldn’t help it. “Chamomile.” She reached into her purse. “Let me get you some cash.”

He laid a hand over hers. “I got it. Be back in a minute.”

“Thank you. For the fourth time.”

“Five if you want to thank me for the drive over.” He swept his dark hair out of his eyes and left, jogging across the street.

Blair loved Felicity’s tea. She loved this town. Barely any crime. But today someone had tried to kill Blair and Gigi. Guilt wound her shoulders tight and drummed in her neck. She’d brought a can of worms to Hope. Somehow. Holt had asked her if she was going to call the police. It had almost sounded like he was testing her. Could the man buying her a chamomile tea be behind the attack? His popping up seemed awfully suspicious, but he’d done nothing but help and be friendly.

Mateo had been friendly, too. Charming. Sweet. Fun. Look where that had gotten her.

She leaned her head against the glass and closed her eyes.

The door opened and a blast of heat sucked the cool air from the waiting area. “Blair Sullivan. What in the world happened to your head?”

Blair didn’t need to look up to know who was standing over her. The familiar sugary scent permeated the room as her voice tinkled. Riella Drummond. Doc’s wife. “G and I had a car accident on the way home from the auction today.” Blair opened her eyes to the most-well-put-together woman she’d ever seen. Hair worthy of shampoo commercials and naturally bronzed skin.

Riella sat next to her and laid her purse on a table filled with up-to-date magazines. “Do you need anything? I can have Sophia bring dinner over.”

Sophia, Riella’s housekeeper, made a mean enchilada dish, but Blair didn’t feel right about taking something for nothing, especially when nobody was dying. “No need for all the fuss. We’ll grab a bite at the Black-Eyed Pea if G feels up to it.”

“Ah. Well, I just came to bring my man something to eat. He missed lunch. You sure you don’t want anything? I have plenty.”

Blair inhaled the tangy scent of Italian food. She must have stopped in at Mangiare. Another reason Blair adored this town—the wide variety of ethnic groups represented here. And the variety of food choices because of it. It really was a wonderful life.

Until today.

“No, really. I’m fine and Gigi will need to get home soon anyway. She’ll probably want to lie down.”

Riella glanced outside. “You met the man who leased the store next to yours yet?”

Holt Renard. “I did. He gave us a lift, but I don’t really know much about him.” Not nearly enough to feel comfortable. And with the way he’d sent her pulse skittering at the auction, she couldn’t get to know him. “He’s opening an outdoorsman store.”

Riella’s eyebrow lifted. “Speaking of...”

Holt made an entrance and handed Blair her tea.

Riella introduced herself and chitchatted with Holt while Blair sipped her chamomile tea and fretted. She hoped he wouldn’t blab to Riella about the circumstances surrounding the wreck. But Blair couldn’t tell him not to, either. She’d instructed Gigi to keep mum before she saw Doc. She’d have to do some explaining when she got her alone. She’d never wanted Gigi to know how stupid and naive she’d been to fall in with Mateo and his crowd. No way around it now.

“Well, on behalf of Hope, welcome. I’ll have Sophia whip you up a welcome meal.”

Riella didn’t mind offering meals to everyone and anyone. She never had to cook them.

Doc Drummond led Gigi into the waiting area. “No concussion, but watch her anyway. She can take Motrin for the pain. Wake her up every thirty minutes to an hour just in case, and she’ll be right as rain.” He flashed a grin at his wife. “I smell a meatball sub.”

Riella raised a red-and-green bag. “You’re welcome.” She kissed his cheek. Blair hooked her arm around Gigi’s. “Thanks, Doc. We appreciate your help.”

“Be more careful next time, Blair. That beast of a truck is a lot to handle.” Doc Drummond winked. “Nice meeting you, Holt. I’ll have to swing by and check out the store when it’s up and running.”

“Sounds good.”

Doc escorted his wife to the offices. Holt held the door while Blair and Gigi stepped outside underneath the white-and-yellow awning. Even with the shade, it felt like they were charging toward a fire-breathing dragon. Blair looked at Holt. “Can I have a couple of minutes alone with my sister?”

“Sure.” Holt paused, then meandered down the sidewalk out of earshot.

Blair turned to Gigi. “I guess you kept quiet about what really happened.”

“You told me not to say a word, so I listened. I’m not sure what did happen. Are you?”

“Let’s talk about it later. Are you hungry?” Blair studied Gigi. Her color had come back, but her eyes looked tired. And scared.

“I feel like talking about it now. Why do you carry a gun that I don’t know about, and who on this green earth would try to kill us, and why do I have to keep my mouth shut?”

As far as Gigi knew, Mateo Salvador died in South America, gunned down by guerillas. Which wasn’t far from the truth. He had been gunned down. But she wasn’t exactly sure by whom, other than a rival drug cartel aiming to take down Hector.

Blair glanced around. Out here where anyone could listen wasn’t the best place. “We will talk. At home. And I carry a gun for protection like a lot of people.”

“You’re hiding something.”

For Gigi’s own good. To protect her.

“We should call the police, Blair.” Gigi gnawed her bottom lip. “I’m freaking out.”

Maybe she should call them. Chief Deputy Beckett Marsh might be able to help. But then she’d have to reveal her past. Somehow it would leak and the town wouldn’t see her as Blair Sullivan, business owner and honorable neighbor. She’d become Blair Sullivan, former wife of a drug lord who could potentially put friends and family in jeopardy.

Blair rubbed her hands together. “You don’t need to be afraid. Trust me.”

“Who was in that SUV?”

“I honestly don’t know.” But she had a terrifying feeling they would be back.

Gigi grabbed Blair’s shoulders. “You think this involves Jeremy? Are you scared of getting him in hot water with the cops?”

Blair’s knees buckled. She hadn’t once thought it might concern her brother. But that might be the reason he wasn’t answering calls and texts, or hadn’t been by to see them in a few days.

Gigi led her to one of the many benches that lined the sidewalks. Blair collapsed on one, averting her eyes from the colorful wooden box of impatiens that sat directly under the black lamppost.

“Maybe we should call Dad,” Gigi said.

No. Drug cartels were ruthless. Until she knew what she was dealing with, the fewer people involved, the better. “And ruin his Caribbean cruise when we don’t really know anything? Let’s not worry Dad until we have to.”

Gigi stood and crossed her arms across her chest. “Okay, but I expect the full truth before the night is over. It’s not fair to keep me in the dark, Blair.”

No, it wasn’t. Not at this point.

A blue pickup pulled over to the curb and Ronnie Lawson clambered out.

Blair stood next to Gigi. “Oh, great,” she muttered, then bristled as he strode toward her with determination in his eyes.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the little fox that stole from my vineyard.” He shoved a wad of chewing tobacco in his cheek and pocketed the canister.

“I didn’t steal anything. You should have been at the auction today.” Blair backed away as he shuffled forward, turned his head and spat a spray of tobacco juice.

“Truck broke down on the interstate. I heard it was gonna be a sweet one today.” He glanced at her head and massaged his neck muscles. “What happened to you? Get into a major bidding war?”

“I wrecked on Farley Pass coming home.” She gave Gigi a sidelong glance and prayed she’d keep her trap shut.

“At least you’re not dead.”

Yet. Her nerves hammered.

Ronnie made another step into Blair’s personal space. “You know what I’m gonna ask.”

* * *

Holt had given Blair and Gigi space, but he itched to know what they were discussing. Might be about whether or not to go to the police. Now, out of the corner of his eye, he studied a man with beady eyes and a receding hairline moving in on Blair. He towered over her and she inched back, then scowled. Didn’t appear to be a pleasant conversation. Holt strode toward them. If this guy was messing with her, it’d be for the last time.

“Blair, everything all right?” Holt asked as he ambled up beside her, glaring at the big guy wearing a worn camouflage shirt and jeans.

Blair tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. This is Ronnie Lawson—”

“Own the sporting goods store outside town. You are?” Ronnie sniffed and spat a gob of tobacco onto the road.

“Holt Renard. Just moved here from Memphis.”

Ronnie nodded once. “What brings you to Hope?”

“Opening a used outdoorsman store.” And he continued to build on the tower of lies. “Chasin’ the dream, man. Chasin’ the dream.” Once it hadn’t been too far of a stretch, before his world flipped upside down. Once he’d wanted to major in forestry and settle down in a town much like this one. With Trina.

“I hear ya.” Ronnie returned his attention to Blair. “So, can I come by and check out the inventory?”

Blair placed her hands on her hips. “Sorry you broke down on the interstate this morning, but I haven’t had a chance to comb through everything myself, and you know—”

“You have a dumb ritual of having to see it all before anyone else. Give me a break.”

Holt didn’t like this guy. Manhandling her with his words and his stance. He stepped forward, ready to put the deadhead in his place, if for no other reason than talking ugly to a woman.

“Dumb or not, it’s my thing.”

Blair gave him an icy stare, and Ronnie chuckled. “All right. No need for daggers. Call me if there’s anything I might want.”

“You know I will. As always.” Blair waved as he climbed into the pickup. “Ronnie Lawson is the thorn in my side. Greedy old jerk. I like his wife, though.”

Gigi snickered. “He’s just mad because he lost out on possible sporting goods.”

Holt wasn’t sure what was going on. The guy seemed too interested in Blair’s purchase, but he might always be like this. Holt needed answers. “So, anyone up for food?”

“It’s hot out, but I could eat some soup maybe,” Gigi offered. “Blair?”

She stared at the road and chewed a thumbnail. “I really need to go through the wares from today and inventory it.”

“You whacked your head, Blair. Take a day to rest,” Holt said, wiping the sweat from his brow. It was too hot to stand around out here talkin’ about stock from the auction—or anything else.

“Or let me eat some soup and then get to it.” Gigi gave her the stank-eye and Blair heaved a breath.

“I’ll tell you what,” Holt said, “let’s get a bite to eat and I’ll help you unload the wares and inventory. I know you can’t haul all of that out of the truck alone.” He hoped she’d agree. He needed more time around her and access to snoop.

“I can handle it and it’s a ritual I like to do—study each piece, and...anyway...” Blair glanced across the street. “But okay to something to eat.”

So she wasn’t going to let him go near that truckload of stuff. Why? What ritual? His suspicion rose to new heights. He couldn’t drive her truck, and she’d refused to leave it behind. Was there something inside she didn’t want anyone to see? Was that why the SUV had plowed into her?

They headed down the sidewalk toward the Black-Eyed Pea. Holt pointed at the diner on the corner of the square. “Cool name.”

“Hunter and Jace Black own the place. Gigi dates Hunter...sometimes.” Blair grinned, groaning when Gigi elbowed her.

“What about you, Blair? Who do you date?” Could a new boyfriend be into some bad stuff?

Gigi snorted. “Blair? Date?”

Holt spied Blair’s cheeks turning pink, but she didn’t offer a defense or retort. Would she still be grieving Mateo Salvador? He’d been nothing short of a monster with loads of money. It’d been over two years since he died. It had to be Blair’s own decision not to date. Holt couldn’t imagine the dudes in this town not beating her door down to ask her out. If this wasn’t an assignment and he was positive she wasn’t involved directly with drugs, Holt would be beating down her door. But this was an assignment. And personally, he was done opening himself up to love.

“I don’t have time for relationships,” Blair offered, glaring at Gigi, but behind the irritation with her sister lay worry and unease.

She had every right to be afraid and fret. Holt wanted to reassure her that things would be fine. But could he? He’d failed Trina. Holt had given her false hope every day. He’d believed with all his heart that God would heal her. He would let them be together and make a happy life. And in the end? Hope disappointed. Hope failed.

The day he laid Trina to rest, he’d also buried his faith.

They crossed the street and headed down to the storefront where red-and-blue-plaid curtains lined the lower half of picture windows. A large wooden sign hung overhead with black branded lettering: The Black-Eyed Pea. Home cooking, deep-fried deliciousness and the briny scent of seafood clung to the sticky air.

Hopefully, during their meal, Holt would be able to extract more information from Blair and Gigi.

Time was running out.

An hour later, Holt hadn’t learned much more than the fact that Jace Black made a mean po’boy, could fix Blair’s truck if she needed him to and might be into her—which flared a green streak in Holt that irritated and surprised him.

Blair had kept relatively low-key except to admit she stank at cooking. Now on his way to drop the sisters off at home, Holt turned down their country road. Only a few houses sprinkled in the area. A dark pickup truck whizzed by, kicking up dust.

A love song played on the radio. He itched to switch stations. The last thing he needed was a ballad about lasting love. He pulled into Blair’s gravel driveway and cut the engine.

Gigi’s phone rang. “Thanks, Holt.” She answered the call and climbed out of the truck, then sat on the porch steps.

Blair exited the vehicle and Holt dogged her, stopping her before she reached Gigi. “If you need anything at all, I’m only across the street. Or better yet, take my number and call or text.”

Blair huffed but traded numbers. “We’ll be fine.”

Holt wasn’t so sure. “It’s not every day someone gets run off the road and shot at. I’m not an idiot, and I haven’t pushed, but it’s obvious you’re in trouble. And I want to help.”

Blair fidgeted with her cell phone. “I don’t even know you.”

“Fair enough, but I’m not the one running you down with a gun. The fact that you’re not going to the police tells me you’re into some bad stuff—”

“I’m not a criminal!” Blair’s words carried conviction and pain.

He couldn’t help softening. “I didn’t say you were, Blair.” And maybe she wasn’t. He was struggling to imagine she was. “But good people have bad things happen to them.” He’d been a witness to that.

She touched his arm as if she’d known and felt his own pain. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For taking care of us and giving us a ride, but please don’t let what happened get around town.”

Holt would never say a word. Not only because he was undercover, but clearly Blair Sullivan didn’t like the fact that she’d been associated with Mateo Salvador and his criminal activity. And Holt wanted her trust. “I promise you, I won’t say a word to anyone. I don’t promise to stay out of it. You could have died. Whether I know you or not...” He scuffed his toe along the gravel drive. “I don’t want to see anyone die.” Couldn’t bear it.

“I don’t, either.”

“Blair,” Gigi called. “Did you leave the door open after we got home from the auction?” Gigi stood with her keys in hand, staring at the front door.

Blair frowned and marched toward the house. Holt followed. “No. We didn’t go inside and I know I wouldn’t have left it open.”

Holt nudged both women behind him and studied the cracked-open door. “Did ya’ll notice that truck that flew by a minute ago? Either of you recognize it?”

Blair’s hand trembled. “Not really.” She looped her arm in Gigi’s as if trying to hold them both up. Gigi shook her head.

He handed Blair his truck keys. “Go get in my truck and lock the doors. Anything happens, you drive away. Don’t even hesitate.”

Blair stared at the keys, lips quivering.

“Go,” he said with a little more force, and gave her a gentle shove toward the steps.

When she and Gigi were inside the cab of his truck, Holt drew his gun, toed open the front door, then slipped inside. Not a sound except for the refrigerator humming and the air-conditioning unit working to keep the house cool.

Nothing seemed out of place.

He cleared each room downstairs and up. Everything appeared to be in order, but his gut screamed someone had been in here. And the culprit might have been in that pickup. If they’d been five minutes earlier...

Holt came outside. Blair and Gigi whispered inside the truck. Possibly keeping secrets and discussing information he desperately needed to find their brother and Agent Livingston. Blair opened the truck door.

“I didn’t see anything out of place, but come in and take a look. See if you notice anything unusual.”

Blair entered her living room first. “It smells like oil and exhaust.”

Holt sniffed. “You’re right.” Definitely wasn’t Blair’s signature scent. She smelled like a bouquet of springtime, which irked him that he’d picked up on it...enjoyed the fragrance. He had one purpose in being here, and it wasn’t to admire Blair Sullivan’s flowery scent.

He walked the house with her and Gigi.

“I don’t see anything missing.” Blair shivered and rubbed her forearms. “I guess we did leave the door cracked.”