LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Where are we going?”

      “Luke lives in the next valley over. Little town called Spruce Hollow. It’s known for being a bit cultish.”

      That lifted her eyebrow. “Define cultish.”

      “I wish I could. But I’ve only been here one day. As best I can tell, the folks there are particularly intent on eliminating all electronics from their lives. Real back-to-the-good-old-days fanatics. And apparently they’re pretty suspicious of outsiders. I thought it might be prudent not to just barge in and start asking questions.”

      “Good call. I’ve done cultish before, and you have to be very careful in your approach. Best bet is to find a way to get them to invite you in.”

      He looked over at her sharply. “Define having done cultish.”

      She winced. It simply was not in her nature to be secretive. Yet again, her big mouth had given her away. “Let’s just say my choice in boys wasn’t always stellar. A few of them were gang types.”

      “What kinds of gangs?”

      “Bikers. Skinheads. Drug dealers.” She omitted the coming apocalypse bunch her mother had dragged her into the middle of. She nearly hadn’t gotten away from that particular cult alive.

      To his credit, Gray didn’t show any outward signs of horror. He asked casually enough, “Do you still go for guys like that?”

      The question stopped her cold. Did she? Until this afternoon, she might have said yes. But Grayson Pierce was a revelation. She’d had no idea that decent men actually existed. She’d always thought they were a figment of television producers’ imaginations. She settled for mumbling, “I don’t go for men at all at the moment. I’m a committed single person.”

      He made a sound that was probably supposed to pass for a laugh, but somehow failed. “Me, too.”

      “Why’s that?” she queried. “You must have women falling all over you.”

      “Work,” he answered from between gritted teeth. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he’d gone a little pale. What on earth?

      She waited for more, but he didn’t add anything to that one-word response. She prodded, “Most men work and yet manage to have relationships. What’s the problem with your work?”

      “Long hours. Lots of travel.”

      “And then there’s the whole undercover thing,” she added sympathetically. “And the killing.”

      His hands clenched the steering wheel abruptly, and in the glow of the dashboard, he looked a ghastly shade of gray. He gave no other outward sign of tension, but it was enough. Her eagle eyes didn’t miss much. She spoke quietly, “Your secret is safe with me.”

      “I have no secrets,” he ground out.

      “Sure you do. You’re afraid of women. That’s why you avoid us.”

      That made him actually jerk the steering wheel. The Bronco briefly swerved, and he righted its course angrily. “I am not afraid of women!”

      So. There was passion beneath that calm, cool, collected exterior. Somehow, his outburst made him seem more human. More approachable. And a little color had returned to his face. Satisfied that he had himself back in hand, she sat back.

      “What about you?” he asked. “Why the whole leather and chains bit? The scarlet lipstick and black nails thing shouts of insecurity and need for attention.”

      He had no idea the nerve he’d just hit. She turned her head to look out the window. And there was no way she would let him see the tears in her eyes. She presented herself to the world as tough and savvy, and she wasn’t about to let down that facade.

      The interior of the Bronco went silent. She fixedly studied the mountains outside the window. Although they were not all that tall, the terrain was rugged. Steep outcroppings of rock interrupted the carpet of green trees. Here and there she spotted movement. An owl circling in the dark overhead, a coyote slinking across an open field. The night was alive, and she sank into it, becoming a part of it.

      “Do eagles hunt at night?” Gray asked without warning.

      “They can. Although their prey mostly is active during the day, so they do the bulk of their hunting in daylight.”

      “We’re coming into Spruce Hollow. Luke’s place is on the other side of town.”

      She counted buildings—gas station, small grocery store, car wash, video store. Wow. She hadn’t seen one of those in a while. And of course, a church. Several dozen modest homes clustered around the businesses. Soft lights came from a few windows, and she frowned, not placing the dim glows. Those weren’t electric. Kerosene lamps, maybe? Wow. These folks did take going off the grid seriously.

      “Don’t blink or you’ll miss the whole town,” she joked.

      “Hence my confusion over why Jeff Winston saw fit to pull us both and send us here.”

      “I get it now,” she replied quietly. “It is strange, isn’t it?”

      “Luke’s cabin is up that turnoff. I figure we need to head on down the road a bit and hike back.”

      She looked at the dirt track winding up a mountain into a heavy stand of spruce trees. She’d read before she came here that scientists had planted spruce trees inside the NRQZ in the 1950s because they believed the needles were the right length to absorb radio interference.

      “Could we at least park uphill from his place so it’s a downhill hike?” she asked.

      “You’d still have to hike back to the car.”

      “I’ll wait at the cabin and you can bring the car to pick me up. After all, you’re such a gentleman.”

      He murmured as he pulled the car off the narrow road and into the woods. “I’m not always a gentleman.”

      Her head whipped around and she stared at him in the dark. That sounded like a come-on. Surely this man was not throwing pick-up lines at her. Not after he’d so strongly signaled his complete disinterest in her earlier. His features might be easy to see, but they were not easy to read. His face was completely devoid of hints as to what he’d meant by that comment. Expressionlessness aside, the innuendo behind that comment had not been her imagination. There was definitely something going on between the two of them. A spark. Or at least friction. But what kind of friction, she had no clue.

      Gray hefted the rucksack and started off through the woods. He swore quietly as a tree branch snagged his shirt.

      “How ‘bout you let the lady who can see in the dark go first, Sparky? You just show me which direction we need to head, and I’ll take point.”

      He frowned but said nothing.

      “What? You don’t like the idea of the girl going first?”

      “Actually, I don’t.”

      “Keep in mind I’ll be able to see the bad guys way before they can see me.”

      “I still haven’t had my demonstration of how well you can see.”

      She glanced around in the trees, seeing every stick, every leaf. “Follow me.” She led him unerringly around the trees, calling out logs and low spots quietly over her shoulder. They topped the ridge that rose behind Zimmer’s house in a few minutes. She paused at the edge of a clearing and looked out over the town.

      “Want me to start reading license plates in the driveways down there?” she murmured. “You can write them down and check them when we head back through Spruce Hollow.”

      “What do you see over toward Luke’s place?”

      She looked where he pointed and made out a darkened cabin through the trees. “No movement through the windows. Dirty

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