LITMIR.BIZ

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wants to turn the room and the one connected to it into a tearoom slash boutique. She wants to be able to sell more yoga supplies—mats, clothes, chimes and eye pillows.”

      He leaned against the doorjamb. “Sounds like a smart business lady.”

      “She is.”

      He pulled a notepad from his back hip pocket. “Sheridan said there are no more classes until Monday and I can get started on demolition today. She also said you’d be sticking around in case I needed anything.”

      Again, the bright smile, which he sensed was genuine. “I’ll be here.”

      He liked Kristen and he hoped she wasn’t Elena. Once Elena realized why he’d come, she’d despise him.

      “I could use a hand with the debris removal. It’s not heavy work.” He wanted to keep her close until Lucian made the ID. “I can pay ten bucks an hour.”

      Kristen’s eyes widened at the extra-high wage. For an instant she looked tempted, and then she shook her head. “Thanks, but I work for Sheridan.”

      Loyal. That was very un-Elena. “So you stop and answer the phone when it rings. What else are you going to do this week?”

      She glanced at the desk and the pile of unfolded flyers and empty envelopes. “I have brochures to get in the mail and registrations to enter.”

      “How long is that gonna take?”

      She hesitated. “Four or five hours.”

      “You can do that in the evenings. Help me and earn some extra money.”

      She tapped her finger on the reception desk. “Doesn’t that cut into your profits?”

      Damn, but she was a cautious one. “The faster I get this job done, the better impression I make. I want Sheridan as a reference so I can build business in the area.”

      She folded her arms over her chest. “Your offer is very tempting—”

      “I pay in cash at the end of each day,” he said quickly before she could say no.

      Her eyes brightened. Ah, there was the magic word—cash. She couldn’t be pulling down much here. And if she were living on the run, she’d need all the cash she could scrape together.

      “Okay.”

      Dane grinned. He held out his hand. “Then it’s a deal?”

      Reluctantly she took his hand. “It’s a deal.”

      He held her hand an extra beat and then released it. “Great.”

      She pulled her hand free. “When do you want to get started?”

      He shrugged. “No time like the present.”

      She nodded. “I’ll just change.”

      “Perfect.”

      Without a word, he watched her dash up the back staircase.

      Last night he’d been watching the place. He’d caught a glimpse of her trim body on the second floor before she’d closed the shades. Her living here would make her easier to monitor tonight. Easier to contain.

      Today he’d get her fingerprints and give them to Lucian.

      Tomorrow Lucian would confirm her ID.

      He hoped she wasn’t Elena Benito. Kristen Rodale struck him as a good person. And he didn’t want to drag her into his dark world.

      But if Kristen turned out to be Elena, he’d set aside whatever warm feelings he had.

      He was going to catch Benito. No matter who he had to use.

      Chapter 4

      Wednesday, May 16, 1:25 p.m.

      Kristen pulled on a pair of faded jeans and a white T-shirt. She neatly folded the yoga pants and top that Sheridan had given her and put both in her knapsack, which she always kept packed.

      Her movements were deliberate, slow, a holdover from her days growing up with her brother. He hated disorganization and sloppiness and he’d expected her to be perfect. Her hand slid to her cheek as she remembered a time when he hit her so hard she’d have sworn her teeth had rattled in her head. He’d been angry that day because she’d left her shoes out in the middle of her bedroom. He’d tripped on them when he’d come into her room to wish her well in school. But the stinging red mark he’d left on her face had meant she couldn’t go to school that day or the next. She’d been fifteen years old.

      Kristen curled her fingers into a fist. Anger boiled inside her as she remembered how she’d cowered in front of him that day so long ago.

      As she zipped the knapsack closed, she forced the memory from her mind and replaced it with Dane Cambia’s quick smile. His deep voice swirled in her head. He’d said all the right things and seemed like one of the good guys. And she liked him.

      Kristen put on her sneakers and went downstairs. She came into the reception area just as Cambia closed a flip phone and tucked it back in on his belt holster. Instinct had her tensing.

      He heard her and turned. Even white teeth flashed. “That was fast. I was just on the phone with the hardware store. Wanted to make sure the lumber I ordered had arrived.”

      Feeling foolishly paranoid, she shoved her hands in her pockets. “Time is money, I suppose.”

      “You are right about that, Miss Kristen.” He hitched his head toward the side door. “I’ve got my sledgehammer in the truck. The way I figure it, I’ll knock down walls and you can drag debris to the construction Dumpster out back. I just checked, and see it’s arrived.”

      “It came this morning.”

      “You mind helping me unload a few supplies from my truck? Many hands make light work.”

      She was glad to have something to do. “You’re the boss.”

      He grinned before heading out the front door. She followed. When she reached the front stoop, she paused and looked from right to left. Her stomach knotted. She’d not had this sense of anxiousness in months and was surprised she felt it now. Dane stood by a white van, the back door open. The van gave her pause. She’d heard they were soundproof—the perfect place to put someone if you wanted to snatch them.

      Dane had shifted his gaze from her to the van’s interior. He started to pull out tools, totally relaxed.

      What had gotten into her today?

      She hurried down the stairs to the back of his van. Carpenter’s tools filled the neatly organized interior—hammers on the right, nails in labeled drawers, saws hanging from hooks. But what caught her attention was the condition of the tools. They were well used: the hammers nicked, the drop cloths spattered with paint and the circular saw’s handle worn. The wear and tear was tangible proof that Cambia was indeed a carpenter.

      Her spirits lifting, she brushed bangs out of her eyes. “What would you like for me to carry?”

      He handed her a drop cloth, eye protection and gloves as he hefted a large sledgehammer and crowbar out of the back. “This should be all we need to get started.” He locked the back of the van and tucked his keys in his jeans pocket. “After you.”

      She headed back up the stairs, through the main door and into the small room. “So do we just tear the wall down?”

      “I’ll cut the electricity to the room and then start removing the drywall. After that I’ll go for the studs and frame work.”

      His tall, broad form filled the doorway. It had been a long time since she’d looked at a man with desire. But unexpected warmth spread through her veins.

      “What do you want me to do with this?” she asked, holding up the drop cloth.

      He moved into the room past her to the wall that needed to be demolished.

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