His amusement caught her off guard and she felt her cheeks flame. “Seriously, Trent.” She had to pause for a breath, his grin was that lethal. “What happened out there?”
She could practically see him weighing how much to tell her. Sagging back against the counter he stared at his feet for a long moment before meeting her gaze. “I was out there looking for the man I’m hunting. He’s calling the shots for a gang of thieves specializing in boats and high-end boating gear.”
“That’s why you were asking me about all the folks around here.” Regret was clear in his brusque nod, but she wasn’t bothered. “It’s hard to believe I might know someone capable of what you’re suggesting.”
“It gets worse. He killed two people that we know of and…” His voice trailed off as he scrubbed at his face.
“And? Don’t leave me hanging.”
On a gusty sigh, he pulled out his phone. “And he’s threatening others. Including you.”
She reared back. “Me? That’s not funny. How would he even know about me?” Hearing the fear in her voice, she snapped her mouth closed.
Eyes on his phone, he said, “I’m going to show you a group of photos. Let me know if you recognize anyone.”
“Okay.” She seemed rooted to the floor, grateful when he set the phone on the island in front of her. Three faces stared back at her. Men with grim, flat expressions. Mug shots, she realized. “No.”
“You can enlarge if necessary.”
The idea held little appeal. “None of these men look familiar.”
“All right.” Trent reached out and swiped the screen and another trio of male faces appeared. “Anyone?”
She was ready to dismiss this group as well when one face—a man with dark hair, sharp cheekbones and hard brown eyes—stood out. She picked up the phone and enlarged the image as she struggled to remember where she’d seen that face. “The sail cloth,” she blurted. “This man,” she turned the phone to Trent, “he was near the marina when I picked up the sail cloth from Miles’s workshop. In a red kayak. I think Corey might’ve been out there to meet him.”
“Corey?”
She nodded. “He’s a mechanic at the marina repair shop. We’re friendly, but not really friends. He donates odd parts and leftovers for me to work with. The guy in the picture must be a customer.”
“No. Not a customer.” Trent was texting a message to someone. He looked up, a weak smile melting into a thoughtful frown. “Or not just a customer. You’ve confirmed Frank Royer, wanted for grand theft and murder, is in this area.”
Unease danced across the back of her neck. “So go arrest him.”
“I wish it was that easy. Royer was at the construction site tonight. I overheard him talking with someone—maybe Corey. About you.”
“Me?” she squeaked. “No way.” This was ridiculous. She took a deep breath. “I don’t know him. Don’t know anything about him.”
“Then I’ll fill you in,” Trent said, moving closer. “He’s cagey. Ruthless about control. He doesn’t leave loose ends.”
“But I don’t know anything.” It took everything she had to hold her ground rather than burrow into Trent’s strength.
“You saw him. That’s enough as far as he’s concerned.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “He was grilling his accomplice about where you work. Could Corey be the local accomplice?”
“No.” She felt the room spin, gripping the counter for balance. “He’s my friend.” Everyone on the island knew where she worked, where to find her on any given day. She considered herself well-liked. The only person with a motive was her ex. She’d made her feelings about him—and his presence in Brookwell—more than clear.
“That’s one reason I had to sit back and wait,” Trent continued. “Whoever was out there with Royer was lying to him, but I couldn’t risk moving on the two of them and leaving you undefended.”
Undefended. Her stomach rolled. Trent made it sound as if she was in real danger. “Wait? You said the guy was lying?”
“Yeah, whoever it was out there told Royer you teach art at a school in Charleston.”
That didn’t make any sense. “We have to warn them.” She reached for her phone, but who should she call? “Tell someone.” First, she’d cancel her next in-person classes. Maybe she could change the plan to a virtual guest lecture. She refused to put anyone at risk if a man capable of murder was tracking her. Not children. Not her family either.
Oh no. Did this other person tell a killer where she lived? Not that it would be hard to find out. Somehow, she’d put her sisters in jeopardy. “I need to go.”
“Natalie.” Trent’s large hands covered her trembling grip on her phone. “Listen to me.” The warmth and gentle pressure eased the sharp, leading edge of fear. “It’s already handled. Jess and the Guardian Agency team in Chicago are working up solutions.”
She stared into his calm, confident gaze. “Okay.”
