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She sighed. Perhaps she owed him the time to at least give her the bare facts about himself.
Finn stopped his motorcycle and lifted his visor on his helmet. He was too far away for her to see his eyes, but he was looking in her direction. Sitting upright on his bike, long legs splayed out on either side to balance himself, blue chambray shirt stretched across strong shoulders. She could attest to just how strong those shoulders were, because her brain kept reminding her how they’d felt beneath her palms last night.
Bugger. Why did she have to be so attracted to this man?
It was another hour and a half before Indy could finally tame her stomach’s rumblings as she gratefully sat down with a plate full of pasta salad and some large slices of corned beef. She’d almost piled on two pieces of the delicious-looking chocolate cake, as well, but had decided that would be plain gluttonous, and she could go back later for dessert.
Finn unfolded his chair next to hers and sat down. She almost rolled her eyes. He’d caught her unawares, too busy stuffing her face to notice he was approaching. Not that there was a lot she could do about it, everyone would be watching if she made a scene.
“I’m starving,” Finn said to no one in particular.
“Yeah, that was a long time in the saddle without sustenance,” Carrot agreed from Finn’s other side. Indy raised her eyebrow in Finn’s direction and continued to eat. He gave her a smile, the corner of his mouth hooked up with the hint of a question. He was trying to make an effort to heal their rift, and she should probably let him. It wouldn’t do to make it too obvious to the rest of the crew that they’d had a fight. She didn’t want any awkward questions from Dale or Bindi. Or the rest ofthe crew, for that matter, who were now all finding a spot to sit with their plates of food.
“Yep, I’m starving, too,” Indy finally said.
Finn’s face lit up, clearly recognizing an olive branch when he saw one. “They serve some bloody good grub at this camp,” Finn replied, holding up a slab of meat. “I don’t think I eat this well at home.”
“Me neither,” she giggled, and the tension that’d been hovering between them all day subsided a little. “But it’s one of the things Stormcloud pride themselves on. Skylar is the best gourmet cook in the state. Or so I’ve been told. She does all the cooking for the guests back at the lodge, and she taught Bindi everything she knows. So, the crew eat nearly as well as the guests,” she continued.
“I’m definitely not complaining,” Finn replied, licking his lips and rubbing his belly in a comedic show of humor.
Indy giggled again and found herself staring into Finn’s blue eyes.
It suddenly hit her. She liked Finn Stevenson—Griffin Carmody, whatever his name was. And she was going to have to accept that fact. He was a nice guy. Easy to talk to, a bit of a joker, but serious when he needed to be. And so good-looking, she could hardly tear her gaze away from his face. Even streaked with dust and covered with three-day stubble—which was possibly sexier than him being clean-shaven—she liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and the way his lips firmed in a strong, straight line when he was pondering a question.
The crows cawed loudly from their roost in the big eucalyptus, breaking her thought bubble. She glanced up at the annoying black birds, wishing they’d go and bother another stock camp. But it was part of mustering; crows came as part andparcel of life in the outback, always on the lookout for scraps and carrion.
“Wonder if the coppers have found Wombat’s murderer yet?” Carrot said through a mouthful of corned beef, breaking her bubble of self-introspection.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dave snorted. “Of course, they haven’t. They’ve got all sorts of investigating to do before they find the killer. Hell, they might not ever find him. This case could stay open for months, years even.” Dave looked down his nose at his red-haired mate, as if he were the expert here on police procedure, and Carrot was an idiot. “Don’t you know anything? Murder investigations take time and patience. Those coppers will have to follow up every lead, look at every clue. It’s not like the killer is going to put up his hand and say,here I am.”
Indy stifled a smirk and cast Finn a quick glance. If only they knew.
She wondered if Finn would say anything, but he kept chewing his food and looking interested in what Dave had to say. Indy admired his restraint. He was good at this undercover thing. She’d be useless at it. She already wanted to blurt out to Dave and Carrot that she had a secret. That she knew more about this murder than she was letting on. That it might be somehow connected to a large, international drug gang.
Indy stuffed a large forkful of pasta salad into her mouth, just to be on the safe side.
Dave and Carrot bickered back and forth about the intricacies of how a murder investigation should be conducted, and soon enough, Scanner, Maddie, and Beth joined in the discussion.
Indy leaned in to Finn and said, “At least no one else went missing today.” She meant it as a joke, but Finn didn’t smile, and she suddenly wished she could take back her comment. It probably was in bad taste, with everything going on right now.
“No, you’re right about that. But you need to keep your eyes and ears open, Indy.” His voice had dropped to a low murmur, so that only she could hear him over the other men’s conversation. “One person was murdered out here, and we don’t know why, or by whom, yet.”
“What are you saying?” she asked, keeping her voice as low as his.
“Just don’t get complacent.” His eyes flickered around the camp, continuously moving, as if he were searching for something. Or someone.
Was he telling her that she couldn’t trust anyone? Did he know something that he wasn’t telling her? No. Surely if he suspected the murderer was amongst them, he’d at least warn her. She’d always thought that perhaps Nash might be looking at Swampy as the main suspect. But now her mind did a double-take. Could it be someone here? Someone she worked closely with?
She stared at everyone around the fire. Everyone looked so…normal. Everything was just as it should be. Next to her and Finn in the circle around the fire, Dave and Carrot were still squabbling, with Scanner adding his two-cents’ worth when he could get a word in. Maddie and Beth had swapped their conversation over to join Dale and Aaron on their right. Indy couldn’t hear it all, but she thought they were discussing their favorite country and western singer—which had to be James Blundell, of course. Brian and Rosie were the last in the semi-circle, huddled together around six feet away from her, staring morosely into their empty plates. Bindi was clanging her pots in the mess tent. It was all perfectly normal.
Staring out past the tents, the mid-afternoon sun was causing a heat-haze to rise over on the outskirts of the camp, where the cattle had just been yarded. The sun beat down on her Akubra, but a sudden cold shiver went through her.
“Anyway, I’m glad we got the cattle in so early,” Finn said, more loudly this time so others could hear him. “It gives us more time back in camp.”
“Oh. Right,” she mumbled in reply, wondering exactly what he meant by his cryptic remark. She was kicking herself now that she hadn’t taken more time to find out what his next move as the undercover Finn might be. She had no idea what his mission really entailed, or what he would normally do to uncover a killer. But if it were her, she guessed she’d be assessing the crew. Working out if they had any connection to the murder, or to the drugs. Perhaps that’s why he was keen to spend more time in camp, so he could surreptitiously check for clues.
She decided she needed to get Finn alone and drill him for answers. This whole cloak and dagger thing was driving her crazy.
