AllFreeNovel
Share Us
After she’d taken two pages of notes, she set her pen down and lifted her wineglass. She swirled the dark liquid, then brought the glass to her nose and inhaled. With an appreciative look on her face, she took a sip and let out a tiny sigh of pleasure.
That noise, probably imperceptible to most, had my pants tightening. Thank fuck my lower half was hidden beneath the table.
It was intoxicating. Giving Parker pleasure, even if only through my selection of the perfect wine, was a type of rush I had never experienced.
“I can take you through the process, from cut to transport to mill. It’s dangerous work. Technically the most dangerous job in the United States. Everyone thinks it’s the cutting and the machinery, but our process and safety procedures are top-notch.
“The real danger lies on the road. Narrow mountain roads are hazards year-round, but in the dead of winter, when the majority of cutting happens, they’re treacherous.”
She tipped her head while she listened, nibbling on the tip of her pen. Those plump, glossy lips were distracting. The way her eyes narrowed and her face scrunched when she was concentrating wasn’t just cute. It was sexy as hell.
She interrupted me constantly, asking question after question. “So you think this is related to drug trafficking?”
I paused, taking a sip of wine. “Yes.” There was no use beating around the bush. The others I’d spoken to thought I was crazy. But how could it not be? Especially after what had happened to Henri and then to Remy and Hazel. Those incidents weren’t coincidental. Bad things were going down in those woods.
“Could your dad have been involved?”
“No,” I snapped, my anger getting the best of me. “Sorry.” I tugged at my hair. Right now, I wasn’t sure what to believe. “Dad hated drugs and always cooperated with law enforcement. He was a real by the book type. And he was invested in our community and helping those who struggled.”
She jotted more notes, keeping her head ducked and scribbling furiously.
My heart raced. Could she help us? The more I spoke about this, the more I realized how much I needed answers. How much we all did.
“But,” I continued, because I might as well lay all the cards on the table, “I’m beginning to think he knew who was involved. He brought home files.” And not only files. Old maps and ledgers and rolls from years back. No one questioned what his interest was. My dad was like that. Always working, always thinking.
“Old files, half of which are in Acadian French. My brother Henri spent months studying them but hasn’t found any answers. My sister-in-law Hazel put a few of the pieces together, though. She found reference to a location no one had heard of. Turns out it was a stash house for the traffickers.”
“Wow. She’s good.”
I shrugged. She didn’t know the half of it. Hazel was a genius who had discovered more than all four of us Gagnon siblings put together. “I told you; my entire family is invested in getting justice.”
We were interrupted when our waiter delivered our entrées.
She brought a bite of her hanger steak to her mouth and slid her fork between her teeth. “Damn,” she said softly, closing her eyes and tipping her chin up.
I froze, and my chest constricted. I was captivated by the look of pure pleasure on her face. Parker was an enigma. She was all hard edges and badass attitude, but with a softer side that came out in theseblink and you’ll miss itmoments.
We ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. The food was too good and the conversation too heavy to continue.
And I enjoyed it. After a few minutes, we made small talk about the food. We sipped really good wine and simply existed in one another’s presence.
Even though our reason for meeting was a devastating one, I felt a little like myself. Not exactly carefree, but engaged. Maybe it was the wine or the fancy restaurant or the pretty girl, but the numbness that had defined so many of my days recently was starting to fade.
But like all good things, it couldn’t last.
Because as the tension drained from my shoulders, my phone buzzed. The phone that was face up on the tiny bistro table. And it was a text.
My reflexes were usually fast. But I was momentarily frozen, worried that because I hadn’t checked in at work, something had gone wrong.
So instead of immediately grabbing it, I stared down at it for a moment too long. A message popped up. And Parker, paused with a forkful of steak on its way to her mouth, saw it.
It wasn’t only a text. There was a selfie too. And while I couldn’t make out the identity of the subject of the photo, it was obviously a woman in a very tight dress.
“Freckles?” she asked, her eyes widening at the photo.
I snatched up the phone and unlocked it.
Hey cutie! Heard a rumor you were in town. Text me later if you wanna meet up.
