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“A nerd like me would never join a sorority,” she scoffed.
Clay’s brow arched as he took in that claim. “Nerd?”
“Yes, word mavens never have a lot of friends. In fact, we have a lot more enemies because we write the truth, no matter what that may be.”
All three stares zeroed in on her. “So you could have been the target all along,” Jennings mused.
She blinked. “Target? No. Not me. I just deliver donuts to office parties and pick up people’s junk to take to charity shops. I don’t have enemies likethat.”
Clay laid his hand over the back of hers…right there in plain view of the men to see. “You’ve never written a story about anybody that could paint a target on your back?”
“I wish! I’ve never written a story for anything but the university newspaper. I don’t even gossip with Roberta.”
At her words, the Abels’ brows pinched over their very similar noses. “Roberta?”
Clay pushed a sigh through his nostrils. “East Canon is clinging to the 1970s by keeping a real-life phone operator on instead of a 911 operator. Think small-town cop show. You get the point.”
Both guys nodded.
“Roberta knows everything about everyone and doesn’t stop herself sharing it either, from what little I’ve heard.”
“Got it.” Jennings went back to bouncing his fist lightly against his mouth again. She was beginning to wonder if this was how he worked things out in his head.
It was kind of refreshing after watching Clay, who gavenothingaway. Even when he was about to grab her and kiss her senseless, not even a glimmer of intention came into his eyes to warn her.
Clay reached for his phone on the table. “We need to do more digging, guys. I’m calling WEST and we’re forming a better plan. Your brother Jace is great at hacking. If anybody can dig up dirt and flip over rocks, it’s him.”
ChapterNine
Clay ended the call with his FBI contact. Livingston had almost nothing new on this case, but Clay couldn’t hold that against him. He felt just as hung out to dry as Clay was on this task force.
He was beginning to think they should both skip out and start their own business. Sentry could fail for all Clay cared.
He dug his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets. Okay, that wasn’t true—hedidcare. The minute he took the job, he threw himself all in. Nothing worth fighting for was easy, and that meant sinking wasn’t an option.
He disliked loose ends, and at this rate, nothing would get tied up. Livingston’s insights about why the fact that a bomb wasn’t taking precedence rang with undertones of corruption.
“I’m not happy about it,” Livingston had told him, the stress in his voice matching Clay’s own.
“I’ll handle it. I’ll find someone to disarm it.” Clay didn’t know who, but he had contacts. Even a few guys on the dark web would be able to at least guide him if need be.
He was about to make another call to WEST, but just then Lark exited the cabin. The sun struck her red hair, creating a blazing halo that made him squint at the brightness. She threw him a dimpled smile that was free of all artifice—she genuinely seemed happy to see him.
Slowly, she approached him, carrying a glass of something that looked to be iced tea. Every step that carried her his direction had his body noticing and remembering how having her in his arms, pressed up against him—even knee to knee—left him more aware of how great she made him feel.
As she neared, he spotted the twinkle in her eyes. “I brought you some iced tea.”
“I didn’t see any in the fridge.” He reached out to accept the glass. Cool beads of condensation met the fingers that encircled the glass.
“I made it from scratch.”
Impressed, he took a sip. A hint of sweetness coated his tongue. “Is that honey I taste?”
Her smile widened. “Yes. Found a jar in the back of the cupboard. But I have to warn you, there’s not much in the way of food for dinner. Unless you want black bean soup.”
“We’ll figure something out.” He gulped half the contents of his glass in one swallow. When he lowered it, his stare met Lark’s.
The worry he saw in those green depths made his stomach twist.
