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Christian tried to stay on point, but for a moment he took in how beautiful she was—how Riley’s Wrangler jeans fit her curves, and how the black silk blouse brought out the blonde highlights in her light brown hair.
“Because you botched the DNA evidence and then lost the shirt—or took it,” Deckard said, his gravelly voice rising in volume, pulling Christian back to the conversation at hand.
“I told you,” she ground out. “I was set up.”
“Okay,” Riley said, positioning herself between Deckard and Andi. Deckard shifted to move to the side, and she turned and rested a hand on his chest to still him. “These two have a job to do,” she said. “And we should get going.”
Deckard stood fixed.
Andi did the same.
“Deck,” Riley said, “let’s go.”
“Fine,” Deckard said, his gaze flashing to Andi one last time as he moved to the side.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Andi said. She looked at Riley and smiled. “Thank you for the clothes.”
“Anytime.” Riley smiled back.
“I’ll be right there,” Christian said.
Deckard strode to his side and clamped a hand on his shoulder. “A little advice, baby brother. I’d stay as far away from Miranda Forester as you can. She’s already destroyed one man’s life.”
TWELVE
HER BODY RIGID,Andi sat stone still as Christian climbed into the driver’s seat of Deckard MacLeod’s SUV and buckled in, waiting for what was to come.
He glanced at her as he started the engine. “You were set up?”
She blinked. That was the last place she thought this conversation would start. She’d braced for a condemnation ride. “It’s a long story,” she said. No doubt Deckard had taken the opportunity to warn Christian before he left. She’d seen them talking through the glass door, Deckard’s movements heated.
Her chest squeezed, making breathing a strain. Not this again. Would she ever be able to leave this behind?
“We’ve got plenty of time,” he said, indicating the long stretch of road before them. Storm clouds brewed on the horizon, and the sheets of rain fell like streaks of gray in the distance. She loved watching the storms move across the mesa, but there was more than one storm coming. Her past was ready to rear its ugly head again and wash over her in a brutal downpour. She stiffened. She wasn’t ready to drown again.
“Andi,” he said, his voice tender, nudging.
They had an hour-long ride before them. Did she open herself up for ridicule or judgment by sharing her side of the story, or did she refuse to talk about it and let Deckard’s false claims stand?
She wavered, her chest squeezing tighter, pain stabbing her right rib.
“You okay?” He glanced over for a moment, before returning his gaze to the black pavement ahead.
She nodded, feeling anything but, and wishing with all her might that she had her own vehicle. But taking time to grab an Uber back to Tad’s gallery in Jeopardy Falls would have killed nearly an hour. She couldn’t, in good conscience, give up that time. She needed to be onsite ASAP, and as painful as this ride and conversation was going to be, she was a professional. She wouldn’t let her feelings override her duty.
“Andi?” he asked again, his voice even softer this time.
Her defense mechanism kicked in. “I’m sure your brother will fill you all in.”
“I’d like to hear what happened from you,” he said, flipping on his blinker and switching lanes. “You said you were set up?”
She forced a sharp breath into her lungs. She didn’t know why she felt Christian might actually believe her. It made no sense. He didn’t know her from Adam. No doubt when it came down to it, he’d side with his brother. But she was tired of not being bold in the truth of what had really happened. Deckard never gave her the space to explain—just cut her off, telling her to hire her own PI—but his tone and stature was one of disbelief. He believed her guilty, and apparently nothing was going to change that.
Praying she wouldn’t get pummeled, she went for it. “Okay,” she said, shifting in her seat to better face him. “But before I share, why do you have a different last name?”
“Fair enough.” He tapped the wheel as dark gray clouds blanketed the sky overhead, the threatening rain pelting the windshield like tiny daggers. Christian switched on the wiper blades. “O’Brady is my middle name. I thought it suited me better.”
“Uh-huh... Somehow I feel there’s more to that story.”
