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“Just drop me off at the nearest coffee shop, then use your fancy phone to call Wiz.” Sam waved like she was brushing away a pesky fly. “She’ll get someone to pick me up, and I’ll stay with her.”
Sam had just woken up, her hair tangled and creases on her face, but she was gorgeous. And her expression was blank—probably the face she wore in court. She meant every word, but she didn’t understand the depravity of the people involved. “Sam, I can’t just leave you for a pickup. Koslov and the Bratva are watching Wiz and the rest of them. They’ll see someone headed out, have them followed, and figure out where they’re headed. Then they’ll start speculating about why they’d be taking the risk and figure out that you’re out here, undefended. It’s not a big logic leap. There are only so many places to go in this valley.”
“I can hang out with another lawyer. I know every single one in the valley.” She crossed her arms and frowned.
“That’s a safer alternative, or it could get you both killed. Or any attorney here could be under Koslov’s control. Do you know who’s clean for sure? You didn’t approach any lawyers to make your Cupcake Woman support videos, did you?”
“Of course not. No lawyer would do that.” She huffed, crossing her arms and looking away.
“Except you.” She’d always been a fan of the underdog. Maybe because she’d been one for a long time. And he’d been a big part of that.
“Deb is my best friend. Of course I did.” She scowled. “But refusing to publicly support someone on social media isn’t the same as working for the mob. A lawyer can represent a mobster in civil matters without doing anything illegal or even immoral themselves, you know. A criminal lawyer has a duty, even.”
“But you wouldn’t.” He knew that.
“Not knowingly. That doesn’t mean I haven’t. Or won’t.” She gave a tiny shrug.
Trevor snorted. “Now you’re just arguing to fight. You can take a couple of days off until the seas calm, then we’ll get you back.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve taken so many days off. My income is in the dirt. If this keeps up, I’ll be closing my practice.”
“Sorry, Sam, but you can’t practice when you’re dead.” He probably shouldn’t be so blunt—civilians didn’t react well to reminders of mortality. But he had to make his point.
“I know.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then met his gaze. “Let’s find a vacation rental or a hotel. I’ll hang out and do nothing for a couple of days. You can do a grocery run for me, or I’ll get a delivery. Then Wiz can find me a pickup and I’ll stay with her.”
“I don’t like it. You’ll still be too easy to find in this valley. It’s just not that big.”
She shrugged. “So, we’ll go north. There’s a resort on Flathead Lake. Whitefish should be pretty empty this time of year. Kalispell is always busy, so I could blend in.”
Trevor snorted, scanning Sam up and down. “You’ll never blend in. We could cut and dye your hair, use all the makeup in the world, and add padding, but you’d still stand out. You’re gorgeous and confident.”
Sam’s expression changed several times but ended with a glare. “That’s not as flattering as you think.”
“It was an observation, not flattery. You’re unmistakable. Unforgettable. And hiding isn’t you. Look, sometimes I can’t share the whole truth, but I won’t lie.” No matter what it cost him, including his new career. Nothing was more important than Sam. “I still think our best bet is to camp out another night, then find you a safe house. That should throw everyone off because no one will believe the elegant Samantha Kerr would rough it.”
“But your boss told you to get back to Marcus.” She sighed. “I get that you’re trying to protect me, but you have a duty and so do I. I need to work, both on Deb’s problem and other clients. I can’t do that in the middle of nowhere, with no internet.”
Trevor grasped her shoulders. “But you can’t do anything if you’re dead. And if you show up in Marcus, you’re dead. Or worse.”
She stepped back, twisting out of his grasp. “Not if they can’t find me. I know the perfect place, and it’s not Wiz’s. They’d never expect it.”
She was up to something. “Where?”
Sam smirked. “Your house.”
Trevor’s heart soared, then sank. The perfect opportunity to win her back fell into his lap, but that meant telling—and showing—her everything. His slim chances just plummeted.
Chapter five
“But—” Trevor clamped his mouth shut. He looked like he was debating with himself. “My house won’t be much better than camping. Everything’s torn apart.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve got a working bathroom, right?” Running water was a requirement. Maybe a Navy sailor thought roughing it inside a house was okay; she didn’t agree.
“Yeah, but it’s not much.” He shook his head.
“If there’s a clean toilet and a shower, that’s fine. Along with a refrigerator and some sort of cooking device.” She shrugged. “A microwave is good enough. I’ll use one of your sleeping bags, no problem.” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder at the tent. Even with a pad, sleeping on the floor wouldn’t be fun, but she’d deal.
Scowling, Trevor’s head shot back. “No. You can have my bed. I’ll take the sleeping bag.”
