And it came last week.”
“He wanted to buy the Horse Farm—and went straight to Aaron?” Olivia asked, puzzled. “But an attorney would know, or could easily find out, just how tied up the place was! Why didn’t he go directly to Fairchild?” When she saw Jane’s puzzled look, she explained. “Fairchild was Marcus’s attorney, and he’s been dealing with everything concerning the Horse Farm.”
“Well, this is a friendly letter. It just says that if the Horse Farm is ever in trouble, he’s willing to pay a more-than-fair asking price for the property and buildings, and to see that the charities nearest and dearest to him received the greatest benefit,” Jane said.
She showed them the letter.
Olivia said, “I can’t imagine that an attorney from Nashville would be able to manage any of this without insider assistance.”
“No, I don’t think that’s possible, either,” Sloan agreed. “But it does speak to the theory that someone is trying to ruin the Horse Farm rather than take it over.”
“Maybe we’ll head back to Nashville in the morning,” Dustin said. “But right now...we need to let Sammy search Liv’s house before we go inside!”
They left the Horse Farm, with Sammy happily back in the car, sticking his nose between them. When they reached the house, Sammy showed no sign of fear or suspicion.
Olivia let Dustin and the dog search for evidence that there’d been any sign of invasion in their absence and went up to shower. She didn’t bother dressing; she went straight into the bedroom and waited.
Twenty minutes later, Dustin came to her room.
She saw him in the doorframe for a moment, and the longing and anticipation she’d been feeling seemed to overwhelm her. She loved his analytical mind, his concern for others, his kindness....
She also loved the way he looked, so tall and powerfully built. She loved the scent of him when he walked in, and she loved the feel of his naked flesh when he lay down beside her.
Their mouths met in a kiss that seemed desperate. But she had to touch him, all of him, taste him, feel his heat and passion rush through her. She felt his lips, his tongue, move over her breasts and down to her belly and below, felt his vibrant life and strength. The pulse of the world became that of her heart as she kissed and teased and stroked him in return. She crawled atop him and looked into his eyes, and he smiled and grasped her, and then he was in her.... The first time was frantic.
The second began slowly...and became frantic.
They lay together, panting, slick and sweaty and still entangled, and she breathed again.
“Hot enough?” he asked, his voice a teasing whisper in her ear.
“I feel like an inferno,” she whispered back.
She felt her heart begin to slow. She touched him again. The third time their lovemaking remained slow for long enough that she kissed nearly every inch of his flesh, felt his fingers touch her everywhere, felt the passion in his kiss. They spiraled out of control and lay entwined together once again.
She nearly dozed and then realized he still lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
He sensed her movement.
“I was just thinking about what Jane and Sloan told us,” he said. “I still can’t believe a Nashville lawyer could have pulled any of this off without insider assistance. I somehow doubt he’s really involved, except in a nominal way. Besides, there’s other property available in the Tennessee hills. It has to be more personal and yet...that might well be the key.”
“And I thought you were dreaming about hot and sweaty.”
He grinned and pulled her close. “We’re almost there,” he said.
“No, no, I meant
“How do you figure?”
“We know it’s someone who has something to do with the Horse Farm—”
“You’ve said that from the beginning.”
“But...now I’m positive that two people had to be involved.” He rolled over to look at her. “Two people—that means each of the killers can have an alibi. For instance, we wouldn’t think it was Sandra because Joey saw her. We wouldn’t think it was Sydney because he was watching over the Horse Farm while we were out camping. We wouldn’t think it was Mariah—because she was screaming while Aaron was on the verge of drowning.”
“So where does that get us? We wouldn’t think it was Aaron—because he actually wound up dead?”
“There’ll be a way to trip someone up,” Dustin said. “Now...”
“We’ll trip them up now?”
“No, I think we’re ready to get hot and sweaty again now.”
She laughed and curled into his arms as he kissed her. And she wished the night could go on forever.
Eventually, they both slept.
When Olivia woke the next morning, she saw that his eyes were still closed. She started to get out of bed, trying not to disturb him. But she saw him smile and realized he’d probably wake at the slightest sound.
“You look cute, cuddled there,” she told him.
“Cute?” he asked indignantly.
“I’m going to go put coffee on.”
Sliding from bed, she slipped into her robe. She was surprised that Sammy wasn’t sleeping at his usual post in the hallway.
“Sammy?” she called. His food and water bowl were in the kitchen, and she assumed he’d gotten tired of waiting for her.
Still, she walked cautiously down the stairs.
When she reached the landing, she paused, gasping.
There was Sammy. He was curled at the foot of the sofa, lying near the first of the three men in her parlor—Marcus Danby, who sat at one end.
General Rufus Cunningham sat in the wing-back chair, straight and dignified as ever in his uniform, his cavalry hat in his lap.
Aaron Bentley was at the other end of the sofa.
When he saw her, he rose.
“I did
Dustin practically flew out of bed, wrapping himself in the sheet and grabbing his Glock when he heard the voices downstairs. He raced to the first-floor landing—and then saw the strange trio in the house.
“Agent Blake,” Aaron said, “nice of you to join us. I was just explaining to Olivia that, no, I didn’t kill myself. Nor did I kill Marcus.”
Dustin looked at Olivia. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered.
He headed back upstairs, still shaking. The sound of the voices in the house had scared the hell out of him; he was still afraid Olivia was at risk. He couldn’t allow himself to get comfortable right now, he reminded himself harshly.
This time, the house was filled with ghosts—with the dead. Next time, it just might be the living.
The lethal living.
He had to move when she moved, hell, breathe when she breathed. And if he wasn’t with her—in the same space—another agent had to be.
Dressed, he came back downstairs.
He was truly astonished to see the Civil War general—with the two very recent ghosts.
Aaron was wearing a handsome suit—and his cowboy boots. Dustin figured Sandra Cheever had brought
