As if sensing her fear, Wyatt started crying from the other room.
Emily scrambled off the couch and jogged into the makeshift nursery. Wyatt had pulled himself to his feet and stood gripping the edge of the playpen, rocking back and forth. He had opened his mouth for another howl and then blinked when he saw her and reached out his arms instead.
“I bet you need a clean diaper and a bottle. Do you like to swim? Have you been in a pool yet?”
She’d been a swimmer in high school and paid her way through college by lifeguarding and teaching swim lessons at the campus rec center. She’d taught many a toddler how to jump into the water and paddle to the edge of the pool. Wyatt wasn’t exactly toddling yet, but a little pool instruction could never start too early.
Once she’d changed his diaper and given him a snack and a bottle, she tugged off his little onesie and set him on his blanket in the middle of the floor. She hadn’t brought a bathing suit with her, but underwear would do in a pinch.
She tugged off her shorts and pulled her blouse over her head, all without looking at the camera. If Nash believed she had no clue about the video setup in his house, he’d trust her even more.
With her bra and panties doubling as a bikini, she scooped up Wyatt from the floor and propped him onto her hip. She hitched her purse over her shoulder and slid open the back door.
She dragged a chair poolside and dropped her purse onto it. She didn’t want to be too far from her gun.
Holding Wyatt in front of her, she lowered herself to the edge of the pool and dangled her feet in the water. She put Wyatt between her legs, facing the pool, and dipped his toes in it.
He seemed to enjoy it, so Emily slid off the edge of the pool and put his bottom half in the water up to his waist. His eyes popped open wide when the water enveloped him, and then he grinned. She walked backward, pulling him along with her, and he kicked his legs like a natural.
The time spent with Wyatt passed more quickly than she’d thought possible. Clutching Wyatt to her chest, she lunged for the side of the pool and checked her phone, which she’d left in the shade of the chair. Marcus still hadn’t responded to her.
She returned to the house with the baby. The sun and water had done a number on Wyatt, and after fussing for about ten minutes, he dropped off to sleep.
Emily plucked her damp underwear from her body. A few minutes in the sun would be enough to get it bone-dry. Leaving Denali on guard at the sliding door, she grabbed her purse and Nash’s laptop, which he’d offered for her use, and headed back outside.
She claimed a chaise lounge on the patio, tipping an umbrella over her face but leaving her bottom half in the sun to dry off. She dragged Nash’s computer into her lap on top of a towel and used the password he’d given her to log in.
She surfed the internet, watched a few videos and checked her email. Nash had some folders on his desktop, but they contained innocuous stuff like rodeo competitions and applications. She’d already done her research on him and knew he did the rodeo circuit as a hobby.
She clicked through some pictures of him in rodeo action. Damned hot. Maybe she should email a few of them to herself to drool over later when this job ended.
She launched his email, telling herself she was looking for info about Jaycee Lemoin, but he had a second log-in on his email and the computer password didn’t work here.
As part of her PI prep, she’d taken quite a few online classes on computer hacking and had gotten pretty good at it. After several attempts, Nash’s email program launched, displaying his inbox.
She scrolled through his messages, which mainly told her he needed to opt out of some of these mailing lists. He had a lot of junk piled up in here. He obviously kept this laptop for personal use and must have a different one for work, but occasionally he sent messages from his work laptop to this one.
These jumped out at her because of the sender’s long government official email address. She had no interest in the drug trade across the border, but he’d piqued her interest with the story about the headless bodies.
She double-clicked on a couple of the work emails and scrolled through gibberish about sectors and coordinates and drone capabilities. One email had a spreadsheet attachment called Finances with a list of names.
With the mouse poised over the Close icon in the upper-right corner of the document, she scanned through them. About halfway through the alphabetical list, her gaze stumbled over a familiar name and a breath hitched in her throat.
What was Marcus Lanier’s name doing in a Border Patrol agent’s spreadsheet about finances?
Chapter Five
Nash put the bag of food from Mario’s on the seat beside him and slammed the door of his truck. He clamped his hands on top of the steering wheel and hunched his shoulders. He should probably tell Emily about the cameras in his house.
He’d felt like a voyeur this afternoon when he’d watched her strip down to her underwear to hit the pool with Wyatt. Of course, he could’ve looked away.
He cranked on the engine and drove home, his mouth watering at the smell of garlic that filled the truck. First the hot salsa and now the garlic. She’d think he was trying to ward her off. Maybe he
