Page 22 of Cowboy Elite 2: Mike

"Then we handle it."

Joe studied him. Then nodded. "All right. But you need to know what you're getting into."

"I know exactly what I'm getting into."

Joe didn't look convinced. But he didn't push. Just grabbed his toolbox and got to work on the latch.

Mike stood there for a long moment, staring at the door Liv had disappeared through.

Then he turned and walked outside.

Still a little rattled after her encounter with Mike in the cold storage, but too keyed up to go to bed, Liv made her way back downstairs and joined Heather and Lyle out at the fire pit. Heather poured her a cup of cocoa from a thermos. She accepted the mug and sipped, watching Charlotte chase fireflies across the darkening lawn.

"That dessert you made," Lyle said. "It was like the flavor of a secret. The kind of thing someone needed to say but couldn't find the words for."

Liv blinked, throat tight.

Heather smiled at her over the rim of her mug. "For a vet, he can be pretty poetic."

Lyle looked at his wife with a soft smile, and Liv felt a pang of longing so sharp it stole her breath.

She'd never had anyone look at her that way. She'd been too busy climbing the ladder of success. Too focused on the next review, the next investor meeting, the next impossible standard to meet.

She was beginning to realize how much she'd missed.

“Thank you,” she said. “That’s a pretty accurate description. I was embarrassed and mad and determined to prove myself when I created it.”

Boot steps scuffed across the gravel. Mike lowered himself into the Adirondack chair next to hers, so close their arms nearly touched.

“Well, mad served you well,” Mike said, obviously having overheard.

Liv's heart skipped.

The ranch glowed behind them. The stars blinked overhead, quiet and steady. Fireflies blinked between the trees as cicadas hummed their high-low song. Warmth from the fire enveloped her as the gentle breeze shifted the flames.

For the first time since fleeing her world of danger and deadlines, Liv sat beneath the Texas sky and felt something close to peace.

Then her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She froze. After their mishap in the walk-in fridge, she’d gone to her room to retrieve the phone. But she hadn’t expected it to ring.

Because no one had this number. No one except Detective Sanchez.

Mike leaned closer. "You good?"

"Yeah." She forced a smile. Pulled the phone out and glanced at the illuminated screen.

Unknown number.

One text.

We know where you are.

Her hands shook as she shoved the phone back in her pocket, pretending it was the most natural thing in the world, pretending not to notice the sharp looks between Lyle and Mike.

It took every ounce of strength she possessed to stay seated by the fire, to not blurt out the whole nightmare story, to not go running into the night.

Mike moved his hand next to hers on the wide arm of the Adirondack chair. His thumb brushed over the top of hers, back and forth, so gently she could have wept. He had to have felt the tremor running through her.