Page 17 of Sinner’s Game

I nod, and she waves then turns around and starts heading south toward the Devlin Saint Foundation, its façade rising up on the horizon a few blocks down the beach.

“Come on, Jake,” I say. “Lead the way home.”

He does that all-over wiggle thing, pleased to be in charge, and starts to tug me across the beach toward the street. I follow sluggishly. Walking on a beach is exercise all by itself. Add in a Labrador who thinks he’s still a puppy, and I’m seriously dragging by the time we reach the intersection of the Coast Highway and Pacific Avenue.

That’s okay, though. It’s not a long walk home, and I’ll still have time before Ronan shows up. At least enough for a quick shower and a cup of tea and a few moments relaxing on the back porch so that I can clear out my worries about my house situation.

Bottom line? As of right now, the day has nowhere to go but up.

Chapter Seven

The Present

“Behind me.”

I’m still staring at the body when Ronan gives the terse, whispered order at the same time as he steps in front of me. I look up, my breath shaky, and see that he’s holding a gun.

That’s when I realize he thinks the killer might still be here, and I clamp my lips together to keep from whimpering.

“Stay close.” I nod, forcing my legs to move as he slowly leads us through the house.

“Do you really think someone could be hiding here?” I whisper as he looks in my bedroom closet.

“Could be?” he says from inside the walk-in. “Sure. Is it likely? No. But it’s a possibility.” He steps out, pinning me with his gaze. “I’m not taking chances with your safety.”

I hug myself, pulling the warmth of his protection around me like a cozy sweater.

We move on, and he checks each closet, the bathrooms, every nook and cranny, including the garage and dozens of places I probably wouldn’t think of, like the gap behind the water heater and the locked owner’s closet.

It’s full of empty shelves and a few file boxes stacked on a floor covered with ugly press-on tiles, unlike the beautiful wood of the rest of the house. Ronan opens the boxes, and I peer over his shoulder at what looks to be manila folders full of receipts.

Not exactly the Crown Jewels, but considering how quickly Ronan picked the locks, I guess it was never supposed to be a safe room.

Or maybe it’s just a sign of how good Ronan is at his job.

It’s also a reminder of how quickly things can go from good to bad. Because behind every door he opens, there could be someone lurking. Don’t I know better than most people how things can flip with no warning at all?

I tremble as memories wash over me. A party when I was sixteen. A drink from a boy that sent my life spiraling. And more recently, rough hands yanking me from a car. A knife at my throat. That horrible, dark room.

And then Ronan’s arms, carrying me to safety.

Without thinking, I reach out and take his hand, clutching it tightly.

He looks back at me. “It’s okay. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

“I know.” The words—so true—come automatically.

For a moment, his eyes are hard on mine, then he gives my hand a slight squeeze. “Good.”

We’ve made a full circle, and now we’re back in the living room. The body is on the other side of the sofa. I can see it, but at least there’s an upholstered barrier between us.

“You’re sure that’s him? Mr. Big?”

“I’m sure. I told you. I—I saw him today.”

“You said he was shouting at you,” Ronan says as he circles the couch, moving toward the body.

“Yeah, he was. It was really freaky.” I lick my very dry lips, my eyes on my dead landlord. “This doesn’t make any sense. He shouldn’t be in the house. I didn’t get any notice he was coming. And he’s definitely not supposed to be here dead!”