Search Me(22)

His expression darkened. “I said it was a heinous option, didn’t I? Jensen doesn’t impress me as the type who gives up easily. It’s pretty obvious that he has been researching and tracking the painting with the map for a while. And he knows his shit. He’s most likely done prison time and learned from the best on how to fight and scheme his way to getting what he wants. There’s all that plus his merry band of thugs, which makes for a surprisingly brilliant combination.”

I shivered in spite of the hot summer evening. “So with all that, would you actually ever consider giving Jensen the map?”

He cocked a dark brow at me. “Do you even have to ask?”

“Well, I—”

Maddox shook his head. “I’m a man of my word, Lane. You know I made a promise to Maudie that I’d keep you safe. So if it came down to your life, yeah, I’d hand over the map. No questions asked.”

“Oh, I see,” I murmured. I knew it wasn’t just the stifling, Georgia heat that caused my cheeks to flame. It was Maddox’s words and his actions. The very guy I’d written off as being an utter and complete ass**le was actually heroic when the chips were down. It was emotionally unsettling on so many levels. Were his actions just his Army training taking hold? When it came down to it, I didn’t know if he honestly gave a rat’s ass about me or whether it was truly all about honoring Maudie’s promise. Or maybe...deep down, he really felt something for me. After I took a few moments to recover, I said, “Let’s just hope it never comes down to that. You know, my life… or yours.”

He pointed in the distance. “Well, looks like for the moment, our luck has just changed.”

Chapter Eight

I squinted against the horizon to see a two-story log cabin with a green tin roof rise out of the middle of nowhere like a desert mirage. My aching feet suddenly felt lighter as I took a step towards the cabin. “I hope whoever lives there is willing to help us.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve got a little protection on our side.” He waved a shiny handgun.

“What happened to the shotgun?”

“Had to leave it behind.” At my worried expression, he chuckled. “Don’t worry, Lane. Between the pistol and the Glock, we’ll be fine.”

“I hope so.”

A cocky grin slunk across his face. “Besides the obvious weaponry, you’ve also got me to protect you.”

“Right. You with the gimpy arm from being shot.”

He laughed. “Trust me. It takes a lot more than a little scrape to do me in.”

“Oh please,” I murmured, as we left the grass for the cabin’s paved walkway. It was pretty obvious from the fact there was little landscaping or lawn sculptures that it was someone’s weekend home or a rental. I had a feeling from the distance we had run we were probably out of Gilmer County and somewhere in Blue Ridge, which boasted lots of out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere cabins.

“Nice place,” Maddox mused, as we walked up the front steps. When he saw there wasn’t a doorbell, he knocked. “Hello? Anyone home?”

Seconds ticked by without a response. He pounded again and then leaned his ear against the door. “No one’s in there.” I followed him off the porch and around to the garage. He cupped his hands around his temples and peered in. “No cars inside.” He paused, and his head dipped down. “No fresh oil spots or antifreeze puddles. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here for awhile.”

“You sound like Dad’s Harrison Baylor character,” I laughed.

He turned back and gave me his signature grin—the one I knew was sincere and truly himself with none of the ego. “Let’s call it a combination of reading all your dad’s books along with my time spent with Uncle Sam.”

“That sounds like a scary combination.”

Maddox didn’t seem to hear my response. Instead, his gaze fixated on the Brinks Home Security sign that stood in the grass between the porch and the garage. His eyes trailed around the back of the house. “Come on.”

The back of the cabin had a small deck that boasted a hot tub. “Nice,” Maddox murmured before heading over to the glass sliding doors. He crouched in front them, running his fingers under the frame. Gently, he pulled out a thick white wire. “Do me a favor. Grab the flashlight out of my bag.”

“Guns, knives, and flashlights—you really packed for survival,” I said, as I rustled through the bag. “Got it.”

“Okay, now hold the beam steady on this wire.”

I peered over his shoulder. “What are you going to do?”

“Work a little magic I learned in Special Ops training.”

“In civilian terms please?”

He chuckled. “I’m going to disarm the alarm system.” Instead of digging in his bag for the epic knife from before, he took out his keys. A pocket knife hung on the chain along with a thousand other keys. Gently, he nicked at the white covering. When he had whittled some away, he pulled out a blue line. “Sure hope this is the right one.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Let’s just say we’ll get to decide about talking to the police a lot sooner than we thought.”

“Gotcha.”

Maddox cut the blue wire, leaving the green and red intertwined. “Okay. Hopefully that did it.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and then fished out a credit card.