The Devil's Daughter (Hidden Sins #1)(46)
Martha might be aging well, but she was still aging. It wouldn’t be easy to see one of her personal men chasing after a girl almost young enough to be her granddaughter. Zach turned away from Clear Springs onto the highway. “This isn’t narrowing the suspect pool any.” Because if those girls were killed because of some wrong done to Martha, that didn’t mean Martha was the one who pulled the trigger, so to speak. Or that she even knew it had been done on her behalf.
Though he had a hard time believing that anything happened in Elysia without her knowing about it.
“No, it really doesn’t.” Eden sighed, sounding so damn exhausted that he wanted to hug her. She looked up as he turned onto a dirt road leading deeper into the trees. “I don’t suppose you’re taking me out into the woods to kill me.”
“Hardly.” The forest parted, revealing the little patch of land that had been cleared, occupied by a small house with a massive porch. His house. “We need time to unwind and process all the information, so I’m going to cook you dinner, and we’re going to spend an hour or two talking about anything except the case.” She didn’t look convinced, and he couldn’t really blame her. He’d more or less steamrolled her into this meal, and he wasn’t the least bit sorry about it. “Come on, Eden. You’ve got to eat. And, right now, your brain is running in circles like a rat on a wheel. It’s not doing anyone any favors.”
“I don’t know what to think of you, Zach Owens.”
Hell, he didn’t know what to think of himself right now, either. This was a bad idea—possibly the worst idea—but he couldn’t give two fucks.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Eden surveyed Zach’s house. She was used to filing away information and using it to form opinions about the person who lived in a particular place, but it felt different with this man. The house was small, but it was charming and filled with character, from the shutters framing the windows to the hunter-green front door to the exposed timbers of the porch. That porch created the image of long summers spent lounging in the shade, and from the dual chimneys coming from the roof and back of the house, she could imagine curling up in front of a fire pit watching the snow fall.
This wasn’t just a house.
This was a home.
“Eden?” From his tone, he’d said her name a few times.
She tried to paste a smile on her face, but it was nearly impossible with her heart trying to beat its way out of her throat. It wasn’t like the fear she’d felt earlier. No, this was something infinitely more dangerous. “It’s a nice house.”
“Eden, I’m going to cook you dinner. You’re looking at the place like you think I’m going to toss you in the oven and have you for dinner.” He grinned when she finally looked at him. “Though maybe another time we can talk about it.”
“Talk about it . . .” She blinked, his meaning hitting her like a freight train. He meant . . . Oh, good lord. She closed her eyes, trying to center herself, but she was assaulted with images of Zach on his knees before her, parting her legs and kissing her. Of him using his mouth to drive her out of her mind. Of her pulling him up her body to . . . Stop it. This is not why you’re here.
But it was so hard to remember that when she opened her eyes to find him staring at her, blatant awareness written all over his face. He wanted her. “Zach.” She started to tell him that this wasn’t why she was here, that she had no interest in jumping into bed with anyone, but the words wouldn’t come.
Because they were a damn lie.
“Come on.” He turned, breaking the moment, and headed up the stairs to the front door.
She almost laughed when he opened it without unlocking it. Of course he didn’t lock his front door. Eden followed, shaking her head. “You know, there’s a killer on the loose. You might want to consider upping your personal security.”
“I’ve got it covered.” The sound of paws on the hardwood floor stopped her cold as two giant mastiffs raced down the hallway to throw themselves at Zach. She was shocked he didn’t topple over under their combined weight, but he just laughed and took turns greeting them. Once that was done, his tone changed. “Down, boys.”
He held out a hand. “Come here.”
She took his hand before she could talk herself out of it, allowing him to tow her over to the giant animals. From their distinct brindle coloring and boxy heads, they looked like English mastiffs, which was where her knowledge of the breed ended. She swallowed hard. Eden wasn’t scared of dogs, exactly, but they were each as large as she was. “Hello.”
“This is Spot and Biscuit.”
She froze. “You . . . you named them . . .”
“No.” He laughed softly. “My nephew was here when I brought them home, and seeing as how he was three at the time, he had strong opinions on what a dog’s name entailed.”
It was all too easy to picture Zach with a small child. He had that feel, the one that said he’d make a great family man. That was, if one ignored the sharper edges lurking just beneath the surface. She gave each dog a careful pat and straightened to look around the house. The exposed-beam style of the porch carried over into the interior, which would have overwhelmed the rooms if not for the sharply pitched ceilings. The furniture all looked sturdy enough to hold a football team if one wandered in, but there wasn’t much in the way of personal effects.