Concealed Identity. Jessica R. Patch

so I listened. I’m not sure what did happen. Are you?”

      “Let’s talk about it later. Are you hungry?” Blair studied Gigi. Her color had come back, but her eyes looked tired. And scared.

      “I feel like talking about it now. Why do you carry a gun that I don’t know about, and who on this green earth would try to kill us, and why do I have to keep my mouth shut?”

      As far as Gigi knew, Mateo Salvador died in South America, gunned down by guerillas. Which wasn’t far from the truth. He had been gunned down. But she wasn’t exactly sure by whom, other than a rival drug cartel aiming to take down Hector.

      Blair glanced around. Out here where anyone could listen wasn’t the best place. “We will talk. At home. And I carry a gun for protection like a lot of people.”

      “You’re hiding something.”

      For Gigi’s own good. To protect her.

      “We should call the police, Blair.” Gigi gnawed her bottom lip. “I’m freaking out.”

      Maybe she should call them. Chief Deputy Beckett Marsh might be able to help. But then she’d have to reveal her past. Somehow it would leak and the town wouldn’t see her as Blair Sullivan, business owner and honorable neighbor. She’d become Blair Sullivan, former wife of a drug lord who could potentially put friends and family in jeopardy.

      Blair rubbed her hands together. “You don’t need to be afraid. Trust me.”

      “Who was in that SUV?”

      “I honestly don’t know.” But she had a terrifying feeling they would be back.

      Gigi grabbed Blair’s shoulders. “You think this involves Jeremy? Are you scared of getting him in hot water with the cops?”

      Blair’s knees buckled. She hadn’t once thought it might concern her brother. But that might be the reason he wasn’t answering calls and texts, or hadn’t been by to see them in a few days.

      Gigi led her to one of the many benches that lined the sidewalks. Blair collapsed on one, averting her eyes from the colorful wooden box of impatiens that sat directly under the black lamppost.

      “Maybe we should call Dad,” Gigi said.

      No. Drug cartels were ruthless. Until she knew what she was dealing with, the fewer people involved, the better. “And ruin his Caribbean cruise when we don’t really know anything? Let’s not worry Dad until we have to.”

      Gigi stood and crossed her arms across her chest. “Okay, but I expect the full truth before the night is over. It’s not fair to keep me in the dark, Blair.”

      No, it wasn’t. Not at this point.

      A blue pickup pulled over to the curb and Ronnie Lawson clambered out.

      Blair stood next to Gigi. “Oh, great,” she muttered, then bristled as he strode toward her with determination in his eyes.

      “Well, well, if it isn’t the little fox that stole from my vineyard.” He shoved a wad of chewing tobacco in his cheek and pocketed the canister.

      “I didn’t steal anything. You should have been at the auction today.” Blair backed away as he shuffled forward, turned his head and spat a spray of tobacco juice.

      “Truck broke down on the interstate. I heard it was gonna be a sweet one today.” He glanced at her head and massaged his neck muscles. “What happened to you? Get into a major bidding war?”

      “I wrecked on Farley Pass coming home.” She gave Gigi a sidelong glance and prayed she’d keep her trap shut.

      “At least you’re not dead.”

      Yet. Her nerves hammered.

      Ronnie made another step into Blair’s personal space. “You know what I’m gonna ask.”

      * * *

      Holt had given Blair and Gigi space, but he itched to know what they were discussing. Might be about whether or not to go to the police. Now, out of the corner of his eye, he studied a man with beady eyes and a receding hairline moving in on Blair. He towered over her and she inched back, then scowled. Didn’t appear to be a pleasant conversation. Holt strode toward them. If this guy was messing with her, it’d be for the last time.

      “Blair, everything all right?” Holt asked as he ambled up beside her, glaring at the big guy wearing a worn camouflage shirt and jeans.

      Blair tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. This is Ronnie Lawson—”

      “Own the sporting goods store outside town. You are?” Ronnie sniffed and spat a gob of tobacco onto the road.

      “Holt Renard. Just moved here from Memphis.”

      Ronnie nodded once. “What brings you to Hope?”

      “Opening a used outdoorsman store.” And he continued to build on the tower of lies. “Chasin’ the dream, man. Chasin’ the dream.” Once it hadn’t been too far of a stretch, before his world flipped upside down. Once he’d wanted to major in forestry and settle down in a town much like this one. With Trina.

      “I hear ya.” Ronnie returned his attention to Blair. “So, can I come by and check out the inventory?”

      Blair placed her hands on her hips. “Sorry you broke down on the interstate this morning, but I haven’t had a chance to comb through everything myself, and you know—”

      “You have a dumb ritual of having to see it all before anyone else. Give me a break.”

      Holt didn’t like this guy. Manhandling her with his words and his stance. He stepped forward, ready to put the deadhead in his place, if for no other reason than talking ugly to a woman.

      “Dumb or not, it’s my thing.”

      Blair gave him an icy stare, and Ronnie chuckled. “All right. No need for daggers. Call me if there’s anything I might want.”

      “You know I will. As always.” Blair waved as he climbed into the pickup. “Ronnie Lawson is the thorn in my side. Greedy old jerk. I like his wife, though.”

      Gigi snickered. “He’s just mad because he lost out on possible sporting goods.”

      Holt wasn’t sure what was going on. The guy seemed too interested in Blair’s purchase, but he might always be like this. Holt needed answers. “So, anyone up for food?”

      “It’s hot out, but I could eat some soup maybe,” Gigi offered. “Blair?”

      She stared at the road and chewed a thumbnail. “I really need to go through the wares from today and inventory it.”

      “You whacked your head, Blair. Take a day to rest,” Holt said, wiping the sweat from his brow. It was too hot to stand around out here talkin’ about stock from the auction—or anything else.

      “Or let me eat some soup and then get to it.” Gigi gave her the stank-eye and Blair heaved a breath.

      “I’ll tell you what,” Holt said, “let’s get a bite to eat and I’ll help you unload the wares and inventory. I know you can’t haul all of that out of the truck alone.” He hoped she’d agree. He needed more time around her and access to snoop.

      “I can handle it and it’s a ritual I like to do—study each piece, and...anyway...” Blair glanced across the street. “But okay to something to eat.”

      So she wasn’t going to let him go near that truckload of stuff. Why? What ritual? His suspicion rose to new heights. He couldn’t drive her truck, and she’d refused to leave it behind. Was there something inside she didn’t want anyone to see? Was that why the SUV had plowed into her?

      They headed down the sidewalk toward the Black-Eyed Pea. Holt pointed at the diner on the corner of the square. “Cool name.”

      “Hunter and Jace