Rules In Defiance. Nichole Severn

run into each other in there. Waylynn swallowed hard. They’d been friends for over a year. Every night when she came home from the lab, he was there in his crappy camp chair with two beers and that damn gut-wrenching smile of his. She’d tell him about her day. He’d tell her about his most recent investigation, then they’d head inside to their apartments. Alone. But this? The idea there wouldn’t be any barriers between them? It’d either destroy their friendship or push it to the next level. Either way, their relationship would never be the same if she stepped over that threshold.

      “Well, now you’re trying to hurt my feelings.” Elliot offered her his hand, the other cinched around the duffel bag he’d extracted from the back seat. He was giving her a choice. Giving her safety if she wanted it. “It’s a lot bigger than it looks.”

      His easygoing smile and confidence melted through her. Of course he had confidence. Wasn’t that what con man stood for? She’d known he had a past. Everyone did. But could she trust him to keep her safe? Trust him to help her uncover who’d framed her for Alexis’s murder? That was the question. Despite his revelation about the con he’d pulled in Iraq—a con that’d landed him in prison—her gut already knew the answer. Waylynn stretched out her hand, sliding her fingers up his palm. Rougher than she’d expected. Calloused, as if he’d been working with some kind of machinery or maybe out here in the woods. Desire exploded through her with a single touch, just as it had back at the police station. “It better be.”

      A breeze whipped through the surrounding trees, shaking them into a frenzy as Elliot reached for the door. He led her inside, a rush of heat dissipating the goose bumps pimpling along her arms. A combination of wood and spice wrapped around her as the main living space came into focus. She glanced toward him, unsure what to say.

      “What’d I tell you?” Elliot released her hand, taking his body heat with him, and motioned to the unbelievably modern space with both arms wide. He set the duffel bag on the floor, then collapsed backward onto the single couch, fingers interlaced behind his head. For as small as the cabin looked from the outside, the layout worked well for the limited space. A fireplace, complete with a stock of firewood, lay dead ahead. Off to the left of that, a single countertop with bar stools on one side and a kitchen sink and stove on the other. No dining table. Not enough room. A short hallway led to what looked like a bathroom with a set of stairs leading to a space on the second level. The one and only bedroom. The decor fit the location. Wood, wood and more wood. Just as she’d expect from any other cabin stashed in the wilderness, but the granite countertop and brightly colored accents brought the entire room into the modern era. It suited Elliot. At least, what she knew of him.

      “And you thought this would be awkward.” He compressed his mouth against a smile.

      Surprise pushed through her. “I never said that.”

      “You didn’t have to.” He swung his legs over the side of the couch and pushed to his feet. Closing in on her, he leveled that dark gaze on her and every cell in her body responded. “I read people for a living, Doc. It’s what makes me good at my job.”

      Heat flamed up her neck and into her cheeks. She brushed a strand of blood-matted hair behind one ear and fought the urge to cross her arms. What else had he read about her? “In that case, I can’t promise you I won’t let you down when you look at me too closely.”

      “What are you talking about?” One distinct crease deepened between his eyebrows as he shifted his weight between both feet. “You haven’t let me down.”

      “Someone is framing me for Alexis’s murder.” Waylynn interlaced her fingers. She used her hands to speak a lot of the time, but right now, all she wanted to do was close in on herself. To hide. From whoever’d killed her assistant. From the man standing in front of her who knew her better than any other person in her life, but she didn’t want to lie to him. Ever. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been accused of killing someone.”

      Seconds slipped by. Maybe a full minute. She couldn’t read his expression, didn’t know what he was thinking. Was controlling what others read in his body language part of being a con man, too? “Say something. Please.”

      Elliot ran a hand over his beard, tugging on the end. “Tell me what happened.”

      The same intensity she’d witnessed back at the police station consumed his expression. “I was fifteen. My father…” She pushed back the memories, but her pulse skyrocketed. “He deserved what happened to him. The cancer had already affected my mom, and police concluded she didn’t have the strength to do what had been done, so I became the next logical suspect. They took me out of school, arrested me and attempted to try me as an adult, but in the end, I was acquitted. Not enough evidence. They couldn’t find the gun that’d been used to kill him.” The Beretta 92 pistol he’d kept stashed away in the linen closet of her childhood home. “Same as now.”

      That gut-wrenching smile overtook his stubborn expression, and she struggled against the gravitational pull she experienced every time he came around.

      “What are the odds someone has been accused of murder twice in their life?” he asked.

      “In my experience? High. Normally? Zero.”

      He stepped into her, setting her chin between his index finger and thumb as he had in her apartment. Her insides turned to molten lava. Hesitation gripped her hard as he studied her. “Whoever’s doing this is counting on you taking the fall for Alexis’s death.” He released her, the tingling sensation spreading behind her sternum fading. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

      All she had to do was lean forward—just a bit—to press her mouth against his. What would he taste like? Feel like?

      A dull ringing reached her ears. Waylynn blinked to clear the last few seconds from her mind. She rushed to retrieve her phone from the pocket of the grungy sweats Officer Ramsey had lent her. The screen brightened with the laboratory’s number. “This is probably my boss. I should answer.”

      Elliot swept his arms wide and bowed before retreating toward the door and, just like that, the intensity in his body language disappeared. As though it’d never happened. “By all means, use whichever part of this room you prefer. I’ll grab the gear from the truck.”

      She stared after him as he closed the door. A small burst of disbelieving laughter escaped up her throat. No. Nothing was happening between them. That hadn’t been a connection. It’d been her body’s automatic reaction to a stressful situation. She and Elliot were friends and she’d keep it that way. They didn’t have a future together. There was no future with her.

      The phone vibrating in her hand brought her back into the moment. She swiped her finger across the screen and brought it to her ear. “Dr. Hargraves.”

      “Waylynn, I can’t believe it.” Dr. Matthew Stoker’s frantic tenor intensified the stress lodged between her shoulder blades. “The police were here at the lab. They wanted copies of your reports to match your handwriting—”

      “It’s fine, Matt.” Waylynn ran a hand across her forehead. Dr. Matthew Stoker had been her boss for close to ten years. He’d given her the opportunity to conduct her research and convinced Genism’s board of directors to fund her projects. He was on the path to put the lab on the map for genetic research all before he hit forty. The entire company depended on him. But getting dragged into a murder investigation threatened his promising future. “You were doing what you had to for the best of the company. I don’t blame you for handing the reports over. I’m sorry they came to you.”

      “Don’t worry about me. Are you okay?” Static reached through Matt’s end of the line. Or was that the sound of broken glass in the background? “I called the company lawyer for you. Blake Henson told me you’d been arrested, but they couldn’t keep you in custody. Where are you?”

      “I’m…” She didn’t know what to say. She’d found her assistant dead in her bathtub and all the evidence Anchorage PD had recovered pointed at her. Someone had framed her for murder and the only reason she’d come out into the middle of the woods with Elliot