Hidden Truth. Danica Winters

Not ever.

      “Your father in the marines?” he asked.

      “Schofield is an army base. I wouldn’t make that mistake around a vet, if I were you.” She sent him a dazzling smile.

      She had passed the first test, yet something about her just didn’t feel right—just like everything in his life since his sister Trish had died.

      “How long have you been waiting on the Cussler boys?”

      She shrugged. “I only got here a few minutes before you. To be honest, I was trying to figure out where to start the cleaning.”

      “So, they’re gone?” His job of kicking the family out of their shanty was proving to be a whole lot easier than he had expected.

      “They’re not here, but I thought you had already come to kick them out. At least, that’s what your brother led me to believe.”

      He was supposed to be here an hour ago, but he hadn’t known his brother was sending a crew behind him or he would have been on it. “And you haven’t seen any sign of activity?”

      She shook her head. “But like I said, I only got here right before you.”

      He walked up to the door and knocked. There was the rattle of dishes as the mice, or whatever vermin it was that lived in the place, scurried over them. He went to knock again, though he was almost certain they were alone, but as he moved the door creaked open.

      “Hello? Someone home?” he asked, walking in.

      The place was dark and as he entered, a putrid smell wafted out—the brothers mustn’t have been there in some time, or they were even worse at keeping house than they were at building one. He stepped in and the cobwebs in the corners of the front door clung to his face. He tried not to be squeamish as he wiped them away. No matter where he went in the world or what he was doing, he’d always hated that feeling. No amount of training or conditioning could get rid of the instinctual revulsion—and that was to say nothing of the inhabitants of the webs.

      “Trevor,” Sabrina said breathlessly from behind him. “Look.”

      He dropped his hands from his face and gazed into the dark shadows where she pointed. There, sitting against the corner, was a man. His face was bloated and his lips were the deep purple color of the long dead.

      Trevor clicked on the flashlight on his cell phone and pointed it toward the man as he moved closer. Above his right ear, at the temple and just below the dead man’s ruddy hair, was a small bullet hole. There was no exit wound on the other side. The man’s eyes were open, but they had started to dry and shrink in the socket, in sharp contrast to the rest of the man’s features.

      “Do you see a gun anywhere?” Trevor asked, flashing the light around as he looked for the weapon that could have killed the man.

      “No,” she said, but she stood in the doorway staring at the man. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand as though she were going to be sick.

      Trevor rushed over to her and wrapped his arm around her. “Come with me. Let’s go back outside. It’s going to be okay. You’re all right. Everything is going to be fine.”

      She turned her body into him, letting him pull her into his arms as he moved her out the door and to the fresh air of the forest. He had been right—she would be just fine; from the way she felt in his arms, he was the one who was truly in danger.

       Chapter Two

      Sabrina had no idea why she had reacted that way. The man was hardly the first dead body that she had come across, and yet it felt like the first time. Maybe it was the way he seemed to be looking at her through those cloudy eyes or the smell of the body that had been left sitting in the heat of the fall, but she just couldn’t control her body’s reaction.

      Damn it. Every time she started to think that she was strong, she did something like this.

      Although maybe it wasn’t a bad thing that she had reacted as she had. She had gotten to play up the lady-in-distress angle. If she had to be undercover for any amount of time, it was going to be immensely easier if she had one of the brothers under her spell.

      She just had to remember to keep him at arm’s length; the last thing she needed to do was let her emotions come into play. Emotions only had a way of getting her into trouble, and she was in enough as it was. They were the reason she was stuck in this place…and out of the direct line of sight of her superiors. Though she was certainly under their thumb.

      Trevor was just another case, another investigation she had yet to complete. In a month, if everything went according to plan, she would be out of here and set down in a new little nowhere town in the middle of America investigating another possible threat to homeland security.

      Trevor rubbed her back and as he held her, his chest rose and fell so rhythmically that she found herself mimicking his movements. He was like a man version of a white noise machine, and just as soothing.

      If she had to guess, between his dark brown hair, his crystalline blue eyes and a jawline that was so strong that it could probably cut glass, he was all women’s kryptonite. He probably was the kind of man who had a woman every time he went downrange.

      She pushed herself out of his arms and sucked in a long breath as she tried to completely dissociate herself from him. The last thing she needed was to share anything with him—even his breath.

      “Are you feeling better?” he asked, looking at her like she was a bird with a broken wing.

      She nodded. “I don’t know what that was about. I’m sorry.”

      “That was about a dead man,” he said, shock flecking his voice. “It’s not something one sees every day. I would have been more worried if you hadn’t reacted that way. Shock can be more dangerous than most flesh wounds.”

      Crap… She couldn’t give herself away. Of course he would think she was a newbie to this kind of thing. She had to remember the role she had been sent here to play. A role that required that she be seen little and heard even less. What a joke for her superiors to play…they knew just as well as she did that silence wasn’t her strong suit. She wasn’t the kind of woman who was going to let anyone push her around, tell her what to do or require that she “let the men do the real work.”

      Her skin prickled at just the thought of the last time she had heard someone mansplain to her.

      Trevor touched her arm. “Sabrina, you with me?”

      “Huh? Yeah.” She looked at him and forced a smile.

      “Why don’t you go and sit down,” he said, pointing toward his motorcycle. “Or I guess you can lean.” He gave her a guilty smile, realizing what an absurd idea that was.

      “I’m fine. Do you think you should call the police?” She motioned toward the shack with her chin.

      She would rather not have any local officers running around the place and mucking up her investigation or compromising her position.

      Yet they couldn’t hide a dead body…

      Or could they?

      If they swept this under the rug, it would give her more access to Trevor and his family without the threat of outside interference. It would definitely speed things up for her. If the police started poking around, the Martins would clam up and go even deeper into hiding.

      And really, who would care about one mountain man who had turned up dead? He was totally off the grid, and as far as the government was concerned he was a nonentity. In fact, the only thing that his brothers, and folks like him, were known for were extremist ideals and a penchant for causing trouble.

      Yet she couldn’t be the one to bring up the idea of hiding the very dead Cussler brother.

      Trevor