Undercover Refuge. Melinda Di Lorenzo

as hell didn’t seem like the type who’d be interested in saving him a bit of embarrassment. Not that he couldn’t or wouldn’t play it off if she brought it up.

       But still...

      His gut told him she was hedging around the exact circumstances for some other reason. It made him more than curious, and he was so busy musing over it that he all but tuned out what Garibaldi was saying. It was only a very specific sentence that drew him back out of his own head and into the conversation.

      “...so the two of you should be nice and cozy in the cabin,” his boss was saying. “It’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

      Rush felt his forehead crease. “What?”

      “You hit your head on the way down, Atkinson, or what?” the other man asked.

      “Feel like I must’ve,” Rush muttered.

      He glanced at Alessandra. She had a strange mix of emotions on her face. She looked nervous and apologetic, and both of those were laced with a hint of defiance. It only made Rush frown harder.

      He sighed. “Sorry, boss. Back it up. Who’s staying in a cabin? And why?”

      Garibaldi gave him a truly speculative look, and Rush straightened his shoulders a little, cursing the fact that he was giving the other man a reason to question even a single aspect of his cover. He couldn’t afford doubt. He needed his so-called boss to trust him. To rely on him. To give him access to whatever the hell he was working on, so that Rush could catch him in the act and promptly throw him in jail.

      It was Alessandra who broke the silence by clearing her throat and speaking up. “Jesse was explaining that things are pretty busy in town now that tourist season is in full swing. He’s got some business associates staying at his place. Which he forgot when he invited me up for the week.”

      “Total brain lapse,” Garibaldi confirmed. “Anyway. I feel terrible, but Al drove five hours from up near Seattle, and I didn’t want her to turn around and drive home, which is why I texted—or tried to, anyway—directions to one of my private mountainside cabins instead.”

      Rush said nothing. His mind was momentarily overloaded with more questions and concerns. There was pretty much zero possibility that Garibaldi had “forgotten” the hordes of people in town. The man had his fingers in every piece of tourism pie in all of Whispering Woods. From the five-star lodge to the seasonal rentals throughout the town to the companies that ran off-road tours in the summer and taught ski lessons in the winter, there wasn’t a single damned thing that didn’t have his name attached to it somewhere. He even owned 90 percent of the real estate along Main Street. It was all a front. A clever way to hide the money he brought in through his drug smuggling business. But he was far, far too smart to be genuinely unaware of the things that allowed him to do what he wanted. So why would Garibaldi invite a “friend” into town, only to not be able to offer her a place to stay? Who was she to his boss? Who was she, in regard to his boss’s business?

      A shadowy lick of wrongness crept in, and Rush had an urge to roll his shoulders to rid himself of it. He forced himself to stay still, though, and spoke in a dismissive voice. “Still not seeing what this has to do with me.”

      Alessandra’s cheeks were a bit pink. “Jesse thought I might be more comfortable with a tour guide.”

      Rush went silent again. The lick of wrongness became a roar of malcontent that demanded attention. Every other oddity aside...why would his boss invite this woman here only to immediately pass her off? Rush kept his lips pressed together until Garibaldi clapped him companionably on the back.

      “Told you I had a special assignment for you, didn’t I?” said the other man.

      This time, Rush didn’t hide his grimace of dissatisfaction. “Not in the slightest what I had in mind.”

      Garibaldi’s eyes turned sharp. “Maybe not. But it might be just the leg up you are after.”

      Rush didn’t like the dirty tingle down his spine. He’d made no secret of his desire to move up in Garibaldi’s world, but he couldn’t think of a good or pleasant reason for this particular assignment to help that along.

      He turned to Alessandra, expecting her to be an ally in the protest. After all, she’d come a fair distance only to be handed over to a stranger by the very man she’d come to visit. But if she had objections, she didn’t voice them. The oddity of it struck Rush almost as hard as the feeling that something was very wrong. He tapped his thumb against his knee. Just once. Then nodded.

      “All right,” he said slowly. For show. Like he was doing everyone a favor. “I’ll do it. I’ll play tour guide. But it damned well better be worth my while.”

      He spun on his heel, grinding his teeth together with very real frustration. Dirt kicked up around him, but he didn’t let the need to cough take over. He didn’t look to see how closely Garibaldi, Alessandra and Ernest followed him, either. Though he wished he could.

      He wanted to spin, wipe the speckles of dirt from his face and demand to know what the hell was going on. He knew too well that any kind of reaction would’ve been out of place with his projected persona. If Garibaldi was testing him, he wanted to pass. So he just kept going, shoving his way through the woods with vigor.

      When he’d almost reached his Lada, though, he realized his trek had been uselessly vicious. A quick turn sideways told him that the two other men and the redhead had matched his pace. They were just coming out of the trees. Alessandra even smiled as Garibaldi said something and lifted a branch for her to step under.

      Yet another spasm of irritation hit Rush.

      He strode the rest of the way toward his truck, and made it as far as putting his fingers on the door handle before Garibaldi’s voice stopped him.

      “Hang on, Atkinson,” said his boss. “Need to get you something from my car. Meet me over there in a sec.”

      Wary—but not willing to take a chance on arguing—Rush dropped his arm and turned to the nondescript sedan on the other side of the road. As he walked toward it, he pretended not to hear the pleasant chatting that carried to his ears as Ernest retrieved Alessandra’s bags from her car. He ignored the big man when he came to the car and climbed into the driver’s seat, too. He also didn’t look over as Garibaldi promised the pretty redhead a tow truck ASAP, then excused himself. In fact, he didn’t move at all until his boss took a position beside him and cleared his throat.

      “I know you’re not thrilled about this,” said the other man.

      Rush grunted. “Nope. But you’re the boss. I’m just here to do as I’m told.”

      “We both know that’s not how you work.”

      “We both know I work, period.”

      “True enough. You’re an exemplary employee.”

      Internally, Rush snorted at the use of the word employee.

      Aloud, he said, “An exemplary tour guide, you mean?”

      “I need someone I can really trust here, Atkinson,” Garibaldi said.

      Rush decided some skepticism was in order. “Gotta say that I honestly don’t get it, boss. You said she’s a friend and that you invited her up. If you’re too busy to show her around, that’s fine. I’m on board. And you know I’m not in the habit of questioning the stuff you want done...but I’m just not seeing why this is so significant.”

      Wordlessly, Garibaldi cast a nearly blank look toward the Lada. Rush followed his gaze. Alessandra sat inside the vehicle now. Her eyes were forward, but it was easy to see that she was nervous, even from as many feet away as they were. She had her plump bottom lip sucked in, and her fingers twirled a piece of hair, then released it, then twirled it again.

      An unusual twist of worry pricked at Rush.

      “You sure this isn’t something you want to do yourself, boss?”