If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

said.
    A grin curled her lips. “Hi, gorgeous.”
    It hit him, even after all these months, a punch in the gut—love, lust, need, amazement. She was his. He was hers. She loved him … he’d found her. The woman meant for him, only him …
    Shaking his head at the direction of his thoughts, he made his way to her.
    Her mouth tightened, a concerned frown. “Your leg’s bothering you.”
    “Nah,” he muttered, reaching up to pull her glasses off. “It’s fine.”
    She might have said something else—
would
have said something else, but he didn’t want to hear it. Before she could, he kissed her, tilting her face back and covering her mouth with his, listening as she sighed, satisfaction rolling through him as she opened for him.
    He pulled back a minute later, his heart pounding heavy in his chest, lust a pleasant, heavy ache in his groin. Lena hummed and licked her lips.
    Then she sighed and said, “Nice distraction … but your leg is still bothering you.”
    “Not so much now.” Sliding a hand around her waist, he tugged her closer, tucked her hips against his. “Something else is bothering me now.”
    “Pervert.” She grinned at him and then eased back. “I’m on the clock.”
    “Then take a break. We can slip into the pantry.”
    “Pervert. And I think that violates health codes.” She snorted. “Give me my glasses.”
    Sighing, he pushed them into her hands and watched as she slid them back on. Leaning a hip against the counter, he studied the island. It was mostly quiet in the kitchen for now, but it wouldn’t be for long. The rest of the help would be showing up any minute now. If he could just stall …
    “So, what are you doing out here?”
    Shit.
    “Maybe I missed you. You usually don’t work on Mondays.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Nice try.”
    “What … you saying I can’t be missing you?”
    She just waited expectantly.
    “Okay. Things are just running a little slow, so I left work early. Now I’m just killing time,” he hedged. “I’m going to take you home tonight.”
    Dark red brows arched high. Her mouth firmed out. “Oh, really.”
    She’d been in the process of getting back to work, but now she faced him again, crossing her arms over her chest. “And just why would that be, Sheriff?”
    He popped his neck, staring out the window. “I just felt like driving my wife home. There a problem with that?”
    “Not unless you spend the entire day loitering around my place of employment,” she replied, her voice dry. She moved closer, lifted a hand.
    Reaching out, he caught it. Pressing a kiss to her palm, he stared at her face.
    He couldn’t talk about this with her here, not now. Not here.
    “What’s going on, Ezra?” she asked quietly. Then she stiffened and sighed.
    He heard it a second later—the buzz of voices and laughter. The rest of the kitchen staff.
    “Well, you just lucked out, I think, didn’t you?” she muttered.
    Dipping his head, he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “We’ll talk about it later.”
    “Is everything okay?” she asked quietly, ignoring the noise as the door opened and several of the employees joined them.
    “Yeah.”
    He’d damn well make sure of that.
    Her bike was there, parked in front of Nia’s cabin. But she wasn’t.
    He knew, because he’d seen her over at Reilly’s, along with her cop escorts.
    Breaking in during the day was a risky move, but he wanted to act now while he knew she was still shaken. He went through the place from top to bottom, dumping her clothes in a heap on the floor, cutting them to ribbons as he went. Then using a bottle of black spray paint—the generic kind anybody could buy at Walmart—he sprayed a huge
X
over the mirrors in the bathroom and over the bureau, as well as the TV and along the walls.
    He used his knife to slash up the bed.
    He was in and out in under five minutes, going through the back door.
    It opened up onto a lovely, rather private little balcony—made it so much more convenient for him. He’d been able to muffle the sound of the glass he’d broken on the back door simply by wrapping a rock in the small towel he’d stashed in his pocket.
    He left the glass alone, his only concern now to get as far away from the little cabin as he could. Perhaps he’d pop into the Inn’s lounge, have a drink. Talk to people. It was close to dinnertime. It wasn’t unusual for him to be seen there. The Inn was a popular place, much like the bar where he’d seen Nia