Clues had been there, even last year when she saw him in formal dress at the fundraiser for the sea-turtle hospital. Or how Jarrett treated him like an equal, not like a dangerous criminal. Jarrett was as straight as they came.
Her own mother suspected and gave her a gentle warning.
“Please, answer one question. Did you go undercover to catch my cousin stealing?”
His shoulders lost a little of their tension. “No. We’ve been watching the DP for nearly a year, when we got wind they were connected with a terrorism incident that we subverted. Two months ago, they started their smash-and-grabs at local jewelry stores. I had no idea Dylan joined them until I became a member.”
“You actually became a member? Incredible.”
A rueful smile touched his mouth. “Yeah. Initiation was not fun. They beat you up, with chains. Still have one mark on me.”
Horrified, she stared. “Jace, you let them do that to you?”
A shrug, as if he’d admitted to them patting his head. “Had no choice, Kara. I got that far, further than anyone else. A beating seemed a small price to pay for inside information.”
His expression softened. “That day at the Tiki Bar, Lance forced me to flirt with you. Part of my initiation as a prospect. I didn’t want to insult you, Kara. I’m sorry for making you so uncomfortable.”
But still, she sensed he was hiding something, not to do with the assignment, or his FBI work. Something else that ran deeper.
“Why you, Jace? Why not someone else in the FBI?”
Now he turned away, jammed a hand through his messed hair. “Long story, babe. Let’s just say that the beating I got from the DP wasn’t my first. I know all about biker-gang culture.”
So many questions. She searched his face, the barely hidden anguish below the surface. Kara cupped his face in her hands, gently stroked the bristles on his taut jawline.
“Perhaps someday, you’ll trust me enough with the full story, as I trusted you.”
Kara dropped her hands and walked to the passenger side. This time he did not open the door for her, but slid behind the wheel, saying nothing.
She wasn’t certain what troubled her more—Jace’s reticence about his past, or the fact he couldn’t trust her with it.
Damn and double damn. He could do many things, but keeping the truth from Kara presented him with a challenge he’d rarely experienced.
He’d expected his cover to be blown. But he’d hoped it wouldn’t happen until he had the chance to level with her. So much for that.
In the car, he plugged in the GPS coordinates into his phone and sent them via Bluetooth to the sedan’s system.
They drove in silence for an hour, neither talking as he headed down a twist of backcountry roads in northern Georgia. Nothing much he could say to her right now, no answering the questions she asked.
The sun had started to descend by the time they reached the small town Dylan had mentioned. A freshly painted sign boasted Welcome to North Crystal Lake, the Friendliest Town Around!
Pristine, tree-lined streets greeted them as they drove on a narrow main street, where shops with colorful flower baskets advertised everything from a barber shop to clothing. Pedestrians strolling the swept sidewalk seemed less interested in the sedan than the street vendor playing a wicked fiddle on the corner. Someone else joined in with a banjo.
“Hard to believe this place is haunted,” she murmured. “Or had a murder.”
Relieved she’d finally spoken, he grinned. “Local gossip. I looked it up. Guy wasn’t murdered, he hung himself and the townspeople said his ghost haunts the place.”
He parked at the edge of a county park with a hiking trail. Jace looked around. Their car blended in with the others in the lot. Most of the owners seemed to be sitting on metal bleachers, watching a softball game being played on the field.
Navigating the steep, mud-strewn path, they arrived at a small clearing surrounded by trees and flanked by thick brush. Soft green moss carpeted the clearing and he heard a stream nearby.
In the center stood an ancient, dilapidated shack with a single door hanging precariously from its hinges. Jace recognized it from Dylan’s description. This was the place where he had hidden the necklace, but wow, he’d picked a hell of a hiding spot. Open to anyone.
Anyone who dared to come here, anyway.
Not that he believed in ghosts.
Place looked like it had once been home to a campground, perhaps. Jace’s imagination flicked to the old Friday the 13th movie.
Kara shivered as they made it to level ground. “This place is spooky. Like Camp Crystal Lake from Friday the 13th.”
He blinked. Oh, it wasn’t the first time they held the same thought, but it had been a long time since they were in sync. Jace grinned.
“Sure is. And I’m Jason.”
At his suggestive wink, a shaky laugh ripped from her throat. “Just tell your mother to stay away from me.”
His grin slipped. My mother is busy enough staying away from me. Prolly for the best.
They stepped over trash scattered on the ground. Dead leaves crunched beneath Jace’s shoes as he advanced to the front door. Motioning for Kara to hang back, he withdrew his gun and then opened the door.
It creaked on rusty hinges, sounding like a cliché from a horror movie. The cabin was one room, with a fireplace cluttered with ashes, moldy furniture and a table beneath a broken window. Looked like vagrants had called it home for a while. He went to the fireplace and combed through the ashes.
A blue velvet bag peeked through the grayness. Jace lifted it and opened the bag. Whistled.
Gleaming diamonds nestled inside the velvet. Clutching it in his left hand, still gripping his gun in his right, he ran outside.
Kara stared at the bag as he handed it to her. She started to pull out the necklace. He stayed her hand.
