His jaw clenched. He met her gaze, pain flickering in his eyes. “Yes. You should have.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Yeah, I heard you.” Deacon stood and began to pace, running his fingers through his hair as his phone rang.
“I’m sorry, but I have to take this,” he murmured, a hint of urgency in his voice.
Ava nodded, “Sure,” and moved to the sink, the rush of water filling the glass echoing against the silence as Deacon answered the call.
“Rawley? Where are you?” His voice was tense, his brows furrowed in concentration.
She could hear the muffled voice on the other end as she lifted the glass to her lips, the cool water a stark contrast to the warmth of the room.
“Okay, I’ll meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes.” He ended the call with a swift movement, the phone disappearing back into his pocket. His eyes met hers, a mix of apology and determination swirling in their depths. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. We’ll finish this conversation later.”
Ava set the glass down, the clink of ice against glass echoing in the quiet room. “Of course. Did you solve the case already?”
Deacon shook his head, his jaw set in a firm line. “No, but I’m on the right track. I needed some backup, so two other agents are on their way here.” He reached for his hat and made his way to the door. He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and looked back at her. “I just wanted to talk, butit will have to wait a little longer.”
Ava understood the weight of his words, the unspoken promise hanging in the air. “I understand. Let me give you my number.” She rattled off the digits, watching as he entered them into his phone, his thumbs moving swiftly across the screen. He called her, the sound of her phone ringing filling the room.
“Add my number to your phone.” He walked back to her, his boots heavy on the floor, stopping mere feet away from her. His voice was low, a soft growl that sent a shiver down her spine. “Don’t think you’re going to get out of talking about this, Ava.”
She met his gaze, her voice steady. “I don’t. We’ll talk. Just give me a call when you’re ready.”
Deacon huffed out a laugh, a sound that was half amusement, half exasperation. “Like I’ll ever be ready for this,” he muttered, turning away from her, then looked over his shoulder at her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, and we are going to get this straightened out.”
“I thought you said we’d talk after you solved the case?” Ava wrung a dishtowel in her hands.
“I changed my mind. The sooner, the better.” He opened the door and stepped onto the porch. The sound of the ranch outside rushing in, before it clicked shut behind him, leaving Ava alone in the silence of the room.
Chapter Four
Deke guided his truck into the hotel parking lot, the engine rumbling softly before he shut it off and stepped out into the warm evening air. The hotel’s facade loomed before him, its lights casting a warm glow against the descending night. He entered the lobby, where the polished marble floors reflected the soft lighting overhead, and walked toward the reception counter.
“Good evening, sir. How can I help you?” the receptionist asked, his voice courteous and welcoming.
“Do you have three rooms available close together, or at least on the same floor?” Deke asked, his gaze steady.
“Let me see,” the receptionist replied, fingers dancing over the keyboard with practiced precision. Deke observed him, noting the quiet efficiency of his movements.
“We do. They’re on the third floor. Would that be alright?” the receptionist confirmed, glancing up with a polite smile.
“Yes, and I need to move out of my room on the second floor to one of those,” Deke responded, his tone matter-of-fact.
“You want to change rooms?” The receptionist’s eyebrows lifted slightly in question.
“Yes, sir. It would be more convenient for us to be close together,” Deke explained, offering a brief nod of understanding. “I’ll pack then come back with the keycard and settle the bill.”
The receptionist’s eyes flickered to the badge clipped to Deke’s belt, then he nodded inagreement. “Not a problem.”
“I appreciate it.” Deke thanked him, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He retrieved his credit card, the plastic gleaming under the lobby lights, and settled the payment for all three rooms. The MDOL would reimburse him for the rooms, travel, and food.
“The keycards, sir. I hope you enjoy your stay,” the receptionist said warmly, handing over the slim cards.
“Thank you. I’m just going to hang around here until the other men arrive,” Deke replied, pocketing the keycards.
“Sure thing. Have a good evening,” the receptionist offered with a nod.
