It was what she used to read dirty stories and participate on social media sites as a random, made-up person. What she used to Google “panic attack symptoms” when she was sitting in the Savannah airport. And now, apparently, she was using it to creep on a handsome ex-cop who was strangely committed to being her bodyguard.
A bunch of hits in local Bruce County newspapers about his former role with the Ontario Provincial Police. References to his family. Four brothers and a military colonel father.
She clicked through to the second article about his police work and her breath stopped hard in her chest.
Liana didn’t know a lot about the tragic death of Hope’s fiancé’s first wife, but Dean did. He’d been there that day, and featured heavily in the coverage.
Difficult call made by law enforcement officers…exemplary service in an ambush…
And she’d been so dismissive of his experience. What a foolish, thoughtless… she gritted her teeth. Well, sometimes that’s how she was.
Damn it. When was she ever going to learn?
Her hands shaking, she clicked out of the browser window and slid the burner phone back into her purse.
Enough of that. She pinched her fingers together, then raised her arms over her head, forcing herself to be Zen. Or at least…fake being Zen. Then she pulled out her other phone—her Liana phone, that if hacked would have zero trace of porn or stalking or anything else that could be used against her—and logged in to her Instagram account.
It had been nearly twenty-four hours since she’d posted anything to social media. If she didn’t put up something soon, rumours would start that she was in rehab.
She propped her feet up on the railing, framing them nicely against the setting sun, and snapped a picture.Kicked off my boots after a lovely evening tour, she lied in the caption. Then she looked out at the lovely back lawn that stretched down to a forest behind Hope’s house.
If she walked down to the trees and back, it wouldn’t be quite so much of a lie.
She stood up and went inside. Hope had rubber boots sitting on a mat beside the back door. Not a lie at all anymore.
The walk took all of ten minutes, and when she got back to the deck, she published the original picture and went inside.
Chapter Six
“What the hellis an evening tour?” Dean muttered, mostly to himself, but since he was surrounded by brothers and best friends, all of whom were as nosy as church ladies, it didn’t take long for him to get an answer. Three of them, actually, all conflicting.
“Going out to piss in the dark at a bonfire,” his younger brother Matt suggested.
Rafe shook his head. “Nah. It’s…umm… you know, one of those boat cruises. Like with a fancy dinner.”
Tom Minelli chose that moment to show up and hand out new beers for everyone. “Who’s having a fancy dinner?”
Rafe pointed at Dean. “He is. Some kind of evening tour on a boat.”
Dean rolled his eyes and handed Tom the phone. “What does this mean to you?”
Tom whistled. “It means Liana Hansen has nice legs. Look at those—”
Dean yanked the phone back. “Not the legs, you idiot. She said, ‘Kicked off my boots after a lovely evening tour.’ I left her at Hope’s house a couple of hours ago and she doesn’t have a car.”
“So? She’s famous. It’s probably staged to look like something.”
Dean frowned. “Maybe.”
He didn’t like that idea at all.
Maybe he’d ask her in the morning.
“Can I see?” Olivia asked, handing their nine-month-old daughter to her husband.
Dean passed the phone over to her, confident she’d focus on the real point of the photo.
His confidence was misplaced.
