Some men, seeing that, might be moved to rip that shit out and take it four wheeling, getting it as muddy, dusty and dirty as humanly possible.

Some men, seeing Emme and knowing that was her truck, might be moved to do that either before or after they turned her over their knee for committing such blasphemy.

Deck was finding he was the latter.

Her words cut into thoughts that were making even Deck lose focus.

“Chace’s wife is pregnant?” she asked.

“Heavily,” he answered.

“That’s good,” she said softly. “I… well, after all that went down, you know, after she was rescued and it made the news she was buried alive and Chace was again in the papers, I went to the library to check her out.”

Chace’s wife, Faye, was the librarian at Carnal Library.

Deck said nothing. He still found it difficult to think about that night. A night he spent with a friend who had endured torture, knowing his woman was buried under dirt. So he held onto the fact that they pulled Faye out of that box breathing, a year later he watched her tie the knot with his boy and now they were building a family of more than them and two serious-as-fuck ugly cats that Faye adored.

“She’s really pretty,” Emme told him.

“Yeah,” Deck agreed, still moving.

“Perfect for Chace.”

“Yeah,” Deck repeated, this time with more feeling.

“Knowing he was around, I thought of, you know, doing an approach, letting him know I lived close. But I didn’t know, what with all that went down, if I should. I mean, not only with Elsbeth and how that might reflect on me but also with Chace.”

His boy had had it rough. And Deck was tight with his boy so Emme would know Elsbeth ending things would not make Elsbeth or anyone around her Chace’s favorite people.

It was again pure Emme she’d have a mind to that. All of it.

“Sure he’ll be glad to reconnect.”

“Good, then maybe he and Faye can come over to your house when I’m there drinking your homemade beer. Though Faye obviously can’t drink it.”

He again grinned at his phone as he saw light coming through the trees. He switched his flashlight off and kept up his approach to her house.

“I’ll arrange that. And soon,” he told her.

“Right, great,” she replied. “Then, I was so busy taking your guff about my girl I forgot to ask you over for dinner tomorrow night.”

Pleased she was asking him to dinner, still, Deck moved toward the light but addressed the more important part of what she said, “A Bronco is not a girl. A Bronco is definitely a guy.”

“Her name is Persephone.”

Jesus.

Deck bit back laughter and returned, “I’ve just re-anointed him Elrod.”

“Persephone,” she shot back.

“You don’t like Elrod, you can pick Cletus.”

“I’m not renaming Persephone!” she snapped, but there was humor in her tone.

“All right, baby,” he muttered, smiling at the phone, keeping to the shadows but moving toward the lit clearing he spied through the trees.

He got silence. Complete silence.

So he called, “Emme?”

There was another moment’s quiet then, “Are you coming over for dinner tomorrow night or what?”

He had work to do, that work important, work that would mean getting her clear of that ass**le.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Good. The yard is open until six but I go in early and leave early. So I can have dinner on the table by six. But I’ll have beer available from five o’clock on.”

“Then my ass’ll be at your door at five o’clock,” he told her, stopped in the shadow of a tree and trained his eyes on her house.

His back shot straight and he stared.

Jesus.

Fuck.

It wasn’t a money pit.

It was what Chace described it as being.

A nightmare.

He could see under all that dilapidated mess that there was beauty. Amazing beauty.

But she had a long way to go before she got it back to that state. This wasn’t only because it was a nightmare. This was also because it was huge.

As his eyes moved, he decided, first and foremost, his girl needed new insulation. They’d had sun that day, it was cold but Colorado sun could burn snow off a roof. But there were tall pines all around the house, short days in February, limited sun and the shade those trees would bring would mean the snow they had yesterday should still be on her roof—if her insulation was good.

The snow was gone.

Her insulation was shit and she was losing heat.

She was also probably losing heat through some of those boarded windows.

Fuck.

“Five o’clock,” she said in his ear, again taking his attention. “Now, I’ll expect you to get on your knees before going to bed tonight and pray my oven works tomorrow or we’re going to be reduced to ordering pizza.”

Looking at her house, if the inside was anything like the outside, Deck had no doubt every time she turned on her oven, it was a crapshoot.

“I’m multi-tasking, talking to God right now,” he told her and got another chuckle.

“Good, honey. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“See you then, babe.”

“ ’Bye.”

“Later.”

He disconnected, his eyes scanning her house, automatically prioritizing. Insulation. Inspection of the roof, probably reshingling. Definitely windows. Double-paned but wood framed so they would work with the look of the house but hold in the heat.

That was just a start.

And that would cost a small fortune.

Fuck.

The investigation notes said she’d been living there for near on three years. One of those years she’d been ill. Still, that left two others, and it looked like the place hadn’t been touched.

He set aside thoughts of her house, bent his head to his phone, texted Chace with In position, got back a Copy and he shoved his phone in his back pocket.

Five minutes later, he got a text that said Incoming, and a minute after that, the pimped-out Sierra made the approach, parked outside by Emme’s Bronco and McFarland climbed out.

Deck’s throat prickled as he watched the familiar way McFarland approached the house.

The prickle eased when he didn’t walk right in but knocked, waited, and Emme opened the door to him.

It came back when he watched McFarland round her waist with an arm, smile down at her and back her inside.

The door closed.

Deck instantly revised his schedule.

Emme would not be shot of this guy in a week.

He was thinking more like two days.

His phone vibrated and he got a text from Chace.

Man’s in.

Deck texted back, Saw that. Doing a perimeter check.

Chace sent back Copy and Deck moved stealthily around Emme’s property.

As he did, he began to see it. Why she picked this place. He’d even consider it, but only if he viewed it on a day when he felt like taking on a challenge.

There was an outbuilding, built after the main house and not well, and it looked like it was meant to store cars at one point but with Emme’s Bronco out front, it was not used for that now and he could see why. It was in worse shape than the house.

The back had a remarkable garden, terraced up the mountain, incorporating the aspen and pine, this leading down to a patio made of flagstone arrayed in an extraordinary starburst design. All this had been cleared, patio furniture on the flagstone that was probably very nice since it was now covered for the winter. She’d done work here. The garden looked good covered in snow. He figured it’d look amazing in spring and summer.

As he moved around the house he saw there were bay windows, turrets, attractive stone carvings in the façade, even gargoyles in the corners. It had personality. It had been made with a mind to craftsmanship and no expense spared.

But it was over a century old, the last five or six decades not well tended and it showed.

He made it back to position and saw only one light through the windows not boarded. Three floors in the house, second story, left of the front door.

The prickle came back because Deck reckoned it was her bedroom. Usually masters were at the back of the house to avoid street noise. But here, this house being the only one up her lane, no street noise, so the master would be at the front. This was because the back had a view to close-up mountain and trees. The back might have a spectacular garden as well but the front had a panorama of Rockies, the valley and Gnaw Bone. Anyone in their right mind would want that view from their bedroom window.

So they were in her bedroom.

He waited, he watched. They stayed in her bedroom, the light on.

His throat burned.

The light went out.

Deck took in a deep breath through his mouth, letting the cold mountain air ease the burn.

Two days, he’d get her shot of him.

No more.

Definitely.

Ten minutes later, the front door opened. Deck went alert, pulled out his phone and watched McFarland move to his truck.

He texted Man’s on the move to Chace.

Got it, Chace sent back.

McFarland drove through the circular forecourt of Emme’s house and away.