The Rogue

Chapter 2-2

Later, she locked the front door of her rented cabin, then set the extra deadbolt that she’d added, then pulled the dresser in front of the door.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t quite as worry-free as she liked to pretend. Those notes had unnerved her. Rocky Peak was such a quiet, tucked away little town. Who here would be so nasty?

With the front door adequately blocked, she sank into her couch. She propped her feet on a pillow to give the poor things some relief. Snagging her laptop from the little end table, which was carved from local wood like everything else in this cozy cabin, she settled in to check for any news.

Ever since she was thirteen, and her father had left for a business trip and never returned, she’d felt as if half of herself had disappeared with him. How could a grown man simply disappear without any explanation from anyone? It didn’t feel real or right—and since then, nothing else had, either.

Everyone assumed Frank Riggs had abandoned her, but she knew that couldn’t be true. He loved her, he used to tell her so over and over, especially when she’d cry at the end of the weekend when she had to go back to her mom. “You’re the star of my whole world,” he used to say. “The brightest star in my sky.”

Who would walk away from their brightest star?

He was the only person who loved her unconditionally, and after he disappeared she’d gone a little crazy. Got into trouble at school, got kicked out of her mom’s house, managed to claw her way into art school. Maybe because of the mystery around her father, she’d become fascinated with witness sketches. She’d begun her career as a police sketch artist, and still volunteered with her local police when they needed help. But witness sketches had morphed into portrait painting, which paid better.

And all that time, in the back of her mind, she’d dreamed about some day going in search of her father.

She scanned through her emails. A possible portrait commission from a senator back in San Francisco. She tapped out an answer to her agent.

Tell him ‘yes’ as long as he can wait until I get back. And no, I don’t know yet when I’m coming back. It’s called a sabbatical for a reason.

Nothing from the police department in Seattle, where her father’s last credit card purchase had been made. Nothing from the coroner’s office, either, or the DA, or the local sheriff’s department, or anyone else she’d been pestering for information.

She switched away from her email and opened Netflix. She knew perfectly well what everyone thought. Frank Riggs had vanished because he wanted to. She was wasting her time. Making a fool of herself.

Think about something else. Like Griffin Rockwell. Her new bodyguard-type person.

She’d met Griffin only once, when he’d first returned to Rocky Peak. But she’d seen him on TV, even watched him race. Jake had held a watch party for his last big race. She’d caught a glimpse of his face after he’d taken his helmet off, but still wasn’t quite prepared for the impact of the man in the flesh.

Griffin Rockwell was hot. Smoking hot. As an artist, she probably should have a more nuanced image of him, but it really came down to “hot.” She appreciated the visual masterpiece of his build, the perfect blend of lean and muscular, the powerful grace with which he moved. Then there was his brooding face, the dark eyes with a hint of green, his sheer and utter magnetism.

He had a touch of the strong-and-silent going on. A little reserve, but that might be because of whatever “rough time” he was going through. An edge, but that might be from the intense competitiveness of a pro athlete. Some arrogance, based on the way he’d tossed a fifty dollar bill on the bar to cover his glass of water.

More than a bit of tempting.

The way she felt about Jake, that they were great friends with no chance of sparks? That definitely didn’t apply to Griffin.

Which was why this “bodyguard” plan sounded like the kind of trouble she really didn’t need.