Page 21 of Three Steps Behind

“Okay.”

He eased the tape off, pulling one or two strands of hair with it. “All good, except your necklace chain.”

“My locket.” Her hand reached for it.

“It’s caught on the tape by your ear. One sec.” He struggled to free the delicate gold chain.

“It was a gift from a dear friend. It can’t break. She’s gone. I can’t lose this too.”

Gone? Taylor? He didn’t say her name, just worked to free the chain from the tape. “I’ve almost got it. Stand still if you can. One more piece.”

She held as still as a snowman, and after a moment, it was off.

“You’re clear.”

“It’s okay?” She held on to the gold heart with the white background and a pink rose.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s just special to me. . . . I can’t lose it.”

“It’s okay. All good.”

She nodded and leaned back into him.

Christian moved for the door.

“Hey, man,” Deck whispered, his voice hoarse.

Christian paused and glanced back. “Yeah?”

“Did you see the guy inside?” He hadn’t.

“I thought I saw someone jump in the SUV when it stopped, but I’m not certain.”

“Why were they here?” Harp asked, her head still resting against his chest.

“My bet is Big Max is looking for Art,” Christian said.

“Great.” Deckard sighed. “Dad’s brought us trouble again.”

Eleven

“SPECIAL AGENT AUBRY MARSHALL.” Bristol Reynolds—Reynolds being the last alias she’d adopted—reclined in her seat. “To what do I owe this special privilege?”

The man, far too handsome for a special agent, took the seat opposite the square metal table from hers.

“Come now, cat got your tongue, Aubry?” she asked at his hesitance.

“Special Agent Marshall,” he corrected.

“Still Agent? After all we’ve been through?” She smiled, sitting forward and resting her arms on the cold table.

A smile touched his lips—for a whisper of a second, then faded away. He cracked his knuckles as he always did. She swore he did it on purpose to annoy her. She’d mentioned it once, and from then on, he did it whenever they were in the same space—casino, back of his car, jail . . .

His gaze fixed on her, scrutinizing her—most likely her bemused expression.

“I see you haven’t changed. Prison teach you nothing?”