Page 78 of Three Steps Behind

“I’ll warm you.” The sound of a quick kiss followed.

Riley shook her head.

“Don’t you be doing that.” Deck lifted his chin at his sister. “You and Grey are way worse than them.”

“That’s not true.”

He arched a brow.

Riley smirked, then turned back to whatever she was stirring on the stove—the sweet, spicy scent of cardamom swirling in the air.

Harper fixed her attention back on the pieces of the drone Christian hadn’t taken smattered across the table.

“Someone clean that up,” Riley sang without turning back around. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“I got it.” Grey stood. Grabbing the trash can, he slid it over to the table, and he and Deck scooped the broken pieces of plastic into the can, only the swish of the trash bag sounding—the equipment apparently light. Light but heavy with implication. Someone was spying on them, tracking their moves, and it unsettled her soul.

Thirty-One

“I TRIED TRIANGULATING IT, but it keeps moving,” Christian said as they all gathered to sit at the table.

“Like it’s bleeping out?” Deck asked.

“More like it’s moving.”

“So . . . someone is relatively nearby?” Deckard asked. “I assume the range of that thing isn’t too far.”

“That level of drone . . .” Christian raked a hand through his hair. “A handful of miles, maybe. Military drones can go for hundreds of miles, but not this kind.”

Riley came to stand behind Greyson and rubbed his shoulders. He cupped his hand over hers, brought it to his lips, and brushed a kiss across it.

Fully without intention, Harper’s gaze fixed on Deck. The thought of him lovingly touching her like that . . . It was ridiculous. She wasn’t anywhere near fully healed yet. And Deckard had been pretty clear when they met that he wasn’t the sort for relationships. Riley had shared her eldest brother hadn’t been on a date in over a year, and even prior to that hadn’t gone on more than a couple of dates with the same woman. It was like he’d ousted himself for relationship status and was parked there. She couldn’t handle that. She needed a guy willing to step up like . . . Like Deckard had.

He’d stepped up in a huge way to be there for her. To be her friend and maybe more? She studied him. Was there more there?

He caught her staring. Actually, everyone at the table did, and her cheeks flamed. They all politely looked away, but it was too late. Mortification sunk in.

She cleared her throat. “I’m going to go change.” She gestured over her shoulder. “I’ll be back.” She got to her feet as Deck pulled the chair out for her, then headed down the hall to the guest room, shutting the door behind her. She leaned her weight on it, and her breath left her lungs in a whoosh. She pushed off the door and strode across the room.

Her gaze flitted to the window, and she’d moved to pull the shade when a shadow slipped across it.

She stilled. Her heart ramping up a notch, her chest squeezing. She stayed still. Very still.

Nothing.

She released her breath again.

You’re a mess, and now you’re seeing things.

She reached to lower the shade, and movement once again flickered in the dark.

Her throat narrowed, her hand frozen on the shade’s string. She braved a step closer to the ice-smattered glass. Maybe she really was seeing things. What was the chance of two drones in the same night? But before she could react, one flew up in front of her and then away.

Deck stood as she re-entered the kitchen in a flurry.

“That was fast . . .” he began, then frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“There was another drone out there.”