But as the day wore on, she literally let her hair down. The clip had come out, and when she moved to reinsert it, Alex stopped her. Their eyes locked in that moment, and time stopped. And how he’d wanted to weave his fingers through that gorgeous hair of hers.

He never got the chance then.

He wasn’t sure he should take the chance now.

God, direct me here. What am I getting into?

He was the wrong guy for her, because when he returned to his job in three weeks, he would be going into the counterintelligence unit in DC, and he’d walk away from her again, though he kept telling himself not this time. Why did the DSS, who had courted her, back off from hiring her? He wanted to find out. Any detail could be connected to what happened yesterday.

A million questions swirled in his mind, and he had his work cut out for him.

On his time off.

He blew out a breath. Emotional connections could muddy the waters of an investigation, even one he wasn’t working in an official capacity.

As for Mackenzie, he’d assured her he wouldn’t withhold information, so he texted her the image of the drone.

From an expert source . . . This camera is commonly used for spying. If I’m going to help, I need to know what’s going on.

He left the Internet café and headed to his rental cabin to get ready for dinner at the ranch. Once he’d showered and changed out of his T-shirt and shorts and into something nicer, he stepped out onto the porch and looked into the dense woods.

He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds. The insects buzzing. A brook trickling somewhere. Birdsong. The chatter of squirrels. He could hear his cell buzzing on the table inside. No rest for the weary.

He wanted to ignore it, but he’d been waiting on a response from Mackenzie, so he went inside to grab the phone. But it wasn’t Mackenzie. It was Terra, probably to remind him that they were expecting him for dinner tonight.

A knock came at the door, surprising him.

With a shooter on the loose, he grabbed his extra gun and held it at the side. He stood against the wall. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

Mackenzie.

How had she found him?

When he opened the door, he took in her determined expression and the wild look in her eyes. A breeze blew past her and brought the scent of her freshly washed hair—coconut shampoo—and the fresh Montana air filled with loam and pine.

Before he could step aside to invite her in, she rushed past him and whirled around, looking far different than the quiet professional he’d met before, or even the competent mountain biker from yesterday.