Leave it to her father to get right to the point.

Raider smiled, his eyes somehow gleaming. “A little of this and a little of that. I’m in exports, actually.”

“Well, shit,” her dad muttered, turning on her. “He’s another criminal? You still haven’t learned your lesson?”

She blinked, wanting to hide under the table. Her dad had never hit her—never even yelled at her. But his disappointment weighed as heavily on her shoulders as a hay baler. “He’s not a criminal, and neither am I. I’ve been working for a nonprofit for years.” Well, she had before getting arrested.

Her dad shook his head. “Fine. Why don’t you go get settled in your room, and Raider and I will have a talk before I show him the guest room.” He looked at Raider. “Unless you want to come out and see the barn. I just made improvements.”

Brigid faltered.

“How about tomorrow?” Raider downed his drink and set the glass on the counter. In one smooth motion, he grasped Brigid’s arm, tugged her close, and planted a kiss on her forehead. “We’ve been traveling all day and should get some sleep. I’m happy to use the guest room.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Her dad led the way out of the kitchen.

* * *

Raider didn’t like leaving Brigid with that vulnerable look on her face, but he didn’t have a choice. He’d underestimated the emotional impact on her of returning home, probably since he hadn’t had a home before he was a teenager. So he’d arranged for her to get some space and rest before they continued with the charade. The old man was pretty much what Raider had expected.

After being shown the comfortable guest room, Raider waited about two hours and then got to work. Every floorboard in the old house creaked at the slightest step, and it took all of his substantial training to move quietly. He searched the entire house, the outside barn, and even some of the surrounding property. There were no signs that the place was anything other than a working farm. Even the cellar, which he’d accessed by an outside door, just held more cobwebs and forgotten canning jars than anything else. He checked the barn again, finding only tools and farming equipment.

“What in the heck are you doing?” Brigid whispered, her body nicely outlined by the moon behind her. She’d changed into leggings and a mint-green T-shirt with a barcode across her breasts. With her wildly curly hair and smooth curves, she looked like every wet dream he’d ever had. Not that he’d dreamed of having sex in a barn before.

“Searching.” He moved to her and drew her inside, shutting the door. Her skin was soft and chilled beneath his touch. “What are you doing out?”