Free Shadow Fall (Tracers Series Book 9) by Laura Griffin

You own this land,” she said.
    “Yep.”
    Another fact to be added to her growing list: Things I Should Have Known Earlier . And another connection between Liam Wolfe and the murder.
    She pulled away from him and propped her ankle on her thigh. He stood up as she tore open an antiseptic wipe and dabbed at the cut.
    He watched her. “When was your last tetanus shot?” he asked.
    “I’m good.”
    “When was it?”
    She glanced up at him. “All my shots are current. It’s a prereq for SWAT. We never know what we might bump into.”
    He watched her steadily as she cleaned the gash. He was right—it was nasty. She’d have to keep an eye on it, maybe swing into a drugstore tomorrow for some ointment.
    “You’re on a SWAT team,” he stated.
    “That’s right.”
    “How much is female?”
    She looked up. “What?”
    “What percent?”
    “What do you mean? My percent.”
    “Just you?”
    “Yeah.”
    He shook his head.
    “What?” she asked.
    “Nothing.”
    She tore open another wipe. “So if you own this property, I’m assuming that trap’s yours?”
    “Don’t know whose it is. At a guess, I’d say Alligator Joe.”
    “Alligator Joe? You can’t be serious.”
    He looked over his shoulder. “He’s got a little cabin down by the hollow, lives off the land.”
    “You let him squat on your property?”
    “He’s been here forever. Doesn’t really bother anyone.”
    Sure. Except clueless federal agents stumbling around in the dark. Maybe it had been Alligator Joe crashing through the forest, scaring the crap out of her.
    She finished cleaning her cut, acutely aware of Liam’s tall, muscular body right beside her, so close she could feel the heat emanating from him. His unexpected presence here rattled her. And when she got rattled, she tended to be a bitch.
    She pulled her cuff down and stuffed the bloody wipes into her pocket. “I need to get back,” she said.
    “I’ll take you.”
    “Don’t bother. My SUV’s down the trail.”
    He walked around the front of the truck. “I’ll take you to your SUV, then. Get in.”
    She watched him as he slid behind the wheel. He had a way of bulldozing people. She understood it completely because she had it, too.
    She tucked the Maglite into her pocket and slid into the truck. Warmth surrounded her, and she looked at him in the glow of the dashboard. He had a strong profile, straight posture, broad shoulders. Again she was struck by the raw masculinity of him and felt a hot rush of attraction.
    She focused on the view outside her window as he turned the truck around in the narrow space.
    “How long have you owned this land?” she asked.
    “Almost a year now.”
    “Why’d you buy it?”
    “Case I want to expand.”
    “And you just let some guy live on it rent-free?” she asked.
    “He pays in other ways. Works as a handyman around the place sometimes. He can fix damn near anything with a motor. He drives a truck even older than yours—an eighty-seven Chevy, blue and white, with a hundred-eighty-five-horsepower V-8.” He glanced at her. “What’s your Ford, a ninety-one?”
    “Ninety-two.”
    “That’s a first-generation.”
    She slid a look at him. “You sound like a mechanic.”
    “My dad was a mechanic. I grew up around cars,” he said. “And you never answered my question.”
    “Which one?”
    “What are you doing out here?”
    She sighed. “I was looking for clues we might have missed.”
    “Find any?”
    “Not really.”
    He glanced at her. “You sure?”
    “Yeah. Why?”
    “You seem jumpy.”
    Irritation bubbled up, and she stared out the window. But okay. She’d drawn down on him. He had good reason to think she was paranoid.
    The truck bumped along the road, and she looked at him. She was used to being around big men. SWAT was second only to the military as a destination for jacked-up alpha males. But this one was especially large, and just sitting next to him made her feel small by comparison, weaker. And she didn’t like