Free Broken Bonds by Karen Harper

said into the phone. “I’ll be right in. Order me some breakfast from the dining room to be brought to my office, okay?”
    “A recurve bow?” she asked when he punched Off.
    “A crossbow with a real punch, but luckily it arched upward and caught the door on the downward trajectory—that’s what I’m suspecting, anyway. But the arrow we took out of the door doesn’t look like ones online. I read that you can unscrew the metal tips and reuse them. I wonder if the shooter makes his own shafts and fletching. Mention that to Gabe when you show him the arrow.”
    She walked closer. If he’d used the bathroom, she hadn’t heard him in there. His clothes were wrinkled but he looked awake and alert. The only way she’d know he’d been here all night was his beard stubble—black, like his hair but flecked with silver.
    “So,” he said as she plugged in the coffeepot that sat on the wooden counter. “Are we still on to visit the McKitrick family later today?”
    “You’re willing to go back up on Pinecrest after what happened there—and here?”
    He came into the kitchenette, turned her toward him and took her shoulders in a light grip. “I refuse to let someone spook me. As stubborn as you are—”
    “Strong-minded.”
    “Right. You ought to understand that I’m not going to turn tail and run. I want to get to the bottom of this.”
    “Me, too. We’ll go in my truck.”
    “And I’ll bring a gun, just in case.”
    “You have a gun?”
    “And a rifle. Which I never touch, but I’ve got a license for both weapons. I prefer shooting below par on the golf course. How about three o’clock? And we’ll be careful we’re not followed.”
    “I’ll pick you up at the lodge?”
    “Good. And you know, despite what’s happened, it feels right to be with you.”
    “Me, too—the same.”
    He bent to kiss her cheek. His beard stubble brushed her skin. “Pinecrest Mountain, here we come again. And watch yourself until then.”
    “Matt, that archery range down near the tennis courts—does anyone shoot recurve crossbows there?”
    “Not that I’ve seen. Strictly Robin Hood, Boy Scout stuff, but I’ll ask Ginger, our instructor. You are heading out right after me, aren’t you?”
    “As soon as I get my shot of battery acid here,” she said, indicating the coffee. “Can I pour you a cup?”
    “Sure. To go, please. I have a meeting at eight. You’ve got my cell number, so call me today if anything seems strange.”
    He took the coffee she poured into her own travel cup and headed out.
    If anything seems strange,
he’d said. Oh, yeah, a lot seemed strange. How strong her feelings were for him. Deep concern that someone might be out to kill him—or now, her. And a little bit of mistrust for two thoughts she’d had last night but was trying to ignore. First, that the weird arrow attack gave weight to advice from Matt and her family that she shouldn’t stay in the cabin, but surely that could not be a setup or warning from any of them. Worse, that before Matt turned his brights on last night, he’d blinked his headlights as if it were a signal to someone out in the darkness of the trees.
    * * *
    “You weren’t home last night at all, were you?” Royce asked, popping his head into Matt’s office door, then stepping in. Matt had a suite of offices on the first floor of the lodge, and Royce always stayed upstairs in the guest suite while his assistant, Orlando, took one of the smaller rooms.
    “I turned off my phone for a while,” Matt told him, looking up from his laptop. Next to it was the tray with the remnants of his hastily eaten breakfast.
    “It upset me, considering what happened to you. I was worried. So I had Orlando go over and knock on your door—no dice—no Matt.”
    “I was with a friend.”
    “Really? Let me guess. A lady friend?” he asked with a wink.
    Matt decided not to play that game. Char and his feelings for her were strictly his business, at least for now. After all, Royce