he saw the driver, a dark
figure hunched in the driver’s seat.
The Buick suddenly sped up and shot down the highway. Dylan managed to catch the first three
letters of the license plate number from where he was standing.
It might have been nothing, but his spine continued to tingle. He had automatically memorized
everything, and he pulled out his phone. He entered the information into the database application
and in moments a name and address popped up for a white Buick, along with the rest of the license
plate number. Jorge Perez. Dylan didn’t recognize the individual’s name, but he saved the
information for later.
When he finished, he looked to see that the others had shed their coats, too, and waited for
Dylan to reach them before they walked into the pizza joint.
The place was formerly a rundown building that had gone through several changes of
ownership. It had only recently been remodeled and rechristened the Puma Den, the same name it
had been called when they’d been in high school, when it had been the local teenage hangout.
The interior wasn’t a lot different. It was still casual with plain white walls, and the menu consisted
28
***
of one thing: pizza. Just about any traditional topping possible could be ordered. While the others
found an empty table with bench seats, Dylan and Tom went to the front to order two pizzas with
everything on them. They included anchovies on one-half of one in honor of Nate, who’d loved the
small fish on his slices.
Dylan and Tom joined the table where the other four in their group sat. Dylan placed his Stetson
beside him on the bench seat. He sat directly across from Belle who was avoiding his gaze.
He looked at her, drinking in the sight of the woman who had grown from the girl he had loved
so much that it had been a physical pain in his chest when she’d left. Gut wrenching pain that hadn’t
gone away for years. Maybe it had never gone away.
While they waited for the pizzas to be made and delivered to their table, they took turns talking
about what they’d done since they’d last seen each other. The sadness and pain of Nate’s death
hung over them, regardless of the fact that they’d discussed how Nate would dislike them dwelling
on his death.
The pizzas were delivered in good time, and their conversation continued.
Dylan couldn’t stop watching Belle. It was like a magnet kept drawing his gaze to her. He wanted
to reach out and touch her. He wanted to take her into his arms and hold her tightly to him.
God, but she was beautiful. She had on little makeup and had pulled her damp hair away from
her face into a ponytail. Her cheekbones seemed more pronounced and her eyes somehow bigger.
He’d always loved the color of her eyes, a blue that was almost a shade of violet, like Elizabeth
Taylor’s had been.
When it came down to Dylan’s and Belle’s turns to talk, they looked at each other at the same
time. A world of unspoken communication traveled between them. He could see how much she didn’t
want to talk about her past, but he wanted to know all of what had happened with her since she’d
left.
Her fair cheeks reddened slightly, but she spoke clearly and calmly. “Why don’t you go next,
Dylan?”
He wanted to tell her no, that he had to hear her story first. Instead, he set his third slice of pizza
on the plate in front of him. “After finishing high school I went to Arizona State and got my BS from
the School of Criminology and Criminal Justice.”
Belle didn’t take her gaze from his as he spoke. Despite his training and natural instincts,
everything around him seemed to slip away, and it was like he and Belle were the only two sitting at
the table.
He pushed his plate away and rested his forearms on the table. “I was recruited by the federal
government right out of college, and the next thing I knew I was training at FLETC and have been
working in one branch or another ever since.”
“Isn’t that
King Abdullah II, King Abdullah