Page 68 of Take a Hike
“Sorry,” she said breathlessly as she burst from the locker room. “I started talking to one of the members about the gym. Really nice woman. She loves this place. It was hard to get her to stop praising you guys. I think we’ve seen everything we need to in order to make our decision. Right, honey?” she widened her eyes at Kieran, trying to let him know she’d found something without being too obvious about it.
She must’ve succeeded, since he actually spoke instead ofgrunted. “Yeah. Thanks for the tour.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her toward the front exit.
“Thank you, Chad,” Charlie called over her shoulder, walking as fast as she could while still looking casual. “We’ll be back in soon to sign up. I’ll let Mark know that you were a great tour guide.”
Chad looked baffled and still irritated, but he just shrugged and headed in the opposite direction.
“Found it?” Kieran asked under his breath, shoving open one of the front doors and waiting for her to walk through.
“Foundsomething,” she muttered, continuously scanning the area as they crossed the road and hurried back to the chiropractor’s office where the truck was parked. She was feeling utterly conspicuous, as if the contents of the grocery bag were lighting up with flashing red lights. “Didn’t have a chance to check what’s inside, but the size and weight are right for the you-know-what.”
“One down, one to go.” When she shot him a confused look, he clarified, “Let’s go find your mom.” Instead of looking grim, he seemed almost eager for the chase.
She grinned at him. “It’s like you’re a boyfriend-bot, made in a factory to my very particular specifications.”
“Thanks?”
“You’re welcome.” The words were distracted when she caught a glimpse of Dave trying to hide in the shadows behind a too-small hedge. The area was much too well-lit to hide Dave or his lack of skills. Swallowing a satisfied smile, she hurried toward the passenger door of Kieran’s truck. “Let’s go back to Simpson.”
Kieran frowned but waited until they were both inside the cab before asking, “Why are we going back to Simpson? Shouldn’t we turn the necklace in to the police first?”
“Nope. This’ll only work if we have the necklaceandJane.”
“There are five treasure hunters watching us right now.” He started the engine. “Won’t we be sitting ducks once we’re in the middle of nowhere?”
“There are six, actually, and they’re just where we want them to be.”
The slant of his eyebrows conveyed his skepticism, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned west out of the parking lot. “Simpson it is then.”
“Thank you, perfect boyfriend-bot.” She ignored the scowl he sent her way, her brain too busy with the details of her plan. She pulled the bag from her pocket and peeked inside before holding it open so Kieran could see. “All this hassle over some sparkly rocks.”
His grunt sounded like agreement. “Not a fan of diamonds?”
“Nope. Waste of money.” She tucked the bag holding the necklace back in her pocket. “There’s too much fun stuff to buy instead.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, better spy tech for Fifi, fun nerdy computer stuff for Norah, tuition for Cara, a new car for Moo—or at least a new paint job so people quit bugging her to sell them weed wherever she goes—”
“What?”
“You’ll understand when you see it. Oh, there’s a Target. Let’s stop for travel snacks.”
This time, his look was knowing. “Why do I have the feeling we’re stopping for more than food?”
Leaning over, she kissed him on the cheek, her heart nearly bursting at his utter perfection. “Because you’re a smart man.”
With a smile he apparently wasn’t able to completely fight off, Kieran turned into the Target lot.
Sixteen
“Quit fussing,” Charlie scolded. “It looks good on you.”
“I’m not really a hoodie guy,” he complained for the hundredth time since she’d grabbed it off the rack at Target and held it up to his chest. “I run hot.” He tugged at the neckline, also for the hundredth time, as if that would magically create more room for his admittedly thick neck.
“Yeah, you do. Are you more of a bare-chest-beneath-bunker-gear type of guy then?” she asked with put-on innocence.
He shot her a glare but quit yanking at the sweatshirt.
