скачать книгу бесплатно
“Yes.”
The honesty was pretty hot, too. Still, Holt knew his plan provided the right answer. “We call the police. We file a report. The report gets back to the New Foundations folks and my cover holds. With all that in place, it becomes that much harder for them to grab you.”
She shrugged. “Or I could leave town.”
A good plan. The smart one. For some reason not one he liked very much. “That’s the better option, but I was betting you’d say no if I suggested it.”
“Why?”
“In addition to the fact that you seem to question everything I say?”
The corner of her mouth lifted in what looked like an almost-smile. “I’m tempted to deny that, but I fear it would prove your point.”
Since he felt as though he actually won that round, he answered the original question. “The people I’m protecting usually refuse to leave their homes, family, friends...you get the picture.”
He’d heard the refrain so many times that he was starting to believe Connor’s argument that people valued family and home above all else. Not one to stick around in one place for very long, Holt didn’t really get it.
He had people in his life he’d die for and a job he loved, but the whole craving a home thing never registered with him. Maybe it stemmed from having a father more dedicated to the army than his kids.
Maybe it was what happened when the person you trusted most left you to die on an abandoned stretch of dirt road in Afghanistan. Holt suspected that didn’t help, but it didn’t really matter how he got to the emotional freeze-out, because that was his reality and he didn’t see it changing.
“You do this a lot?” she asked.
“Rescue? Yeah, it’s all I do.” All he knew.
The final bit of tension zapping around the room ceased. “So you can actually shoot that thing?”
He followed her gaze to his gun. The one she could see. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re not a handyman.”
It was his turn to shrug. “I’m handy.”
“Oh, really?”
“I’ve got skills.” He needed to pull back. Knew it but didn’t.
Her expression changed then. “Are you flirting with me?”
So tempting. “That would be bad form, since two guys just tried to kick my butt.” He needed to stay on his feet and aware, though he could understand why she asked. His gaze kept wandering. So did his thoughts.
Not good at all.
“I don’t understand any of what’s going on tonight. I’ve seen you around town. I stay away from the camp and never say anything about what goes on there.” She broke away and walked toward the kitchen, then paced back.
She walked with her movements jerky for the first time. Frustration pulsed off her.
Yeah, he needed this intel. He felt for her, but she talked about knowing what happened in the camp. Didn’t say she “heard” tales. No, she had personal knowledge. He’d bet on it. “You’re saying you don’t know what you did to upset the New Foundations people?”
“Of course I do.”
Round and round they went. She gave new meaning to the term pulling teeth. “And?”
“My entire life is dedicated to ruining that place.”
Bingo. “Well, then...”
She pointed in the general direction of the front door. “They don’t know that.”
“Clearly they do.” And she had him curious. Her hatred sounded personal. That could mean she once lived there. She might know about former members. People his team needed to interview.
“You are not the only one working undercover. For me, it’s more like working underground.” She went back to pacing. “And up until tonight no one ever bothered me. I live just far enough away, keep my name out of the papers and protests. I drive miles outside of my way just so I can avoid driving near the entrance.”
When he couldn’t take the quiet tap of her bare feet against the hardwood one more second, he stepped in front of her. “Maybe someone recognized you.”
He needed more details but decided not to press because whatever the reason, she’d landed on someone’s radar screen. That meant the life she knew and protected was over.
Her head snapped up. “It could be worse than that.”
“How?”
Tension tightened her features again. “Someone up there must have figured out who I really am.”
Chapter Three (#ulink_d47c816f-b4c5-5f95-bd66-16a7712a8ea1)
Simon Falls leaned back in his desk chair. The only desk chair on the property. Everyone else preferred mats and cushy chairs. He wanted a stiff-backed seat that put him face-to-face with the monitors on the wall and in front of him. Security feeds, including two rotating video shots of places in town.
Now was not the time to descend into touchy-feely madness. He’d leave the talk about privacy and personal space to the workshop leaders. No one paid him to hold hands. His job came down to one simple idea: protect the camp at any cost. A task that would be easier if everyone did their job, which brought his mind back to this meeting.
He tapped his pen against the desk blotter as he stared at the two men he depended on to handle trouble. This time they’d failed him. He’d handed them one assignment—grab the girl and bring her back unharmed.
They’d run into trouble and had all sorts of excuses. Only one interested Simon.
“What man?” When neither underling answered him, Simon tried again. “At the house. Give me the identity.”
“It was Hank Fletcher, one of the newer guys on our staff.” Todd Burdock, the best shot in the camp, gave his assessment while standing at attention.
Simon turned the information over in his mind. “You’re saying Hank is dating Lindsey Pike.”
Todd frowned as if he were choosing his words carefully. “I’m saying he was sleeping over.”
Grant Whiddle nodded. “No question they’re together.”
None of that information matched the surveillance. Simon watched Lindsey. Had watched her for months once the whispers started and the background investigation ran him into a wall. “Since when?”
Todd shook his hand. “I don’t know.”
Not a sufficient answer, and the man should know that. Simon did not countenance failure. Not here. Not on his watch. “Find out.”
“We can call him in,” Grant suggested.
Simon knew that was the exact wrong answer. That was the reason he ran camp security and the two in front of him didn’t.
“Hank is not to know we were behind tonight’s incident.” That would make tracking impossible, and now Simon had a new person to track. “No, this needs to be handled differently. Who does Hank know at the compound?”
“No one. He sticks to himself,” Todd said without giving eye contact. Then again, he never did.
But Hank was the issue here. A loner. No surprise there. They littered the camp. Disillusioned men who needed a purpose filled the beds and the coffers. They came with what little they owned and handed it over in exchange for a promise.
Simon remembered tagging Hank as one of those types during his interview. Dishonorably discharged for firing when any sane person would fire. He had potential plus a gift for shooting. And he might still work out, but that didn’t mean the Lindsey Pike connection could be ignored.
“He lives at the bunkhouse.” Simon knew because he’d assigned Hank the space. “Is this his first night away from the compound since arriving?”
Grant gave Todd a quick look before speaking. “No.”
That didn’t quite match up with Simon’s view of the man or with what Simon saw on the monitors day after day. Hank did his job, never wavered, rarely asked questions. But everyone had an agenda, and Simon would find Hank’s.
“We need a closer watch on him. I want every minute accounted for, including those with Lindsey.” Especially those with Lindsey.
“So we’re not bringing her up to camp now?” Grant asked.
The question screeched across Simon’s nerves. So stupid. That was the problem with hired guns. They didn’t always come with brains. “You can’t very well try to drag her out of her house two nights in a row. She’ll be expecting you.”
Grant shook his head. “But we’ll be expecting Hank this time. We can take another guy and—”
Enough. “The original mission is on hold until we know more about Hank.” Simon dismissed them by returning to watch his monitors.
Todd cleared his voice. “She is potentially dangerous, sir.”
“She is.” Simon stared at the men again. “So am I. You would both be wise to remember that.”
* * *
THE COUNTY SHERIFF’S office proved less helpful than Lindsey had expected. She didn’t want to file a report or even involve law enforcement. That opened the door into an investigation, which meant someone could stumble over pieces of her past. Pieces she’d kept hidden for years.
“Vagrants.” Deputy Carver made that announcement after his walk-through of her house.
The guy had been on the job for about eight months. He’d earned it the old-fashioned way, by taking over when his father had a heart attack. The elder Frank Carver went into the hospital and then rehab and now waited out his disability leave at home as he worked to get his strength back.
The younger Frank Carver stepped in. Never mind he was green and over his head, he’d grown up in this town. Knew everyone by name.
What Frank Carver, Jr., with his red hair and cheeks stained red the way they did anytime he talked with anyone, lacked in experience, he made up for in sheer shooting ability and endurance. He’d simply been tagging along after his father long enough to be considered a fixture. Combine that with the town’s love and loyalty to his father, and the kid wasn’t going anywhere.
He wasn’t doing anything to help her either. She fought the urge to say “I told you so” to Holt. Settled for mouthing it instead.
The deputy had done exactly what she’d predicted—nothing. No forensics. No photos. He just walked around with Holt at his heels.
“No other answer, really.” Deputy Carver took a closer look at the doorjamb. Studied it. Even got up on his tiptoes since the thick-soled shoes only put him at five nine, and that was just barely. “You said they weren’t kids.”
Holt stood there, studying whatever Deputy Carver studied and shaking his head. “These were grown men.”
“Good thing you were here, then, Mr. Fletcher.” Deputy Carver shot Holt a man-to-man look.
“You can call me Hank.”
She was impressed Holt refrained from rolling his eyes. At six-foot-something, he towered over the kid. Also looked as if he could break the deputy in half. The contrast in their sizes and confidence, styles and stance could not have been more pronounced. At twenty-four, Frank Jr. had to be a decade or so younger than Holt, but the difference in maturity shone through.
Not that she was looking...but she couldn’t really stop looking. Recognizing Holt standing in her house had shaken her. He didn’t belong there. She’d locked the doors, performed her nightly safety check. But that wasn’t what had her rattled to the point where her teeth still chattered.
No, she’d been thinking about him. A lot, every day, at odd times. Ever since she’d seen him in town weeks before, he’d played a role in her dreams. The quiet stranger who walked into town, didn’t ask questions and swept her right into the bed. Pure fantasy wrapped in a tall, dark and dangerous package. The broad shoulders and trim waist, the coal-black hair and the hint in his features of Asian ancestry.
She blamed the dark eyes and brooding look. That was why she stared. She’d see him around town and she’d watch, her gaze following him, then skipping away when he’d look back. The whole thing made her feel like a naughty teen, but it had been so long since she’d felt anything for a man that she welcomed the sensation.
“I’d hate to think what could have happened,” Deputy Carver said, droning on.
Holt waved the younger man off. “But it didn’t, so we’re good.”
She tried to ignore the deputy’s attempts at male bonding and the way both men talked around her, as if she weren’t even in the room.
But this was her house. Her life. “For the record, I can use a gun.”
“Of course.” The deputy didn’t even spare her a glance before talking to Holt again. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Are you new in town?”
“I work odd jobs at New Foundations.”
Lindsey couldn’t figure out if this amounted to the deputy’s attempt to question Holt or if the younger man was so enamored that the staring reflected some sort of weird hero worship. Either way, it was getting late and she needed to clean up and get to bed.
“Good work. Good people up there.” Frank Jr. tucked the small pad of paper back into his pocket without ever taking a note.
“Yeah, right.” Not that anyone asked her, but she threw the words out there anyway. When Holt smiled, she figured he at least got her point about being ignored.
“And you’re with Ms. Pike.” The comment came out of the blue.
Holt didn’t show any outward reaction. She had to bite back a groan.
Here we go. “Are you asking about my love life?” She really wanted to know.
“Of course not.” The deputy looked at her for the first time. A short look. Long enough to frown, but that was about it. “Just making an observation.”
“We’re together.” Holt inched closer to her.
She hadn’t actually noticed him moving, but one second he stood by the door and the next he stood beside her. She concentrated for a second, tried to block out the whoosh of blood through her ears and the comforting feel of his hand low on her back. Long fingers. A warm palm.
She almost choked, and not from fear. No, this churning felt much more like excitement.
“We’ll let you know if we find anything, but I’m sure this was a once and done. Probably someone looking for drugs or money for drugs.” The deputy took out his car keys. He hadn’t run down the porch steps but looked two seconds away from taking off.
Holt’s questions stopped him. “Is there a big drug problem around here?”
