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Wade’s head dropped forward on his chest. Earning Samantha’s forgiveness was going to be harder than hell. It was one thing to say that he’d faked his death so she and Jenny would be safe, and another to prove it.
“You’re in big trouble.” Ty hunkered down beside him on the hill. “Consider yourself lucky that all she did was throw you on the ground and slap on the cuffs.”
The handcuffs were mostly a joke between them. Long ago during a particularly wild session in their bedroom, he’d shown her how to pick these locks. With his hands still behind his back, he dug into his pocket for the Swiss Army knife he always carried. His gaze locked with Ty’s. He wanted to trust this guy he’d known since high school, wanted to believe that Ty was on his side 100 percent. Ty was one of a handful of lawmen who knew Wade had faked his death. He’d been nothing but supportive. But Wade had been betrayed by others. He had to be careful.
While he opened the knife and went to work on the cuffs, he said, “Kind of a coincidence, don’t you think?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You and Samantha just happened to be on this particular stretch of road. You just happened to find Morrissey’s body.”
“Accusing me? Really?” Ty sat back on his heels. “You’re a real piece of work, Wade. Do you really think I’d put Sam in danger?”
He wasn’t sure what he thought or whom he believed in. “How did you get to be here? In this particular spot?”
“I sure as hell wouldn’t call down an ambush on myself.”
“Tell me,” Wade said.
“Sam received a call from the fire marshal, who told her that the chopper pilot spotted three hikers near Horny Toad Creek. The marshal couldn’t spare the manpower to pick them up, so Sam volunteered, since we were in the area.”
Ty’s story sounded plausible and bore no resemblance to the conspiracy theories that were running rampant in Wade’s head. It wasn’t likely that the pilot, the marshal and Ty were in cahoots. Still, he said, “And why were you and Sam in this area in the first place?”
“I asked Sam to come with me while I checked out the safe house. And, yes, I had an ulterior motive. As soon as I heard about your escape, I figured you’d hightail it back here. And I wanted to warn Sam, maybe even take her and Jenny into protective custody.”
“The hell you will.” The pocketknife he was using to pick the cuffs slid across the metal and nipped into his thumb. “I know what protective custody is like. I’m not putting my wife and child through that.”
“How are we going to keep them safe? When word gets out that you’re alive, the cartel will use them. They’ll threaten harm to your family unless you turn yourself over to them.”
Wade wasn’t sure how many people knew that he was still alive and waiting to testify against a former DEA agent and a member of the Esteban cartel who were in prison awaiting trial. He was the witness who could make sure those men were convicted of murder, conspiracy, drug trafficking and gun smuggling. His testimony would seal the deal...if he lived long enough to get into the courtroom.
“I’ve got a bad feeling,” Wade said. “I think too many people already know.”
“Is that why you broke out?”
“You make it sound like a great escape.”
“Wasn’t it?”
“Nothing so dramatic,” he said. “After this last trip to the federal courthouse in Austin where—as you know—the trial was delayed for the seventh time, I went back to the safe-house motel with my handlers. Later that night, I climbed out the bedroom window.”
“You just quietly sneaked out, huh? I heard you knocked both guards unconscious. One of them has a bad concussion.”
“Not true. I wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
Ty cast a cynical gaze at the carnage spread across this smoky mountain meadow. “Yeah, you’re a peaceful pussycat.”
“I’m telling you that if my handlers were injured, I didn’t do it. Whoever hit them could have been after me.”
“None of the people who know you’re alive have reason to want you dead.”
Wade thought differently. Three days ago in Austin when he was leaving the courthouse, he caught a glimpse of a face he’d seen before. He didn’t know the man’s name but seeing him set off alarm bells. He needed to get back here, back to Samantha and Jenny as quickly as possible.
He regarded Ty with a steady gaze. His friend’s easygoing manner was well suited to his ranching background, but Wade wasn’t fooled for a minute. This laid-back cowpoke could move as fast as a rattlesnake’s strike. Ty was sharp and smart. He was a good man; he’d earned an FBI Shield of Valor for his work on a kidnapping case.
The question was: To trust him or not to trust him? Even if Ty was brave and loyal, he was also a federal agent who wouldn’t want to risk his job. “I’m going to ask you for a favor, Ty.”
“Shoot.”
“Don’t tell anyone you saw me today.”
Vertical worry lines creased between his brows. “That’s asking a lot, brother. Those guys you shot are going to mention the mystery rifleman. And the forensic investigators are going to find bullets from the rifle.”
Wade nodded toward the gun on the ground. “There it is. You can say that you were using it.”
“You got it from the safe house, didn’t you?”
“The rifle and two handguns,” Wade said dismissively. There were more important issues at stake. Yes, he’d breached the sanctity of a federal safe house. So what? The place was never used. “I’m asking you for twenty-four hours. By nightfall tomorrow, I’ll know what I need to do.”
“I knew you spent the night in the safe house. As soon as I walked through the door, I could see that the dust on the floor had been disturbed.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, and I ran water in the sink. And I ate a can of beans, left a dirty cup and messed up the sheets in the bedroom. Sue me.” He heard a tiny click as the lock on his cuffs sprang open. “I need you to focus. Will you give me twenty-four hours?”
“If you can convince Sam, I’ll do it.”
Wade wished he was more sure of himself as he watched Samantha hike up the hill and stand beside Ty. Turning her profile to Wade, she spoke to his friend.
“My dispatcher contacted police and ambulance services in Glenwood Springs. They said they’d be here in half an hour, but I’m guessing it’ll take longer. We need to do as much first aid as we can.”
“I’ll work on the guy by the sedan. And I’ll get a tarp from your SUV to throw over Morrissey’s body. His lieutenant is on his way. He’ll want to see that we’re showing respect.”
“Even if Morrissey doesn’t deserve it,” Wade put in.
“Truer words never spoken.” Ty backed down the hill. “I’m going to leave you two alone now.”
Her thumbs hooked in her belt, she tilted her head down and stared at the buffalo grass beneath her boots. She’d left her hat in the SUV, and he noticed that her braided chestnut-brown hair wasn’t as shiny as it used to be. Still beautiful but a little bit thin, her hair looked as if she hadn’t been able to spend much time taking care of it. Managing the responsibilities of the sheriff’s office was a lot of work.
A new wave of guilt splashed over him. Though he’d made sure that all her bills would be paid, he’d left her with a lot of loose ends. “Samantha?”
Her lower lip stuck out in a pout. “What?”
Her features weren’t as tense as they’d been before. The deep sorrow had faded. The anger was gone, too. With a shock, he realized that he couldn’t read her mood. They used to be in perfect harmony, perfect understanding. He’d lost that connection.
“Samantha, look at me.”
She slanted a gaze in his direction. “I don’t know what to do.”
He swung his arms apart and made a grand gesture to show the cuffs dangling from his left wrist with the right side completely free.
“Ta-da!” He jumped to his feet. Like a magician, he took a bow. “The Great Wade has escaped the surly bonds.”
Her blue eyes twinkled as though she was about to laugh. Instead, her chest heaved and a harsh sob exploded through her lips. In reaction, she slapped her hands over her mouth.
He caught her before she could run away from him. Gently, he peeled her hands away from her face and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. Her mouth trembled as she held back tears.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “Everything is going to be all right.”
Sobs overwhelmed her. He gathered her close and cuddled her against his chest, holding her shoulders while she poured out a torrent of tears. He patted her shoulders and stroked her hair, her silky-soft hair that smelled of flowery shampoo in spite of the fire and the smoke.
More than anything, he wanted to tell her that he loved her. This was the wrong time, too soon. And he was scared. Wade Calloway wasn’t afraid of much. He was tough enough to take on a dozen rotten cops and a drug cartel, but he knew that Samantha could destroy him. If she denied his love or had given up on loving him, he might as well be dead.
“I have to go,” he whispered to her. Ty had mentioned an officer with the state patrol was on his way, and then there would be the ambulances.
“I know.” Her deep shuddering sobs had subsided to sniffles. Using his shirt, she wiped her face. “I heard some of the stuff you were telling Ty. You want to keep up the pretense that you’re dead.”
“And if the wrong people know I’m still alive and kicking, you and Jenny could be threatened.” Her nose was red, and her cheeks were puffy from crying, but he thought she looked adorable. “You can’t tell anybody you saw me. Within twenty-four hours, I’ll have this straightened out.”
With her right hand, she reached behind her back. Keeping her voice low so Ty wouldn’t overhear, she showed Wade his fancy Colt .45 with copper-inlaid handle. “I found this in the car with Morrissey, and I’m guessing it was put there to throw suspicion on you.”
“Good guess.” He took the gun from her and stuck it into his belt at the small of his back. “You kept this gun locked up at the house, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “They must have broken in to get it.”
A thief had violated the home he and Samantha had built together, their sanctuary, the house where their daughter slept. “Did you notice the break-in?”
She shook her head. “Half the time I leave the doors unlocked.”
“That stops now,” he said. “You can’t trust anyone. Understand? Not anyone.”
“What about Ty?”
Much as he hated to cast suspicion on his friend, Wade would rather err by being too cautious. “Trust him but keep your guard up.”
“Of course I would. Ty told me a whopper of a lie about my husband being killed in the Roaring Fork River. Oh, wait, you told me that very same lie.” Her bloodshot eyes narrowed. “Can I trust you, Wade?”
“I’ll make this up to you. I promise.”
“Not what I want to hear.” She gripped the front of his plaid flannel shirt with both hands and pulled him close. “You need to listen to me, listen hard. You’ve spent a year trying to handle this by yourself. Don’t make that mistake again.”
“What do you mean?”
“You need me.” She released his shirt and stepped back. “You need my help.”
She was right. During the past year, Samantha had proved she was capable of taking care of herself, their child and the entire population of Swain County.
He couldn’t ask for a better partner.
Chapter Five (#ulink_20aecefb-a395-5763-bcc7-4f1ff500922a)
Sam’s first-aid kit was suitable for scraped knees and poison-ivy rashes. Not life-threatening injuries. She knelt beside the unconscious man with the shoulder wound, which she had managed to bandage while still keeping his hands cuffed behind his back.
Wade had slipped out of his cuffs easily, which was as she’d expected. Arresting him was more of a symbolic gesture, a way of showing him that she refused to be ignored and would never be kept out of the loop again.
She still couldn’t believe it. Her husband was back. He was alive. She wiped the smile from her face and tamped down her sense memory of how his arms felt when he embraced her and how his lips tasted when they kissed. Not now! She had to wait, couldn’t allow her emotions to run rampant. And the anticipation was making her as edgy as a prairie dog surrounded by lawn mowers.
Her focus needed to stay on the practical aspects of how to handle his return from the dead. He’d promised to talk to her later tonight. The waiting was hard, but she believed him when he said it was necessary. And he’d spoken of possible danger to Jenny.
A worse brand of anxiety sped through Sam’s veins when she thought of her daughter. Jenny was her precious girl with jagged bangs across her forehead that she’d cut all by herself and a strong singing voice that the church choir director said was remarkable. If anything happened to her precious five-year-old daughter...
Sam’s attention returned to the injured man. He wasn’t bleeding badly, but his chest heaved as though he was struggling for breath. A punctured lung? Internal bleeding? Where the hell were the ambulances?
If he died, it was her fault. Never mind that she hadn’t fired the bullet that caused his wound. It didn’t matter that the injured man was trying to shoot her and Ty before he was brought down by the expert marksmanship of her husband. Sam was the sheriff; therefore, she was responsible.
A fat lot of good all her training did. Yes, she was certified in CPR. Yes, she’d taken dozens of first-aid classes from the Red Cross. She’d heard of sucking chest wounds and septic shock and all sorts of emergency treatments for all sorts of injuries. However, until this moment, she’d never had to test those procedures.
She needed help. Why were the ambulances taking so long? She had to get out of here, had to get back to Jenny.
She stood and called to Ty. “I’ve got an idea. We could forget about the ambulances, load these guys into my SUV and drive them to the hospital. It’d be faster.”
He was in the road, standing over the first man he’d shot, the dead man. In his gloved hand, he held a wallet. Though she was at least thirty feet away from him, she heard him muttering under his breath. Angrily, he wheeled around and shook the wallet at her. “Do you know who this guy is?”
How could she possibly know? “I’m sorry. Why should I recognize him?”
“Do you ever look at the BOLOs we send you?”
A bunch of law-enforcement offices, ranging from the FBI to the local Fish and Game warden, sent out computer notices or faxes of APBs and BOLOs to “be on the lookout” for certain license plates or vehicles or individuals. She always took a look at them and often hung them on the bulletin board. Ultimately, they became scrap paper that she handed to Jenny, who drew pictures with crayon or marker on the back. Passing a BOLO to her kid wasn’t something she’d mention to Ty. She’d once caught Jenny drawing lipstick and purple eye shadow on a felon’s mug shot.
Her ears pricked up as she heard the sound of a motorcycle engine cranking to life. Ty had heard it, too. He glared up the hill toward the place where Wade had disappeared into the trees.
“Oh, that’s just great,” Ty growled.
“A motorcycle,” she said. “Why is that a problem?”
“I’m guessing that your husband swiped a very nice little Honda from the safe house. A good bike, it’s got heavy tread for off-road and goes a decent speed on the highway.”
“He wouldn’t have taken it if he didn’t need it.”
“But it belongs to the FBI.”
“Don’t even think about whining. I had to dig deep into my sheriff’s department budget to buy disposable smoke masks, and the FBI can afford to leave an entire house standing empty.”
“Point taken.” His tone became more conciliatory. “I just hope he doesn’t wreck it, that’s all.”
She walked down the hill toward him. “Let’s get back to what you were talking about. Tell me who our dead man is.”
“Tony Reyes,” he said. “He works for the Esteban cartel, and he’s on the short list of Most Wanted for both the US and Mexico.”
She’d heard horror stories about the drug cartels: beheadings, torture, brutal murders of women and children, and human trafficking that amounted to a slave trade. Never in her wildest imagination had Sam thought she’d be in contact with this type of criminal. Swain County was a lazy little territory with one semicharming town and a couple of local ranches. Nothing ever happened here, and that was the way she liked it.
