Operation Mountain Recovery

by Justine Davis

  “Well, that’s something I’ve not been accused of lately,” she said rather wryly. “And sorry you had to pick it up when it’s gross—”

  “Not. I’ve tasted your sweet mouth, Ash. Nothing gross about it.”

  Her breath caught. Had he really said that, on this open line where everyone could hear?

  “I see you’ve done it again,” Hayley whispered, and Ashley realized she was talking to Cutter. Who looked rather...smug? Could a dog really look smug?

  “Points to you, Cutter. Again.” That was Quinn, sounding nothing less than amused. He believed this, too, this...matchmaking thing? The ex-military man seemed far too cool and tough for such fanciful thinking.

  But it was only a fleeting thought, because Brady’s simple, almost unbearably touching declaration was expanding inside her until there was no room for anything else.

  * * *

  “Foxworth,” Brady said as he and Quinn came back in the house, “has some pretty cool toys.”

  “Necessities to get the job done,” Quinn corrected, but he was grinning.

  “Oh, absolutely,” Brady said, grinning back.

  “I gather you met Teague?” Hayley said, and her smile was wide. This was clearly a woman who didn’t mind her man buying toys.

  “I think it was more that he met the helicopter and, oh yeah, there’s a pilot,” Quinn quipped.

  Brady shrugged, still grinning. The black helicopter coming in to land at the snowy baseball field just outside town had been quite a sight. And he had been a little boggled by the sleek machine and had only belatedly reacted to its pilot. He’d liked the guy right off, though. Quinn had said Johnson was an ex-marine—if there was such a thing—and he could see it in the other man’s bearing and demeanor.

  He was also clearly a heck of a pilot, setting the thing down without a jolt, even amid the snow he’d set flying. And once more he’d been impressed with Foxworth, not just for the helicopter but because of the fact that Quinn had called for it to pick up one small pill. And had promised they’d have results by tomorrow, if not sooner.

  “Boys and their toys,” Hayley said, so lovingly Brady half expected them to vanish into their bedroom momentarily.

  “And,” Quinn added with a pointed look at his wife, “he and Laney have set a date.”

  Hayley’s smile became one of utter delight. “About time. They’ve been engaged nearly a year. When?”

  “May. And he asked if they could do it at Foxworth.”

  “Perfect! The flowers will be glorious, and we can use the same setup we did for our wedding and—”

  Quinn held up a hand in mock self-defense. “You and Laney can plan your hearts out when we get back.”

  Ashley had gotten very quiet, but then, he had no part in this particular conversation, either. As he’d had none when the other Foxworth...operative, for lack of a better word, had informed his boss of the news. Other than noticing Teague Johnson’s besotted grin and feeling a bit...envious.

  But then she spoke, hesitantly and more than a little wary. “Is this one of... Cutter’s successes?”

  Hayley laughed. “Indeed it is. His...third. Second for a Foxworth person, counting us.”

  Brady’s brow furrowed as he looked at the two women. He had no idea what that was about. Wondered if he was better off that way. Ashley looked at him then, and there was something different in her expression, in her green eyes. But it wasn’t anger, although he’d half expected she’d be mad at him for what he’d said on that open connection. He hadn’t really thought about the fact that Quinn and Hayley were listening. He’d only wanted her to stop sounding so shaky. He hadn’t thought about what he was saying, and admitting.

  Hell, he hadn’t been thinking right since she’d crashed into his life.

  He admitted to himself that she wasn’t the only one on tenterhooks about what the Foxworth analysis of the pills she’d been taking would turn up. Although he did wonder if she had wrapped her mind around what all the implications were. He kind of doubted it, given she’d had so much to deal with in such a short time.

  The only thing he was sure about was he was getting damned tired of keeping himself on a short leash around her. There were guys, he even knew a couple, who would take advantage of her situation, her need for help and comfort, or her mental state to get what they wanted, which would be her in bed. More, they’d walk away afterward whistling happily, without a second thought. He’d never, ever understood that. He’d been told he’d been lucky to have his parents, who had loved each other until the day his father had died and beyond, as an example, but it was more than that. It was something he didn’t analyze but knew was bone-deep in him. You just did not treat another person that way.

  But that did not seem to be helping him stop thinking about doing just that. About kissing that mouth—which had indeed been sweet—again, about kissing every inch of that silken skin, about tangling his fingers in that long fall of dark hair, about feeling it slide over his own skin, and—

  He jerked on that mental leash. Again.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 27

  Ashley sat looking out the big front windows of the cabin into the night. The remains of the fire that had warmed the room during the day still glowed on the hearth, and the room was still comfortably warm where she sat on the end of the couch nearest the big stone fireplace.

  It was a clear night, with a nearly full moon, and outside everything seemed to glow almost eerily. It was cold, she guessed, judging by the way what had been snow melting and running off the eaves had frozen into a jagged yet oddly beautiful line of small icicles.

  She was very aware of what was happening. That her mind was racing in that careening way it always had when she’d been faced with a big problem, from possibility to possibility. This was one of the things the drug—whatever it was—had dulled. And when she’d finally given up on sleep and come out here, she’d been worrying if this meant she really did need the stuff.

  A sound from the hallway made her head snap around. She’d tiptoed down the hall, not wanting to disturb anyone, although Quinn and Hayley’s room was at the back of the house.

  Okay, Brady. You didn’t want to disturb Brady. He’s worried enough about you. And he’s already risking so much.

  Even as she thought it, he came into the room. She drew back, as if this shadowy corner of the room could hide her. And then she froze, unable to breathe, as he stepped into a shaft of that silvery moonlight coming in through the big window.

  He’d just pulled on his jeans, and those were only half zipped, giving her a full view of him down to where a narrow trail of dark hair arrowed downward over abs she’d just known would be rock-hard. With that moonlight pouring over his bare torso, he looked like some Greek statue come to life, powerful, muscled...beautiful.

  She thought she’d smothered her gasp, but clearly not, because he spun around. And clearly his vision was well adapted to the dark, because he spotted her instantly.

  “I thought I heard something,” he said, very quietly.

  “I tried to be quiet. I didn’t want to disturb...anyone.”

  “You were. I almost convinced myself I hadn’t really heard anything.”

  “But you had to be sure,” she said.

  “All things considered, yes.”

  “Afraid I’d sneak out in the night and run?” She hadn’t really meant to say that, didn’t believe it, but he had her so disconcerted, standing there, looking like he looked.

  “No.”

  He said it with a quiet firmness that surprised her. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because you have help now. And hope. You’re not alone anymore, Ash, and you won’t give that up easily.”

  How on earth had he come to know her so well? The real her, not the woman who had been crumbling to pieces. “No. I won’t.” Then, with
a sigh, she said, “No one’s called me that since my dad.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “From you? No. I...like it from you.”

  He smiled at that. She could see it even in the dark. Then he was sitting beside her, and she could more than see him—she could feel him, the heat of him, and smell that impossible scent, that mix that reminded her of sitting outside on the patio here, with the snow-covered pines all around.

  “No matter what we find out, you won’t be alone again, Ash. I promise you that.”

  And this man’s promise, you could take to the bank, as her father used to say. She knew it was true, on some gut level that didn’t need her brain to process—it simply was. And her throat tightened at the fierce gentleness in his voice, at the way he was looking at her, so steadily that she could almost feel it. Even in this shadowy corner, she could see the determination in his face, in the set of his jaw. And the strength to carry it out in the muscle of his body, his arms, his neck, his broad, powerful chest...

  “Hey,” he said, reaching out to brush at her cheek with his thumb. Only then did she realize tears were starting to spill from her eyes. “Don’t, Ash. Please. It’ll be okay. One way or another, it will be okay.”

  She couldn’t seem to stop, and the next thing she knew, he was pulling her into his arms. And with his solid warmth wrapped around her, she found the strength to speak. “It wasn’t that. It’s just...it’s been a long time since I’ve been so sure that someone will keep a promise.”

  He went very still for a moment. She looked up at him, so very, very aware of his bare skin beneath her cheek, aware of her palm pressed to the flat, hard ridges of his belly. She could feel the power of him as if it were suddenly made tangible, and heat blasted through her as she thought of what it would be like if she slid her hand downward, if she caressed that hardened flesh she could feel pressing against her thigh.

  That proof that she was not alone in this wanting seared her to the core.

  And then he was kissing her, hungrily, deeply, as if he’d longed for it as much as she had. She opened for him, wanting to taste him, to trace the even ridge of his teeth with her tongue, even as every nerve in her body blazed to life as they never had before this man.

  She moved, pressing against him. Never breaking the kiss, they slid down until they were lying on the couch. She was practically on top of him, but he was holding her, so tight, so close she was barely aware of it. The shaft of moonlight that had poured over him fell across them here, and he seemed more beautiful to her than ever. More everything. Yes, more, she wanted more, she needed more. She needed all of him, in every way she could think of and a few she couldn’t—yet. She wanted to—

  He broke the kiss. She heard him suck in a breath as if he’d forgotten how until now. She knew the feeling.

  “We’ve got to stop, Ashley. You don’t want this.”

  She didn’t like him going back to her full name. Wondered if it was his way of putting a barrier between them. But then the sense of what he’d said registered. And reality slammed back into her. A bitter reality. “Oh, I want it. But I see why you don’t.”

  “Stop it,” he said, rather fiercely. “I want it, want you, more than I’ve ever wanted...anything. But it’s not right. Not now.”

  “How can this—” she reached up to trail a finger over his mouth, felt with satisfaction that he shuddered slightly under the touch “—be not right?”

  “Your life’s in chaos right now, and it’s not right, not fair to you to...go where we were going.”

  “But you said it will be okay.”

  He grimaced. “Hoist with my own petard,” he muttered, and despite herself, despite everything, she laughed. It startled him—she could feel it. That quickly the mood changed. The fire was banked. Far from out, but banked. She was afraid that he would get up, that he would leave.

  “All right, we’ll wait,” she whispered. “But please. Stay.”

  “You have a lot of faith in my restraint.”

  “I have a lot of faith in you, Brady Crenshaw.”

  She felt his arms tighten around her. He shifted them until they were spooned together and pulled her into the curve of his body. She’d never felt safer, more protected.

  And after a few minutes of simply savoring his closeness, she slipped into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  “You’re up early,” Brady said, glad he’d gotten up from the couch and headed in here to start coffee. Otherwise Quinn would have found him draped all over their client, half-naked.

  And hard as a rock, don’t forget that.

  He was glad the kitchen island was masking him from the waist down. But all thought of anything else fled when he saw the expression on Quinn’s face. It was grim.

  “I got the report from the lab.”

  Brady glanced at the clock on the microwave. “At 6:00 a.m.?”

  “What is it?” Ash asked as she joined them. Her long hair was tousled, her eyes still a little sleepy. She had slept, at least, and he was grateful for that. Even if lying there awake, holding her in his arms for hours without pursuing the impossible heat that flared between them, had been more exhausting than his highest-level workout.

  “I think we’ll all need coffee for this,” Quinn said. “Hayley’ll be here in—”

  “Two seconds” came Hayley’s voice from behind him, the promised two seconds before she came into the room.

  Quinn got mugs, and Hayley poured, as if they were truly welcome guests and not people in trouble who had been foisted upon them by chance.

  Or chance and a dog.

  He nearly laughed at his own thought, especially when he glanced at the animal and found him...smiling back at him. Which was impossible, he realized, but that’s what the dog’s satisfied expression looked like.

  When they were all seated around the dining table, Quinn set down his laptop, which was already on. He glanced at Brady, but when he started to speak, his gaze was fixed on Ash, as was Hayley’s.

  “These—” he gestured at the document showing on the screen “—are the test results on the pill. There are two things of crucial importance. First, it was a combination of drugs not commercially available.”

  Ash’s brow furrowed, and Brady frowned. “You mean...what? This was some kind of custom-brewed thing?”

  Quinn nodded. “The shape and size aren’t unusual for an illicit pill factory.”

  Ash’s eyes widened. “Illicit...you mean they were what, some kind of homemade thing? He gave me some crazy drug he made up?”

  Her voice started to rise a little, and Brady reached out to put a hand over hers. “Let’s hear it all, then I’ll blow up with you.”

  She sucked in an audible breath, but nodded.

  “The second thing, and the most important,” Quinn said, looking at Ash steadily, “is that this combination of drugs, in a healthy person, would likely cause every one of your supposed symptoms.”

  * * *

  “You’re not crazy. You never were.”

  Ashley sat, still feeling stunned. She was back on the couch, Hayley beside her. Brady was up and pacing, but he had stopped in front of her to declare the words once more. And all she could manage to do was look up at him.

  He began pacing again. “I knew it. Deep down I knew it all along. Because the woman I saw that day at the accident was no way on the edge the way you thought you were.”

  How had he seen past the surface others saw, the craziness others saw? Because when it came down to it, she had sensed from the beginning he doubted she was truly mentally ill. He had doubted it even when she had been convinced. He had always had that expression of puzzlement when the subject came up, as if he just couldn’t accept it. She’d recognized it because in the beginning, she’d worn the same expression all too often.

  “But...” Oddly, she felt more at sea now tha
n she ever had when she’d believed it. Her processing speed seemed to have slowed to a crawl.

  “I always thought the haze, that layer between me and the word, was...me. That it was just made worse by the meds, because I’d read where that wasn’t unusual.”

  “But it’s been gone since you quit?” Hayley asked.

  She nodded. “I was worse for a while, when I was on the pain pills from the accident, but since I never started up the...whatever this was again, yes, the fog is gone.”

  “What you thought was the effect of the pain pills could also have been withdrawal from the others,” Brady said.

  Even as she acknowledged the sense of what he said, her mind was spinning. This was—She cut off her own thought when she realized she’d been about say it was crazy. She doubted she would ever use the word casually again. Wondered if that was how people who truly had mental health problems felt when they heard people toss the word around so easily.

  People who truly had problems.

  She was not one of them.

  It still seemed impossible. She was reeling nearly as much as the first time she’d had to believe she was one of them.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, almost desperately. “Why? Why would he do this?”

  “Right now I don’t give a damn why,” Brady snapped.

  “There’s a word for this,” Hayley said, and she sounded furious.

  Brady nodded, then turned around to look directly at Ashley. And when he spoke, his voice was flat, yet fierce. “You’re being gaslighted.”

  Chapter 28

  “That’s impossible.” Ashley looked more stunned than ever. Brady hated to see that look on her face, but he understood. And he was, inwardly, feeling a tiny, growing kernel of relief.

  She wasn’t mentally ill.

  It rang over and over in his head, like some cacophony of mountain squirrel chatter. But this was not the time to even think about the fact that what had been holding him back with her had just vanished. Right now she was even less ready for that than before. He resumed his pacing, needing to burn off at least some of this pulsing, raging anger.