Going to Extremes

by Amanda Stevens

  Aidan drew a breath. He hadn’t expected that, either.

  She pushed her chair back and stood. “I need a little breathing room if you don’t mind.”

  “Sorry.” He straightened and moved away from the table.

  She clasped her hands in front of her, seemingly at a loss for a moment. “It started just before the bombing of the federal building here in Montana five years ago,” she said hesitantly. She picked up the tray from the table and carried it into the kitchen, as if she needed something to do. She stood at the sink for a moment, then glanced back at him. “I need to tell you something. Something about me. About the way I was back then. I’m not making excuses for what happened, I just…need you to know the whole story.”

  Aidan nodded. “I’m listening.”

  The words seemed to pour out of her then, as if she’d had her story bottled up for far too long. She leaned against the kitchen counter and folded her arms. “My first job as a journalist was with the Washington Sun. I was one of their rising stars, a female Logan Wilson, they called me. They groomed me, polished me, promoted me, and pretty soon I found myself in way over my head. I…did some things I never thought I would do just to try to keep myself afloat. I won’t bore you with the details,” she said with a shrug. “Suffice it to say, I was fired and humiliated and I came back here to lick my wounds.”

  “Go on.”

  “I finally landed a job with the Monitor. It wasn’t anything like what I’d been doing for the Sun, but it was a job, and I was in no position to be picky. And I told myself that, even working for a small-town paper, I could build a name for myself if I worked hard enough. But I wasn’t very patient, and I had something to prove. To the editor who fired me, to my father, but mostly to myself. I needed a story. Something big.

  “Around that time, I was starting to hear a lot of talk about the Montana Militia for a Free America. I’d been hearing rumors about how they liked to recruit from small towns in the state, and I decided to do an investigative piece on local involvement. But my editor shot me down. He said a story like that was beyond my scope, but if I wanted to do some research for one of his more seasoned reporters, he’d think about it.”

  “What did you do?”

  She shrugged. “I continued to investigate on my own, of course.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Aidan muttered.

  “A few weeks later, a woman named Jenny Peltier came to see me. We’d been best friends in high school. We were the same age, but she was almost like a younger sister to me. She’d had a difficult home life, an abusive father, an alcoholic mother. She’d lost her brother a few years back, and his death had devastated her. He was the only one in her family who really cared about her, and she never got over losing him. She was needy and vulnerable, and I had taken her under my wing. But we drifted apart when I went off to college. When I moved back to Ponderosa a few years later, I tried to see her, but she was always too busy. I didn’t think much of it, but when she came to see me that night, I realized how much things had changed between us. She was a completely different person. Hard, bitter, cold. So cold. I couldn’t get over it.”

  “What did she want?”

  “She said she’d heard I’d been asking questions about the MMFAFA, and she warned me to back off.”

  Aidan lifted a brow. “What reason did she give you?”

  “She said I was poking my nose into places it didn’t belong, and I could end up very, very sorry.”

  “She threatened you?”

  “More or less.”

  “What did you do after that?” Aidan gave her a skeptical look. “Wait, let me guess. You continued to investigate.”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Probably,” he admitted grudgingly.

  “Anyway, she came back to see me a few days later, and this time, she was like the Jenny I remembered from high school. She was scared to death, and she said she had nowhere else to turn. She showed me the tattoo on her arm, a burning flag, and told me that she’d been recruited into the Militia shortly after I’d left for college. I was appalled. Devastated. I couldn’t believe it, and yet, it made an awful kind of sense. Her brother joined the army right after high school. He was killed fighting for something he believed in, but Jenny didn’t see it that way. Her stepfather had always railed against the government, and after Chase’s death, Jenny started listening to him. She came to believe that her brother had died because his own country betrayed him. I knew she had a lot of conflicted emotions about Chase’s death, but I never thought she’d be seduced by the likes of Boone Fowler. I still believe she was somehow coerced into joining the militia, but I guess I’ll never know for sure. When I asked her how she’d gotten involved, she implied someone we knew had recruited her, but she wouldn’t name names. All she’d say was that something big was in the works. Something that terrified her. She’d overheard a discussion about bomb-making.”

  Aidan said nothing, but his gut tightened.

  “I told her that we needed to go to the police or the FBI, but she was too frightened. She said I had no idea who or what I was dealing with. There were people involved in the militia who had a lot of power. She didn’t want to go to the authorities because she didn’t trust them.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I wanted to get her away from the group, but I also knew that we had to try to find out what Boone Fowler had planned. So…I sent her back in.”

  “You did what?”

  Kaitlyn closed her eyes briefly. “You heard me. I sent her back in and that was the last time I ever saw her. Two days later, the federal building was bombed.”

  Aidan scrubbed a hand down his face. “And you think Fowler killed her.”

  Kaitlyn nodded. “I’m certain of it. I just can’t prove it.”

  “Did you go to the police after the bombing?”

  “I talked to the police and to the FBI, but without a body, their hands were tied. All they had to go on was what I’d told them. Besides, the feds already had Fowler for the bombing. They didn’t need to charge him with a separate homicide to put him away for life. After I gave my initial statement, I never heard from them again.”

  Aidan turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. “And you never found out who recruited her?”

  “No. After she disappeared, I didn’t have the stomach to pursue it anymore. Boone Fowler was in prison. It didn’t seem to matter so I stopped asking questions. And besides, I didn’t trust myself. I’d made two bad mistakes—one of them fatal—in the pursuit of a story. I decided to play it safe.”

  Aidan stopped pacing. “Until now.”

  She came out of the kitchen then and walked over to the table, running her fingertips lightly across the surface. “I might have gone on indefinitely, content to cover local politics and the occasional meth bust, but all of a sudden, not one, but three, huge stories landed in my lap. Any one of them—Petrov, the prison break, even the John Doe—is the kind of story an investigative reporter would kill to sink her teeth into.” She looked at Aidan. “For the past few days, I’ve been reminded of what I’ve been missing all these years, and now, I don’t think I can go back to school-board elections and cattle rustlings. I don’t think I can play it safe anymore.”

  “So it’s on to bigger and better things,” Aidan said.

  She nodded. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this except…if you really want to play the protector, that means we’ll be spending a lot of time together. Yesterday when you kissed me…” She trailed off with a wince. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m not available. And now that I have said it, it sounds incredibly presumptuous and conceited of me.”

  Aidan went over and placed his hands on her shoulders. When she tilted her head toward his, it was all he could do not to kiss her again, but timing was everything and this was mostly definitely not the right time. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he said. “I’m not looking for any kind of relationship.”


  “You’re not?”

  Was that disappointment or relief he saw in her eyes?

  “I want to help you, Kaitlyn. I want to protect you if I can, and yeah, I want to get Boone Fowler. But that’s all. No strings attached.”

  She moistened her lips and nodded. “Okay. If that’s the case, then I think I should get something out of this, too.”

  Aidan lifted a brow. “Aren’t you?”

  She smiled, her confidence suddenly back full force. “You want Boone Fowler, right? Well, I want something, too.”

  Aidan’s gaze narrowed. “What?”

  “An exclusive, including interviews with both you and Cameron Murphy.”

  He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “I’m trying to save your life here.”

  “And make a killing in the bargain. Which I don’t begrudge you for, by the way.” She shrugged. “I gave you my terms. Take them or leave them.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “So for the privilege of saving her life, we’re supposed to reward her with an exclusive interview.” Murphy sat back in his chair and gave Aidan a dubious glare. “She sounds like a real piece of work.”

  “She has her moments,” Aidan agreed as he took a seat across from Murphy’s desk. “Actually, though, I think you’d probably like her. She’s got a lot of guts.”

  “Well, she’s going to need them if what you suspect is true.” Murphy paused. “However, I’m not so sure she should be our problem at this point. We’re not running a bodyguard service here, Campbell.”

  “I know that. But I think she’s very much our problem. You’re the one who told me to keep an eye on her in the first place. She may not be able to lead us to Fowler, but she sure as hell can help draw him out.”

  “If what you suspect is true. And that’s still a big if. We don’t have proof that Fowler and his goons committed that murder or that Kaitlyn Wilson witnessed it. You’re basing your assumptions on a hallucination she had in the hospital following a traumatic fall.”

  “What about the cell phone I found?”

  Murphy lifted one shoulder. “It’s just one piece of the puzzle. Doesn’t prove anything.”

  “But we can’t afford to ignore it,” Aidan insisted.

  “Besides, either way, she can still be an asset to us. She grew up here and she knows a lot of people in the area. Without her, we wouldn’t have known so quickly that the FBI had confiscated that body, and now your contact has all but confirmed that the feds are also looking into a possible link to Fowler.” He paused. “If my hunch is right, Colonel, Kaitlyn witnessed that murder. She saw the victim and she saw the killer, and that makes her a target. Whether or not Boone Fowler is connected, I can’t just leave her hanging out to dry on this one.”

  “That was some speech, Campbell. And it leaves me wondering just what the hell your connection is to this woman.”

  Aidan frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Are you falling for her?” Murphy asked bluntly.

  Aidan didn’t much care for the question, but he answered it anyway. “I hardly know her, but even if I did have feelings for her, how would that be relevant? It wouldn’t change the circumstances.”

  Murphy sat forward. “It’s relevant because when I found you six months ago, you were still grieving for a woman you’d been in love with for years. You’d planned to marry her. I haven’t forgotten what her death did you, and I doubt that you have, either.”

  Elena’s death had affected Aidan far more profoundly than even Murphy realized, but he had no intention of getting into all that now. “Elena has nothing to do with this.”

  “Are you sure about that? When you look at Kaitlyn Wilson, are you seeing her, or are you seeing a substitute for Elena?”

  Aidan’s jaw tightened with sudden anger. “With all due respect, Colonel, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “I know that after Elena Sanchez died, you were hell-bent on destroying yourself out of guilt. You don’t get over something like that overnight. Sometimes you don’t ever get over it.”

  Aidan’s relationship with Elena had been torturous and complicated; what he felt for Kaitlyn was simple. He wanted to protect her. That was it.

  He glanced at Murphy. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Colonel. You’ve saved my hide more times than I want to remember, and I think you know that I’d gladly lay down my life for you. But my personal life is none of your damn business.”

  Murphy lifted one brow slightly. “I agree, so long as it doesn’t interfere with your judgment or your job.”

  “It won’t.”

  “All right,” Murphy said with a curt nod. “Then go get this out of your system. Do what you have to do to feed this savior complex you seem to have, but when this is over with, you make damn sure you still have your head screwed on straight. No more death wishes, Campbell.”

  Aidan said nothing. He got up to leave, but at the door, he paused and glanced back. “It’s pretty ironic, you know.”

  “What is?”

  “That lecture you just gave me.” Aidan nodded to the picture of Murphy’s wife and daughter on his desk. “If you hadn’t let your personal life interfere with your work, none of us would even be here right now.”

  KAITLYN HAD LIVED alone for so long that she couldn’t get used to having someone in her apartment. Her place was so small that she and Aidan kept bumping into each other. And, of course, her attraction to him was like an elephant in the room. She finally went to bed early just so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.

  But she couldn’t sleep. In spite of her exhaustion, she couldn’t settle down. She was too aware of Aidan’s presence even with a wall dividing them. She could hear every little move he made. When he turned on the shower. When he opened the refrigerator door. She even imagined that she could hear him breathing, and when all was finally quiet in the apartment, she wondered if he was lying on her sofa, staring at the ceiling, the way she was.

  In frustration, she rolled over her, punched her pillow and willed herself to sleep. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she drifted off, only to awaken with a start, her heart pounding in terror.

  Someone was sitting on the edge of her bed, and she started to scream, but Aidan said softly, “Hey, it’s me. You were having a nightmare.”

  Her heart still racing, Kaitlyn lifted herself on her elbows. It was dark in her room, but she could see Aidan quite clearly. The sight of him shirtless left her even more breathless.

  “You were talking in your sleep,” he said.

  “I was?” She ran a hand through her mussed hair. “What did I say?”

  “I couldn’t make it out, but you seemed distressed. I thought I should wake you up.”

  “Thanks.” She glanced at the bedside clock. It was only a little after eleven. She hadn’t been asleep that long.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Aidan asked softly.

  “What, the dream? I’m not sure I even remember.” But no sooner were the words out of her mouth than images of a man tied to a chair flashed through her head. He was hurt and she could hear him babbling uncontrollably.

  Kaitlyn gasped and clutched Aidan’s arm. “I think I just dreamed about the murder.”

  He nodded, as if not the least bit surprised that she would do so. “Tell me everything you remember.”

  “I’m not sure how much I can remember, but there was a man. He was tied to a chair, and he was hurt and bleeding. He kept saying something over and over, but I couldn’t understand him. I think he was speaking German.”

  “Can you remember anything he said? What did the words sound like?”

  “It’s been a long time since I had high-school German, but it was something like, ‘Gotthilfe mich. Gotthilfe uns alle, wenn Sie gelingen.’”

  “‘God help me. God help us all if you succeed,’” Aidan translated.

  Kaitlyn put trembling fingertips to her lips. “What do you think that means?”

  Aidan shook his head. “I don�
�t know. Can you remember anything else? Think, Kaitlyn. What did this man look like?”

  “Dark hair, middle-aged. He was big, but not over-weight, just muscular.”

  “Was anyone with him?”

  “The killer you mean?” Kaitlyn paused. “I don’t know. That’s all I can remember—”

  But it wasn’t. Suddenly she had another image. The man’s head being jerked back. A knife slicing across his throat. And then blood everywhere…

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  Aidan’s grasp tightened on her arm. “What is it, Kaitlyn?”

  Nausea rose to her throat, and she clapped a hand across her mouth. “I’m going to be sick.” Sliding off the bed, she dove for the bathroom. Slamming the door shut, she fell on her knees in front of the toilet.

  When she was finally finished, she rose on wobbly legs to wash her face and brush her teeth. Then she staggered back out to the bedroom.

  Aidan glanced up worriedly. “Are you all right?”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle. “I guess so. There was so much blood, Aidan. It was awful.”

  “I know.” He drew her down to the bed. “Try to relax for a minute. I need to call Murphy and tell him what you’ve remembered.”

  “But we don’t know for sure that it was a memory,” she protested. “Maybe it was nothing more than a dream. My subconscious could have conjured up that guy from what I learned at the morgue.”

  “Maybe. I need to let Murphy know just the same. I’ll be right back.”

  As he left the room, Kaitlyn got up and followed him out. She stood at the door and watched as he picked up his cell phone and lifted it to his ear.

  He glanced in her direction, but he was so distracted by his phone conversation that Kaitlyn wasn’t sure he even saw her.

  She was all too aware of him. Even after the distress of the dream, she couldn’t help appreciating the way he looked all shirtless and shoeless, his only attire a pair of sexy, low-riding jeans.

  He looked like a god or a movie star, she thought. Or one of those underwear models in the Abercrombie & Fitch catalogs. He had huge biceps and broad shoulders, but the rest of him was all lean and sinewy. A tapered waist and abs so cut she could see the ripple even in the darkness. She wanted to run her hands over those muscles. Feel that lean hard body against hers…