by DiAnn Mills
“Keep on it.”
“The Leonards have invited me to dinner a few times. I’ll see if the invitation is still open.”
“Take it slow. I know you grew up with people like this.”
She laughed. “Do you mean rednecks?”
“I didn’t mean you.”
“They are country people—hardworking, respect traditional values, and fiercely patriotic. But back to me talking to Chip, I’ll report in tonight if I learn anything.”
“Thanks. I tell you this: sticking around here with all the goings-on in DC is making me antsy.”
“What happens when Lindsay discovers Chip? My guess is it will open a can of worms.”
Ash paced the room. “You can count on it. I’ve seen her in action, and she could charm an Uzi from a terrorist. Wade’s warned Chip about her. But she won’t view him as off-limits. It’ll take him telling her he’s not interested and sticking to it.”
A jagged flash of lightning broke the horizon. “They need to find this stalker so we can get back to DC. Dave can treat Lindsay there, and we can get back to real living. Last night’s storms were the only excitement we’ve seen since we got here, and it’s been a week.”
Most of the time, Meghan found the ranch refreshing, a time to reconnect with her roots. But Ash acted like a caged animal. “Did you get much sleep, sir?”
He shook his head. “Between thinking about the bombing and the storms, I might have gotten three hours. By the way, I don’t want Lindsay to know about her car. Dr. Sanchez actually agrees with me on that one.”
At the sound of his voice’s low timbre, she was drawn to him in a peculiar sort of way. “I’m going to grab a bottle of water and visit a few minutes with the Leonards.”
“Be my guest. Considering my indigestion from Pepper’s meals, I’d be tempted to join you.”
They laughed, and she sensed the walls crumbling between them. “I hope I’m not being unrealistic by hoping Lindsay will come to her senses. She’ll always struggle with addictive behaviors, but I’d like to see her come out on top.”
“Hope is what keeps us alive.”
“A good topic for a sermon.”
He strode to the window as another jagged path lit the sky. “Been weeks since I’ve been to church. God’s probably erased me from the roll.”
“Oh, He knows where you are.”
“That, Agent Connors, is what keeps me going.” He lifted a brow and grinned. “So what’s your nickname?”
“Not on your life. Might be used against me.” Meghan turned her attention to the computer and lowered the laptop lid. She’d ponder Ash’s spiritual life later, but she did feel better knowing he acknowledged God.
“I’ll find out. Nicknames are my specialty.”
“You don’t want to go there.”
“Ouch, Agent Connors. Do you mean I have one?”
She left the room before he had another comment. Nice guy when he wanted to be.
Ash worked through to midmorning, searching restricted government sites for any clue leading to who and why the chaos in DC persisted. He resented the implication that the Secret Service was inept and hadn’t been able to find those responsible for bombing Lindsay’s car and sending untraceable e-mails.
He stood and gazed out at the gray sky. Matched his mood. He needed a Diet Coke to help him through the next couple of hours. Hopefully, he could sneak into the kitchen and Pepper would be gone. When he opened the operation door that led to the kitchen, silence greeted him. Normally, she had country music playing. He couldn’t resist a grin, as though he’d completed a successful clandestine mission. The moment he rounded the corner, he spotted her drinking a glass of red wine. The bottle rested on the counter.
Ash struggled to contain his anger. The many times he’d seen Lindsay drunk added fuel to his fury. “Why are you drinking?”
She arched a brow and huffed. “Because I want to.”
“You heard what the vice president said—no alcoholic beverages were to be consumed. I repeated the order the first morning at breakfast.”
“This is medicinal, sir.” Condescension dripped from her words. “It helps me endure the distasteful parts of my day.”
Ash picked up the bottle and poured its contents down the drain. “It’s your turn. Get rid of it. Now. Per the vice president’s orders.”
“I take my orders from Scottard Burnette.”
Ash wished he had the authority to fire her. He’d be content to live on peanut butter and jelly for the next six months. “Scottard Burnette takes his direction from Vice President Hall. I’m going to ask you one more time to pour out that wine.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Why do you have to be so difficult?”
“Why do you have to use your authority to shove everybody around like you own the place? What I drink from my own supply in my room is my business.”
Ash stared at her. How could one woman be so self-centered? “Lindsay is an alcoholic. She’s trying to get sober and clean. The drugs and alcohol will kill her if she isn’t able to beat them. If she sees you drinking, she’ll search the kitchen until she finds it.”
She blew out a sigh. “All right. Have it your way.” She dumped the contents of her glass down the sink.
“Could we make an effort to get along?”
“Maybe.” She grabbed her garden basket. “You remind me too much of my husband. He always had to have his nose in everything I did. I resented it then, and I do now.”
No wonder the man died of a heart attack.
Chapter 12
Meghan took a sip of her water and walked into the stables. The scent of fresh hay and horses brought back memories of a simpler time when she was living at home and her family felt normal. Those were the good days when the most traumatic event centered on taking second in a barrel race instead of first. The perfectionism still reigned.
The broken engagement bothered her, not so much for her own sake but for disappointing Mom. The dear woman had looked forward to a Christmas wedding, and she had enough grief with Shelley. Someday, Mom would have that son-in-law of her dreams and grandbabies to spoil. Probably in about a hundred years. And probably not from Meghan.
She walked across the concrete floor, swept cleaner than her mother’s kitchen, and grasped the depth of the Leonards’ dedication to keeping Burnette’s ranch running smoothly. The thoroughbreds were exercised, trained, and groomed every day, as though the horses were on display. No matter what Ethan’s and Chip’s motives, their work was flawless.
“Mornin’.” Chip’s voice came from the back, and he walked to meet her. Dressed in jeans and a cowboy hat, he looked better than a gift package. The shadow of a beard added to his rugged appeal. But she’d been there and done the male appreciation thing too many years ago. Good looks had a way of spoiling a man’s heart. At least in her experiences.
“Did the storm keep you from running?” he said.
“I’m an exercise freak, not an idiot.”
“Yeah. Lightning doesn’t attract me either. I run at 2 a.m. I mean 0200. Sometimes the weather is a little iffy then too.”
Why did he run at such an early hour? “Do you set your alarm and then go back to bed?”
“I do. A habit I started in Dallas when work stressed me out. Weird, I know.”
“Yeah, it is. I’m surprised you’re here. Thought you’d have headed out for church already.” She leaned against the side of a stall like she was posing for a photo shoot, which was exactly how she’d earned her way through college.
An admiring gaze bored a hole through her, but that’s what she intended. “I’ll be leaving soon. Too bad you’re on duty. I’d ask you to tag along.”
She smiled. “And I’d go. I don’t like missing church.”
He grinned. “So you’re one of them?”
“A Christian?”
He nodded.
“Yes, and you aren’t?”
“Haven’t decided yet. But I promised Dad I would inve
stigate it.”
“Do you always do what your dad says?”
He pushed his hat back. “Not at my age. But I respect his wisdom.”
“I like him. Reminds me of my family.” She smiled and meant it. “If you’re searching for God, He’ll find you.”
“Sounds like you’ve been listening to my dad.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Not at all. He likes you. Says you’re the real thing, not a Texas wannabe like most of the agents here. I imagine juggling the Bible’s teachings with your job is a challenge.”
She didn’t think he was insulting her. More like trying to find out what made her tick. “Living up to God’s standards is always a struggle, no matter what our profession. Too much junk out there designed to snatch our attention.”
He shrugged. “I agree, which is why I’m still looking.”
“Well, I’m glad I made the cut with you and your dad.”
He lifted a brow. “Oh yeah? We both like Wade, too. A decent guy.”
“We’re all a good team. We have a job to do—protecting Lindsay at all costs.”
“But you’re after more, aren’t you? You have bigger stakes than a pat on the back.”
What did he mean? “Guess I have.”
“Hard to be a woman in the Secret Service?”
“At times. We have to prove ourselves, just like any other agent. But the trust factor can be an issue.”
Chip studied her, but she could handle his scrutiny. “I had a friend in the FBI who claimed most women jumped aboard to find a husband, or they were out to prove something to the male members of the species.”
“I’ve known a few like that in the Secret Service. They don’t last long. Obviously.” For a moment, she flashed back to a few agents who were interested in something she refused to give.
“I bet you qualify just fine.”
Chip’s words held more meaning than she cared to tackle. “I do all right.”
“I have no illusions, Meghan. You’re probably out here to fish information out of me.”
She laughed and took another sip of water. “Why? Do you have something to hide?”
“The last time I checked, I passed clearance.”
Not as far as I’m concerned. “Actually, I am here for something. Is your dad’s invitation to dinner still open? I can’t handle one more of Pepper’s jalapeño meals.”
Chip leaned on one leg. Did he doubt her or was he reading her? “Dad’ll love it. Sunday night is fried chicken and garlic mashed potatoes . . . and whatever needs eatin’ from the garden. No church tonight. The preacher’s on vacation. Come by about six thirty.” He held up a finger. “Make that 1830. I might even bring out the guitar.”
“A concert? You’re an unusual man.”
“The word’s mysterious. That’s what keeps the women chasing me.”
“Please.” She laughed as she studied his appeal. The broken engagement had sealed her heart on ever wading into those waters again. But this guy had charm oozing from his hat to his boots.
Lindsay might have a hard time resisting him.
Chapter 13
Sunday afternoon, Lindsay wiped the tears from her face and stared out the window. The upstairs loft also served as a game room. Today, games were not on her mind, for the room was the site of another counseling session. Gray storm clouds deepened her pensive mood, layering the terror covering her heart. As the raindrops splattered against the window, so did the reminders of threats that had accumulated over the past four years.
Staying at the Dancin’ Dust gave her no comfort. She needed a place where no one could find her. But no hideaway existed except in her drug-induced fantasy world when reality spun out of control. No matter where she went, either on the run or in her mind, she couldn’t escape the prison.
“Dave, I don’t want to talk about why I use drugs, my childhood, my relationship with my parents, or anything else. I have a headache.”
Dave leaned back in the copper-colored leather chair. She recognized his body language from past counselors who encouraged her to spill her guts. Good gesture, but she didn’t plan to fall for subtle or direct means of urging her to talk. No point in going in a direction that had death notice shadowing every word.
“Your headache is natural. You know the withdrawal symptoms.”
She nodded and squeezed back another tear. Why couldn’t the rain stop? Why couldn’t it all stop? If only there was a way out . . . other than what she’d attempted and failed.
“Let’s talk about what you’d like to do with your life.”
“My life is hopeless. That subject’s off limits.”
“Hope is a choice. You’ve got to work at it. Where do you feel safe?” Dave’s soft tone irritated her. He’d been paid big bucks to be nice to her, and that made him like most of the other people in her life. Caution ruled her tongue. Her parents might not be the only ones depositing funds into his bank account. Oh, to have a real friend, one who didn’t expect something in return.
“Lindsay, when you don’t answer me, I can’t help you.”
Biting back a caustic remark, she tried to form an answer that would pacify him. Progress brought her closer to a discharge from the Dancin’ Dust, and she had the textbook answers memorized to ensure freedom. What did that word mean anyway? If she was honest with herself, she had no clue.
Carla sat at the opposite end of the sofa with Lindsay. Dave’s assistant neither smiled nor frowned. She could have been a mannequin.
Dave leaned closer. “Tell me about your sister.”
She could give him a little. Maybe he’d leave her alone. “Kelli has her act together. She’s smart, and I’ve humiliated her a bazillion times.”
“I don’t think she’s embarrassed. She wants to visit you.”
No matter how much she wanted to see Kelli, why put her in danger? “She’s the last person I want to see.”
“I don’t believe that at all. What about when you were kids? What was it like then?”
“Do you mean at the boarding school when she tried to parent me?”
“Did you resent her? I’d like to hear about those days.”
Lindsay closed her eyes. “My sister is an image of perfection. She’s always been a good role model. I was the one who rejected her. I’m jealous. Got it?”
“You can do and be anything you want. Again, it’s your choice.”
The trim man with the serious eyes had no idea how far she’d fallen. “It’s too late.” Visions of their childhood danced across her mind. Kelli reading stories. Tea parties on rainy afternoons. Long walks under elm trees. Fairy tales about a handsome prince who would whisk Lindsay away to live happily ever after. “None of those days are important.”
“What is? What occupies your mind? I know you’re afraid of something, but what or whom? All of us here are on your side. I want to see you healthy. Your parents love you and look forward to the day when you’re home with them again, and the special agents want you safe. But none of us can help you unless you take the first step.”
Dave hadn’t touched on her cooperating with the agents before. Ash must be pressing him. Or her father.
“You want me to change my attitude?”
He nodded. “A change of heart followed by hard work is your best ally. I’m your friend, and I’m dedicated to helping you to attain emotional stability.”
She couldn’t tell Dave or Ash or Meghan about her demons. Not anyone. She held his glance for a moment. Oh, she needed someone . . . desperately.
Chapter 14
Sunday dragged on. News from DC was slow, and Ash fought boredom as though it were a worthy adversary. Looking around at the agents in the operation room, he wanted to tear into someone to add a little oomph to his life. Not exactly an ideal solution when he should be in church. He’d give ten years of his life to be in DC with the action. Maybe five. But he wanted to be a part of the team looking for who was behind the crimes in DC.
Only the thought of a new as
signment with the VPPD kept him going.
He listened to Victor type with lightning speed. The agent would pause, read the screen, then take off again. But that was his style. He could hack into the best of systems, and he’d been at it for hours in an attempt to find the source of Lindsay’s untraceable e-mails. If Ash hadn’t insisted on his being a part of this protective detail, that amazing brain would be behind a desk in DC.
“Let’s take a break.” Ash glanced at those gathered around the table in the operation room. Even Meghan had joined them, while Dave and Carla counseled Lindsay upstairs. He wished Meghan could sit in on all those sessions, but the vice president wanted his daughter free to confide in the psychologist.
Victor snapped up his personal iPhone.
“Hey, man, let up. We’ll find this guy.” Ash scooted his chair back and walked behind Victor. “Are you running on pure adrenaline?” He saw the screen on his phone. “Oh, I see what you’re doing.”
Victor’s attention zeroed in on his diversion. “My break, my time.”
Ash clamped a hand on Victor’s shoulder. “You’re not even on duty. Hey, how much sleep have you had in the last twenty-four hours?”
“I’ll get to it.” Victor grinned. “A few priorities here, then I’ll be diving beneath the sheets.”
Ash pointed to the screen. “It’s all about skating. Sure wish Bob wasn’t outside sweating in this heat. He’d love this.”
“Skating?” Meghan joined them. “What kind?”
“The only kind.” Victor leaned back in his chair. “Take a look at this.” He set his phone on the table. Skaters perched on their boards zoomed down and then up a concave ramp.
“Are you a spectator or a participant?” Meghan slid into a chair beside him.
Victor scowled. “I don’t watch sports. I experience them.”
She laughed, a light sound that was real and . . . sweet. “And you compete?”
“I don’t compete. I win.”
He typed in another site with the same type of skating action. This one had sound.
“That’s you? Wow.” Meghan studied the screen. “Didn’t know you were so talented. Are they shouting ‘Victor Lee’ or ‘victory’?”