by Janie Crouch
Tomorrow he would be checking in with Steve Drackett and needed to have a plan. The problem was, the more time he spent with Natalie, the less confident he was that she was conspiring with her ex.
But he couldn’t say for sure. That was the problem.
They ate, not nearly enough to be full, but enough to push away actual hunger pains. Afterward they washed their meager dishes in the faucetless sink with the now-melted snow Ren had brought in. Then Natalie searched the entire cabin and laid out everything that could be eaten, as well as anything that could be used to help them in other ways: tools, knives, the fishing poles.
She hadn’t stopped moving since they’d arrived, and that was after they’d already walked nearly ten miles today in the snow. As the sun went down, she’d just gotten more frantic in her activities.
“Hey, Peaches, you want to sit for a while? We’ve had a long day and you haven’t slowed down since the moment we got here.” He patted the couch cushion next to him.
She turned from rearranging the supplies—again—and gave him a sheepish grin. “Yeah, sorry, I like to have things in order. Know where stuff is.” She looked from the door to the cabin’s two windows. “Just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
She walked over to the door. “Just in case there’s no time to sort through stuff if there’s an emergency. Better to be prepared.”
“Okay, I think we’re suitably prepared. Why don’t you take a load off?”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “There’s no lock on this door.”
“No, there’s not supposed to be. This cabin is open for anyone who needs it. We have a number of similar ones throughout Montana. Just for people who maybe get stranded and, of course, people who plan to use it. So, no locks.”
“No locks,” she whispered. She walked to the windows, checked them also.
Ren stood. What exactly was happening here? “No locks on those, either.”
“Right.” She gave a little laugh that didn’t hold any humor. “Because why would you put locks on a window when you didn’t have one on the door?”
“Exactly.”
Her back was stiff again, and although she wasn’t jumping straight into the deep end of a panic attack like she had with the snow, she was definitely becoming more tense.
“Natalie.”
She didn’t respond, just kept looking at one window, then the other.
He walked over and put his hands gently on her shoulders. She didn’t even jump like he half expected her to. “Natalie. You’re tired. Come sit down, okay?”
“It’s dark out,” she whispered. “I always check the locks. And the sticky notes won’t help if there aren’t any locks on the doors or windows.”
He had no idea what the sticky notes comment was about. He pulled her over to the couch and sat down with her, her hands in his. “You’re tired, Peaches.”
“I shouldn’t be tired. It’s still pretty early.”
“Are you kidding? We walked for hours, then you made dinner, cleaned up and did your whole inventory of any useful items. You’re tired.”
She rolled her eyes, giving him the tiniest smile. “I work longer than this on any given day. I’m sure you do, too, on the farm.”
The work she did in Santa Barbara couldn’t be as hard as what her body had been through today. But it was a good time to press for details. “I do work hard on the farm when I’m there. What do you do?”
She glanced away. “I’m between jobs at the moment.”
“I’ll bet you were in business. At an office? I can totally see you as an executive.”
“Ha. I wish. No such luck.”
He smiled. “A secretary, then? No shame in that.”
She tried to slide her hands back from his, but he wouldn’t let her. He needed to get her to open up to him. He rubbed his fingers along her palms, trying to calm her, since she kept glancing back to the door and windows.
The texture of her hands didn’t register at first. The hardened bumps where her fingers met her palms. When he realized what they were, he stopped his rubbing and turned her hands over.
Her hands had noticeable calluses. Ren recognized them for what they were because he had similar ones on his own palms. They’d been even worse when he’d lived on the farm.
They came from holding a wooden handle of something in your hands all the time. In his case it had been shovels or brooms, or even the horses’ bridles. Days and years of hard work.
He wasn’t ashamed of his calluses, and would never think poorly of a woman who had them, either—the opposite, in fact.
But for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why Natalie Freihof’s hands would have them. He’d watched her for the last week go to office buildings and a bar. Business meetings and parties.
Nothing that should have her hands in this shape.
She looked down at her hand resting in his. “Not so pretty, huh?” Her eyes immediately flew back to the door.
He didn’t mention her hands again. He wasn’t going to get any info out of her when all she seemed to be able to focus on was the fact that the door wouldn’t lock.
It didn’t make any more sense than her snow phobia did last night. But he could see she was on the path toward another breakdown.
“Natalie, look at me.”
He could tell it cost her effort to look away from the door and meet his eyes, but she did.
“Can I tell you something I’ve realized about you in the short time I’ve known you?”
She nodded.
“You’re strong. When you thought I might need help at the train, you were coming to do it, even though you were hurt. Today when we had to walk, you did it without complaint. Once we got here, you got to work doing what needed to be done.”
“But now I’m freaking out,” she whispered. “Just like I did last night. You have to think I’m crazy.”
He pulled her closer. “No, I don’t. But I do think a body only has so much energy and it can only be utilized so many ways. You’re completely exhausted right now, and because of that, your fears about the locks on the doors and windows are overwhelming you. If you weren’t so exhausted you’d be able to handle it better, right?”
“Not always, but usually.”
“How would you do that?”
She looked away. “I have a method of making sure I’ve locked the doors and windows. I use sticky notes. It’s stupid.”
“There’s nothing to be ashamed about. You had a problem and you figured out how to work it.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t help me much now.”
“How about if we pull one of the kitchen chairs over and wedge it under the door handle? It doesn’t exactly lock it, but it will be damn loud if someone tries to open it.”
Her face was already looking more relaxed, so Ren continued. “We can’t lock the windows, but we can close the shutters and put a broom handle across the bars. Again, it’s not foolproof but it’s definitely more fortified.”
The relief that flooded her features was so pronounced it was difficult to look at.
After they’d made the cabin as safe as they could—he noticed she double-checked more than once—they washed and brushed their teeth as best they could and got into bed. Ren tried to ignore the fact that he wished it was colder in the cabin so that they’d be forced to get closer for heat. The bed wasn’t that big, but it was bigger than their sleeping arrangements last night.
As he heard Natalie’s breathing even out as exhaustion pulled her under, Ren lay for a long time trying to process what he had learned tonight about the woman lying next to him. Unfortunately he had more questions than answers. Questions that would affect every decision Ren made for the rest of this mission.
Why did she have calluses on her hands that suggested she’d been doing hard manual labor every day for
years? Why was she fanatic about locking up and safety?
Because she knew that Freihof had a number of enemies who wouldn’t hesitate to attack her to get to him?
Or because she was afraid of Freihof himself?
Chapter Nine
Ren woke up to a sleeping Natalie sprawled all over him again. She’d been that way most of the night. It hadn’t taken long after she’d finally fallen into an exhausted slumber, secure in the knowledge that the windows and doors were as locked as they could be, before she’d snuggled into him.
He should’ve pushed her away, rolled over, hell, gone and slept on the couch. Curling her lithe body next to his while they both slept didn’t do anything to advance the mission—she was asleep, so it wasn’t affecting her. And if their closeness didn’t advance the mission, then it shouldn’t have interested Ren at all.
But damned if he’d been able to let her go all night.
He eased away from her now as dawn approached. He needed to go out, make the call to Omega, finalize plans.
Plans that were even murkier than they’d been when they’d started two days ago. Everything he learned about Natalie just made him more confused. He’d been so sure she was working with Freihof. But the calluses on her hands didn’t lie.
The fear on her features last night, the panic at the thought of not being able to lock the doors and windows, didn’t lie, either.
But none of that gave Ren actionable intel. So he wasn’t sure how to play this with her.
Even worse, he wasn’t sure he wanted to play this at all. If time wasn’t such a factor—with those damned biological warfare canisters—Ren would probably remove himself from the picture entirely. Obviously he was losing his objectivity when it came to her.
He looked down at her sleeping form, how she’d curled protectively into herself, even in sleep. As if her mind knew some sort of attack might be coming.
But from who?
Ren found a pen and paper and wrote that he’d be back soon and laid it on the bed where she would see it. He didn’t want her waking up and thinking someone had gotten in the cabin because the door was no longer barred. She might wake up and not be thinking clearly at first.
He wiped a hand across his face as he realized that he wasn’t just concerned—again—about the damage that might do to the mission. He was concerned about the damage it might do to her psyche.
He had to get his damned head in the game.
Grabbing the knife and fishing poles, he moved quietly out the door and made his way deeper into the forest away from the cabin. He came up to the river a few minutes later and cast a pole with a fly lure—might as well try to catch some protein to go with the canned food—then used a specially made cell signal booster to call Steve Drackett.
“Ren. Good to hear from you. How’s camping?”
“We made it to the cave and then the cabin on schedule. Rest of the team make it safely from the crash site?”
“Yep. No problem, although now Philip Carnell is convinced he wants to work undercover full-time.”
Ren chuckled. “That would at least get him out of your hair.” Philip was known for his surliness and inability to play well with others. “Let him terrorize some criminals instead of your agents.”
“Definitely something to consider. How’s it going with Natalie? She give you anything useful yet?”
“Honestly, no, nothing. She hasn’t panicked about not being able to make contact and wasn’t interested in using my phone to try to call anyone.”
Steve gave some sort of disgruntled sigh. “So what’s your plan? Threats? Friendship? Seduction? Before you choose, there’s been some developments you need to know about.”
“What?”
“For one, Sean and Theresa Baxter.”
“Why do those names sound familiar?” He knew he should be able to place them.
“They were the names on the deed of the Santa Barbara house where Natalie was staying. We were looking into them as a possible front.”
“What did you find?” Ren asked.
“They definitely weren’t a front. Were actually real-life people who legitimately purchased the house in 2003.”
Ren didn’t like how Steve was phrasing this. “Were?”
“They were both found murdered at a resort bungalow in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, last night. Brutally. Tortured.”
Ren’s curse was nothing short of foul. Just when he thought he was closer to getting a handle on things. “What the hell does that mean, Steve? Tying up loose ends? An enemy of Freihof’s trying to get information?”
Could Natalie have ordered their deaths before she left to make sure they wouldn’t be able to tell anyone anything about her? Not just killed, but tortured?
“We’ve been running info on the Baxters all night and haven’t found anything to suggest they were linked to Freihof or Natalie in any way. Nothing.”
“Which we both know doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Not with a criminal of Freihof’s caliber.”
“True,” Steve replied before they both dropped into silence. “So what’s your plan?” Steve repeated.
“Until what you just told me, I was beginning to think that Natalie might be completely innocent in all this. A victim, like Brandon and Andrea said.”
“But we can’t deny that no one knew she was running except us and her. No one would know to tie up loose ends like the Baxters.”
“Exactly. Plus, Lillian said Natalie mentioned Atlanta when she was trying to buy a bus ticket. That can’t be a coincidence that it’s Freihof’s last known whereabouts.” Ren ran a hand over his face. “Did you discover anything new about those office buildings she went to every day? That bar?”
“As far as we can tell, all the companies in both buildings are clean. Maybe some minor tax stuff, but nothing that would put them on any radars. If Natalie was using one as a front, she was damn good at it. And the bar has been family-owned for generations. I have no idea what she was doing there.”
Ren thought of the calluses on her hands again. He didn’t know, either. And he was afraid the truth was going to make this mission even less simple.
“What does your gut say about her, Ren?” Steve finally asked when he didn’t say anything. “You and I have been in the spy game for a long time. I would take your gut instinct over some incomplete intel any day.”
What did his gut say? His gut said he was already too compromised to make an impartial judgment when it came to Natalie. That every time he looked into those endless blue eyes, it seemed impossible that she could be mixed up with Freihof. That she couldn’t be a killer or be collaborating with someone who was.
But his gut also told him that those baby-blues, that tragic smile, even the panic, could all be part of a very specific ploy to fool him. That she could’ve been trained by Freihof for years on how to best manipulate a law enforcement agent. God knew there was no better teacher than Freihof when it came to exploitation.
“My gut says I need more time,” he finally told Steve. “I need to be able to dig deeper into her and pick her apart.”
“We don’t have a lot of time. There’s been another development.”
Not what Ren wanted to hear. “What?”
“Because of the canisters, Homeland Security is breathing down my neck. They want to assume control of the op and take Natalie into custody.”
“You know if they do that she’ll be treated like a hostile subject and terrorist enemy of the United States.” It would be illegal to torture her, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t make her incarcerated time extremely uncomfortable. “We don’t have enough intel yet to even suggest she’s guilty or knows anything about Freihof.”
“That’s what I told them and convinced them that you getting her cooperation voluntarily would be not only more efficient, but humane. Especially if she really is innocent in al
l this.”
“How long can you hold them off?”
“Five days at the max, Ren. And that’s with calling in every favor I have. If you don’t walk into Riverton in five days, they’re coming in to take her.”
“And if I come out with no answers but Natalie’s agreement to cooperate with the media blitz plan?”
“They don’t like it,” Steve said. “But they’ve agreed. As long as we’re taking measurable steps forward.”
A fish bit at one of the fishing lines and Ren leaned down to reel it in, but it had gotten away. Fitting. “Do you have everything set on your end for when we come out five days from now?”
“Yes. We’ll have every major news outlet waiting in Riverton to cover the huge story of two lost hikers finding their way out of the wilderness. That tiny Colorado town will be packed with media, I promise. We’ll spin the romance angle. It’ll work.”
Ren recast the line back out into the stream. “It’s got to be big. Big enough for Freihof to hear about it wherever he is. If she doesn’t know where he is, this will get him to come to us.”
“Barring some international incident the news has to cover, we’ll make sure this is top priority. That it goes viral. But, Ren, it won’t work if she comes out all angry and refuses to get in front of the camera.”
“She won’t. I’ll get her cooperation.” He said it with a great deal more assurance than he felt.
“Like, you know, Brandon and Andrea both think she’s innocent. They think that if you’re honest with her, tell her about the canisters and what Freihof could do with them, that she’ll help you.”
Ren wanted to believe it. But he also knew that if he believed it and he was wrong, a lot of innocent people would die. Like it or not, Natalie was their best chance to catch Freihof, either by her telling them how he could be located or by using her as bait to draw him out.
“You’ve got five days to figure out the best way to use her,” Steve continued.
Ren couldn’t help his wince at the word use, even though he knew Steve was right. The softness of the woman he’d held in his arms the last two nights was secondary to what she could provide as an asset. Ren had to steel himself against any sort of tenderness toward her.