by Maggie Wells
This time, his laugh came easier. Pinching his temples, he rubbed his forehead. “It’s been a doozy.” Turning his hand over, he gave her fingers a warm squeeze in return. “Can we agree to table any further discussion until we’ve both had the opportunity to think things through?”
“Absolutely.”
Alicia gently slipped her hand from his. Harry felt the loss of her warmth immediately. He lowered his hand to his lap and clenched it into a loose fist to keep from reaching for her again. “Would you consider spending the night? I mean, I have a guest room...”
“Oh, I’m not sure.”
He understood her hesitation. She obviously hadn’t come prepared to spend the night in Pine Bluff, but a small irrational part of him wanted to make sure she never opened his front door again. People using his house for target practice aside, the thought of watching her walk out the door and her driving back to Atlanta made him uneasy. Not because he didn’t think she was fully capable of making it home safely. He had too much confidence in her capabilities.
She’d done what she thought was the right thing by telling him about her condition. But now he had been informed, and she could decide to go back to Atlanta and her life there without giving him a chance to determine how he might fit into her new reality.
“Stay tonight,” he said gruffly. “I’ll pull out a frozen pizza, and you can have the crackers, and we can spend some time getting better acquainted—in a non-biblical way, I mean.”
Alicia eyed him with wary skepticism. “Thank you for the offer,” she began. “But I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
An odd sensation slithered through him, leaving him feeling inexplicably bereft. Unsure what else to do, he stepped back and lobbed a Hail Mary of an attempt at keeping her there. “Are you really going to leave me here all by myself with a bunch of crazies shooting at my house?”
Her eyebrows rose. “Are you really asking me to stay the night in the house under siege? You think it’s better I stay here and risk being taken out by someone who thinks your house is a shooting arcade?”
Harrison couldn’t help but laugh. When viewed from her position, his request sounded even more unreasonable. He understood. He was a man who weighed his options, calculated the odds and angled for the best possible outcome. All he could hope for here and now was to keep appealing to the same sense of ethics that brought her to his door. “Safety in numbers?”
“Speaking of safety,” she said, then pressed her lips together as if she was fighting the urge to go on.
“Yes?”
“Have you considered taking a step back from the Coulter case?” She asked the question in such a rush, the words almost piled up on each other.
“No.”
“I mean, it’s not like you’re the lead on it,” she persisted. “But since you do live here locally, it’s obviously more of a risk to you.”
“Do you plan to?”
She blinked in surprise. “Do I plan to what?”
“You’re slated to testify. You are the DEA’s main witness. Tell me, do you plan to take a step back?”
The question wasn’t exactly fair, but he couldn’t help asking, if only to make his point. Clearly, she’d never considered walking away from the case. And if it weren’t for the news she’d given him earlier, he never would have asked. But now...
“You’re pregnant.”
She sat up straighter. Harry could practically see her hackles rising. “So?”
He rolled his eyes at the lame comeback. “So, you’re not only putting yourself in harm’s way.”
Her mouth tightened, but she didn’t look away. If anything, her intense gaze burned brighter, likely fueled by the perceived challenge to her autonomy. Heaving a sigh, Harry dropped his voice and did his best to de-escalate the discussion. “Okay, not entirely fair, but there’s more at stake today than there was even yesterday. I’d like us to be able to talk about this.”
“I will testify at the trial. Nothing is going to change my mind,” she retorted. “This is my case. Has been from the start.”
“And I have been waiting for the chance to go after Coulter since the man moved to town,” he replied, keeping his tone even. “But I’ll back down if you will.”
The offer made her flinch. “Are you saying you’d walk away from this case if I did?”
“It’s not only about you or me anymore, is it?” he challenged.
“We’re getting way ahead of ourselves,” she said, waving his arguments off with wide swoops of her hands.
“We are,” he agreed.
“I’ll go back to Atlanta and set up an appointment to confirm everything. I’m going to need—” her voice tangled, but she pressed two fingers to her throat and carried on “—I’m going to figure out how I’ll be handling things on my end. In the meantime, maybe we should refrain from making any hasty decisions.”
“I think taking some time is a great idea.” He fixed his gaze on her and held steady. “Promise me one thing.”
“Okay,” she agreed cautiously. “What?”
“Promise me you won’t go back to Atlanta and never speak to me again,” he said, his voice hoarse with churning uncertainty. “Promise me you’re not going to drop this bombshell on my life and then disappear. If this is what’s happening, I need to be...” He paused, searching for the correct word. “I need to be informed. I need to be able to make informed decisions, and I need you to respect me enough to let me be a part of those decisions.”
“Harry,” she said, staring straight into his eyes. “I came here.”
“Right.” He swallowed hard, then nodded as if by doing so he might convince himself. “Right.”
Her phone lit up with an incoming call. Harry didn’t need to check the display. It would be Ben on the line.
He listened with only half an ear as she took the call, speaking to the sheriff with the same economy of words cops seemed to pride themselves on. She ended the call, and Harry let his gaze follow as she rose from her seat.
“Ben’s on his way back to take our statements. He said to tell you Arnie was home when he went by, and his wife... Annelle, is it?” she asked. When he nodded, she continued. “His wife and kids all swear he’s been there all night. This Arnie guy also says he has no idea who might have shot up your house.”
“Right. Of course he doesn’t.”
“Harry?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you mind if I took you up on the offer of your guest room? If we’re going to do another round of statements, I’m not sure I’m going to be clearheaded enough to drive home after.”
“I don’t mind at all, as long as you don’t mind if I go ahead with the pizza.”
“Ugh, pizza.” Alicia pushed the package of saltines aside and bolted from her chair.
When he heard the door to the guest bath close behind her, Harry winced. “So it’s a no on the pizza.” He got up, snagged a jar of peanut butter from a cabinet and a knife from a drawer, and sat back down with the abandoned sleeve of saltines.
Chapter Five
“Thirty-eight?” Alicia repeated into the phone.
“According to the Southern Poverty Law Center’s map as of last year,” Ben Kinsella responded.
Alicia decided there was no better way to pass the early-morning drive from Pine Bluff to Atlanta than to pick the sheriff’s brain about the rabble-rousers who inhabited Masters County.
“Of course, those are only the hate groups organized enough to be recognized,” he continued.
“Right,” she drawled.
“You can’t be too surprised,” he prodded. “The political climate around here is a tinderbox. People seem to be looking for a reason to be angry these days.”
The truly sad part was, she was surprised, even though she shouldn’t have been. Alicia was glad he couldn’t see her slack-jawed expression t
hrough the phone. She made every effort she could to check her privileged status, but there were times when the truth about the world they lived in jumped up and slapped her. There were thirty-eight known, organized hate groups in the state of Georgia alone. Groups so active in promoting their particular brand of radicalized thinking they were kept on a watch list. They had no idea how many independent-minded vigilantes were hiding deep in the pine woods.
“You think some of them have adopted Coulter as their poster boy?” she asked.
“Oh, they have. Subtlety isn’t exactly their strong suit,” Ben said with a mirthless chuckle. “Speaking of subtlety... Christmas card? Really? I can’t believe Marlee fell for such a lame ploy.”
She snickered, flexing her fingers on the steering wheel. “Marlee didn’t fall for anything. I promise you she knew I was trying to get in touch with Harry.”
“Why? Does it have something to do with the Coulter case?”
Alicia took a deep breath in, then let it out slowly. She wasn’t a fan of other people digging into her business, but if there was anyone in Pine Bluff she trusted, it was Ben Kinsella. They’d trained together when they first started with the DEA. And later, she’d been equally impressed and outraged on his behalf when the agency hung him out to dry. Ben had been forced to give up both his career and his life in Atlanta when he got crossways with one of the most influential gang leaders in the state, but he’d landed on his feet. Now she was staring down the possibility of needing to start from scratch, and not sure she’d handle it as gracefully.
“No. Um... Let’s say there’s some unresolved personal business between Harrison Hayes and me and leave it at that,” she said cagily.
Ben let out a bull-like snort. “I may not have twigged to the Christmas-card thing, but I figured the rest out on my own.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think it’s the right time or place for me to give you the details, so let’s file this under It’s Complicated.”
“Okay,” Ben said cautiously. “But you’re all right, correct?”
“Other than exposure to a fake toxin and someone mistaking me for a buck in season?” she asked tartly.
“Yeah, other than those things.”
“I am.” She let her head fall back against the headrest as she scanned the miles of empty state highway ahead of her. “I’m actually more than okay. I think.”
“As clear as mud,” Ben grumbled. “But I guess you’ll tell me what’s going on in your own time.”
“I will.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and then sat up straighter in her seat. “I’m heading into the office in Atlanta this afternoon, but I expect I may be spending some more time in Pine Bluff as we get closer to the trial.”
“Oh? I would have figured you’d moved on to another case by now,” Ben said, a note of concern creeping into his voice.
“Yeah, well, Bronson has me working on a number of cases,” she said, hoping the frustration she’d been feeling for the past couple of months didn’t ring through in her tone.
“How are things with the new section chief?”
Alicia avoided pressing any harder on the accelerator as she felt the tension creep from her shoulders up to her neck. Funny, in the past twelve hours she’d been shot at, tackled a guy, been flipped and pinned down and thoroughly dusted in what they all hoped was nothing more than cornstarch, but she hadn’t felt this kind of searing tension the mere thought of her new boss conjured. It still galled her Andrew Bronson had snagged the section-chief job. It should have been hers, and they both knew it. Ticked her off even more he had the power to assign her to tasks that were essentially a waste of her time and talents. Heaven forbid she might show him up.
“About as you’d expect,” she said briefly.
Ben knew better than anyone how bad things might end up being for her. The agency had used him up and tossed him aside once his cover was blown. Alicia had no illusions about her own position. There were people gunning for her. Had been since she’d been promoted ahead of most of the guys she came up with. Andrew Bronson was more than old-school. He was almost a throwback to another era. The era where men did not welcome women into their ranks.
And he had her sighted in his crosshairs.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said to Ben. “He’s not the first jerk boss I’ve ever had. He won’t be the last.”
“If he doesn’t value his best agent, then he’s an idiot,” Ben grumbled.
Alicia smiled. Her personnel file had to gall Bronson. She had more commendations and better performance reviews than any of the male agents in his section. Every day, he found some sneaky way to make it clear he didn’t like women on the job. More than once he’d alluded to the supposed emotional instability of females. Of course, he’d always been talking about the women caught up on the other side of their cases. In an odd way, Alicia couldn’t help thinking Bronson liked women best when they were pawns or unwitting witnesses. He saw most women as nothing more than tools used to bring big men down. It certainly irked him to believe a mere woman might be able to see through him, much less outmaneuver him.
Six months ago, she wouldn’t have worried over her job for one minute, but now... Now her present situation felt more precarious. Once he found out she was pregnant, it would be open season on her career. As much as she hated what was happening to Harrison Hayes and his Podunk town, Alicia couldn’t help but see the threats being made against him as an opportunity for her to step out of Bronson’s line of sight long enough to figure out her next move.
“I’m going to gather more in-depth information on what you’ve given me and put it together with what we have on file for Coulter. The last thing Bronson wants is for such a high-profile collar to slither out from under these charges, so I’m going to see if I can make a case for staying in Pine Bluff for a few weeks.”
“I see.” Ben spoke the words quietly and with almost no inflection, but she knew he understood what she was saying.
Alicia had been one of the few agents to reach out to Ben after the agency turned its back on him. She needn’t spell out her situation for him. If she was willing to duck out of the Atlanta office and all of the plum assignments she could be snagging, Ben would twig to the notion everything wasn’t as peachy as she’d like it to be.
She gripped the wheel tighter and shrugged, even though Ben couldn’t see her attempt at bravado. “Maybe Bronson will be happy to have me out of sight and mind for a while.”
“I can ask Marlee to see if the house we set you up in last time is still available,” he offered.
Alicia’s memory flashed on the pretty brass bed tucked under the eaves of the bungalow she’d invited Harrison Hayes to one cool autumn night, and a prickle of perspiration tickled her hairline. She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead.
“Thank you, but I think I’m gonna stick closer to Hayes if I can,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light and casual, but all too aware he could see through her casual tone.
“Exactly how close are you planning to stick?” Ben pressed.
“His guest room is pretty comfortable. Nice plush pillow-top mattress,” she said with a small smile. “The rest of the decor is a bit austere. More a monk’s cell than a guest room, but I guess one can’t expect much more from a confirmed bachelor.”
“You plan on staying at Hayes’s house?”
The disbelief in his voice gave her a moment to pause, but she’d lain awake half the night thinking this plan through. She could move in. She would be able to keep a closer eye on Harry, plus it would give them the opportunity to talk through what needed to come next for them. She could help keep him safe and acquire a legitimized hole for her to hide out in until she figured out exactly how to approach her career conundrum.
“Is Harry in on this, or did you make a unilateral decision to move into his place?” Ben’s question jolted her from her thoughts.
“He isn’t on board yet, but I don’t think he’s going to object too strenuously,” she said with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. “Anyway, I can’t do anything until I get back to the office to assess our situation, add these notes to the file and run it past Bronson.”
“You’ll keep me updated?” the sheriff asked.
“Ten-four,” she replied succinctly.
“Be safe, Alicia. Don’t worry about things here. We’re keeping a close eye on Harry. I truly believe most of what’s happening is meant to scare him more than harm him.”
“It scared me, and this is not the first time I’ve been under direct fire,” she reminded him. “You guys may believe this is nothing but a bunch of the hayseeds blowing off steam, but I’m looking at it as something more serious. Hopefully, between the two of us, we’ll get it right.”
“Call me after you talk to Bronson. If we need to, I can have Marlee apply some pressure to have agency representation here. We can also get Representative Wingate to weigh in if we need to.”
Ben’s girlfriend, Marlee Masters, ran Timber Masters, the county’s largest employer. She was a powerful woman with a lot of pull. Pull Ben had no trouble taking advantage of when it served the greater good.
“Keep your big guns holstered for now, Sheriff. I’ll send up a flare if I can’t handle the chief myself,” she promised. Alicia ended the call and blew out a long breath. If she wasn’t misreading him, she’d bet anything Bronson would be as happy to get rid of her for a while as she would be to get lost.
* * *
SHE WAS WRONG in her assessment. For a split second, Andrew Bronson looked to be ecstatic at the prospect of having her out from under his feet for a while. Then he remembered if he said yes, he’d be giving her what she wanted, and shut her down.
“You are working on a number of crucial cases for us,” he said officiously.
Alicia wanted to sneer. He had her sifting through raw video footage and unedited audio collected from undercover operatives in hopes of unearthing nuggets of gold. A task which would keep her tied to her desk and mired in the minutiae of a handful of cases, rather than letting her sink her teeth into one.