by Janet Eaves
Exhausted, discouraged, she looked at all those still assembled. “We all need to get some rest. There isn’t anything more we can do tonight.” She watched as Caleb’s parents moved away together, his mother’s head resting on his father’s shoulder as they left the room.
Polly spun her motorized chair and pushed her toggle switch to its highest speed as she sought to solitude of her room. This was her fault. Another child would die a horrible, painful death—or worse, which she couldn’t allow herself to think about or she would go back to that place of horror that had broken her emotionally in the first place. Wall was foul. The dirtiest type of human—if you could call him one—that walked the earth.
“Polly?”
She glanced around at the softly spoken Catcher as tears burned her eyes. “He cut his own children. Sexually assaulted them. Sodomized then dismembered them. Just what do you think Caleb is going through right now?”
Catcher’s tanned face paled. “I didn’t know that.”
Polly shrugged. “You wouldn’t. You were sent to take care of me. Not them.”
Indecision seemed to cloud his eyes before he looked down at his hands. “I’ll get someone else to handle this.” He glanced back at her. “You aren’t up to it.”
Polly shook her head. “He wants me. This is all about me. If there is even a small chance Caleb makes it, I have to be the one to take the money.”
Catcher stalked around the room. “I can’t do this. What the hell are they thinking!” He glanced over to Polly and she knew her look of confusion. He shook his head. “Uh, we’ll use a decoy. Someone who looks like you. He won’t know the difference.”
Polly frowned at him. “We, I, can’t take that risk. Caleb is out there and he’s close. If we act fast, he might have a chance.”
Catcher’s bewildered expression and defeated slump made her nervous. “What aren’t you telling me?”
A deep breath and squared shoulders pulled Catcher back to his usual height. “Nothing. I’ll make the necessary calls. Get a good night’s sleep.”
She nodded, not even curious at his odd behavior. After all, the man they were about to hunt had completely knocked her life out from under her, and she had come face to face with the worst of the worst time and again. Someone as sheltered as Catcher had no idea how impossible a good night’s sleep would be this night, nor the many nights to come.
Chapter Twelve
Catcher couldn’t sleep, though lately, that wasn’t anything new. But the reason, this stormy night, was for entirely different reasons than usual, which was why he was wearing a hole through the wood flooring as he paced back and forth in his tiny room.
He should have known better. He should have found out more about what had cracked that incredible woman before allowing her to become a part of this. Now he was in up to his ears and there was no way out. Catcher scrubbed his fingers against his scalp purely out of frustration.
Already the Agency had a team heading straight for Legend to set up a full-fledged hostage negotiation station. He’d already told his boss it was a mistake. A miscalculation on his part and completely unnecessary. But to no avail. Several men and women would descend on this quiet little town with the intention of questioning, poking around, tapping phones, and setting up eavesdropping devices. And it was all for show.
And it was on his head.
His scheme. His miscalculation. And Polly would suffer for it.
The duly authorized agents of the government would make camp, most likely in the Legend’s Landing Bed and Breakfast where he and Polly were already staying. Though they’d been more than accommodating for Polly and him, he wasn’t too certain Brad and Suzie Matthews would appreciate being pushed out of their home. But even that was out of his hands now. Regret ate at him like a rabid dog.
As soon as he and Polly took up residence in the newly renovated cabin the Matthews rented out up the on the mountain, the agency would take over completely. He had no idea what their plan was, only that he’d been assured Polly wouldn’t be hurt.
How had it come to this? How could he have made such a major mistake? How could he continue to do his job, knowing he would only hurt her more?
He could only hope Polly would be able to handle the emotional as well as physical toll it would take on her. It shamed him that he had to continue to push her physically, and evaluate and record every action and reaction she had to every situation that arose.
He felt like a slug. She didn’t deserve what he was doing, what he was forced to do. The only thing that made him feel a little better was the fact that she had responded as she should have. That in itself was an incredible relief. But that was gut reaction. Once she had time to process what was happening would she be able to handle it? And what would he do if she couldn’t?
Even worse. What if she actually figured out what was really going on? He was dead meat. And likely, not the only one she would take out, if they didn’t take her out first.
There was no way, after meeting her, after falling for her, he’d let them take her out. He’d idolized her from afar ever since learning the barest details of her illustrious career. The sacrifices she’d made both physically and in creature comforts for her country was a testament to the woman’s character. Sure, she had a mouth on her and could be a major pain in the butt, but who wouldn’t have developed an attitude after what she’d been forced to endure.
To have had a sick-o serial killer in her grasp, be completely hand-tied to do anything about it, and then have the bastard take her down because she was just following orders would be enough to turn anyone around. But the extent of the perp’s crimes and the subsequent situation had done more than turn her, it had spun her out of control of her otherwise impeccable facilities. And the Agency was determined that he spin her back.
He had, in fact, joined The Agency with helping others in mind. He’d expected to be trained as a field agent, but he’d tested strongly in math and science and they’d wanted him to train in a medical field. He chose physical therapy to help field agents who needed to recover from injuries since it was a way to serve, and also gave him a degree of freedom.
As it turned out, the career was a perfect fit. He’d met some incredibly wonderful, self-sacrificing individuals who had needed his skills to mend mind, body and sometimes even spirit. But Polly was special. She was so very special. And was becoming more so all the time.
And that in itself was a problem. He wasn’t supposed to become so emotionally involved. Not to the extent of falling, at least he was somewhat certain he was falling, in love with a client. A client he would be forced to kill if he failed.
Shit!
There had to be a way out of this. He had to think. He had to come up with a way to make this whole situation disappear. But of course he couldn’t. Once he’d offered a medical evaluation and had suggested a way of snapping her out of the funk she’d allowed herself to fall into, he committed not only himself but her to The Agency’s iron-clad decisions. So they would move forward. She as the lead investigator and negotiator and he as her assistant.
He just hoped she didn’t find out the truth before he was allowed to confess. If he was ever allowed to confess.
Chapter Thirteen
Catcher lifted her chin to study her face, his gaze lingering on the scars. “Looks pretty good. In the next few months, a year, they’ll fade some more.” He glanced into her eyes, and then grinned devilishly as he stared at her nose.
“What?” she asked, desperately wanting to kiss lips that were a little too close to her own, and completely irritated her thoughts took such a turn. She hadn’t expected to have romantic needs ever again, and lately that was all she could think of.
And given what they were all going through that was totally inappropriate.
Sheesh!
“You have bats in the cave.”
Huh? Understanding dawned and she slapped her hand over her nose. When he started laughing, she jerked the round makeup mirror lying on the bed besid
e her and held it in front of her face. She glared at him. “I do not!”
Catcher backed away, still laughing. “I know. I just wanted to see if you were girly enough to care about a few boogers.”
So much for romance. She restrained herself from throwing the mirror at him, but just barely. “I’m still slow, but I’m getting stronger, Stevens. Eventually I’ll be able to kick your sorry butt.”
Catcher bit his bottom lip in an obvious attempt to stem the grin he usually wore. Then his eyes sobered, as she knew her own did. They had become playful with each other over the time they’d spent together. He was a tease. She was a smart ass. And they both had come to enjoy that from the other.
But current circumstances… a child missing, a madman lose, frantic parents and a town on full alert made everything she was feeling wrong. Worse still, she was about as useful as a schooner run aground with its sail flapping ineptly to handle the chaos that had suddenly taken over their world
But she still wanted him. Needed him. And it had nothing to do with her injuries.
It would have been so much easier to ignore his effect on her if he hadn’t been so friggin cute—hell, sexy. He always looked like sunshine on steroids. His cheerful demeanor, his hot body, sunny smile, and smell! Good grief, the man was sin on a breeze.
He was so damned adorable it was ridiculous. She couldn’t even believe she was interested in cute and adorable when her taste always ran to dark and dangerous. And her looks were gone. It was just that simple. If there was a time his ornery young butt could have been interested in a sexy older woman, that time was no more. That woman was no more.
Men had come and gone in and out of her life with little impact. There had been the affairs, well, only two really, but those two had not impacted her life in any significant way, except when she’d had to convince them not to make her have to kill them, in order to get them to exit her life with a little grace. Men, it seemed, had a hard time understanding she was serious when she said it was over.
There were the one-night stands the job demanded. Though all of those men were dead before the sex happened, so they probably didn’t even count. And then there was Lloyd Smith, a fellow agent who she thought maybe, just maybe, might result in a real relationship. Until his wife came to the office one day, demanding to know who the bimbo was that he was sleeping with. Since she’d been the bimbo in question—though they technically hadn’t passed third base—she quickly kicked his ass to the curb both literally and figuratively. The son-of-a-bitch had told her he was divorced. If that wife of his had any sense, she’d make his lie a reality.
But that was it. That was the sum total of her romantic relationships. And it was so sad to realize she was hitting the big four-o in less than a month and she had no family, no home, and a hideous job she was no longer capable of doing to show for it. Worse still, she’d lost the assets that would make a man interested in starting those things with her now. And for some reason, Catcher Stevens was the one making all these ridiculous thoughts cloud her brain at a time when she needed it clearer than ever.
Whenever he was near her hormones went wacko. During her pain-filled workouts, which should, by all rights, have made her hate his guts. When they verbally sparred, which should have made her a lot madder than it did. Damn, if she was honest, she enjoyed his smart mouth. And when he pushed her beyond what she believed were her physical limits, as he did constantly. No matter what he did, how he did it, or how much she should hate or resent it, he made her horny. Which was a major a problem.
She’d already had enough time during her recovery to think of all the things she could have been doing with her life. Like finding a man to love, honor, and cherish. Like starting a home where there was laughter and love and, yes, even the occasional fight. All those things she had decided she didn’t want following the murder of her parents were the very things she craved now. Mostly, she craved a man to love her, no matter what. One who would be willing to overlook her past, one who wanted to reshape her future with her. A partner. A friend. A lover. For life.
She turned her head away from Catcher and blinked the sudden moisture from her eyes. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself. Love from him was not an option. After all, Catcher had no interest in loving her, or even making love to her. She was nothing more to him than a broken cog in a very large machine, and he was head mechanic. Which sucked. Really sucked. But it was a reality her brain seemed to forget with irritating frequency.
Every time he touched her, heck, he didn’t even have to touch her, but just enter a room, she felt that revving in her lower gut. She wanted to reach out, just once, and pull his delicious mouth to hers just to test the waters, just to see if he kissed as well as she was fantasizing he did. The chemistry was already there, obviously, but if he would just stink at kissing this endless need to taste him would go away.
She seriously needed it to go away!
In the morning they would drive up to the newly renovated cabin donated by the endlessly generous Brad Matthews family. No matter what was asked of them, and The Agency was asking plenty, they gave what was asked without hesitation or complaint. Besides taking over the Bed & Breakfast, agents were piling into the lodge, according to Catcher. A couple of agents were setting up in another of the Matthews’ chalets a quarter mile down the mountain from where they would stay. With the kidnapper’s demand that only she and Catcher move into position to receive instructions, they had to make sure the presence of the other agents went unnoticed. She hadn’t seen any herself, but Catcher kept her apprised of their activities.
The problem was, for the most part, she and Catcher would be alone. Biding their time until the kidnapper contacted them. The expectation was that he would make them wait. Make them sweat. And give them plenty of time with no one or anything to intrude on the fact that they were sharing a small log cabin which held a loft bed.
According to Suzie Matthews, one very large, very cushy feather bed.
Just the thought made her hot!
“Let’s get this shirt off so I can check the rest of your injury sites.”
Polly complied quickly, then closed her eyes when she looked down and realized her nipples were pebble hard beneath the thin material of her sports bra. She quickly snatched her shirt and held it to her chest.
“Say a word and I’ll blow your head off.”
She felt more than heard his chuckle, but refused to look at him.
“Lay back and let me look to make sure you haven’t reinjured yourself.”
She slid a glance to his face. “Just keep your eyes where they belong, Stevens.”
“Move the shirt, Chapman, and let me do my job.”
Polly slid the shirt to reveal the puckered scar beneath her breast.
“These are looking good.” He smiled at her. “You’re almost healed, agent.”
Agent. Polly hated the word these days. She really did feel like she was recovering rapidly now, and knew she’d have to make a decision soon about approaching her boss with her intentions of leaving the agency. It was scary knowing they could refuse to break the contract she’d signed with them all those years ago. She really didn’t know what she would do if they wouldn’t let her go.
Planning to run as a rogue agent if the need arose, and actually doing so were two entirely different things. It wasn’t the life she wanted, would in fact prevent her from starting the life she did want to lead, so in the end it could come down to the lesser of two evils.
She signed as Catcher helped her into a sitting position. “Thanks, Stevens.”
His cell phone beeped and he pulled it from his back pocket, flipped it open, then read whatever was on its screen. After snapping it back closed he turned to her, seemed to searched her face, his own unusually somber. “Don’t thank me yet.”
Chapter Fourteen
“This is beautiful!”
“Yeah.”
Polly took in the room, delighted by its coziness, relieved the trip up the mountain hadn’t bee
n fraught with awkwardness. She’d had a good talk with herself, and with Suzie and Lilly. Though they thought she should just give in to her desires and jump his bones at the first opportunity, she knew that it would never happen, which made things easier. Now that she had her head on straight, she was going to do her job and not only work her butt off to complete the healing process, but also to find little Caleb alive and get him back to his family.
There was no reason she couldn’t be professional about this. She would do what she had to do and she would do it to the best of her ability and somehow, she would do it without letting emotions or physical needs distract her. She’d been able to do those things once, and she would do so again.
She slid a glance to Catcher, refusing to acknowledge the sadness that settled into her chest. Determined to ignore him, she took in the room. The entire living and kitchen areas were approximately twelve hundred square feet. The space was separated at its center by the open, backless steps leading up to a loft, which she knew held the bedroom. Suzie had filled her in on the floor plan and amenities, which meant the single bathroom was located at the back of the house to the left of the kitchen, and double French doors led to a balcony to the right. She’d raved about the over-the-mountainside view, so Polly headed to the French doors first.
She wasn’t disappointed. The view of the lake and Legend Township in the distance was beyond anything she could have imagined. The sparkling water, the geometrically laid out town, and clean mountain air almost made her forget why she was there.
Almost.
She turned to find Catcher standing behind her, his gaze on her, not the magnificent vista they had to behold. “I hate that man.”
He blinked, lowered his gaze, shuffled his feet, before looking up, past her right shoulder. “Me, too.”
Polly frowned, studying him as he looked at anything but her. He was doing that more and more lately. At first she thought maybe he’d started liking her, but, embarrassingly, figured she’d misread everything.