by Marlow Kelly
He flipped up his hood and took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the cold, wind, and snow. He’d only gone a few steps when he became aware of someone behind him.
Finn dropped his food and spun around as his hand went to his Glock.
The baby-faced man from the café put his arms up, surrendering. “Are you the FBI? I heard that cop call you Agent Callaghan.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Can I see your badge?” he shouted, straining to be heard above the storm.
“And you are?” With his left hand, Finn took his credentials from his pocket and flipped them open. His right hand still rested on his weapon.
“I’m Jake.” He moved closer, studying Finn’s ID, holding it up to the small stream of light that filtered from the coffee shop window. Then he nodded as if satisfied with what he saw.
“What can I do for you?” Finn put his identification back in his pocket and stepped closer to the wall out of the wind.
“David sent me.” Jake blew on his exposed fingers.
“David—David Quinn?”
“Jake nodded.”
“Where is he? He needs to come in and straighten this mess out. Let’s go inside and talk about this.” Finn nodded toward the Dumb Luck Café.
Jake stared into the coffee shop and shook his head. “No. I’ll talk to you alone and then I’m leaving.”
“But I need a state—”
‘No, it’s too dangerous. I have a family—”
“What’s too dangerous?”
“A man named Marshall Portman wants him and the woman dead. I heard…” Jake gulped.
“What?”
“I heard that Portman guy on the phone. He said Marie was dangerous. He plans to kill them.”
Finn sucked in a breath. “You heard this.”
“Yes, I thought he’d kidnapped her, but he didn’t.”
So this corroborated David’s earlier accusation. Portman was trying to kill them. “Anything else?”
“David said he wants to come in, but he can’t go to the police. That’s all I know.” Jake backed away.
“Wait, you’re my witness. I need you to—”
“No, I said I’d deliver the message and I have.”
Finn desperately wanted Jake to stay. “Do you realize you’re the only person who can prove David’s innocence? Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee and we can talk.”
“No.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Away from here. I want to see my kids again.” Jake retreated, fighting the wind as he trudged through the snow.
Finn watched until he disappeared from sight. He could have forced Jake to stay, but that wasn’t practical. If David was right and the police were compromised, then he had no one to watch Jake while he investigated. Peggy had security cameras. The whole thing would’ve been caught on tape. If need be, he could track Jake down later.
Portman had enough money to do a lot of damage, but the widespread corruption of multiple forces would take organizing. All he really needed to do was bribe those at the top of the ladder. Chief Notley’s behavior indicated he was shady, but that didn’t mean the officers in his charge were. Ramirez had come to him, wanting to share information on the home invasion, and coordinate with the kidnapping investigation. Or was the detective only asking to throw Finn off balance?
He rolled his eyes. Things were bad enough without becoming paranoid. He scanned the deserted city square. The blizzard obliterated the PDE building from view. A shiver inched down his spine that had nothing to do with the weather.
He needed to talk to Kennedy and contact his superiors in Salt Lake City as soon as the phones were back. A large vice tightened around his chest. Once the blizzard was over and the roads were cleared, they could get backup, but until then, he and Kennedy were isolated and alone. They couldn’t rely on anyone but themselves. He tried to inhale a deep lungful of frozen air, but his ribcage wouldn’t expand. He leant against the wall of the coffee shop and stared at the snow, allowing the hurling flakes to calm him. Finally, he relaxed enough to breathe.
He plucked his Rueben sandwich from where it had landed in the snowdrift. It was still in its brown paper bag, but his coffee was gone. He stepped away from the shelter of the building. Almost immediately, a gust of wind propelled him sideways, throwing him off balance. He’d wait out the storm. Then he would do what he always did—work the case.
Chapter Nineteen
Marie leant against the bathroom sink, washing her face, marveling at the healing power of hot water. It was such a simple thing and yet it lifted her spirits. But did they really have any chance of getting out of this? She’d developed a solar panel she believed would benefit mankind and help her gain the recognition of the scientific community. Instead, they were embroiled in a terrifying situation.
Using a towel from the rack, she rubbed her face dry. At least she looked better than she had when she’d first entered the bathroom. But there were still dark circles under her eyes, and her cheeks and ears were pink from exposure. She brushed her teeth, using one of the toothbrushes purchased at the gas station.
David might as well have used a hatchet to hack off her hair. Long chunks hung over her eyes, while the back was cropped an inch shorter than the front. She dampened her hands and then ran the water through her untidy mane. Frizzy curls formed immediately. She sucked in a breath as she studied her reflection. She was a scientist, so it was only fitting that she now looked like the female version of Albert Einstein.
David had found a new pack of men’s underwear and a big sweatshirt, but no bra. Damn. She tugged on the white boxers, wishing they were a size larger. She wasn’t exactly a pear shape since her chest and her hips were roughly in equal proportion. If she were being kind, she might describe her figure as Rubenesque. Whereas, men weren’t known for their wide hips so the waistband of the underwear dug into her flesh. She grabbed the scissors off the counter and snipped the elastic so they fit.
While she appreciated the fresh, clean undergarments and the sweatshirt, she really would have liked to wear a bra. Her breasts actually hurt from the lack of adequate support. Using her hands, she held her bust up for a few minutes, enjoying the much-needed relief to her chest muscles.
She cringed as she climbed into her pink long johns. They needed to be boiled. No, once this was over, she would burn them. She thought about looking for some pants but decided against it. They would probably be a worse fit than the underwear, and she was too tired to fuss. She tugged the black sweatshirt over her long johns and left the bathroom.
She found David and Mac in the living room.
“How did you find this place in the storm?” David lounged on the couch. He seemed to have relaxed as he stared out the window, watching the windblown snow as it accumulated into large overhanging mounds on the eave.
“It was tough. I thought I’d missed my turn. Everything’s white, but the snow was higher on either side of the driveway, and the lane itself formed a straight line. That’s how I knew I wasn’t driving into a field or creek. How did you find it?” Opposite David, Mac was reclined with his feet up, his back resting against the wing of the loveseat.
“Same. It was the lay of the land that gave this place away.” David glanced at her as she reached the bottom step and patted the empty spot next to him.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll use the facilities and then bed down for the night.” Mac stood and headed for the stairs. His footsteps creaked through the house as he made his way to the bathroom.
A pile of assorted comforters and blankets were stacked on the coffee table. As Marie sat, David unfolded a large comforter and stretched it over her. Then he threw an arm over her shoulders and tugged her against his side. He smelled of soap and man. Once again she was captivated by the allure of his scent. She tried to dismiss her attraction to him, not because she wanted to ignore it, but because he was so much more than a handsome, rugged man. He was annoying, flawed, intelligent, and p
rotective. He had put himself in the line of fire for her and deserved her gratitude and respect, not just her lust.
She let out a sigh, and then relaxed against him as her eyes blinked shut. She was beyond tired. All her energy left her body, making her feel like a deflated balloon. This day hadn’t just been long and arduous. It had been a nightmare of dangerous situations and revelations, the most irritating of which was David assuming she wanted to thank him with sex. She elbowed him to show her displeasure.
“Ouch. What was that for?” He sounded put out, but she knew she hadn’t hurt him because he hadn’t moved.
“Thank-you sex,” she growled.
“Still miffed about that, huh?”
“Of course, I am. You thought I’d—I’d—”
“Look, I’m a guy. I can run five miles in an hour carrying a fifty-pound rucksack. I can do a hundred pushups in two minutes, and I can swim a hundred meters wearing military issue boots and fatigues, but don’t ask me about how I feel, how you feel, or any of that shit, because I haven’t got a clue.”
“You’re oblivious.”
“Yeah, can you let this go? I messed up. It’s been a long time since I’ve kissed a pretty woman, and I’m a little low on finesse.”
“I don’t think this is a day for finesse.”
“You got that right, but on the bright side, the fire will die down in the night so we’ll need to snuggle to stay warm.” He waggled his eyebrows.
She giggled at his obvious attempt to lighten the conversation and then gave a prolonged yawn.
“Get some sleep.” He pulled the blanket higher around her neck.
She wanted rest, but there were questions she needed to ask before she could relax. “Why are you helping me? Why haven’t you left me behind?”
“I did…twice. I left you with the FBI and I left you at the airport. It didn’t take either time.” He made light of her questions when she needed answers.
“But why do you keep saving me?” If there was ever going to be anything between them, she needed to know more than his name and that he was a Special Forces soldier.
“It’s my job.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Ok, not technically, but…” His voice trailed, and he stared out at the blowing snow. “I’ll explain later.”
She closed her eyes and listened to the wind as it howled around the house. She was adrift. It was as if her whole world had tilted and what she had thought was the truth was in fact a lie. She’d believed the world would welcome her brainchild, and that no one would object to a cheap, clean source of power, but she’d been wrong.
It wasn’t like the criticism of her colleagues, one of which had described her hypotheses as unsubstantiated hogwash. These men wanted the absolute obliteration of not only her work, but also her very being.
“Stop thinking.” David tapped her forehead. “I can feel the cogs turning.”
She sucked in a deep breath. “I want to know why you’re helping me.”
“Why I’m helping you? Because…because you’re a pain in my butt who keeps getting into trouble.”
She said nothing, refusing to acknowledge his glib answer. It wasn’t just a question of trust. She didn’t know anything about him, and yet she was becoming emotionally involved. She wanted to understand the man who could disarm an assailant in the morning, but at the end of the day kiss her senseless.
Finally he sighed and said, “What kind of a person would I be if I just let them hurt you?”
“A normal one.”
He held three fingers in front of her face. “Three times I’ve saved you, and you still don’t believe in me.”
“I do, it’s just—”
“Just what?”
“I need to know how you’re involved in this and why you helped me when it would’ve been easier to walk away.”
“Because you’re in trouble, and I may be a bastard, but I’m not that big a bastard. And I’m involved in this because I let my guard down.”
“How?”
“Marshall kept calling me, insisting I take this job. I thought he was a friend and trying to help me get back on my feet, but—”
“How do you know him?”
“He saved me.”
“You’re Special Forces. How did a business man in Montana save you?”
“When I was fourteen, I caught my stepfather trying to rape my sister.”
“Oh…”
“I killed him.”
It was a bald statement with no embellishments, no justification. She swallowed, not knowing which shocking fact she should react to first, the knowledge that David had taken a life to protect his sister, or that his fourteen-year-old sister had been assaulted. She tried to imagine the scene, but that left her with more questions than answers. “What about your parents, your real parents?”
“Dad died when I was eight. Mom remarried when I was twelve. She died a year later.”
“I’m so sorry.” She placed her hand over his.
“Anyway, after I killed Russell, that was his name, Sinclair and I ran away. We made it from Denver, Colorado to Granite City before we ran out of money.”
“What did you do then?”
“We lived on the street.” He spoke as if they were having an everyday conversation over a cup of coffee and not talking about what had to be the most devastating event of his life.
“How did you survive?
“Begging and charity. Anyway, one cold night in January, the three of us were huddled in a doorway when Portman walked up to us—”
“Three of you? I thought it was just you and Sinclair.” She struggled to keep a tight grip on her emotions. As a child, he had lived off the charity of others and begged for food. She wanted to cry for him but knew he wasn’t revealing his past to gain her sympathy.
“At first, then we met Tim and Mike. They were runaways, too. We watched each other’s backs. Took care of each other. On the street, there’s safety in numbers.”
“Portman walks up to you and?”
“He offered us a place to sleep and a spot in his program.”
“What program?”
“Marshall House. I wasn’t too keen on it at first, but Sinclair was sick and needed off the street, and Tim wanted a future where he wouldn’t have to steal. Me, Sinclair, and Tim went to Marshall House. Michael had already gone home to his family.”
“Tell me about Tim and Michael.”
“Tim’s pretty straightforward. His parent’s own a ranch in Elkhead County, just north of here. As a teen, he got into some trouble and ran away from home. He’s charismatic. Sinclair says he just pretends to be charming. It’s the face he shows the world.”
“What do you think?”
“I think she’s right. Not that it matters. He’s family.”
“And Michael. What’s he like?”
“Michael is complicated.”
“How?”
“He’s like you.”
“Me?”
“He’s smart, except with him it’s computers and cyber stuff. He’s a cyber specialist with Army CID.”
“Were they good to you at Marshall House?” She already knew the answer. Why else would he consider Portman a friend?
“Yeah, really good. We had onsite schooling to help us catch up. They even sorted out our legal problems.”
“What legal problems?”
“I’d killed a man, remember, and Tim had some issues, too. Anyway, Marshall House helped us get our high school diplomas, and with a clean record, we were able to join the army.”
“Was that what you wanted?”
“I never thought about it. The program is about giving back to the community. We were encouraged to get a job that benefited others in some way. The army wasn’t a bad way for me to go. I’m tough, fit, a good fighter, and I’m good with languages. In return, I got three meals a day, a bed to sleep in, a post-secondary education through distance learning, and a place where I belonged.”
“What did you do fo
r a post-secondary?”
“Entrepreneurship.”
“Why a business degree?” She couldn’t imagine him in a suit.
“I like working with numbers and the idea of being my own boss. I figured when I was ready, I could put something together, and if a small business didn’t work out, I still had the qualifications to get a decent job.”
“How does this lead to you breaking into my cabin and rescuing me?”
“I have a ten-acre parcel of land west of Missoula. It’s peaceful, but there are no structures on the property. I live in an old camper. I was hoping to build a small cabin.” He looked around. “Smaller than this place. I wasn’t planning to hook it up to utilities, just a wood fire for heat and an outhouse.”
She glanced at the potbelly stove. “Sounds cozy, except for the outhouse.”
“It would be. Anyway, I burned through most of my savings buying the land and paying for food and sh—stuff. I have some left, but I’m saving that to purchase more hives.”
“Bees?” That was unexpected. She hadn’t pictured him in an agrarian environment. Hunting, sure. Beekeeping—never.
“Products made from beeswax are in demand, and I can also rent out the hives for pollination. It’s a growing industry, and I like bees. They keep it simple.”
She tried to imagine him in the protective gear worn by beekeepers, but couldn’t. He was just too energetic and dynamic. “I think we’re getting off topic.”
“Marshall offered me a lot of money to help retrieve a solar panel. He told me it was stolen. In fact, he insisted that my help was needed to intimidate the suspect—you, but once we broke through your door, I knew I’d made an error in judgment. Plus, it was all a lie. I should have realized when I met the others on the team that I wasn’t needed. I believed criminals weren’t in Portman’s sphere of expertise. I was so blind.”
The memory of David, a terrifying scarred man with shaggy hair, a long beard, and intense, pale eyes coming through her door, sprang to mind. She had been so scared of him she hadn’t paid attention to the men who were the real threat.