Playing For Keeps (Montana Men)

by Jaydyn Chelcee

  Flayme snorted. “I doubt you know him well enough to defend him,” she retorted. “John’s a bastard. If he was tired of her, he’s weasel enough to have Molly killed.”

  “Keep saying things like that, I’ll have to charge you with treason.”

  She laughed and flung back her head in defiance. “Go ahead. John would love that. Then he could have me assassinated, too. Something I have no doubt he’s always wanted to do.”

  “Lady, I think you’re insane. The president has no interest in a CIA secretary, unless you’re a spy?”

  She laughed again. “Finally, you get something right.”

  Duel choked. “You’re a spy?”

  “Not the part that I’m a spy,” she hurried to deny. “You don’t have to tell me John wouldn’t give me the time of day. I think I know him better than most.”

  “You’re intimately acquainted with him?”

  “Intimately? Yes. But not in the way you mean. He’s my brother.”

  “Fuck! What?” Duel exclaimed. “What the hell did you say?”

  Flayme blinked. “You heard me correctly. Your beloved president’s my brother.”

  “Since when?”

  Her brows rose. “Since my birth?”

  “Why didn’t someone tell me I was protecting the sister of the president?”

  “Maybe because no one knows, except for John, Molly, Mac, and me? Let me assure you, John wouldn’t give two shits if I died today. He isn’t now nor has he ever been the ideal older brother.”

  “How the hell did you two manage to keep it out of the media?”

  “What? That the president has a sister? I didn’t manage it. He did. He preferred the world didn’t know I exist and I was accommodating, because you know what? I didn’t really want the world to know I was the sister of such a self-centered bastard.” She shrugged. “Besides, we shared the same mother, but different fathers, so I always had a different last name. No one made the connection and we left it that way.”

  “Yeah.” Duel rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. “But why the big secret?”

  “It’s a long story, one I have no desire to discuss. Just take me to wherever it is you think I need to be. The sooner this is all over, the better.”

  Duel turned the key and started the engine. “The president’s sister. Shit. I’m gonna need more men.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The hottest love has the coldest end.

  ~Socrates

  Annandale, Virginia

  February18, Wednesday

  Forty-three hours after the assassination…

  Sam leaned her head against the back of the car seat and barely stifled a whimper. It had been a hellishly long day and it wasn’t over yet. She glanced toward Travis who was sliding behind the wheel and reaching for his seat belt at the same time. “I’m sorry to delay you, Travis, but I didn’t want to return to Flayme’s house alone.”

  He cut her a sharp look. “Like I’d let you go there alone? You’re as ready to go home as I am.”

  “Yes, home sounds wonderful, what I’d give to kick off my heels and prop my feet up for twenty minutes.” She moaned at the thought. The idea of relaxing with a glass of wine sounded like heaven.

  “What do you think happened that Neil didn’t come in or call?” Travis asked, adjusting the heater control.

  She shrugged. “Who knows? He disobeyed a direct order to report to my office. As far as I’m concerned, it makes it easier to fire him.”

  In spite of the icy highways, Travis made the trip to Flayme’s house in record time, mainly because there were very few cars on the road, plus he was an excellent driver. When he pulled in Flayme’s drive, they looked at each other, surprised to see lights blazing in the living room.

  “What the hell?” Travis killed the engine. “Who—”

  “Neil!” Sam said through clenched teeth. “He must have decided to pay another visit in hopes of catching Flayme here.”

  Travis pulled out the key and pushed open the car door. By the time he exited the car, she was already headed to the front door. “Sam! Wait! Don’t go charging in there. You don’t know for a fact that it’s Neil in there.”

  She waited, but inside Sam fumed. This time, she intended to tell Neil Turner exactly what she thought of him. “Hurry up!”

  Travis pocketed the keys, stepped in front of her and tried the door. “Don’t be so impulsive. It’ll get you killed.” He twisted the doorknob and the door swung open, nice and easy. “Flayme would crap a turd a mile long if she knew Neil was coming and going in her home as he pleases. The man has balls, I’ll give him that.”

  Sam didn’t try to hide her disgust. “Either that or he’s such an idiot, he’s not thinking how Flayme’s going to react when she finds out he believes he’s a welcome guest.”

  Even though Travis tried to hold her back, Sam moved around him and stepped inside the entry hall. The house was deathly quiet. An itch settled at the back of her neck. She had a feeling someone was lurking. She pulled her Glock and moved into the living room. Nothing.

  Travis edged up beside her. “I swear to God, if you enter another room ahead of me, I’ll wring your beautiful neck.”

  Sam shot him a look. “Oh, it’s okay for you to get killed, but not me? I’m the senior agent here. I give the orders, not you.”

  He gripped her elbow and twisted her round to face him. “And I’m the man who loves you. I’d die if something happened to you, so damn it, stop rushing in ahead of me.”

  Sam froze. He’d never told her he loved her. Why the hell did he choose now, in the least unromantic of circumstances, to tell her he loved her? “You love me?” Oh duh! That was not what she meant to say.

  Travis frowned. “Haven’t I been telling you that for six goddamn years?”

  “No. You’ve never told me you love me, just that you wanted me.”

  “I do want you. Good grief, woman, I wanna marry you. I’m so damn crazy in love with you, you’re driving me nuts!”

  “No, you want Hayley.”

  “Sam, don’t. Don’t do this,” he said huskily. “You always look for some excuse to push me away.”

  “I’m not doing anything!” she denied.

  “Yes, you are. You’re running scared, terrified to accept the fact I love you and want to be a part of your life.”

  She snorted. “You don’t wanna be a part of my life. You wanna be a part of Hayley’s.”

  His brows knitted together. “Fuck! You honestly believe I’d use my daughter to get to you? Boy thanks. Your opinion of me sinks lower by the day. You know what, forget it. I’ve known for a long time that the woman inside you died right along with David.” He shook his head. “You blame yourself because you were in my bed, underneath me, my cock inside you and you begging for me to take you again when he got whacked.” He gripped her by the shoulders. “Well, go ahead, sweetheart, wallow in your guilt. But if your precious David had been home where he should have been and not fucking another cop’s wife, he wouldn’t have gotten blasted with that shotgun.”

  “What?” Sam swayed. “What are you talking about? David was killed by a lone gunman while on duty.”

  Travis snorted. “He was killed by a lone gunman, it’s true, but he wasn’t on duty. He was at Jeff Martin’s house, his partner. David was banging Jeff’s ol’ lady and had been for months. While you were away getting yourself shot at for his country, he played cheating games. That day, Jeff got out of court earlier than he was supposed to. He walked in and caught them. Jeff lost it. You can figure out the rest.”

  Sam felt tears sting her eyes. “I don’t believe you. David was intensely jealous. He was always accusing me of sleeping with you.”

  “What?” Travis blinked. “My God, I never touched you, not until that day. The sorry bastard, he accused you to keep you from suspecting him.”

  Sam felt as if she’d been punched in the solar plexus with a hard fist. “I never suspected…”

  “Is that why he beat you?”r />
  She turned her head away.

  Travis cupped her chin with his long fingers and turned her face toward him. “You have nothing to be ashamed about.”

  “Don’t I?”

  “No. It was his shame. The man was a brute and he treated you abominably.”

  “I broke my marriage vows.”

  “Sam, I know I was the only other man you ever slept with. You weren’t cheating for the sake of cheating and you’ve lived like a nun since. Sweetheart, David cheated long before you slept with me. He was violent, irrational, and he thought because he was a cop, he could get by with intimidating and beating you. If he hadn’t got killed, all hell would have broken loose. I had every intention of facing him. You were mine. You are mine.” He paused and searched her wounded gaze. “He really beat you because of me? Don’t look away. Not again.”

  “Yes,” she said her words hoarse. She fidgeted, uncomfortable discussing the abusive relationship she’d had with her husband. Sam was a very private person and it made her squirm to think Travis knew so much about her personal life. “He always accused me of sleeping with you. Sometimes he’d slap me before I left on a mission with you, but he never beat me, not like that last time before you and I left. He was so angry, making wild accusations. He refused to believe I wasn’t sleeping with you.”

  “His own guilty conscience,” Travis replied.

  She dashed the tears from her eyes. “You enjoyed telling me he was cheating on me. Didn’t you?”

  “No, of course not.” He hesitated. “Maybe. Hell, I don’t know.” He thrust fingers through his thick hair. “It is way past time you took David off his damn pedestal and woke up.”

  “You say you love me?” She sneered. “When you love someone, you don’t deliberately hurt them. Believe me I never put David on a pedestal.”

  “You hurt me, Sam. The way you kept Hayley from me hurts.” He gripped her by her upper arms. “The sad thing is I don’t think you care. Do you even care?”

  Her lips quivered. “I’ve never said I love you.”

  Travis let go and backed up a step. The color faded from his face. He seriously looked like the world had crumbled away from beneath his feet. “You’re right,” he choked, “you’ve never said you love me. My bad. Like a fool, I just keep walking into the hurt you dish out. You know what?” He gave a choked laugh. “It’s more than time I cut my losses and walk away. I’ll put in for a transfer first thing in the morning. I’d like that approved immediately.”

  Sam heard the bitterness in his words, his voice. God, she hadn’t meant to hurt him. She’d been making an off-the-wall statement. She hadn’t meant for it to strike like an arrow into his heart. “Travis…” Her voice caught on a little hitch.

  She couldn’t do this.

  She couldn’t be what he wanted her to be, needed her to be. He was right about one thing though—she hadn’t put David to rest, not because she still loved him, but because she’d hated him and wished him dead.

  The morning he beat her, she’d prayed for his death. She had to live with that. Finding happiness with Travis didn’t feel right when David lay in the cold ground because she’d wished it so.

  Sam whirled and took off into the kitchen. Oh, God. She couldn’t seem to stop hurting people. Why couldn’t she stop saying cruel things to Travis? She’d always hurt him, but she—her thoughts congealed in her head. She froze in her tracks. Shit! This was such a lousy, fucking day!

  “I think maybe—” Travis bumped into her back, grinding to a sudden stop. “Shit,” he muttered, echoing her thoughts. “This sucks! Looks like you won’t have to bother firing Neil. Someone took care of the problem for you.”

  She nodded. “We’ll be here all night. Your request for a transfer is denied. Crap!” Sam sighed and dug out her cell phone. “I should have gone home. I should have propped up my feet and had that drink…or three…or four.”

  * * * *

  Montana

  Blackstone Land

  February 18, Wednesday

  Forty-eight hours after the assassination…

  “God, it’s colder than a frozen woodpecker’s dick,” Rafe said, rubbing his hands together. He’d built a fire in the fireplace as soon as he and Lacey arrived, but the old farm was drafty and the weather outside was miserable. It’d take a while to get the house warm. “It would have been nice if Danger came by and lit a fire.”

  Lacey giggled. “Maybe he figured we could generate our own heat.”

  Rafe’s lips twitched. “He’s right. We can. I noticed there’s a big, heavy comforter on the bed and a layer of quilts under it, and then, oh, God,” he moaned in appreciation, “flannel sheets.”

  “You sound like you’re having an orgasm.” Lacey laughed.

  “Almost. We’ll stay warm. I’ll bring in some wood and keep a fire burning the rest of the night. By morning, the house will be nice and toasty.” He hesitated. “Are you okay?”

  Lacey looked up from the suitcase she was rummaging through and nodded. “Yeah, I’m just trying to find us something warm to sleep in.”

  Rafe took her hand and squeezed it. “I’ll keep you warm, sweetheart. I don’t need clothes to do it.”

  She looped her arms around his neck and tilted her head. “No, you don’t.” Lacey looked around and suddenly she looked as if she was going to cry. “I can still see Papa Joe and Grandma Shalene here. They adored little Joseph. Danger’s grandparents lived here their entire married life. Did you know they raised him, Coe, and Anna Leigh?”

  “Didn’t know that, sweetheart, Danger never talked much about his family or you, until…”

  “Until he decided to give me to you?”

  For the first time, Rafe didn’t hear any bitterness in her voice. What he heard was steadfastness. Thank God. The process was slow, but she was getting over Danger’s betrayal, at least on the surface. “Lace, he might have been finished with you, but I wanted you, baby. He just made it a whole hell of a lot easier for me to have you. If he hadn’t let you go, God, I don’t know how much longer I would have held off confessing how I felt about you.”

  Lacey snuggled against him. “He stopped talking to me months before you and I got together. I don’t think he ever loved me. Not really. Not the way he should have.”

  Rafe tilted her chin. “I love you, Lace, in every way that counts.” He flattened his big hand across her flat belly. “How soon before we can test to see if you’re pregnant?”

  “A few days. A week, maybe two.”

  “Wanna work at making sure it happens?”

  She grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  His brows furrowed. “I don’t want you out of my sight while we’re here.”

  “Rafe—”

  “I mean it, Lace. I don’t like being back in Montana in the first place. I sure as hell don’t like risking your life like this or giving into Smitt Davis’ evil demands. The man’s bolts and screws are all loose. Promise me you won’t wander away. If you want to go for a walk, I’ll go with you. Swear to me—”

  “I swear.” She laid a fingertip across his lips. “I’m not so foolish as to wander off by myself. I know what’s waiting out there. Let’s go to bed. You have something you need to work on.”

  Grinning, he nodded. “Yes, ma’am, it’s my favorite job.”

  She closed the lid to the suitcase and laughed over her shoulder at him, her gold-colored eyes sparkling. Rafe felt his heart skip a beat. God, it was the first time he’d heard her laugh or seen a hint of the woman he’d fallen helplessly in love with since she was attacked by Smitt Davis.

  Swear to God, he was not letting that savage near her again. At the moment, he didn’t give a good damn if he had to kill the bastard, legally or illegally. One way or the other, Smitt Davis was going to meet his Maker. Lacey’s smile slowly faded. He guessed the look on his face sobered her.

  “You really think he’ll come after me again?” she asked, a tremor in her voice.

  “I think he’ll come after yo
u with everything he’s got. You’re the one who got away. He has to hate that.”

  She shuddered. “Don’t let him hurt me.”

  Rafe turned her toward the bedroom. “I’d die before I let him get his hands on you again.” He gently tugged on her hand. “Come on, forget something to sleep in. I’d just have to take it off you anyway.”

  Her laughter closed around him, warm and sweet. It was the most precious sound he’d ever heard.

  * * * *

  West of Denver

  Off Interstate 70

  Duel’s Cabin

  February 18, Wednesday

  Forty-eight hours and thirty minutes after the assassination…

  Duel scooped Flayme into his arms and tried not to wince at the strain on the stitches in his shoulder. Damn it. He was sick and tired of feeling like such a candy ass. He turned and trudged through the undisturbed knee-deep snow covering the path that led up to the cabin steps.

  Undisturbed. Good. It meant for now, they were safe. No one was ahead of them. And hopefully, no one was behind them to discover they were here. His internal warning system said they were in the clear—for now. More snow was in the forecast, but then, this was Colorado.

  Already the power lines swayed under the weight of a light coating of ice. The only saving grace so far was the fact there had only been a scant amount of freezing rain. Thank God the cabin had a generator and a backup, just in case.

  His cabin was by no means the Dancing Star, but he’d built the place when he was in his late teens. Using local pine, he’d structured an A-frame house, added a second story, a wrap-around deck and lots of tall windows.

  Regal, snow-capped mountains provided a stunning view all around. A winding, twisting road dipped south and led to the nearest town some fifteen miles away. The tiny, enclosed ski resort reminded him of a Swiss Chalet village and from here, was accessible only by snowmobile, unless one didn’t mind driving the switchbacks and crisscrossing nearly fifty miles out of the way.