by Rachel Grant
Jenna playfully punched him in the shoulder. “If you ever get off your ass and take me out on a real date, I’ll stop treating you like one of the girls.” Jenna had never made a secret of her crush on Brad. She turned back to Isabel. “Seriously, isn’t he smokin’?” She fanned herself with the laminated bar menu, which was a bit over-the-top considering the room was anything but hot, with the heavy rainstorm raging outside. But then, she clearly wanted to make Brad jealous.
Brad’s eyes narrowed on cue. It was equally well known that he enjoyed Jenna’s crush—they were Tamarack’s very own star-crossed lovers. Isabel had long suspected they were secretly screwing each other’s brains out, a suspicion that only solidified with the hot look he cast Jenna’s way.
It was rather sweet, seeing the sparks between them.
“Jenna! Order up!” the bartender shouted.
Jenna bolted to her feet and took off across the bar.
“Why do you two keep it a secret?” Isabel asked.
Brad grinned. “She gets better tips if guys think she’s single.”
“Does watching other guys flirt with her bother you?”
“It used to. But we’re solid. I trust her, and she needs the money to support her dad.”
Isabel nodded. Jenna’s dad was disabled, living off Social Security and his Alaska Permanent Fund dividend—which didn’t go far when milk was eight dollars a gallon.
Brad’s gaze was on Jenna as she served drinks to a table of loggers. “Plus, she enjoys sneaking around. It amuses her.”
“And you?”
“Yeah. It amuses me too. We pretend it’s not serious, but she’s the real deal for me.”
Given the way his gaze followed her around the taproom, Isabel believed him.
He stood and picked up his beer. “We cool?” he asked.
She nodded. She didn’t really blame Brad for getting her arrested. He’d been smart to include Westover in the search team, and he’d had no way of knowing what—or who—they’d find in the cabin. No, her ire was all reserved for the ungrateful ass across the room. “We’re cool.”
Brad retreated to the table of operatives, which included Nate Sufentes, Dev Kalla, and Chase Johnston, who was still staring at her.
Unfortunately, Isabel had learned, after attempting to file her first complaint, there was no law against staring.
The oddest part was Chase had never—not once—spoken a word to her. She would suspect him of being part of what happened to Vin, except he was hired by Raptor only four months ago. Vin had died eleven months ago.
She returned her attention to her chowder and beer, wondering if she’d be charged for the unordered drink, which had been a ploy for Jenna to banter with her secret boyfriend. Knowing Jenna, she’d put it on Brad’s bill.
A shadow fell across her table, and for the third time that evening, a hush fell over the bar. She slowly lifted her gaze, knowing in her gut exactly who was standing over her.
Her body flushed with anger, adrenaline, and something even more disconcerting as she looked into topaz-blue eyes.
Alec guessed Isabel itched to slug him in his swollen eye, and couldn’t really blame her. He suspected she refrained simply because she was under suspicion of having kidnapped him and didn’t want assault added to the charges. Not that he’d pursue it if she did. He had it coming. Big-time.
“We need to talk.”
“Go away.”
“Hear me out, Isabel.”
A loud seventies tune suddenly blared through the taproom sound system. He glanced toward the jukebox and saw Nicole, browsing the playlist and feeding the ancient machine coins. The woman more than deserved the raise that was coming her way.
Isabel stood and spoke softly under the music. “What’s your game here, Ravissant? Are you hoping I’ll kick you in the nuts in front of all these witnesses so you can have me locked up again? News for you, much as I’m tempted, I’m not that stupid. I made bail. I’m out. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
“I’m the one who posted your bond.”
She took a deep breath as if she was about to say something loud and angry, but his words stopped her. After a moment of frozen silence, she let out the breath. “Are you here, then, expecting me to say thanks? To you? After you choked me, waited hours to say thanks for all I’d done to help you, and then had me arrested? I don’t think so.” Her eyes scanned him from head to foot. “I see you got to shower, while I got to hang out in a six-by-six cell with a stainless steel toilet with attached sink to wash up in.”
He deserved her anger and more, but he would still present his case. “Once I realized how badly I screwed up, I went straight to the post to bail you out, and found out the bond had to be paid at the Fairbanks courthouse. I sent one of my employees to handle it.” He’d tried to talk Westover into letting her out sooner, but the officer wouldn’t budge, and Alec couldn’t hang around at the jail waiting for her release. He’d been in Alaska for over twenty-four hours at that point and hadn’t even made it to the compound yet. He had an investigation to start and had no intention of leaving it up to the police to find out who had gotten the best of him.
He’d gone to the compound to be checked out by the staff physician, a former ER doctor, who’d documented his injuries for the FBI investigation. Abrasions around his wrists indicated he’d fought against restraints at some point, and a long bruise across his stomach argued he’d been beaten with some sort of rod. Doc Larson had cleaned and rebandaged the gash on his temple, giving Isabel praise for her application of the butterfly bandages as he did so, as the wound had already begun to knit.
After seeing the doctor, he’d taken a shower and returned to Tamarack. “I deserve your anger, your derision, and another kick in the balls should you want to deliver it, but I got you out of there as fast as I could. I hired a lawyer for you too. She’s in Fairbanks and will contact you tomorrow.”
“It might have been nicer if you didn’t have me locked up to begin with. Then I wouldn’t need your damn lawyer.”
At least she was smart enough not to refuse the legal aid he was offering.
She grabbed her coat from the back of her chair and picked up her backpack. “I’ve lost my appetite. I’m leaving.” She pulled out a clear plastic bag containing cash from the backpack and took out a twenty, which she dropped on the table.
Alec pulled out his wallet. “Let me pay for your dinner and give you a ride home.” The woman at the jail had explained why Isabel had gone to the Roadhouse, which had triggered more guilt. Thanks to Alec, she was without a car. He’d assured the woman he’d get Isabel home safely.
“Keep your money and your ride. I don’t want anything from you.” She turned and headed for the front door.
Alec returned to his table and grabbed his coat. To Nicole, he said, “I want a meeting with Falcon in two hours.” He nodded toward the table of operatives in the center of the room. “Tell them I’m sorry to spoil their night off, and pay their bill with the company card.”
She nodded, leaving him free to chase after Isabel. He pulled on his coat as he ran down the street. Half a block away, he caught up with her and grabbed her arm. “Isabel, wait. I’m sorry. Please let me give you a ride home.” It was still raining, not as hard as it had been when he first arrived, but it wasn’t a light sprinkle either. She was soaking wet and shivering.
“Get your hand off me. I have nothing to say to you.” Her voice caught. She was on the verge of tears.
Shit.
She’d been chatting and smiling at Fraser and Jenna; he hadn’t guessed it had been an act. Now he realized she’d been banking her emotions, probably intending to let them out when she was alone.
And he hadn’t even allowed her that.
He released her arm. The blow to the head must have done more damage than he’d thought, because he was screwing this up badly. He might be a novice politician, but he was better than this.
Isabel, apparently, brought out the ass in him.
&nb
sp; “Please let me give you a ride home, because I have a lot to say to you. Starting with thank you and ending with I’m sorry. But in between, I need to know everything about when you found me yesterday. I need to find who did this to me. I need your help.”
“You’ve had my help. You’re on your own now.” She stepped around him and started down the sloppy, wet street.
There was only one thing he could offer that she wanted. “Isabel, if you’ll hear me out, if you’ll help me, then I’ll hear you out. I want to know why you think my men killed your brother, and why you blame me for it.”
She froze. “I told you all that in my letters. The ones you never responded to.”
“I read every word. I looked into your claims. My investigators didn’t find anything. The police didn’t find anything. My lawyers said responding to you would be a mistake. Here’s your chance to tell me. Face-to-face. Everything. I’ll listen.”
She took another step away from him.
Rain soaked his hair and dripped between his coat collar and his skin. “I’ve figured out one thing since having my ass handed to me yesterday.” He paused and waited. He’d laid the bait. She’d bite. This was one skill he’d mastered in his months on the campaign.
“What’s that?” she asked, her voice low. Reluctant.
He smiled and mentally turned the reel, setting the hook. “You’ve been right all along. There’s something bad going on inside the compound. Odds are, my men—my own employees—did this to me. I can’t trust them to investigate. The way I see it, the only person I can trust right now is you.”
Chapter Seven
“I’m surprised Tamarack hasn’t been flooded with reporters,” Isabel said as Alec drove down the main highway that cut through town. It looked like a typical rainy Friday evening to her.
“My campaign put out a statement that my disappearance began with swerving to avoid a moose and running off the road. I was unconscious for a number of hours. It is unknown whether or not foul play was involved or if I wandered in the woods after the accident, seeking help—which I found in the form of a female hiker.”
“And the press bought it?”
“No idea, but I booked and paid for every motel room in Tamarack and the two nearest towns to make coming to Tamarack unappealing to the press. The statement also said that given the ongoing investigation, no interviews would be granted, period. I think the rain has played in our favor. No one wanted to get stuck in Tamarack with no good leads and no place to stay.”
“Was I named as the ‘female hiker’?”
“No.”
“I’m worried that whoever beat the crap out of you might think I can identify them.”
She caught his grimace at her wording, but he didn’t deny it. “You’re safe as long as they don’t know who found me.”
“But they already do.” She told him about her cell phone disappearing from the side of the stream during the fifteen minutes she was inside the cabin with him.
“You’re certain?”
“Yes. The only other possibility is I tucked it in my pack without thinking, and Westover or Joyce stole my phone. Paul Westover is kind of an ass, but I don’t see him running a stolen cell phone racket.” Outside the vehicle, trees sped by, blurred by streaks of water. She mentally added the price of a new phone to the tally of what helping Alec Ravissant had cost her.
The car took an unexpected right turn, and her body flushed with adrenaline. She’d been waiting for this moment for months. “You’re taking me to the compound?” Her throat was so dry, she’d barely been able to say the words.
“No. We’re going the back way to your cabin. The perimeter road is faster.”
Disappointment settled in, and she wondered if she could get the restraining order dropped simply because he’d taken this shortcut. Probably not.
“Don’t get any ideas. The restraining order is to protect you. I’m not about to let it go. But right now I’ve got problems, and I need your help.”
Was she about to become…allied with Alec Ravissant? An insane notion if ever there was one.
“If you suspect your own people of running you off the road and leaving you for dead, should you even stay on the compound? Isn’t that the lion’s den?”
“Yeah, but I’m the lion king. It’s my den. There’s a reason I was attacked before I reached my compound.” He glanced at her askance, his focus on the road ahead, and she caught his wry smile. “Despite what you might think given the condition you found me in yesterday, I’m a damn good soldier. They caught me off guard, which won’t happen again. Anyone who attacks me or what’s mine will pay.”
He made the turn to the compound, but before they reached the intersection with the perimeter road, he pulled to the side and put the SUV in park. They were probably less than a mile from the concertina-wire-topped fence that surrounded the structures that were popularly referred to as “the compound,” but in actuality, Raptor’s entire thirty-thousand-acre swath of pristine wilderness was the true compound. The hundred or so enclosed acres were only a tiny portion of Alec’s vast holding.
What must it be like to be Alec Ravissant? To drive down this road and be the lion king—although after last night, she’d always think of him as the tiger king—knowing everyone on his land must answer to him, and his backyard was a paltry thirty thousand acres in the heart of Alaska. And this was just one of Raptor’s five compounds.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number, then hit the speaker button. A man answered right away. “Alec, good to hear from you—you had us all scared for a bit.”
“Thanks, Lee,” Alec said, “Listen, I need a favor. I need you to find a cell phone that disappeared last night.”
“That happens to be one of my specialties, but I’m curious why you aren’t having Mothman do it.”
Mothman was the nickname of the compound tech wizard. He handled all the computer systems. Openly gay, not former military, and not an operative, he missed social cues because he probably was on the mild end of the autism spectrum, and he had a good heart even if he was condescending at times. He didn’t fit with the other employees who hung out at the Tamarack Roadhouse, but he went anyway because, like Isabel, he had trouble connecting with people but still felt compelled to be among them. Mothman was Isabel’s litmus test for who the bigoted pricks were among the operatives.
Anyone who was a dick to Mothman was beneath contempt.
She bristled even at the suggestion Mothman could somehow be part of the corruption within the compound, but knew ruling him out was her own foolish bias. Everyone was a suspect. Including Mothman and Alec Ravissant.
“I vetted Mothman’s work when I was there last month,” the man on the phone—Lee, Alec had called him—added. “His code is solid.”
“I’m not sure if I can trust Mothman, but I know I don’t trust others who have access to the server,” Alec said. “I don’t want any of my people to know about this search.”
“Fair enough. What’s the number?”
Alec met Isabel’s gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Iz? What’s your number?”
Something strange settled in her belly at his casual shortening of her name. It implied friendship. A peculiar notion. She cleared her throat and recited her number for Lee.
“What type of phone, and who is your service provider?”
She gave him the necessary information.
“Can you estimate when you used it last and where you were?”
She frowned. “The last call I made was Wednesday night—I called the Alaska DNR, Fairbanks office, to check in after surveying by myself all day. I keep it turned off when I’m surveying, and there’s no ready cell coverage—so the battery won’t drain. I turned it on last night around eight thirty p.m. I didn’t have any bars, but I sent myself a text to see if there was even faint service. It didn’t go through.”
“Do you know what happens with your phone when texts don’t send? Do they wait in a queue for a signal, or do they sit
in drafts until you hit Send again?”
“They wait in a queue for the next signal. I sometimes set it to send me a text when I’m out of range, so my phone will buzz the moment I’ve got coverage.” She’d done that on some of her illegal forays onto Raptor land—trying to narrow down the area where Vin might have been when he sent his last text. It was more efficient than stopping every hundred feet and checking for service.
Lee let out a low whistle. “Perfect. Unless whoever has your phone deleted the text, it’ll go out the next time it’s in range and turned on. It may already have been sent. I’ll see what I can find.”
“Thanks, Lee,” Alec said. “Call me if you get a hit.”
“Will do.”
With that, Alec hit the End button and set the phone in the console. “Don’t tell anyone you noticed your phone is missing.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “I, um, already did. I told Westover. And Joyce.”
Alec shrugged. “Westover probably won’t do anything about it. Will Joyce talk?”
“I have no idea.” She frowned. “I don’t know her that well, but she was nice to me today. A surprise, because she’s never been very friendly before, but then, I’m not the most popular girl in town.” She cleared her throat. “Trying to shut down the largest employer within fifty miles tends to piss people off.”
“I can imagine,” Alec said dryly.
She grimaced. “Exactly how much do you hate me?” She meant it as a joke, but her question didn’t sound funny even to her ears.
Those jewel-toned blue eyes met hers and were every bit as compelling as described. “I don’t hate you at all. I’ve been angry with you. Frustrated. I was scared as hell when I heard you interrupted a live-fire training exercise, but I’ve never, ever hated you.”
“I didn’t know it was live fire,” she admitted in a soft voice. When it happened, when she’d disrupted the training and was arrested—the first time—it had been easier to let everyone think she’d done it on purpose. Better than admitting she was an idiot. It was effective, adopting the zealot’s mantle because it got the attention of Alec’s political opponent, who up to that point had ignored her plea for help.