by Cindi Myers
True, they had been acquainted with each other for months. He had interviewed her in connection with various cases, and studied her as Daniel Metwater’s closest follower and perhaps the key to unraveling the mystery of the Prophet.
But all the while, he had been trying, unsuccessfully apparently, to hide his attraction to her. Something about this quiet, beautiful woman drew him in.
He had had relationships with women before, dating one for as long as two years. But he wasn’t one to open himself up to other people. His long-time girlfriend had left him because she said she was tired of feeling shut out. It wasn’t that he had deliberately excluded her, but he had always been a man who kept his thoughts and feelings to himself.
Somehow, being with Andi was easier. When he did talk, she listened, but he never sensed that she wanted more. The fact that she had made the first move toward intimacy thrilled him.
The rest of the night hadn’t been quite so wonderful, of course. When he had realized Victor had gotten to Andi, he had been equal parts enraged and terrified. He had underestimated the Russian’s daring, and it had almost cost him everything. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Andi stirred and opened her eyes. Her lips curved in a sleepy, sexy smile that he felt right in his groin. “Good morning,” she said.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
“Better than I would have thought possible.” She rolled onto her back and stretched, her breasts thrusting upward in a way that left him dry mouthed. “How about you? Did you sleep at all after we came back to bed?”
“Some.” Trying to sleep fully dressed—which included his bulletproof vest—wasn’t the easiest of propositions. “I dozed a bit.”
Her smile faded. “I’d scold you about being so stubborn, but I know it wouldn’t do any good,” she said. “So it’s your own fault if you’re miserable now.”
“Not all of last night was miserable,” he said. He rolled over to face her and propped himself up on one elbow.
Her smile returned, her cheeks flushed pink and eyes sparkling. “No, I’d say the first part of the night was pretty wonderful.”
“Only pretty wonderful?” He tried to look hurt. “My pride is wounded.”
“I’m leaving room for even more spectacular revelations in the future.” She smoothed her hand down his arm, eyes heavy-lidded with desire.
He tried to smile at her teasing tone, but he had a hard time pretending there would be any future for the two of them. He couldn’t imagine two people from more different worlds, and in any case, today duty had to come before his personal desires. “You’re very tempting,” he said. “But we really need to get back on the road.”
She dropped her hand and sighed. “Somehow, I knew you’d say that.”
He sat up on the side of the bed and looked over his shoulder at her. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“You mean, am I in labor yet?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No, but it’s what people usually mean when they ask me that question these days. I know I look like I’m going to pop any minute, but not today, I don’t think.”
“I promise, that’s not what I meant,” he said.
“Then maybe you mean, how do I feel about what happened last night?” She sat up also, her body angled toward him, close enough that he could feel her warmth, smell the lingering aroma of her perfume. “I feel wonderful.” She met his gaze with a challenge in her eyes. “How are you feeling?”
Conflicted. Not the answer she wanted to hear, or that he would give her. On one hand, this gorgeous woman he had been attracted to for months was apparently attracted to him too. On the other hand, she was a crime victim he was charged with protecting, as well as a very pregnant mother-to-be. His job was to get her to safety, not to indulge in his desire to make love to her as often as possible. And was it even safe to have sex when she was so close to delivering? What if he sent her into labor?
“I’m feeling like I’m a pretty lucky man right now,” he said, and kissed her cheek. “And as much as I’d like to stay here in bed with you all day, I think we really do need to get up and get on the road.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “I know. How’s the weather out there this morning?”
He walked to the window and pulled up the blinds. Ice rimmed each pane, forming a crystalline frame for the scene outside. Sunlight sparkled on six inches of snow that dressed the trees and fence rails, and covered the mud and dirt—a clean, fresh blanket over the peaceful landscape. “It’s beautiful out,” he said. “Clear skies and hopefully clear roads.”
She threw back the covers on her side of the bed. “I’m starving, but that probably doesn’t surprise you.”
“Mike promised a full breakfast.”
At only a little past seven o’clock, the dining room was empty except for a young woman with curly black hair, who greeted them with a smile. “Sit wherever you like,” she said. “We have breakfast burritos this morning, and some fresh banana bread.”
There was also cereal, fruit, cottage cheese and half a dozen different breads and baked goods. And coffee—strong, hot coffee served in thick white mugs. Simon and Andi filled cups and plates and moved to a table by the windows.
From this seat, Simon could see into the living room. The sofa was empty, the fire cold. The front door opened and Mike entered, wearing cargo shorts, snow boots and a flannel shirt. He dumped a load of firewood on the hearth and began building a fire.
Simon was halfway through his burrito when the manager entered the dining room. “Good morning,” he said.
“Morning.” Simon nodded toward the sofa. “I see our Russian friend never came back.”
“After the stunt he pulled, he had better not show his face around here again.” Mike jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. “He apparently decided to raid the refrigerator and left a mess. If he ever has the nerve to show his face around here again, I’ll be filing charges.”
“I hope none of us ever see him again,” Andi said. She leaned closer to Simon and lowered her voice. “Where do you think he went?”
“He probably stole a car and is lying low for the time being.” He took a sip of coffee.
“But you think he’ll be back.”
“He wants something you have,” he said. “Or, more likely, he wants to get to Metwater through you.”
“Daniel has no idea where I am right now,” she said. “How could he?”
“You’re probably right.” But he couldn’t shake the feeling—call it a lawman’s sixth sense—that they hadn’t seen the last of Daniel Metwater.
Andi finished off her burrito and pushed the plate away. “Oh, I’m feeling much better now. That was so good.”
“We should get going as soon as we can,” he said, finishing up his own burrito. “Get on the road before the weather changes.”
She pushed back her chair. “I didn’t really unpack last night, so it’s just a matter of collecting our things.”
“I’ll go up and get them,” he said. “You stay here with Mike. Have another muffin or something.”
“I just might do that.”
He took the stairs two at a time, pulling out his cell phone as he climbed. Despite the early hour, he wanted to check in with the commander before he hit the road again. He wasn’t surprised when Agent Graham Ellison answered on the second ring. Sometimes Simon wondered if the commander ever slept. “I guess this means you survived the night,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Simon said. He unlocked their room and pushed open the door. “We ran into a blizzard south of Conifer and got into an accident—which I suspect may be deliberate.” He explained about the Kia following them and the driver running off into the storm.
“Any idea who it was?” Graham asked.
“I’m pretty sure it was the Russian I told you about yesterday. He int
roduced himself as Victor, though I suspect that’s not his real name. He showed up here after we checked in last night and talked the manager into letting him sleep on the sofa. After midnight, he pulled the fire alarm and when everyone came out of their rooms to investigate, he saw his chance and tried to kidnap Andi Matheson. She managed to fight him off and he fled. But I have a feeling he’ll be back.”
“What does he want with Ms. Matheson?” Graham asked.
“No idea. Maybe he thinks he can get to Metwater through her. Any word on the fugitive prophet?”
“Nothing. The trail’s gone cold, though we’re pretty sure he hasn’t left the country. We’ve been watching the borders closely. What did you say this Russian is calling himself?”
“Victor. No last name.”
“Wait a minute. I think I have something for you.” A brief silence, and then the commander returned to the phone. “I think this is your guy—Victor Krayev. Thirty-five. He’s from Moscow, but has been in the United States for the last decade. He’s a suspected Bratva assassin. He was the first suspect in the murder of David Metwater, but Chicago police were never able to come up with enough evidence to pin the charge on him—if they could have even found him. He apparently moves around a lot, and keeps a low profile.”
“Interesting. Is he after Daniel Metwater now? Why?”
“Find the answers to those questions, and you might find him,” Graham said.
“He probably figures she’s his best link to Metwater, especially since Daniel’s trail has gone cold.”
“Has she told you anything that implicates Metwater in a crime?”
“Not yet. But she must know something. I don’t see any other reason for him to pursue her so doggedly.”
“He’s going to need money to get out of the country, and Andi is his best source,” Graham said.
“And tomorrow she turns twenty-five, and gets access to millions of dollars,” Simon said. “Which Metwater probably thinks she’ll be happy to hand over to him.”
“You don’t think she will?”
“I think the events of the past few days have opened her eyes a lot about Daniel Metwater.” He hoped so. He didn’t like to think the intimacy the two of them had shared had been a sham—and that Andi still loved the man who had cheated, lied and tried to kill her.
“It could be as simple as him believing she betrayed him by coming over to our side, and he wants retribution.”
“Maybe. Either way, I don’t think he would give up now. He’ll keep coming after her until we stop him.”
“How is she doing?”
“Good.” Great. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.
“She’s not giving you a hard time, then? Still defending Metwater?”
“No. She’s starting to realize how he used her.” He hoped that was true, anyway.
“Get her to the shelter,” Graham said. “It will be easier to keep her safe there.”
“That’s the plan for today. Oh, and two other things—Andi says Metwater has connections in Mexico. He may try to head there. And she has the locket that Michelle Munson said belonged to her sister. The one that disappeared the day she died.”
“How did Andi get a hold of it?” Graham asked.
“She stole it from Metwater.” Thinking about it made him smile. “She was angry at him for sending her away and I guess she wanted to get back at him, so she took it.”
“Risky move, considering what he’s shown of his temper.”
“She says he knows she has it. I guess he found out the first time he attacked her at the Brown Palace. But he wasn’t upset. He actually seemed happy about it.”
“She could be lying.”
“I don’t think so, sir. And another thing—there’s a key inside the locket. It looks like a safe-deposit box key. Andi didn’t know it was there.”
“Does Andi know what the key is to?”
“She says not.”
Another long silence. Simon tensed. “Sir?”
“I trust your judgment,” Graham said. “But be careful.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right. I expect to see you in a few hours, then.”
“Yes, sir.”
He ended the call and finished packing the bags, then carried them downstairs, where he found Andi by the front desk, talking to Mike. “Leaving so soon?” the manager asked.
“We need to get going.” Simon laid the key on the desk. “Thanks for everything.”
“I was telling Mike about my uncle’s cabin,” Andi said. “He actually knows where it is.”
“Sure I do,” Mike said. “It’s only a few miles from here, up the road to Wilson Pass. I think his kids still come up there in the summers. One of them—Frankie maybe—had me do some repairs up there last fall.”
“Frankie is Uncle Doug’s oldest son,” Andi said. She looked sad. “I haven’t seen any of them in years.”
“Maybe you can have a reunion up here sometime,” Mike said.
“We’d better get going.” Simon touched Andi’s arm.
She nodded. “Yes, we’d better.”
“Drive safe,” Mike said. “Weather reports are predicting more snow this afternoon.”
“We’ll be careful.”
The icy wind hit them like a slap when they stepped onto the sidewalk outside the hotel. “Brrr.” Andi pulled her coat tightly around her and headed for the cruiser. Simon stowed their bags in the back, then started the engine and stepped out again to scrape ice from the windshield. He kept alert for any sign of Victor, but at this time of morning the streets were almost deserted. Maybe their Russian friend had found a ride out of town.
“So much for the sun,” Andi said as Simon turned onto the highway leading out of town. She leaned forward to peer out the windshield at the gunmetal gray sky. “I think the weatherman was wrong about it waiting until this afternoon to snow again.”
“As long as the road stays open, we’ll get through,” Simon said. Even if Monarch Pass was closed, they could go around. The trip would take longer, but this time he wasn’t stopping unless he was forced to.
Andi sat back. “I can’t believe Mike knew about my uncle’s cabin.”
“I guess it’s not so strange,” Simon said. “Fairplay is a small town.”
“I wish I could see it again,” she said. She turned toward him, the unasked question plain on her face.
“We don’t have time to take a detour,” he said. “Especially not with the weather threatening to turn on us.”
“I know. I’m just feeling nostalgic because of the baby, I guess.” She faced forward once more, hands on her abdomen.
“Maybe you can get back over here when things have settled down more,” he said. Why did he feel so rotten for not being able to take her to see her uncle’s cabin, even though he knew pushing on was the right thing to do?
“Yes, I should do that,” she said. “I’d like for you to see it.”
Did that mean she was thinking about a future for the two of them? He pushed the thought away. Once Andi Matheson settled back into her real life of wealth and privilege, he couldn’t see her continuing a relationship with a lowly cop.
“What’s that light on the dash?” Andi asked.
He glanced down at the orange light at the bottom of the control panel. “Tire sensor,” he said. “Sometimes when it’s really cold it comes on. I’ll check the pressures next time we stop for gas.”
“Amazing how smart cars are these days,” she said. “All anyone in camp had were old beaters, so I’d forgotten about all the new technology.”
“Yeah, it’s useful, but it can be annoying too.” He slowed for an icy spot in the road, and the cruiser swerved. Simon frowned. Something didn’t feel quite right here. “I’m going to pull over and check the tires,” he said. “Just in case something is wrong.”
He pulled to the shoulder and waited for a car to pass before he got out and walked around the vehicle. Andi lowered the passenger window and looked out. “Everything okay?” she asked.
Simon stared down at the right rear tire. It was definitely low, and deflating quickly. “We’ve got a flat,” he said.
“Did you run over a nail or something?” Andi asked.
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe Victor wanted to slow us down. I should have thought of that and checked before we left the hotel.” He opened the back door and retrieved his coat. “I’ll have to change it. It will only take a few minutes. Stay in the car, where it’s warm.”
He walked around to the back to retrieve the spare and the tire tools. Another car approached, slowing. Maybe a Good Samaritan offering to help. Simon looked up to wave the guy off and had half a second to register Victor’s grim face in the driver’s seat before the gun the Russian held fired.
The impact of the bullet in his chest knocked him backward. He sank to his knees in the snow, Andi’s screams echoing in the still, cold air.
Chapter Twelve
The image of Simon being shoved against the cruiser by the impact of the bullet and his body slumping to the ground paralyzed Andi. “Simon!” she screamed, fumbling for her seat belt, her numb fingers refusing to work. She could no longer see him, the image of him falling flashing over and over in her head.
She looked down, cursing the stubborn safety restraint. She had to get out of here. She had to help Simon.
The passenger door of the cruiser opened and someone grabbed her arm. She stared up into the face of Victor, who leaned over and hit the button to release the safety belt. “Get out,” he ordered, and pulled her from the car.
“No!” She tried to resist, but he held her in an iron grip. Her boots slipped on the icy ground as he pulled her toward a battered blue sedan parked behind the cruiser on the shoulder of the road. “What about Simon?” she asked, looking back and trying to see the other side of the cruiser, where Simon had fallen.