by Cassie Miles
Trevor executed a sharp pivot and came toward her. He took her hand to lead her to the door.
“Wait a minute,” she said as she grabbed her parka. “Okay, now I’m ready.”
On the wide porch outside, he closed the door and turned to face her. The glow from the porch light shone on his rugged features, and she could see how tired he was. Gently, he said, “You’re not coming with me.”
“What do you mean?” She playfully shoved at his broad chest. “No way you’re leaving me behind.”
“This meeting with Green could get ugly. I won’t deliberately take you into danger, Sierra. I want you to stay here at the headquarters, where you’ll be safe.”
“We’re partners,” she snapped. “If there’s danger to you, I need to be there.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can handle Green. He’ll be at his home—not at the prison, where he can call on his corrupt guards for help.” He lightly touched her arm. “Give me a kiss, and I’ll be back before you know it.”
She stepped away from him. “Since when have I been cast in the role of sweet little woman who waits for her big strong man to take care of things?”
“You’ve always been a sweet woman.”
“Bull!”
“Maybe a little rough around the edges, but—”
“If there’s really no danger, why can’t I come?”
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the log wall of the headquarters. “You’ve been through enough. Green tried to kill you. Perry Johnson stalked you. You were targeted at the Galleria.”
“I can take it,” she protested.
“Even before you met me,” he said, “that bastard Lyle abused you and stole your money. You lost your unborn child—”
“Wait!” She had never said anything to him about her miscarriage. How did he know?
Chapter Fifteen
She was angry and confused. Sierra knew she’d never spoken to Trevor of the heart-wrenching sorrow she’d experienced when she lost her unborn son. Never had she said a word about that devastating pain. And yet he knew.
A vague memory took form in her mind. The interrogation room. Trevor standing over her, threatening her, manipulating her with the same kind of techniques he’d used so cleverly on Warden Green. And she’d wept bitter tears as she’d told him of her miscarriage.
Coldly, she glared at him. “You made me tell you. When I was tied up in that chair, you tricked me.”
He said not one word to defend his reprehensible actions.
“You had no right,” she said. “Against my will, you forced me to tell my secrets. Why didn’t I remember until now?”
“I had hoped you never would remember.”
“Did you drug me?”
He didn’t need to answer. She saw the guilty truth in his eyes. He had drugged her! This just got worse and worse. “My God, Trevor. How can I ever trust you again?”
He recoiled as though she’d slapped him. “I’m sorry.”
His apology came too late. If he’d told her earlier about the interrogation, she might have forgiven him. But to find out like this? When he was trying to use the tragedy of her miscarriage against her? “How could you?”
“It’s my job,” he said. “I’m an interrogator. That’s what I do. And I had reason to suspect that you had information about the Militia.”
“You had no reason. You went on a fishing expedition inside my brain, and you didn’t care if you hurt me.”
“I was wrong.”
“Damn straight.” She stomped down the porch steps and charged toward where the cars were parked. “Please give me a ride to my home.”
He trailed behind her. “I think it’s better if you stay here.”
She whirled. “I don’t give a damn what you think. I want to go home.”
As she rode beside him in the car, her outrage simmered. He’d invaded her private life. Without her permission, he’d examined her deepest secret. Then he dared to claim that he was just doing his job. That sounded like the kind of thing Lyle used to say as an excuse for hanging around with the likes of Perry Johnson.
In her rational mind, she knew there was a world of difference between Lyle Nelson and Trevor Blackhaw. Trevor was trying to save the world. Lyle had wanted to destroy it. But they were both driven by loyalty to their peers and a need to do their job. Her concerns would always take second place.
When he pulled up at a stop sign, he turned to her. “This isn’t over, Sierra.”
“If you’re referring to our relationship, you’re wrong. It is so over.”
“I won’t give up.”
“Forget it.” She stared through the night at him. Why did he have to be so handsome? Why did his deep voice sound like a caress? “I never want to see you again.”
“You mean everything to me,” he said. “Everything.”
“Then prove it,” she said. “Come into my house and stay here with me instead of going to confront Warden Green.”
Slowly, he pulled away from the stop sign. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You have a choice, Trevor.”
“If I let Green get away, all our efforts will have been for nothing. Our escape through the tunnel. The safe deposit box. The showdown with Perry Johnson.”
She understood how all those things pointed to this moment and the chance that Warden Green could reveal the name of the individual who had paid for the Militia’s escape.
“I can’t let them get away,” Trevor declared. “Think of the Galleria. The people who died. Those who were injured.”
“Of course I don’t want the bad guys to escape,” she said. “But why do you have to be the one who questions Green? Why not the police? The FBI?”
“Because I’m an interrogator,” he replied. “And I’m the best.”
He parked in front of her house, but didn’t turn off the engine.
“Here we are, Trevor. Are you coming inside?”
“I can’t.”
“Just this once.” She fought to keep the pleading tone from her voice. “Put my needs first.”
The silence that stretched between them was deeper and more profound than the horrible darkness in the mine shaft. And even more foreboding. If he chose his work instead of her, their relationship was truly dead.
She opened her car door and climbed out. Though she tried to keep her head high, her shoulders were weighted by sadness. She’d been a fool to risk her heart again.
After unlocking her door, she stepped inside. Her duplex felt cold and empty.
“Damn you, Trevor.” She went straight through to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There wasn’t much inside. Worst of all, there was no ice cream in the freezer, nothing to ease her pain. “Why can’t I catch a break?”
Still muttering, she closed the fridge door and stomped into the living room. “Trevor, you stubborn jerk. I never should have wasted one minute on you. How could you be so—”
She turned on the light.
Sitting in the middle of her sofa was Warden Craig Green. He held a gun in his hand. “Well, well,” he said. “Sounds like there’s trouble in paradise.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I regularly listen to the police band radio. And I monitor other law enforcement, including the Big Sky Bounty Hunters.” He rose from the sofa and came toward her. “Imagine my surprise when I heard Trevor asking to be picked up. He was supposed to be dead. And so were you.”
Her gaze darted around the room. There had to be some way to protect herself—a way to escape. “I thought you were in a hurry to leave town.”
“I can’t very well leave you and your boyfriend alive,” he said. “You know too much.”
TREVOR DROVE TO THE END of her block and parked. Warden Green’s house was only fifteen minutes away from here. He needed that time to prepare his strategy and to arm himself. Before leaving headquarters, he hadn’t taken the time to make sure he had the weaponry he might need, but Clark had been using this vehicle and he was a
Beretta man.
In the glove compartment, Trevor found Clark’s automatic and inserted the clip. This ought to be enough to convince the warden, who’d already shown himself to be weak and motivated only by a payoff.
Checking in the rear of the car, Trevor located a long-range rifle. Not necessary for this interrogation. With luck, Trevor wouldn’t need guns at all. He had only one question for the warden: who paid you to free the Militia?
That name was the key. If the Militia’s funds were cut off, they’d be forced to reveal themselves. They’d be easy prey. With that information, the end of this long search was in sight. Trevor should have been exhilarated, should have felt the pumping of adrenaline through his veins.
Instead, he felt empty inside. He missed her already.
A confrontation with Green—even a successful interrogation—was no solace. His heart told him to get out of the car and go back to her, to do whatever it took to earn her forgiveness. In the brief time they’d been together, she’d given him more than any other woman. She was meant to be with him. They were soul mates.
But he couldn’t ignore his duty. There was a job to be done, and he was the most skilled man to do it. If he walked away from this confrontation with Warden Green, Trevor could never live with himself.
And if he walked away from Sierra? His life wouldn’t be worth living.
Though it went against his training and his instincts as a warrior, Trevor decided that somebody else would have to handle the interrogation of Warden Green. Sierra was more important. Right now he needed to put her first.
He opened his car door and strode down the street toward her house. At the front door, he paused before ringing the bell. There were voices coming from inside. Who was with her?
He eased to the edge of her porch and peeked through the window. What he saw turned his blood to ice water. Warden Green held a gun on Sierra. He stood right beside her with the bore of his pistol pressed against her temple. Even if Trevor could take a clear shot at Green, the warden might squeeze the trigger in reflex. And Sierra would pay the price.
“Call him,” Green demanded. “Call your half-breed boyfriend and tell him that you want him to come here to your welcoming arms.”
“I’d have to be pretty dumb to do that. As soon as he walks through the door, you’re going to shoot him. And then you’ll kill me. What do I get out of this?”
“You’re in no position to bargain, my dear.” He pushed his weapon against her head. “I have the gun.”
“But it won’t do you any good to kill me if Trevor is still alive. He knows everything I do.”
Outside her window, Trevor shuddered. She was playing games with a desperate man.
“There are so many ways to die,” Green said. “In my years at the Fortress, I’ve learned how to break a man’s spirit. You have no idea how much pain I can inflict.”
“You don’t scare me.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
Trevor had an idea. He took out his cell phone and dialed her number.
Inside the house, her telephone rang.
“Don’t answer,” Green snapped.
Quickly Trevor moved out of earshot. He waited until her answering machine beeped. Knowing his words would be broadcast into her living room, he said, “Sierra, this is Trevor. I went to Green’s house, but he’s already left. I’m going to the airfield to stop him. Meet me there. I have something special, and I need to give it to you in person.” Trying to give her a clue, he added, “Drive carefully, partner. Don’t go too fast.”
He disconnected the call and edged back to the window with his gun ready. If Green tried to kill Sierra before leaving, Trevor had no choice but to shoot right now. That was a dangerous solution. He hoped the warden would grab the bait and take Sierra to the airfield.
She reached for her parka. Green prodded her toward the door with his pistol. As they walked outside, Trevor ducked around the side of the house.
When they pulled away from the curb, with Sierra behind the wheel, he sprinted to his vehicle, which was still parked at the end of the street. It was imperative for him to arrive at the private airfield outside Ponderosa before they did. He needed time to plan his ambush.
Driving hard and fast, he raced through the sleepy streets, taking every shortcut he knew. Sierra’s life depended on his swift action. Even if she drove at half speed, he’d have only minutes to spare.
Trevor knew he’d arrived first. With an expert eye he scanned the terrain, measuring the distance from the thick tree, and bushes to the parking area. Years of experience in combat told him exactly where to set up.
He hid the car, grabbed his long-range rifle and dashed across the open land until he found his vantage point. Then he waited.
With an effort, he controlled his unsteady breathing and calmed his pulse rate. Though he was an expert marksman, it had been a long time since he’d used his skill as a sniper. He couldn’t fail. Sierra’s life hung in the balance.
As he watched, Green’s car chugged into the parking lot. When Sierra emerged from the driver’s side, her head swiveled, and he knew she was scanning the area, looking for him, looking for her chance to escape. She leaned forward. He could tell that she intended to run.
Silently he prayed. No, Sierra. Don’t tempt him. Don’t make a move.
Green came around the back of the car. His arm was low as he tried to hide the handgun he had trained on her.
Trevor peered through the nightscope on the rifle. He had the warden in his sight. If he shot Green in the arm, the man would still be able to talk. Trevor might still get the necessary information.
He watched as Sierra started talking to Green again. She moved, inadvertently blocking Trevor’s vision. Damn it, Sierra. Settle down. Don’t provoke him.
She shoved at Green’s chest. While he was momentarily off balance, she started running, heading toward the brushy area where Trevor hid.
He saw Green raise his handgun and aim. He meant to shoot her in the back.
Trevor fired first. It was a direct hit. With one bullet, he brought the warden down.
It was over. She was safe.
Tossing his rifle aside, Trevor stepped into the open. “Sierra.”
Her long legs churned as she dashed toward him at full tilt, not slowing until she was in his arms.
“You’re safe now,” he said.
“Good work, partner.”
Their lips joined, and he knew that he’d made the right choice in protecting her. She came first. She was more important than anything else.
The fullness of her body aroused him, and he was surprised that he could transform from sniper to lover in a matter of seconds. He wanted her with all his heart and soul.
Unfortunately, now was not the time for anything more than a quick kiss. A security guard at the airfield had reacted to the gunfire and was standing at Green’s body, pointing his handgun in their direction. He yelled, “Put your hands up. Do it now.”
Trevor stepped away from Sierra and obeyed. “Better do what he says.”
She nodded. “After all we’ve been through, I don’t want to get shot by a security guard.”
Side by side, with their hands raised, they walked toward the gun-waving guard.
“Do you think Green is going to survive?” she asked.
“Only with a miracle.” Trevor was pretty sure he’d drilled the warden in the center of his chest.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You didn’t get the information you needed.”
He looked down at the beautiful woman who walked beside him. “You’re all I need.”
Her smile rewarded him. “That phone call you made to my house. You were giving me a message, right? When you told me to drive slow?”
“I was standing outside your window.”
“You never went to interrogate Green,” she said. “You came back to me.”
“You come first, Sierra.”
SIERRA WAS GLAD that his promise to put her first had not been test
ed by the plans of the other bounty hunters. After killing the warden, Trevor had gone through several hours of questioning by the local sheriff and the FBI. He was unable to join his comrades, who had deployed to North Carolina to rescue their former platoon.
That was two days ago. Two glorious days. She and Trevor had flown to a ski resort and taken a suite with a hot tub, where they were spending much of their time naked. Bobbing in the heated water, she closed her eyes and allowed the pulsating jets to massage her. Behind her eyelids she imagined the strong, handsome man who sat across from her in the tub. His broad shoulders. His long black hair. His incredible blue eyes.
She waited for a moment until her internal vision of him was completely formed. Her anticipation built. She was like a kid at Christmas, dreaming of her first bicycle waiting under the tree.
Then she opened her eyes, and there he was—even better than she’d imagined.
“You look worried,” she said. “Thinking about the guys?”
“I haven’t heard from them in a while.”
“They’ve probably got their hands full. Fighting evil and all.” She reached for her champagne glass and took a sip. “I’m sure they’ll be okay.”
“I keep thinking about that anonymous phone call telling them that the platoon would come under attack. It seemed like a setup.”
“Like at the Galleria, when the Militia used hostages to lure all the law enforcement guys, then detonated their nerve gas.” Thinking of that assault reminded her of something else. “How’s Cameron doing?”
“He’s got some nerve damage, but he ought to recover. Can’t wait to get out of the hospital.”
“You know what they say.” She glided through the bubbling water toward him. “It’s hard to keep a good man down.”
Though he kissed her when she reached him, she could tell he was still preoccupied, worried about his friends, who might be walking into a trap. No matter how much she wished he could stay with her forever, that was not to be. In his heart, Trevor would always be a warrior. And, she realized, that was one of the things she loved about him.
Hoping to distract him, she reached for the remote and turned on the television. “Yuck, it’s the news.”