Trust No One (Vista Security)

by Diana Layne

  Her eyes widened as he stepped out—okay, stumbled out, and nearly fell flat on his face when his legs refused to cooperate. He caught himself on the car door and pulled himself upright.

  He smiled. Or tried to smile. Charm would win them every time.

  She frowned. “What the hell . . .”

  So he was a little short on charm right now. “You forgot something,” he told her.

  “Yeah? What?”

  “Me.”

  Chapter 10

  MJ swallowed her surprise. She expected Ben to be asleep on her couch or just waking up to stumble on his merry little way back to Vista. She didn’t expect him here. She said the first thing that came to her mind. “You look like hell.”

  He wore a button up white-and-blue plaid shirt, obviously easier to pull on than the sweatshirt she’d given him. But the buttons were only half way done, leaving a good part of his chest exposed. He hadn’t managed to tuck the tail inside jeans either and his disheveled look had more of an effect on her than she would ever admit. God would only know what sort of pheromones she’d be putting off now.

  So she fought against remembering that earlier she’d had to cut off Ben’s shirt, leaving that chest that was so temptingly exposed right now totally naked to her view and her fingers.

  “You, however, after driving close to twenty hours with no sleep, and no gunshot wound, I might add, look as beautiful as ever.”

  His words didn’t help the direction her thoughts were dancing. She shook her head, determined not react. Or to feel sympathy for him since he looked as if he were ready to topple.

  “Where’d you put it?” She walked around her Mustang. “Or are you psychic?”

  “Psychic would be better. That way I would’ve known where you were going, and wouldn’t have had to follow.” He closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath. “Back bumper, right side.”

  MJ, feeling stupid she’d underestimated Ben, found the little GPS tracking device. “Having brains would be even better than being psychic. What were you thinking driving after me? You need to be resting.”

  He hung onto the car door like it was a lifeline. “You. Didn’t. Give me time.” He pushed off the door, hobbled forward, holding out his hand for the small black box with the magnetic strip on the back. That simple move was too much, and he faltered. In slow motion, he slowly sank downward. She caught him before his knees hit the pavement, using her leg muscles to brace them both, keeping them semi-standing.

  His touch burned her, and not from any sexual awareness. His skin simply radiated dry heat. “Damn. You’re hot.”

  “Thanks, honey. You’re hot, too, but I have a headache right now.”

  “Stop being an ass. You have a fever.”

  “Goes along with a gunshot.”

  “Fool. You should have stayed where I left you.” Her tone softened. She wanted to smooth his hair from his brow, but he was hanging so heavily onto her, his uninjured arm across her shoulder for support, it was all she could do to keep them upright.

  “You shouldn’t have drugged me and left. If you’d just taken me with you, I wouldn’t have had to drive this whole way.”

  Guilt pecked at her. She tried to avoid looking at him, knowing a myriad of unexpected and unwanted emotions she hadn’t had time to hide were in her eyes. “I didn’t need you.” Didn’t trust him either.

  “You’re my job. Always. Do. My. Job.” His words were interspersed with pauses for him to draw in enough air to speak and stay upright too, she suspected. She imagined his heart was hammering against his rib cage from the effort to stay on his feet. Amazing he’d made it so far.

  “Come inside, get something to drink and rest for a minute. Take some more medicine.” She tried to steer him toward the door, but he resisted.

  “Hell no, honey, I’m not taking any medicine from you. And I’m going to wait right here in the car while you check with—Lauryn, is it?—to see if you can leave your car here.”

  Her spine stiffened at his words. For someone who couldn’t stand on his own two legs, he was certainly attempting to take charge. “Leave my car?”

  “We’re together from here on out. I figured she’d object less to watching your car than a rental.”

  MJ started to argue, then remembered Ed driving down gravel roads to get to the cabin. She had no idea if they’d been paved yet, and she would prefer not to ding the costly new paint job on her car.

  “Or, we can take your car if you insist,” he added.

  “You’re a bossy s.o.b. for a damned invalid.”

  “Don’t underestimate me, I’m here aren’t I?”

  “Yes, you are.” She nodded slowly, realizing the effort it took for him to get this far.

  MJ helped Ben to car, tucked him into the passenger side then got her bags out of her car and tossed them into the back seat. “I think I’ll drive now.”

  “All right by me.”

  “Gotta take care of one more thing. Be right back.” She went inside, got an okay from Lauryn about leaving the Mustang, and asked for a bottle of water before she left.

  She hadn’t been gone longer than five minutes, but by the time she made it back to Ben, he was dozing. He propped open one eye when she climbed into the driver’s side. “Here’s water and some pain meds.”

  He stared at her, at the pills. Did nothing.

  “Look, it’s just over-the-counter medicine, but even if it was something to knock you out again, you need to rest regardless.” Tiredness sank into her bones. She could only imagine how rough he felt. “Don’t worry, I won’t shove you out the door while I’m driving.”

  He swallowed the meds, then twisted the cap off the water. “I feel so assured.”

  She ignored his sarcasm, refusing to blame him for his suspicious nature. His experience with her so far hadn’t really proved her trustworthy. She turned the key, then put the car in reverse. “You should be able to get a couple of hours sleep.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Camping.”

  “Terrific. I know when I’m not so tired that camping is going to make a lot of sense.” He eyes drifted shut again.

  You wanna bet? MJ backed out of the driveway, figuring she was heading for another dead end and another day away from Angel.

  * * *

  Silence, punctuated by an occasional soft moan from a sleeping Ben, blanketed the inside of the car. MJ was relieved he slept. There weren’t any stretches of awkward dead air that often dominated when two strangers with nothing to talk about shared an enclosed space.

  Of course, come to think of it, Ben hadn’t really been silent since she met him. And, if he were awake and chatting away, making up those stupid nursery rhymes of his, that would be just as bad. Either way, she much preferred him off in dreamland.

  Even though from the sound of it, he was having bad dreams and obviously suffering. Surprisingly his pain tugged at emotions she kept buried for everyone except Angelina.

  To cut off any further sympathy before it bubbled to the surface and overflowed, she reminded herself that if not for Ben, she wouldn’t be here. Okay, she might be stretching the truth a bit, but it was more satisfying to blame him rather than Tasha who remained elusive.

  The last stretch to the cabin was on a gravel road punctuated by an occasional farmhouse until even that sign of life disappeared. The weight of despair pressed against her with such force she sagged until she caught herself and straightened her shoulders, refusing to buckle under the pressure and fatigue.

  MJ found herself sneaking glances at him. A good diversion she reasoned. Physically, she found him appealing, no denying that. Short, straight nose, lips so large and well-shaped if they’d been on a woman she would have thought they were pumped full of collagen. Regardless, on him, the lips looked extremely kissable, yes sir, those lips were meant to be kissed. Not that she wanted to kiss him. Banish the thought.

  And though his eyes were closed now, the large almond shape, darker than hot chocolate, stuck in a woman’
s memory. She didn’t have to try hard to imagine how intense they’d look filled with passion. Yeah, well, that was another thing that would stay in her imagination just like the kissing image; she sure wasn’t going to find out what’d he’d be like caught up in passion.

  Her inventory of Ben ended with his long dark shaggy hair that looked about a year past the need for a haircut, certainly different from the clean cut close-cropped Keith.

  Keith, so prissy about his looks, had taken longer than she did to get ready. The two men were different in coloring as well. She used to jokingly call the blond hair, blue-eyed Keith a white boy. While Ben was dark, darker even than her own olive skin tones.

  Of course, she had no idea why she was comparing the two men when the only thing they had in common was neither one meant anything to her.

  Still, Ben slumped next to unconscious in the car, and she was tired, unhappy, and trying desperately to stay awake.

  Another glance showed the lines, which feathered out beside his eyes when he was awake, softened in sleep. What caused those lines, she wondered?

  He didn’t look much older than her thirty-three years, but obviously some worries weighted him.

  Was it the job with Vista? She bet with his skin coloring he’d been assigned to the Middle East. Perhaps for an extended period of time. The stress of that kind of assignment could cause lines.

  Working at Vista translated to excitement and money, no doubt, plenty of incentive for an adrenaline junky. But the job created more than a few headaches, and sometimes the cost was too much to pay, as she’d bitterly learned.

  Although working for Vista had been the life she’d been raised into, now that she was out, she surprisingly embraced the slow, simple life of a small town mechanic and mom more. She’d be happy if the biggest adrenaline rush came on the day Angelina got her driver’s license or graduated from college. Or had her first baby. Nothing along the danger lines anymore.

  That baby daughter gave MJ a life beyond herself and dreams of stability she’d never been brave enough to fantasize about. They were now a reality she enjoyed.

  And yet, here she was. Back in the business. No matter how reluctant.

  Recognizing landmarks brought her out of her thoughtful mood; she made a turn on a more isolated gravel road which took her deeper into the woods and hills. The road had holes left from earlier rains. She was definitely glad she left behind her Mustang.

  Ben stirred at the slower speed. Distracted, she missed seeing a dip in the road, bumped through it. He raised his head just in time to have it bounced back onto the seat. “Ouch.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Getting close, I hope?"

  “Not too much further.”

  “Nice road, think you can find many more bumps to drive through?”

  Exhaustion, frustration, or whatever combination she was feeling, whether Ben’s words were an attempt at sarcasm or humor, they only made her want to toss him from the car as she’d promised not to do. Instead, she gave him a sugary smile. “I’ll see what I can do. Oh, here’s one right–”

  “Don’t– Ugh.” He grunted as the car bounced. “I’d ask if you were cranky from sleep deprivation,” he said when he caught his breath. “But oh, that’s right. You’re always cranky.”

  “Are you always such a smart ass?”

  “Only when I’m shot.”

  MJ grimaced, part in chagrin that she’d let herself forget the obvious pain he must be suffering. But also because in spite of his injury, she still had to focus to keep her anger from spewing like a geyser. It was the anger that made her snap, “Lucky me. Next time I’ll throw myself in front of you.”

  “Now, that’s right generous of you, ma’am,” Ben said with an exaggerated accent as phony as her offer.

  “If I don’t shoot you myself,” she muttered under her breath.

  He wisely lay back and shut his eyes without further comment.

  Welcome silence again.

  The one bedroom log cabin with a wrap-around porch, isolated from the rest of the world, nestled among a scattering of native trees, elm, ash, cottonwood, with branches mostly bare, leaves in various shades of orange and yellow and brown blanketing the ground. The waning sunlight, filtering through the trees, absorbed by the myriad of colors on the ground gave the scene a feeling of an impressionist painting.

  MJ ignored the aesthetic appeal and grimly wondered if this was where Tasha had been hiding between murders.

  At the moment, there was no visible sign of anyone. Didn’t mean Tasha wasn’t out in the woods. Maybe even planted one of those sneaky little booby traps. But MJ admitted that possibility was remote. Tasha hadn’t liked the outdoor training she received along with her brother and MJ, but she’d done it just the same as them.

  MJ cut the engine.

  Ben opened his eyes. “Any sign of her?"

  “None at first glance.”

  “Of course not.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “This is probably your attempt to ditch me again.”

  “Yep, you’re onto me,” MJ confessed, then smiled. He learned fast not to trust her. Not that she’d leave him way out here with no help, silly man, he really should have stayed where she left him. “Or you could be the reason she’s not visible.”

  “You think she doesn’t want me around?”

  “If she really didn’t want you around, you’d be dead.”

  “Still going with the theory I’ve been sent to take her out?”

  MJ hesitated. Then she realized there was no reason for him to know more than she wanted him to know. He had no business being here now. “It’s logical. And she wouldn’t take you out until she knew for sure.”

  “That’s so reassuring,” he said with a sarcastic tone. “If she’s convinced I’m here to kill her, I’m too weak to defend myself.” He rested his head on the window as if it were too much effort to hold it upright. “On the other hand, dying would put me out of my misery.”

  Sympathy for his pain tugged at MJ in spite of her best efforts to ignore the feeling. “I know how you feel,” she admitted.

  He eyed her, his gaze meeting and holding hers. She knew he was remembering her history. “Yes, I imagine you would."

  She got out of the car while he opened his door more slowly. He still looked none too steady when he pushed to his feet. She walked around to help him.

  “Ever been shot before?” she asked.

  “Yeah, but it’s infinitely more comfortable being shot when you can recover in the hospital, and the pretty nurses pump you full of pain killer and antibiotics.”

  “Hey, I gave you pain meds.” She thought she managed a decent facsimile of an affronted look.

  “That you did,” he agreed while giving her body a slow once over. “And you’re pretty.”

  She rolled her eyes, pretended that scan of her body didn’t give her heart a little kick start. “So you should’ve stayed put.”

  “And miss all this fun?” He took a wobbly step.

  She draped his uninjured arm over her shoulder. Heat rolled off him. “You still have a fever. You could use some of those antibiotics about now.”

  “Got any in your bag of tricks?”

  “Nope. But I’m going to call Jeff and see about getting you a prescription.”

  “He’s going to love that.”

  His tone set her on alert. “You didn’t tell him you’d been shot?”

  “Didn’t have time, just drive and follow the GPS, that’s all I could do.”

  “Lean on me, damn it.” Though he had an arm over her shoulder, he was obviously trying not to put any weight on her.

  Yelling at him helped marginally because he did then allow her to help him support his weight. They’d only taken a couple of steps forward, MJ bracing her legs to keep balance, when she stumbled on a broken tree branch hidden under the leaves. With his weight now pressing on her, there was no way to stop, and they both fell.

  Ben twisted his body to tak
e the brunt of the impact. On his hurt shoulder.

  He grunted on contact with the unyielding earth. “Shit.”

  “Idiot, what’d you do that for?”

  He understood she was talking about using his body as a cushion. “Beats the hell out of me, given how damned grateful you are.”

  MJ scrambled off him over to the side. Kneeling, she looked at his shoulder. “No blood seeping through which is good. I’d’ve been pissed if I had to sew you up. I’m worse at that than I am at a field dressing.”

  Ben lay looking up at the barren limbs. “Thank God for small miracles.”

  She offered him a hand. Between the two of them, he struggled back to his feet and they started the forward trek again.

  With only a couple more steps, his muscles started shaking, the trembling vibrating across her shoulder where he held on. Sweat droplets lined his forehead and upper lip; the gunshot wound, fever, the fall and too many hours without sleep obviously exacting a high price on his body. She struggled to keep him moving forward.

  She unlocked the door with the key Tasha had sent. Inside the cabin was cold, which made Ben’s teeth chatter, the sound faintly reminiscent of Joan, the Vista secretary, clacking away at her computer keyboard.

  MJ scanned the inside, alert for any danger. But a feeling of emptiness permeated the air, the same barrenness that greeted them each year they’d come here for vacation.

  The earthy cedar smell of the wood brought back memories of long, boring days. As she guided Ben toward the only bedroom, she decided there was something to be said for long boring days. But she’d rather her boring days be back in Texas. Without Ben or unwelcome memories.

  She hoped there were sheets and blankets on the bed, or at least stored somewhere so she could get him tucked in and resting before he totally collapsed.

  Luckily the bed was made. With Ben still hanging onto her for support, she tugged back the covers, guided him to the bed and helped him take off his shoes. That the wifely acts felt so intimate didn’t escape her notice, but she worked to keep focused on the necessary tasks. Just do what was needed, don’t think about anything else.