Keeper's Reach

by Carla Neggers

  Mike shook his head. “No.”

  “Great city. We’ve rented offices near Vanderbilt—not far from where Naomi lives, as a matter of fact. My old haunts. Feels good to be back home. I guess you know that, though, since you’ve been back in Maine for a few years.”

  Naomi realized Mike had dropped his hand from her elbow. She turned up the collar of her jacket, hearing waves crashing on the rocks and giant chunks of ice below them.

  “It was good to meet your brother,” Reed added. “Will we have a chance to meet your other two brothers?”

  “Maybe,” Mike said. “Once I figure out what you’re up to.”

  Reed laughed. “Cut-to-the-chase Mike Donovan. That’s what I need—guys who will say what they think, not try to gauge what they think I want them to say. I hate ass-kissers. But I’m careful with people, Mike. Even people I trust the most. One mistake can ruin what we do. I’d be fine. I have plenty of money. A lot of these guys wouldn’t be. I owe it to them to be cautious, as well as to our clients.”

  Naomi kicked a chunk of ice down the porch steps. The two men looked at her as if suddenly remembering she was there. She smiled. “I’m going to go back to my room and try the spa products.”

  “You do that, Naomi,” Reed said.

  “What do I tell the FBI if you two kill each other?”

  “Nothing,” Reed said. “The FBI doesn’t investigate local murders.”

  Mike didn’t seem as amused. Naomi left them and walked into the inn.

  She spotted Buddy alone by the fire in the lounge. “Those two still aren’t over you,” he said, barely glancing at her. “Reed trusts you because it’s in his interest. Mike doesn’t trust you at all.”

  “You are so off base, Buddy. You have no idea.”

  He winked at her. “I’m not as clueless as you might think about such matters. Still clueless, mind you. Just not as clueless as you think.” He laughed, looking at her now. “You have a lot of nervous energy. Sit. Have a drink. Stare at the fire. I’m having hot cocoa spiked with Bailey’s. Want one?”

  “No thanks.” She decided he was right about her mood, though. She sat on a love seat opposite him. “You still look cold from snowshoeing,” she said.

  “I am still cold. It was fun, though. It’s not like we never get snow in Tennessee. I just never go out in it. You did great today.”

  “Snowshoeing isn’t that hard.”

  “It’s the snow that gets you,” he said with a grin. “I’m not sure Reed and Mike appreciate how smart and tough you are. I sometimes wonder if you know.”

  “I focus on my job. I’ve got some medical types packing for humanitarian work, and I want them all to stay safe. Beyond that...” Naomi pulled off her Barbour jacket. “I don’t care.”

  “Keep saying that until you believe it.”

  She laughed. “I will. I’m not cold now,” she said, splaying her fingers in front of the fire. “Who all were you in touch with before you came here?”

  “Reed. That’s it. And Kavanagh, of course.”

  “Not Mike?”

  “Why would I be in touch with Mike?”

  “I don’t know. Were you?”

  “No.”

  “Did you stop in Rock Point or Heron’s Cove yesterday? They’re the closest towns to this place.”

  “Mike’s from Rock Point. The Sharpes are from Heron’s Cove. Is that why you’re asking?”

  “Just making conversation, Buddy.”

  “Ha. Right. This have anything to do with what happened yesterday in England?”

  “This?”

  “Whatever has you looking and talking so earnest.”

  She waved a hand, sitting back from the fire. “Never mind. I’m keyed up from the presentation and then snowshoeing.”

  “You like these doctors.”

  “They do great work at considerable risk to themselves. The head of the group was impressed with Reed. I want this to work out for everyone.”

  “Do you think Mike’s a good idea or a bad idea for the team?”

  “That’s not my call to make. Where is our FBI agent friend, by the way?”

  “Kavanagh? No idea.” Buddy edged closer to the fire. “This place would be a great setting for one of those mystery weekends. A live game of Clue. Colonel Mustard in the conservatory with the candlestick.”

  “Buddy, Buddy,” Naomi said, relaxing now.

  “Yeah. I know. Not with this crowd. More likely grenades and automatics than candlesticks.”

  She left him to his spiked hot cocoa and went out into the lobby. She and Serena were the only women at the Plum Tree.

  Naomi spotted Kavanagh outside in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette next to the moose.

  “I found a pack and some matches tucked in a drawer in the library,” he said. “I decided not to resist. I haven’t had a cigarette in three years. Since you went missing in Kabul, as a matter of fact. It’s kind of like winter camp here, isn’t it?”

  “But you’re not fooled.”

  “No, I’m not. Naomi, if the guy in England was attacked, you’ll be a suspect. You should mind your own business once in a while.”

  “You arrived in the village around the same time I did.”

  “But I’m an American federal agent.” He pointed his cigarette at her. “You’re the intel expert sneaking around and asking questions.”

  “Are you calling me a busybody, T.K.?”

  He laughed. “Now, I didn’t say that. Reed put you up to checking out York? Checking out me?”

  “No, he didn’t. It’s just what I do. How much contact have you had with our merry band since Afghanistan?”

  “None until the past couple weeks.”

  “Not even Buddy?”

  “Why, what’s he saying?”

  “Not much. He likes to provide tips. Makes sense he would stay in touch with you.”

  “Try to, maybe. I don’t consider the occasional email staying in touch. And I never considered him a part of—what did you call us? Our merry band. That’s good.”

  “Buddy probably has more to offer Reed right now than anyone else.”

  “He knows the cyber world. I’ve offered to put him in touch with the Bureau, but he likes his independence.”

  “He’s always wanted to be one of the alpha guys,” Naomi said.

  “It’s hard to top these guys. I’m an FBI agent, but Reed, Mike, Jamie and the rest of the guys coming in this weekend—damn. Maybe this isn’t about recruiting Mike and solidifying a team. Maybe Reed pulled this weekend together because he wants to make sure Cooper Global Security isn’t threatened by people who have axes to grind with him.”

  “Old scores to settle, you mean?”

  Kavanagh drew on his cigarette, then exhaled the smoke away from her. “I know of at least one,” he said, letting his gaze fall on her.

  Naomi ignored a rush of emotion. Now wasn’t the time. “Mike and Reed had other dangerous, difficult missions. The one you and I were involved with was just another day on the job.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about you.”

  “Let’s not talk about me. I’ve decided you must be for real or Mike’s FBI brother would have called you out—might even have hauled you out of here for pretending to be an active federal agent.”

  Kavanagh winked at her. “No doubt.” He tossed his cigarette into a snowbank and eyed the moose statue. “Think this fellow is life-size? Are moose really this big?”

  “That’s what Mike says.”

  Kavanagh grinned. “Maybe Mike will take us on a moose-sighting trip while we’re here. Doesn’t that sound like fun, Naomi?”

  Chuckling to himself, he headed back inside.

  Naomi watched the cigarette burn itself out in the snow. Had she set herself up for suspicion when she hadn’t stayed with Martin Hambly? Should she have called the police herself? Maybe she’d let her suspicions about Oliver York and her urgency to get to Heathrow affect her judgment.

  Now it lo
oked as if she’d run.

  Did Kavanagh know something she didn’t know?

  She scooted back inside and caught up with him. “The injured man in England—Hambly—he’s all right, isn’t he? You’d tell me if you’d heard anything, wouldn’t you?”

  “I haven’t heard anything.”

  “Could you find out?”

  Kavanagh eyed her. “Oliver York is Colin Donovan and Emma Sharpe’s problem. Talk to Mike. He might know, or could put you in touch with them.”

  “Why were you checking on York?”

  “Curiosity,” he said, quoting her. “It can be a mixed bag, can’t it?”

  Buddy had vacated his spot by the fire. Then she saw him at the bar, getting a refill on his spiked cocoa. He waved to her. “Guess what, Naomi,” he said, walking to her, carefully balancing his near-overflowing mug. “The National Weather Service is talking about a winter storm for southern Maine. They’re expecting at least half a foot of snow in a few days. Imagine all of us stuck here.”

  “Six inches of snow won’t faze people here, Buddy, but thanks for the heads-up.”

  “You’ll be back in Nashville by the time the storm hits?”

  “Drinking bourbon and checking if the crocuses are up,” she said. “Enjoy your hot cocoa. I’m heading up. See you tomorrow.”

  “Sleep well. Let me know if you change your mind about cocoa and Bailey’s.”

  She promised she would and took the stairs up to her room, her legs aching, her mind spinning. She passed Mike’s door. What if she could sneak in there and have a look around? Was that a wise idea?

  Why wouldn’t it be?

  She unlocked her own door and stepped into her room. It was cool, dark, quiet.

  “I miss my Cotswolds chickens,” she said, then backed out into the hall, shut the door behind her and went in search of a passkey.

  25

  Mike eased onto a bar stool next to Reed at the inn bar. A college basketball game was on the small television up on the wall, the sound on mute. The whiskey glass in front of Reed was almost empty. “I was catching the Vanderbilt score,” he said.

  “The Commodores,” Mike said.

  “Didn’t take you for a college sports fan, Mike.”

  “I’m not. I just know the name of the Vanderbilt team.”

  “Because of Naomi,” Reed said, his gaze still on the television screen. “It was you in Afghanistan and it’s you now. It always will be you. Deal with it. For her sake if not your own.”

  “You might want to hold off on more whiskey.” Mike tried to make his tone light but didn’t quite pull it off. He noticed Reed was into the Redbreast 21, the bottle on the bar by his glass.

  “I’m only saying out loud what we all know. You included, Mike.”

  He wasn’t discussing his relationship with Reed. “You and Naomi are both in Nashville these days.”

  “There is no Naomi and me,” Reed said. “There never was. There never will be. See that once and for all. If you were out of the picture—married, attached, whatever—that still wouldn’t leave room for me. Forget that line of thinking.”

  “I don’t have a line of thinking about Naomi.”

  “Now that makes sense,” Reed said. “I knew when I met her in Afghanistan we were never going to be more than friends. It’s not just on her end. It’s on mine, too. She’s like a sister to me. I’m not a monk pining away for a woman I can’t have. I’ve put my romantic life on hold until I get this outfit off the ground.”

  “Any of the guys have sisters?”

  “I don’t lack for women, Mike, but if I need a matchmaker, you’re the last person I’m calling.”

  Mike grinned. “Three brothers limits my matchmaking options.”

  “Your future sister-in-law, Emma Sharpe, only has a brother, Lucas, the heir apparent to Sharpe Fine Art Recovery. No sisters. The Sisters of the Joyful Heart don’t count.” Reed lifted his whiskey glass. “Then there’s Julianne Maroney. Your lobsterman brother’s love interest. When does she get back from Ireland?”

  “Spring.” Mike opened the Redbreast. “You’ve done your homework on my family.”

  “I always do my homework. I figure an objective look at the Donovans makes sense. You’re blind when it comes to your brothers. I get that.” Reed looked up at the television again, his glass still in hand. “Are you going to tell me what happened that brought your FBI brother here?”

  “He’s in town.”

  Reed gave an incredulous smile as he sipped his whiskey. “Consider, Mike, that what you’re not telling me is a ruse by the FBI to worm their way in here to check out my operation.”

  “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Reed.”

  “Maybe.”

  Mike got a glass from the side of the bar and poured some of the Redbreast. A táoscan, Finian Bracken would call it. An imprecise measure. Reed wasn’t distracted by the basketball game. He wasn’t distracted by anything. “Dinner was good,” Mike said. “Low-key. No tough questions from the boss.”

  “Boss.” Reed chuckled. “I like that. My family was ecstatic when I left the army earlier than expected. They wanted me to start my own business. I don’t think they had a private security firm in mind. Was your family pleased when you took off to the Bold Coast to be a wilderness guide?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  Reed shook his head, his grin broadened. “You’re such a bastard. Always have been. You’re a solid, uncompromising SOB. You’re the guy people want when the bad guys are coming for them. You’re the best, Mike. Naomi isn’t the only reason I got in touch with you. You know that. We need your skills. You’re wasting yourself taking tourists to see moose.”

  “That’s not all I do, and moose are cool.”

  “I also have a debt to be paid,” Reed said quietly, no grin now. “I owe you. It would have been my career if you hadn’t brought Naomi back in one piece that day.”

  “Glad I saved your career, Reed,” Mike said, drinking some of his whiskey.

  “That didn’t come out like I meant. Too much whiskey.” He seemed genuinely contrite. “I still get nightmares thinking of what could have happened to her. I should have known she was in danger.”

  “You don’t owe me.” Mike didn’t want to think about rescuing Naomi—how close she’d come to torture, abuse and death. She’d been a high-value prisoner. But that was three years ago. Emma’s ordeal had ended only a few hours ago. He set his glass on the bar. “What about Buddy and Kavanagh? Do you have a role for them at Cooper Global Security?”

  “I could use Buddy but I hate being around him. It’s not kind of me to say, but it’s the truth. As for our friend Special Agent Kavanagh—I don’t believe for two seconds he’s thinking about leaving the FBI. That doesn’t mean they’re not thinking about kicking him out. I wish I could find out, but he doesn’t work for me.”

  “Is he investigating you?”

  “Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s investigating your brother and future sister-in-law. I’m being frank with you. We have a lot to do if we’re going to be ready for Naomi’s medical volunteers, but I also want everyone to relax and enjoy this place.”

  “You could have driven up to the Bold Coast or picked a place and asked me to meet you. Boston, Nashville. London.”

  “Would you have come?”

  “Maybe,” Mike said, blunt. “You provoked me into coming here by sending Jamie to Rock Point.”

  “It worked.”

  “Did you send Naomi there, too?”

  Reed shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

  “But you want to make sure my family won’t cause you problems if I come on board.”

  “The Donovans are an interesting lot, that’s for sure.”

  “Then there’s Naomi. You need her but you want to control her.”

  “In my world, Mike, control isn’t a bad word. I’d like to know what’s going on with her and this Oliver York character, and what Kavanagh’s interest is—and yours. I don’t want to get caught
in the middle of a no-win situation.” Reed turned to Mike. “Do you trust Naomi, Mike?”

  Mike didn’t answer. He dipped into his shirt pocket and withdrew the passkey he’d swiped earlier. “If I searched your room, Reed, what kind of trouble would I discover you’re in?”

  Reed gave him a thin smile. “The usual. Blackmail, extortion, threats to my life, liberty and pursuit of happiness.”

  “You’re serious,” Mike said.

  “Yeah.” Reed grabbed the Redbreast, splashing more into his glass and then into Mike’s. He took a sip of the whiskey. “How did you know?”

  “You have the same look you did the day Naomi went missing.”

  “It’s the usual fare. Par for the course given the work I do and starting a new venture. It could be the competition, former clients whose asses I saved, people I annoyed in the army. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if my mother’s behind a couple of the nasty emails. She’d like nothing better than for me to quit this work.”

  “She likes having you back in Nashville?”

  “She says so. She’d like it better if I didn’t work with men with guns and protect people with targets on their backs. I’m kidding about her threatening me. I don’t have any threats that worry me. I stay on alert. Reputations in my world are fragile. Whispers, innuendo...”

  “Someone determined to hurt you can do a lot of damage without any concrete evidence.”

  “Yeah.” Reed set his glass on the bar, then grinned suddenly. “But who would want to hurt a nice guy like me?”

  “Right.”

  “You don’t have enemies, either, do you, Mike?”

  He smiled, not into Reed’s game. “There’s a testy red squirrel who would like nothing better than to take over my cabin. We’re sworn enemies.”

  “But you let it live,” Reed said, not making it a question.

  “We have rules of engagement. Well, I do. I think he’d take me out first chance he got. I don’t give him any openings.”

  Reed laughed, but without any real heart in it. “One of the three guys killed in Afghanistan on that screwed-up mission was one of ours. An intelligence asset, as we like to say. I never told you.”

  Mike had guessed as much.