by Kris Norris
“You didn’t do so good today,” she whispered, pressing it against her face. “But it’s not your fault. You’ve saved us enough over the years. Maybe your luck’s finally run out.” She placed it back on the bed. Luck wasn’t going to save her, or Trace, this time. It was up to her, and Dawson.
Could she trust him? He was a Fed, and she knew better than that. But he’d been more than impressive today and the way he’d matched every twist of Garrick’s plot had left her feeling breathless. She sighed, wondering why her stomach fluttered whenever she thought of him. The feeling was new, strange, and completely unnerving. She rubbed her hand across her abdomen easing the knot she felt building there. What on earth was happening to her?
It’s just your fear over Trace, soothed the voice in her head.
She tried to find comfort in that, but there was more. Something different when she was around Dawson. It was a mixture of fear and anticipation, similar to the rush she got just before a race. And she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. She sighed again. She’d take it slow. She lay back down and let her exhaustion take over.
* * * *
“What time is it?” asked Kendall, bolting into the kitchen.
“Just after ten,” replied Dawson, a coffee cup grasped in his hand. “Coffee?”
“Never touch the stuff.” She headed over to the counter. “Tea’s far better for you.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Why did you let me sleep so late?”
“You had a pretty tough day yesterday. I figured you needed the rest.” He looked up at her. She was tapping her finger on the counter. “You know, you won’t make it boil any faster by watching it. Why don’t you sit down? I’ll pour it for you when it’s ready.”
“Thanks, but I’m quite capable of making myself a cup of tea.” She met his stare. “And I do think it helps to put some pressure on it. Everything works better under a dead line.”
Dawson shook his head. Kendall Walker was different than any other woman he’d ever met. She was headstrong, stubborn, and had a coolness about her that was unnerving. He hadn’t been joking when he’d complimented her on her performance. He’d never seen anyone stay that calm before. But then he suspected she’d had plenty of practice. He sighed as she steadied the mild trembling in her hands before pouring the water into a mug. She was still fighting the pain, and he wondered how long she’d keep it up.
You just want to hold her.
He frowned, wondering where the thought had come from. He just wasn’t accustomed to dealing with someone like her. Most victims were in near hysterics from the start, clutching to him like a tether rope, not calmly pouring themselves a cup of tea twelve hours later. And it left him feeling just a little unsure of himself.
“So are you ready to talk?” he asked, pushing the unsettling feeling away. “Or do you need the caffeine fix first?”
“I can talk and drink at the same time. But first, did you find any more clues from the traces you made yesterday?”
“Nothing useful.”
“Nothing? Not even a note?”
Dawson met her gaze with a raise of his eyebrows. “Why would you guess he left a note?”
“It’s his style. A warning, to back off.” She scrutinized his face. “He did leave one, didn’t he? He’s nothing if not diligent.” She walked over to the table. “I don’t suppose this means you’ll leave and let me handle this?”
“You’re kidding, right? Besides, you already convinced him you needed a partner, and backing out now wouldn’t look good.” He leaned forward. “Now, tell me exactly who Garrick Black is, and why he’s after you and Trace.”
He watched her pale at the firmness of his voice, looking as if she felt trapped. He wasn’t trying to frighten her, but he had a feeling she’d avoid telling him anything if he didn’t push her just a bit.
“I thought you said you read some file on me. Didn’t it mention Garrick?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if it had. You’re stalling.”
“It’s not a simple question, Dawson.”
“Then don’t give me a simple answer.” He put his coffee down and ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesus, Kendall, some psycho just took your brother right out from under your nose. This isn’t a game, despite what Garrick wants to call it. I’m a Federal Agent. This is what I do for a living. Now stop trying to shut me out and tell me what’s going on here, or I’ll pick up my phone and have ten more agents standing on your front porch by noon!”
“You know he’ll kill Trace if you do that! You can’t strong-arm this guy. We pushed him as far as we could yesterday. If he gets so much as a hint you’re really a Fed, he’ll kill Trace and find another way to get to me.”
“Then tell me what I need to know, and let me help you.”
He reached out and touched her hand. Her fingers were cool and soft, and he found them strangely comforting. He looked into her eyes. They’d softened, and he could see the array of emotions she was trying to keep hidden. He smiled and stroked her fingers. She tensed and held her breath, watching him as he caressed her hand. He could feel her resolve weakening, her will melting to his. She closed her eyes, and he couldn’t halt the sudden need to help her, to lift the burden she insisted on carrying.
“Please.”
She looked up at him. “I’ll tell you what you need to know about Garrick if you make me a promise.”
“What promise?”
“That you’ll spend the next two weeks training with me.”
“You don’t actually think I’m going to let you play Garrick’s game, do you?”
“It’s the only way to get Trace back.”
“You bought us two weeks last night. I’m confident we’ll be able to track Garrick down by then.”
“Then you shouldn’t mind making me the promise, especially since you’re confident you won’t have to go through with the race.”
“Come on, Kendall. Even if we don’t find Garrick, playing his game will only get you killed. He’s counting on your loyalty to Trace to manipulate you. We have to find another way to catch him.”
“You don’t know Garrick.”
“So tell me about him.”
Kendall snorted, and he could see her impatience mounting. “There’s only one way to catch him, and that’s to beat him at his own game. He’s cocky. He thinks I’m still the scared little girl I used to be. He’ll underestimate me, and that’ll be our advantage.”
“I won’t risk your life.”
“Dammit, Dawson!” she yelled, stomping to her feet. “Trace might just be a name on a file to you, but he means more to me. Now either make me the promise, or you can dig for the information by yourself!”
He stood up beside her. “I can find out all I need to know without you. You’d just make things easier.”
“Then go ahead!”
“I can have you arrested.”
“I’ll be out in twenty-four hours.”
“Then I’ll have you placed in protective custody, and removed from this undertaking altogether.”
“Protective custody? There’s a paradox. There’s only one place safe from Garrick, and that’s the morgue!”
Dawson cursed and slammed his fists down on the table. Damn she was stubborn. How was he supposed to protect her if she insisted on being so difficult? “Fine, I promise I’ll spend the next two weeks training for the adventure trap from hell! Happy?”
“I want it in writing.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you’ll say anything to get what you want. So put it in writing, and we’ll go from there.”
“I could still back out. Writing it down doesn’t give you a guarantee, Kendall.”
“No, but if you back out, Dawson, it’ll make you a bastard instead of just a liar.”
Dawson huffed and smiled in spite of himself. She was shrewd, determined, and damned cute when she got angry. He sighed, shaking his head as he fought back a chuckle. He could see the need in her eyes, and he wasn’t about
to argue the request any further. “Do you want an official document, or will my signature do?”
Kendall hesitated for only a moment. “Your signature will suffice.” She watched him take out a slip of paper and scribble some words across it.
“Satisfied?”
She scanned the sheet, not able to hide the surprise in her eyes. He watched as she blinked back the tears before steeling her expression. “What would you like to know?”
“Everything.”
“It started a long time ago. I’m not sure I remember everything.”
“Yes you do. You just aren’t sure you want to tell me everything.”
Kendall glared at him, still clutching the paper to her chest. “You think you know me.”
“Do I?” he asked.
He watched her weigh her answer carefully. “You think I’m cold and calculating.”
“No, I think you love your brother and would do anything to get him back, even if it means playing into a trap.” He smiled at her. “Garrick isn’t the only clever person involved in this. You put on a good façade, Kendall. And if it wasn’t for the fact your hands are shaking, I’d go with the cold and calculating analogy.” He sat back down and patted her chair. “Just tell me the basics. We can fill in the details later.”
Kendall sat down, her expression still guarded. “How much do you know already, about me I mean?”
“The file I read only told me about your family’s background since you bought this place ten years ago.”
“Then I’ll start by telling you my last name wasn’t always Walker.”
Dawson drew a harsh breath. “Oh God, please don’t tell me it’s really Black.”
“No, it isn’t that obvious.” She laughed, the sound strained and hollow. “I’ve had several last names. I’m not even sure anymore what the first one was. I think it was Cooper, but I was only six when we entered the program.”
“What program?”
“The witness security program. Another of this country’s greatest achievements.”
Dawson cursed and stood up, stomping around the kitchen. He turned to her, forcing the words through set teeth. “You should’ve told me that last night.”
“I thought you knew. I thought that was why the F.B.I. sent you out right away.”
“No, I came because Trace was kidnapped, and that’s federal jurisdiction. And because your family is somewhat of an icon here, and the Bureau wanted it kept quiet until they knew what they were dealing with.”
“You mean they sent you because my family’s wealthy, and they didn’t want us causing a scene that might hurt certain political officials.”
“Hey, those officials were the only reason I thought your family had a file. But apparently I was wrong.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, stilling the urge to pound them in frustration. He met her piercing gaze. “Witness security is U.S. Marshall territory. Didn’t they give you some sort of contact number in the event of an emergency?”
Kendall snorted, and smiled in a way that told Dawson everything he needed to know even before she replied.
“Of course they did.”
“But you didn’t use it.”
“I couldn’t stop the Bureau from getting involved…never could. But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I involve the Marshall service again. I don’t suppose you’ve ever spent any time with them?” She waved her hand in the air. “No thanks. Not again.”
Dawson shook his head and relaxed back against the counter. Apparently nothing about this case was going to be routine. He gazed at Kendall. Her expression had hardened, and for the first time since meeting her, he got a sense of what her life must have been like. How many times had they run from Garrick? What had he done to them? And what did he still want? He looked away, not able to meet her stare without feeling…something.
“Why didn’t the Bureau send out more men?” she asked suddenly. “To be honest, I expected this place to be crawling with agents by now, warning or not.”
“After Garrick’s call last night I insisted they let me run the show from here, alone. You could say I specialize in kidnappings. I’ve got a unique view on them.” Dawson could feel his expression hardening, his fists clenching at his sides. Damn he hated that automatic response every time a stray thought from the past fluttered into the foreground. He held Kendall’s stare, hoping she didn’t notice the involuntary reaction, only to curse when something flashed across her expression.
“I’m not questioning your decision. I’m glad you took Garrick’s warnings seriously. He’s a serious man.”
Dawson sighed and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Okay, let’s start at the beginning and go from there. And talk nice and slow. I’ve got the feeling I’ll need to pay extra attention.”
Chapter Four
Dawson rubbed his head. He was tired…no, exhausted. Listening to Kendall’s life history had taken a toll on him. He didn’t want to feel connected to her any more than he already did. He didn’t need that kind of personal attachment. It was imperative he remained distant, keep his feelings strictly benign, but he knew there was little hope in that. Not after all he’d heard.
“Okay, let’s recap briefly, just so I’m sure I understood everything you told me. Your father, David Cooper, worked for Garrick Black in one of his casinos in Vegas. He was his accountant, or at least that’s how it started out. But then he got involved in the darker side of Garrick’s business—money laundering, and lots of it. He managed the records, eventually becoming one of Garrick’s most valued employees. That was until he witnessed Garrick’s more violent nature, and decided he’d gotten in too deep and turned on him.” He paused. “I would’ve thought he knew about that side of the man all along?”
“He did,” replied Kendall. “But this time he saw Garrick make an example of someone’s wife, while the husband watched, and realized he was putting my mother in jeopardy. That was my father’s only virtue. He loved her and couldn’t bear the thought of Garrick hurting her.”
Dawson noticed a faint twitching in her lips when she mentioned her parents, and wondered what dark secrets she was hiding. It was clear from her tone she held little emotion toward them, but why, he wasn’t sure.
“So to ensure her safety, he turned states evidence on the bastard, only Garrick got to him first. He tried to kill him, but failed. That’s when Garrick disappeared.” He looked down at the notes he’d made. “You said the Feds tried to track him down, but he proved to be most elusive. They kept your family in a number of safe houses for a while, but eventually, just turned you over to the Marshalls, who gave you all a new last name, and a new place to live.” He looked into her eyes. “But Garrick found you.”
“About a year later. It seems my father took more than just evidence from him, including a large sum of money. I didn’t know about the money until after he died nine years ago. But looking back, I suppose it was one of the reasons Garrick kept chasing us. That, and the fact he’s completely nuts.”
“Why didn’t your father just give Garrick back his money?”
“By the time Garrick found us, it was personal. He wanted to make my father suffer. He’d taken away everything Garrick cared about, and Garrick wanted to do the same to him. That’s why he started to target me and Trace. He knew my father had promised my mother he’d keep us safe. And my father wouldn’t break that kind of promise.”
“You never said what happened to your mother.”
Kendall paused, her bottom lip quivering. “She died just after my father decided to run.”
Dawson noted a hesitation in her voice, as if she were deciding what to tell him. He knew she was leaving out some details, but he didn’t want to push too hard at first. She’d given him much more than he thought she would. Besides, he was sure Charlie would fill in the blanks.
“How many times did you say he tracked you down?”
“Twelve, before we moved here. After the last incident, the Feds believed he was dead.” She glanced around the room. “
This is where my mother grew up. Her family owned this place, and after they died, my father bought it.” She turned to Dawson. “I’d hoped it was over.”
“But you weren’t sure?”
“They never found his body, so I guess we always knew there was a possibility. But it’d been so long, I just didn’t think…” She trailed off. More than her hands were shaking now, and her face had gone white again. “Is that enough?”
“Just one more question. Why did he leave a picture of your mother?”
“It’s his trade mark. I can only guess he wanted to remind us what our fate would be. He always sent one to us just before he struck.”
Your father took much more from me than you know… I want you… It’s all about the hunt.
Dawson could hear Garrick’s words in his head, as if the man had been standing in the kitchen. He’d been smug, arrogant, and more than confidant Kendall would play along with his little ‘game,’ as he’d phrased it. But why? Despite everything Kendall had told him, he still couldn’t see why Garrick would still be hunting them, money or not. The bastard wanted more from them…from her. He glanced over at her. She had her head pressed against the palm of her hands. She looked exhausted.
“Kendall?”
“Yes?”
“Why don’t you go and rest? You must still be drained from your race yesterday. I’ll contact the Marshall service and see what I can dig up on Garrick. Maybe the old records will show some kind of insight into where he might have taken Trace.”
She nodded and got up, not bothering to look at him.
“Oh, Kendall. There’s just one more thing.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Can’t it wait?”
“I’m sorry, but it can’t. I need to know about Conner. I’m kind of surprised he wasn’t waiting for you last night, or at least this morning.”