Fever

by Joan Swan

  “How does a murder involve the Department of Defense?”

  Jason was all for strong women, but this chick was getting on his nerves. “Creek never did listen very well. Didn’t listen when he was told to stop asking questions. Didn’t listen when he was told not to involve outsiders in his quest. He just didn’t listen. You strike me as far more intelligent.”

  Jason pulled out a card, and pushed his wallet back into his pocket and turned on the compassion.

  “I’ve done extensive research on your background, and I know you’ve worked hard to get where you are. I’d hate to see all those years go to waste when you could be out there in the community helping people.”

  He offered her the card. “I have a lot of pull in a lot of places, Alyssa. If you help us out here, help us get Creek back where he belongs, I can make all those ugly stories floating through the media disappear.”

  The fight in her shoulders eased. Her gaze dropped to the card as she tapped the paper against the fingers of her opposite hand. “Those guards are telling convincing stories.”

  “Not a problem.” Jason didn’t like the sense of being tested, but he grinned. “It’s a specialty of mine.”

  “They have a whole web of correction officers backing them up.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been talking to your brother.”

  Her head came up again and a sincere surprise lit her eyes. “You know Mitch?”

  Damn. He just couldn’t read her. If it were anyone else, he would swear she was baiting him, but she just didn’t look the part and her history suggested she was a straight shooter.

  “Doesn’t everyone who’s anyone?” he said.

  “I suppose so. He’s on his way to pick me up.”

  That news definitely put a kink in Jason’s hopes of drawing her over to his side. He had to make a decision—try to net her and pull her in or arrest her. He couldn’t see any immediate benefit in the latter.

  “Mitch has quite a reputation,” he said. “He does great work, Alyssa, but honestly, this situation is well out of your brother’s league. I guarantee he can’t do half of what I can do for you.” He tapped the card, pointed at her and smiled as he pulled his keys from his pocket. “Think about it. You know how to contact me. But don’t wait too long. If I find Creek first ...” He shrugged. “Would be a shame to see a bright future like yours wasted.” He paused for effect and met her eyes directly. “Or cut tragically short.”

  Alyssa shivered as Vasser’s car exited the lot and turned onto Highway Eighty-nine. He’d just told her who he was, who he worked for and what he was doing. He’d oh-so cleverly alluded to the fact that he and / or his department had been involved in Teague’s imprisonment and Desiree’s murder. Then had balls enough to stand there and threaten Alyssa’s reputation, her career and her life if she didn’t act fast and spill Teague’s location. And they knew all about her. Even about her brother. At this moment, her lie about Mitch coming to get her didn’t sound like a half-bad idea.

  “Department of freaking Defense?” she muttered. “Good thing you always love a challenge, Mitch.”

  She closed her fingers around the card and refocused on the parking lot. A heavy sigh filtered past her lips creating a thick plume of smoke in the cold air.

  Holding her jacket closed across her chest, Alyssa wandered through the parking lot, searching for the Jeep, but after five minutes of failure, her emotions started to play nasty tricks on her mind. She still couldn’t believe Teague had actually left her stranded. She was alone.

  Finally free.

  Or was she? This situation just kept getting more and more complicated. And after that conversation with Vasser, her immediate circumstances had gone from tangled mess to hopeless knot. She felt so lost. So confused. Maybe she’d developed Stockholm’s syndrome over the last few days, because she found herself wandering toward Wendy’s, hoping for a sign of the Jeep. She was cold and tired. Her side hurt. Her head hurt. And she wanted more of the TLC Teague had offered her last night. Not to mention a good shot at his ribs for holding back this information, when all she should want was an instant connection to Mitch’s cell and a direct flight to San Francisco International.

  “I’m sick,” she muttered as she crossed into the Wendy’s parking lot. “I’m a sick, twisted idiot.” Why else would she want to go back to Teague? Why else would she put up with the abusive atmosphere of St. Jude’s? “My mother is right. There is something wrong with me.”

  Alyssa rounded the corner of the fast-food restaurant and scanned the rear alley. The Jeep sat alongside the building in the shadow of a Dumpster. Excitement buzzed in her chest, followed by an immediate lick of fear, when she realized the engine was off. Something wasn’t right.

  “Oh, God.” Alyssa pushed into a jog. “No. No, no, no.”

  Alyssa was still ten feet away when she saw the silhouette of Teague’s figure in the driver’s seat. Her feet stopped moving, as if they had their own controls. She pushed each foot forward with deliberate effort and angled to look through the passenger’s window, peering into the driver’s seat.

  Teague wasn’t moving. His head lay against the window, tilted at an odd angle. One limp hand covered his face.

  A jolt of adrenaline-laden terror pushed her arm forward. She fumbled with the handle. Jerked the passenger’s door open. Lunged across to touch his face.

  “Teague!”

  He jumped and grabbed her arm, his eyes sharp with surprise and fear beneath a sheen of wetness.

  Alyssa closed her eyes and dropped her head as relief coursed through her chest loosening all the coiled muscles. She released all her breath in a heavy whoosh, then panted quick and shallow to get a normal rhythm back.

  “Oh, my God. You scared the crap out of me.” She rubbed a palm over her forehead and pressed her suddenly stinging eyes. She would not cry in relief. She would not. To force herself to obey, she opened her eyes and glared at Teague.

  He released her hand and turned away, swiping at tears he obviously didn’t want her to see. “Why aren’t you halfway to San Francisco by now?”

  “Because I’m as demented as you are infuriating. What in the heck are you doing? How could you just leave me there? With him?”

  “You’re the one who walked right up to him,” Teague shot back. “I couldn’t very well waltz over and interrupt.”

  “He’s been gone fifteen minutes. What happened to staying close?”

  His mouth compressed at the same time as his eyes darted away. “This would be a good time for you to head home. Take care of business like you’ve been wanting to.”

  “Excuse me? After everything ... after this ...” she sputtered. “I’m not even going to acknowledge that asinine comment with a response. You jerk.” She slapped the business card against his chest. “Tell me how the Department of Defense got involved in this, Teague. And who is this Vasser guy?”

  He looked down at the card, taking it from her at the same time. “He gave you his damn business card? Man, this guy is un-freaking-believable. You are un-freaking-believable, approaching him like that. What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking that you abandoned me. I was thinking that I’m up to my dang eyeballs in this and that my future is at stake. I was thinking that there’s a lot you’re not telling me, and I want answers, Teague. And after Tara assumed I was one of them”—she used her fingers to put air-quotes around the words—“and treated me like the plague, insisting she, and I quote, ‘wasn’t going to get involved again,’ I thought it best to just go to the source of all this mayhem when he walked right in front of me.”

  The blue of Teague’s eyes darkened to stormy gray. “And what did you learn from the source?”

  “That he’s as cunning as a snake, as manipulative as my competition at St. Jude’s, and as heartless as Taz. That he already knows every detail about my past and in the five minutes we talked, he tried to flip me against you and all but confessed to framing you and killing Desiree.”

  His eyes l
owered to the card, his long, dark gold lashes sweeping down to cover the emotion within. “So colossally screwed up,” he murmured. “Kat’s okay, right? Just bumped her head?”

  Kat’s bump? He was worried about Kat’s bump?

  Alyssa’s blood boiled. A scream ramped up in her throat, but before it escaped, Teague lifted his hand to his eyes and swiped at them again. A fine tremor rocked his fingers, his arm, his shoulders.

  All her frustration evaporated. Her heart broke open. She reached across the Jeep and squeezed his forearm. “Kat’s fine. A bump and a few scrapes. She’s fine.”

  He heaved a breath and nodded. Then in one swift move, he leaned across the Jeep and pulled Alyssa into his arms. She stiffened in surprise as he pressed his face to her neck, then whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for checking on her.”

  Teague stuffed the wicked anger of raw injustice deep inside and let a sweeping sense of gratitude wash over him. Still, nagging guilt encroached. Alyssa was the last person on earth who should have done anything for him. Yet not only had she risked her safety, she’d come back.

  “Why?” he said against her neck, still holding her, smelling her, feeling her. “Why didn’t you leave?”

  “I evidently have some sort of masochistic streak.”

  He huffed a laugh, more relief than humor. Then the warmth of Alyssa’s hands smoothed over his head, down his neck and rested on his shoulders. He’d never felt anything so good in his life.

  Teague lifted his head and looked into her eyes. He didn’t know who moved first, only felt her mouth against his. And it was so right. So perfect.

  Her lips were soft and warm as she kissed him. Tentative. Gentle. Then again. And again. Her arms tightened around his shoulders. He slid one arm around her waist and cupped her face with the other hand. He wanted to devour her, drive in and take her all at once, but forced himself to hold back. And gained a huge payoff when Alyssa was the one to demand more.

  She sucked his lower lip between hers and pulled his mouth open, then kissed him fully. Her tongue slipped in and touched his. Heat streamed through his chest and expanded in his groin, and Teague moaned with the feel of it.

  Alyssa twisted toward him, sliding one arm around his neck and locking on. She took the kiss deeper and, oh, the feeling of being wanted—for who he was in the moment, even at his worst—made Teague lose all sense of place and time and circumstance.

  When Alyssa finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard, tangled in an impossible position in the cramped Jeep. Teague’s head was swimming, his cock straining against his jeans and pounding to the beat of his heart. Before he had fully cleared his head, Alyssa took his face in both hands. One thumb slid over his cheekbone, the other over his lips, all while those smoky eyes scanned his face with a mixture of tenderness and need. He kissed her thumb as it passed.

  “Wow,” she breathed. “Could this get any more complicated?”

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. A little voice warned. Don’t do this. No matter how badly you want her. Don’t do this.

  Teague closed his eyes, his heart heavy with resignation, and pulled back. He curled his fingers around hers and released her grasp on his face, set her hands back in her lap. “I imagine it could, but I don’t want to think about how.”

  He turned away and stared out the windshield, forcing his mind back to his purpose.

  “Where were they coming from?” He cleared the desire from his throat. “Tara and Kat? Which store?”

  “Um. The photo shop, I think.”

  Teague turned the engine over. “Let’s see what they were doing there.”

  In front of the photo shop, he slammed the Jeep into park, pushed the driver’s door open and rounded the front of the vehicle, trying to get that damned kiss and the fantasies it created out of his head.

  Before Teague could reach the passenger’s door, Alyssa was out, her gaze direct and focused. “Are you sorry you kissed me?”

  His chest grew heavy with emotion—so much emotion. Past, present, future. All knotted and matted. He lifted one hand to her cheek, ran his thumb over the soft, blushed skin. He wanted to kiss her again. Push her against the Jeep and feast on her. Take her back to the cabin, carry her into the house, lay her down on the sofa in front of the fire and undress her and touch her and taste her.

  “At a different time, a different place ... God, I wish I’d met you years ago.” He shook his head, dropped his hand. “But I didn’t. And I’ve already screwed up your life enough, don’t you think?”

  He didn’t wait for a response, just closed his hand around hers and headed into the store.

  Alyssa remained unusually quiet. He’d expected her to argue or pick a fight or at least tell him he was wrong and render her own opinion. But she didn’t, which made him feel even worse. Maybe she agreed. Maybe she had her own second thoughts about their kiss, given what was at stake.

  At the rear of the shop, three Asian women sat in front of large, complex machines processing photos. They didn’t look up from their work. A man appeared from behind a curtain leading to a back room and scurried up to the front counter. “Can I help you?”

  “Yeah, hi.” Teague searched for a relaxed demeanor. “My sister sent me to pick up her pictures. She was in earlier with my niece. Last name is Masters.”

  The man turned and chattered at one of the women in Vietnamese. The two shot conversation back and forth like arrows before the woman dug in a pile of white envelopes and handed one to the man. Without asking for ID or questioning Teague further, the man rang up the sale, made change and offered Teague the envelope.

  He dragged Alyssa out of the store and shook the envelope’s contents into his hand. Several two-by-two head shots of both Tara and Kat filled his palm. Teague frowned and checked the envelope again, but found it empty.

  “Passport photos.” Alyssa’s voice drew Teague’s attention to an advertisement painted on the shop window for one-hour passport photos.

  Teague’s stomach tightened up. “What did Tara say to you? Tell me everything.”

  Alyssa’s eyes went distant as she recalled the conversation. “Ah ... she didn’t let me get much of a word in edgewise. I told you she jumped on me about being ‘one of them.’ She said she’d already talked to Vasser, called him by name. Said she’d die before anyone took Kat from her. She talked about already having done what they’d wanted, mentioned blackmail. . .”

  Dots started connecting in Teague’s brain, and he didn’t like the picture they were creating. At all. “Let’s go. Vasser will have the cops here any second.”

  FIFTEEN

  Teague dialed Seth’s number as he drove the route back toward the cabin, splitting his attention between the road, the rearview mirror and Alyssa, who sat far too silently in the passenger’s seat.

  After the first ring, Seth picked up, breathless and expectant. “Tara?”

  “No, it’s me, Teague. What’s going on?”

  “Did you contact her, you dumbass? I told you I’d set something up and call you.”

  Teague’s mind hit an invisible wall and broke into several different pieces. “No, I didn’t contact her. Why would I call her? Why would you ask that? What’s wrong?”

  “She got a call this morning and after that she was acting totally freaked out. When she’d been gone too long and stopped answering her phone, I got a weird feeling and looked through the house. Her stuff is missing. Kat’s favorite toys and books are gone. I can’t find the suitcases we keep in the garage. She’s gone, Teague. She’s gone and she took Kat. Why would she do that if you hadn’t spooked her?”

  An ice storm of reality rolled through Teague in prickly, painful waves. Kat was out there somewhere and even the man who’d been a father to her for years didn’t have any idea of how to find her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. But if she ran, it wasn’t because of me.”

  “I called the police.”

  “Wh—what?” An unexpected stab of betrayal stole Teague’s breath.

  �
�Not on you, idiot. On Tara. For Kat.”

  That didn’t help the sting much. “What did they say?”

  “That if her legal guardian has her and there is no evidence that Kat is in any danger, then they can’t call her missing yet. They told me to stay home and wait for Tara to phone or come back. To call if anything changes.”

  Teague nodded to himself. At least if Tara changed her mind, he’d have a link to the information through Seth. “That’s good advice. I’m already out here, looking. Believe me, buddy, if anyone is going to find her, it’s me.”

  Seth grumbled something unintelligible.

  “Couple quick questions that might help me,” Teague said. “Had you planned on taking a trip anytime soon?”

  “What? No.”

  “Any big purchases recently? Say, a new car?”

  “No. Why? How is this important?”

  “Call me if Tara calls you, Seth, and I’ll call you if I find them first. Deal?”

  More grumbling. A few creative curses. “Find her, goddammit.”

  Seth hung up on him. Teague disconnected, set his elbow on the window ledge and rested his head in his hand.

  He’s fallen back in time—to the days before he’d gone to prison, when he’d been digging into the source of the warehouse fire and the contents of the building that had burned too hot and too fast. Contents that had exploded and blown their team to hell. An explosion that had taken Quaid’s life.

  This situation with Tara’s behavior was eerily reminiscent of the way reporters Teague had spoken to had been fired and disappeared or suddenly relocated to parts unknown. Followed by documents taken from his home, evidence stolen from Desiree’s office files and death threats on Desiree’s doorstep.

  “What’s this whole custody thing about?” Alyssa’s voice brought Teague back to his ugly reality.

  He glanced at her. She was resting her head against the window and looking at him from barely open eyes.

  “What about it?”

  “Why are Luke and Seth and Tara fighting over Kat? Luke is family, Seth and Tara aren’t. You all used to be friends. What happened?”