by V. R. Marks
"Good to hear. Get your stuff. "
Allie felt like a bobble head, but she couldn't stop nodding. He'd saved her twice in less than twelve hours. She didn't quite trust him, and with all these renewed feelings, she didn't trust herself around him, but she decided dealing with the devil she knew was the better choice. For now.
* * *
Ross used the anger, let it show as he approached the woman.
"I know your brain's working by now. Talk to me." He asked the basic questions about identity and purpose and got only a studied lack of response.
With his phone, he took a picture and prints, sent the information up the line to Eva.
He silently cursed his overwhelming stupidity for taking this ridiculous job. He should've walked away when he realized it was his Allie who'd stolen from her company. Should've gone ahead and admitted the conflict of interest and turned down the hefty retainer when her boss, Bradley Roberts, had come to him.
But Roberts had been referred by a satisfied customer and Ross didn't want to undermine the power of word-of-mouth advertising. Private security and recovery work was a small world populated with big organizations, effective modest teams like his own, and solo acts who were trying to make a name for themselves. Turning Roberts away meant giving Allie up to another team that might not view her as anything more than an easy paycheck.
If curiosity killed the cat, he should've known he wouldn't fare better. This whole thing kept unraveling by the minute. He needed to find the unruly string and cut it off.
Without words, he ushered Allie out of the hotel room and down the back stairs to his car.
"Where are we going?"
Ross shook his head. He didn't know yet and he wanted a few minutes to consider the options. He wouldn't take a suspect – not even Allie – to the office in Columbia. Eva had already given him hell at the Midnight Rooster, accusing him of "shacking up with the perp", a situation she couldn't abide with her black and white logic.
Logic didn't cover that stunt with the kiss. Eva had to know he'd address that crazy move at the next opportunity. He knew damn good and well she didn't mean that sort of advance on a personal, romantic level, which meant she was up to something. And with Eva's independent and often impatient thought processes, it wasn't likely to be something he'd appreciate.
The way he looked at it, this latest armed intrusion would prove the point he'd been trying to make to her about Allie's safety and the security of the stolen data.
If he'd followed Eva's rules and booked two rooms, or left Allie to her own devices, they'd be trying to pick up her trail about now. Instead, thanks to his intuition – which had nothing to do with his fond memories of her supple body – they had both the thief and the stolen property sitting right beside him.
The wail of sirens closing in on the motel offered a harsh wake-up call for the sleepy town.
"Ross, please. Tell me you've got an idea."
He looked at her, looked down to the key he hadn't managed to put in the ignition yet. "I'll come up with something." He had plenty of ideas, none of them he intended to share.
He put the car in gear and zig-zagged through side streets until he reached the edge of town. He considered it lucky when the last traffic light turned red and he used the few seconds to send the code phrase that ended Eva and Rick's surveillance schedule of Allie. He didn't want their company or opinions anytime soon. He kept the phone on, propped in the cup holder, so they could keep tabs on him via the GPS signal.
"Let's go for a drive, to see if anyone else is close enough to take a shot at you."
"When are you going to tell me the whole truth about your part in all of this?"
Not anytime soon. "I've told you. I'm doing a favor for Sheriff Cochran."
"You want me to buy the local bad boy makes good routine?" Her snort confirmed her opinion of the likelihood of that.
"Sort of." The short version obviously wouldn't hold her off much longer, but he intended to save the details for when she couldn't run away from him. "Is it so hard to believe?"
He watched the mirrors as he headed toward Darlington. This route gave more options to anyone inclined to tail them. So far nothing, but he wasn't holding his breath. Beside him, Allie swiveled in the seat, pulling the seatbelt snug between her breasts. He looked back at the mirrors. Please, God, let there be a tail to distract him, but when he turned again, they were the only car for miles.
"Damn."
"What?" She looked out the back window. "Is someone back there?"
"No." He tried to sound happier about it. "No one's back there. Looks like we've got the road to ourselves."
"Okay."
"We'll be out here a little while yet."
"Fine." She turned away from him, watching the fields and the occasional home or business roll by.
"That was an invitation to tell me what really brings you back to the old homestead."
"Like I said, I had some time off and Aunt Ruth agreed I could spend it at her place."
"Uh-huh." He checked the rearview mirror again. "Allie, most people taking 'some time off' don't get shot at and attacked with a Taser in the span of twelve hours."
She slumped into the seat. "I know."
She had to know he wouldn't settle for the empty excuse much longer, but he opted not to push with so many other things on his mind. Like where he could take her to get to the bottom of this. "Hiding out in another hotel doesn't do us any good. That fake deputy has me convinced she won't be the last one taking aim at you."
"What do you suggest?"
The truth? "Just talk to me."
It was a fine line they were walking. Even with an alternate identity, and he had the basics for that in the lining of his jacket, word had already spread too fast about the attempt on her life last night. She was too recognizable and not because of the deep blue eyes and pixie-cut hair. She'd been an icon around here even as a kid and she'd funneled money into good programs around the area as an adult. A ten year old with an Internet connection could find a good lead on her in less than five minutes.
He knew first hand because he'd done a chunk of the background research himself. The woman –thief– sitting in his car knew how to get publicity, and this time the media machine she used so well had painted a target on her back.
"What's really going on here?" He hoped like hell the gusty sigh meant she was about to give him an answer he could work with.
"My boss was doing some underhanded things. I tried to report him to his boss and got invited to quit my job for my misplaced concern."
"That's all?"
"Isn't that enough?"
Not even if part of her boss' story was true. "It doesn't seem like enough to warrant a hit man and a kidnapper."
"You'd be surprised. Pharmaceuticals is a tough industry." She shifted in the seat again, studying him with far too much intensity.
He tried not to squirm. "What's going on inside your head, Allie?"
"Why didn't you kill the woman at the motel?"
Of all the things she might've said, that was the most unexpected.
He deliberately relaxed his hands, releasing the tension and surprise. He'd changed, they both had, but who'd convinced her he ended lives for fun?
"You killed the guy at Aunt Ruth's place."
"It was him or you." And no room for debate or doubt in his mind.
"I suppose you're right. After last night I was surprised you went so easy on her."
He managed not to growl at her. "Whatever you've heard about Special Forces teams, we aren't a bunch of cold blooded killers." It annoyed him that people thought they knew what went on in his former line of work. The public had no idea how hard they trained to preserve life and he was long over trying to change anyone's mind.
"But you worked on covert missions. Isn't that the right term?"
"In certain circles, yes. I've traveled and done some work I can't talk about yet." He kept his eyes on the road, feeling her searching gaze roam over him
like a caress. "But I'm not an assassin." Why couldn't she see he was different from the guy who'd tried to put a bullet through her last night?
"Sorry for insulting you. I'm just in way over my head and – and –"
He heard the hiccup and sniffle and knew she was crying. He said a prayer she'd get it together quickly so he wouldn't have to pull over and offer comfort. That was a skill they didn't cover in Special Forces training. "Allie, you can tell me what all this is really about."
More sniffling. "I've said too much already. That probably wasn't a random home invasion. They must have sent someone after me because they don't want me to tell anyone anything important. I don't want you or – or anyone else to get hurt." She dabbed her eye with a tissue. "Take me back to Sheriff Cochran."
"Not yet." His phone hummed in the cup holder. The caller id was blocked, but he had to pick it up. He sent her an apologetic glance, checked the rearview mirror and picked up the phone.
"Carpenter."
Chapter 3
Allie stared out the window again, denying the urge to listen. It wasn't like she'd get anything from the guttural, monosyllabic replies Ross called conversation.
She watched rural South Carolina roll by in various shades of green from the low fields to the tall loblolly pines. She'd once found it monotonous, now she found the reliable scenery a comforting balm to her nerves.
She'd wanted to come home, for safety and a moment to breathe and assess before taking action. She thought of the hard drive in her duffel, the passwords on her computer. And the law office that had yet to return her calls. What action could she take that would end in justice? How ridiculous that she'd become a whistle blower before she had any idea of how and where to blow the whistle.
She'd been so shocked when no one in her own company wanted to do anything that would jeopardize the potential profit. And when she'd reviewed the data, she realized the regulatory side was equally culpable. Frightened, knowing she was being followed, she'd reached out, only to hit brick walls with her media contacts who were too afraid to tarnish the shiny, caring image her company projected to the community.
In the reflection on the window, she watched Ross put the phone back in the cup holder. "Who was that?"
"A client. I told him to deal with my assistant."
"Really? More of the complicated and confidential sort of thing? What work does your team do besides babysit for the sheriff?"
She saw the hesitation, recognized his search for the right words.
"We handle private security issues. The variety of the work is what I find most appealing. While we often pick up extra details for the state, we have civilian clients too."
"Do you ever do the bodyguard thing?" Maybe she should hire him.
"Rarely. Mostly we focus on private investigations or recovery situations."
She added that up quickly, not liking the answer at all. "Recovery situations," she echoed, as the pieces fit together. His appearance in a town he'd sworn off after high school might not be simple coincidence. No matter what Ross kept saying, she couldn't help but wonder if her boss managed to hire Ross's team when she'd disappeared.
Their ten year high school reunion flashed through her mind. She hadn't seen his name listed with those who planned to attend, but she'd been hopeful. Hopeful and naive as it turned out. She'd jumped into her career with both feet and had returned to the event on top of the world and ready to mend fences with Ross.
Except he hadn't been there. He'd been busy on a mission, and only sent in a picture for the scrapbook. She remembered the smile on his face as he stood there in his combat uniform, armed to the teeth against the nameless desert stretched out behind him.
"...been at it a couple years now," he was saying. "Built up a reputation."
"I'm sure." She was sure he was good at his job. He always applied his best effort to reach his goals. From dating her, to being the best soldier in the field. Her mind wouldn't let go of the possibility that he was in town to recover her. She eyed his phone, timed her move as he made the next turn and snatched it up to check the call history.
"What the –? Allie," he said in a menacing voice, but he didn't make a grab for it.
"Oh, ignore me and keep driving. If you aren't going to admit I'm really your assignment, I might as well do my own investigating."
He muttered something unintelligible and most likely unflattering.
"Fine," he said. "The sheriff didn't hire my team solely to keep an eye on the neighborhood. While he did have complaints about a stranger nosing around, he wanted me to keep an eye out for you at your aunt's place."
She still didn't think that was all of it. Although she didn't hide her past, she didn't talk much about her hometown at work, so someone had done some digging to find Haleswood and Aunt Ruth specifically. "Who could have told him I might show up?"
"That's privileged information." He cleared his throat. "Security matters."
She wished she felt secure. "Come on, Ross."
"Cochran gave me the impression your aunt called."
That actually made some sense. Her last call on her old phone had been to Aunt Ruth. The new phone had clearly been a good idea, even if she'd felt a little silly about her paranoia at the time.
"Your turn," he prompted.
She hesitated, wondering what he was up to when he changed lanes at the last minute and aimed the car back toward Haleswood. "That's privileged too." She ignored the derisive sound he made. "No, it really is. I'm afraid to tell you exactly what happened, but I promise I didn't do anything close to what they're trying to pin on me."
"What did you do?"
She shook her head, kept paging through the call history on his phone, inordinately relieved she didn't recognize any names or numbers. Maybe Ross wasn't working for Bradley after all. "Is Eva the woman from this morning?"
"Yes." He glanced at her, then back to his mirrors. "What did you do, Allie?"
"So you've known her since before breakfast. Are the two of you together? An item?"
"Quit trying to change the subject."
"Fine. To quote you, I was doing my job. I created a special account for a new division focused on local charitable efforts. It was my idea to create the division, a public service campaign kind of thing. Months went by before I realized it was a slush fund for laundering kickbacks for my boss."
"Thank you."
His sincerity startled her. "For what?"
"For finally telling me something useful. My team keeps up with arrest warrants and APBs for the general area. We saw a report that you were wanted for questioning regarding the theft of sensitive proprietary data from your employer. This settles the question of guilt."
"It does? Wait. I'm wanted for questioning?" More questions bounced around like popping corn in her mind and she couldn't get them out in the order that felt most relevant. "You thought I was guilty?"
"I thought it was possible. But I know you." The look he shot her was intimate enough to give her goose bumps. "You'd never steal money."
Her stomach pitched. Of course she'd been counting on having the benefit of the doubt here in her hometown, but Ross's certainty meant so much more. She ought to tell him everything. She cleared her throat, trying to decide where to start.
"There is sensitive data all right." Watching him closely for any reaction, she saw his gaze moving from mirror to road to dash to road to mirror. The cycle continued, consuming all of his attention. "What's wrong?"
"We're being followed."
She glanced at her side mirror, twisted to look out the back window. They were alone out here as far as she could tell. "I don't see anyone. You're trying to scare me."
"Would you trust me? Besides, why would I bother? You're scared enough already."
Being framed, tailed, shot at, and nearly zapped with a Taser would do that to any girl.
"So what's your plan?"
"Use my phone." He was frowning at the rearview mirror again. "Call Sheriff Cochran and tell him you
have more to add to your statement."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. "Do it."
Allie dialed. After exchanging the typical small town greetings with the receptionist while Ross grumbled some nonsense about prodigal daughters, she relayed her message directly to the sheriff. "He's expecting us," she said to Ross when she disconnected.
"Good. We'll either meet him or we won't."
"I beg your pardon?" What did that mean?
"Whatever evidence you've got about that money laundering, no expense has been spared to retrieve it. They're worse than sharks." His big palm landed on her shoulder as he tugged her sideways and down to the seat. "Stay low."
She felt him gun the engine and barely resisted the urge to peek at whatever was going on.
"Damn trucks."
The car swayed as Ross looked for a way around the eighteen wheeler blocking his path on the two lane road. He jerked the car left, stomped on the accelerator. Seconds later he jerked the car back to the right lane again.
"I'm going to roll down the window," he said. "I want you to take the battery out of my phone and throw it."
She didn't bother mentioning the strict littering laws or that the battery was a biohazard.
Less than a minute later, Ross slowed to a speed closer to legal and told her to sit up. "That's good news."
"What do you mean?" Everything he said and did emphasized how little she knew about handling her horrible situation. Tears threatened again, but she couldn't indulge the emotion, she had to be sharp, had to find her way out of this.
"Whoever's tailing you wants the data more than you. At least for now."
"You know this how?"
"They stopped to search for the phone you pitched. Probably thought it was a hard drive."
Her palms went damp. She hadn't mentioned the hard drive. How had Ross learned that detail? "Good." It was all she could manage.
"Maybe. We'll just have to see who's waiting for us at the sheriff's office."
She didn't even try to reply. Was he her friend...or her enemy?
* * *