by V. R. Marks
"Other than the famine thing." He winked at her. "But all that dirt and quiet. You'd go crazy."
The smile on her face in the reflection of the window surprised her. "Not that different from here."
"Different dirt. Different quiet," he insisted. "Think of the weather."
She didn't know anything about Idaho weather, but she'd look it up online later just for fun. "Idaho has good skiing. You always said you wanted to learn how to ski."
"Now you're dragging me with you to the potato farm?"
"Hypothetical potato farm."
"Thank God for small favors." He slowed the car and waited for oncoming traffic so he could make a left turn.
"Where are we going?"
"My equivalent of your potato farm."
"You're really going to stick this out with me, aren't you?"
"Yup."
"Why?"
"Because someone is determined to frame you within an inch of your life. I'm not about to let that happen."
Even if she'd had the words she wouldn't have been able to push them past the lump of gratitude lodged in her throat. "That might be the kindest thing you've ever said to me."
He shook his head. "Not even close."
"No?"
"No. The kindest thing I ever said to you was when you had to wear that ridiculous dress for homecoming parade junior year."
She groaned, remembering the hideous getup the committee had chosen. "You said I looked great."
"You did, but the dress was awful."
She reached across and gave him a light punch on the arm. "I knew you were lying."
"No you didn't."
"Why did you lie?"
"Would honesty have made you feel better?"
She conceded the point. "Well, you have my belated and undying gratitude for your perfect navigation of a challenging moment."
"You're welcome." He slid a glance at her as he nudged the car slowly down a rutted lane dividing two cotton fields. "Will you let me help with this latest challenge?"
She wanted to say no, knew she had to say yes. "As long as you don't blame me when the bullets start flying."
"As I recall, I'm the current champ with bullets."
"And Tasers."
"There you go."
She watched his hands on the wheel. Strong. Capable. Tender. She remembered those hands on her when they were still kids and couldn't help wondering how his touch would be different now.
She diverted her inappropriate thoughts with the glaring spotlight of her horrible situation. She didn't know anything about him, not really, and a few hours ago, she'd watched another woman kiss him.
Too many questions she had no intention of asking swirled in her mind. Logic said her feelings sprouted from the crisis and were magnified by memories. He was a professional, doing a professional favor for an old friend.
That was plenty to be grateful for. Determined to think logically, it took her a long moment to realize he'd put the car in park and cut the engine.
They were surrounded by trees.
"We'll walk from here."
"To where?"
She saw the hesitation again, decided it was past time to pin him down on some of these details.
"It's a safe house of sorts. But if your enemies are as good as they seem, I don't want them finding the car."
"My enemies work in pharmaceuticals. I don't think it will take a James Bond routine to evade them."
One dark brow inched upward and she had to relent. "Fine. Based on recent events I'll agree they must have hired someone to do what they can't."
He shrugged as if her opinion didn't matter, but she knew it was an act. It was there in the set of his mouth. She doubted anyone else, except maybe the Eva woman, would know enough to pick up on the small tell.
She slung her back pack over her shoulder and let Ross carry the duffel. "Who is she?"
He glanced around. "Who are you talking about?"
"The groupie you picked up at the Midnight Rooster this morning. Eva."
"Oh. She's my assistant."
Assistant, right. She rolled her eyes.
"You'll meet her eventually I suppose."
"Yay."
"That's not very convincing. Are you jealous?"
She pretended she couldn't hear him as they tramped over pine needles, twigs and leaves on their way. "Where are we going?"
His chuckle at her avoidance drifted back over his broad shoulders. She tried to ignore both his physique and his amusement.
"Somewhere private where we can catch our breath and start unraveling your trouble."
"Will Eva be there?" Her jealousy was obvious and so very annoying, but she couldn't seem to squash it.
"Not right away. Really, I think you two would like each other."
Really, she wished for a Taser to zap him. "You're probably right," she said sweetly. "We can compare notes on that mouth of yours." She was immensely satisfied when he stubbed his toe as he stepped out into the sunshine. But he had the last laugh.
"Ross," she breathed his name as she took in the view and realized where they were. "Why did you bring me here?"
Chapter 4
Ross knew this was the last place she'd want to be with him. After all these years it was the last place he wanted her to be with him. However, it was absolutely the safest place for her.
The knot in his gut confirmed this decision had personal disaster written all over it. When she found out he was the owner of record for this bit of land and the house too...well he didn't dare speculate on the wide range of her possible reactions.
Growing up, everyone in town saw her as the good-hearted and always polite young lady. He knew about the fiery temper under that warm smile full of Southern charm. Their 'discussion' at the hotel proved not much had changed.
Knowing she'd rather punch him than hear him out, it was tempting to lie and tell her another member of his team owned the place and they used it as a safe house. He might even have tried to get away with lying if she'd still been in the shock that nearly immobilized her in the sheriff's office.
When he glanced back at her, he knew there was no chance for that. He was out of luck. Her eyes were perfectly clear as she took in the home he'd built on the dreams he'd lost. He sighed. She deserved to know. Deserved an honest explanation.
"This is your place?"
Knowing it was the obvious and expected question didn't make him feel any more prepared to answer it. But waiting to tell her wouldn't change anything and there was no good answer other than the truth. "On paper, yes." He kept his face in neutral when she shot him a hard look. "I don't spend much time here," he clarified. "So while it's true I am the owner, my official address is elsewhere."
That revelation sent both her brows into shooting toward her hairline, but she didn't pursue what 'elsewhere' meant.
"Why?"
Of course Allie would go for the jugular. He reminded himself he'd once found her open and direct nature immensely appealing. "The parcel of land came up for sale and it seemed like the thing to do." There, that sounded reasonable and casual. In reality, it hadn't been casual at all.
When the previous owner put the land on the market, he could hardly think for the sweet rush of memories of making love to Allie on the bank of the lake, under a blanket of stars and moonlight. That night, so young and stupid and cow-eyed in love, he'd thought of the future, had dreamed of making a life right here with her. He cleared his throat as the recollection struck hard, the way they did every time he visited this place.
The future had looked so bright and shining and wide open. Then things changed, he'd left town, and she'd never replied to any of his letters. Knowing she'd never see it, when the opportunity came up, he jumped on it. Despite the bittersweet memories, he couldn't let anyone else have this particular piece of land. A couple years later Ross let a buddy build a house that would never be a home, because he had the money and his friend needed the work.
"This was our place," she whispe
red.
"Was it?"
She scowled at him. "Don't be a jerk."
He shrugged a shoulder and strolled up to the house. He thought casual thoughts that edged toward bored. Anything to buffer his heart from the painful memories. The past rejection was likely to be compounded by another rejection momentarily. He was sure her reaction to him and this house wouldn't improve when he led her inside.
He didn't visit the place often. The last time had been over a year ago when he needed to recuperate from a bullet wound. No one but Eva and Rick knew about that visit, that he'd been so close to Haleswood. When they'd been planning this assignment, exploring scenarios and the odds that Allie might return to her hometown, he refused to use this house as a base of operations. He'd never planned this house for recovery team use. This was his private refuge.
Though it was a rare occasion when he could endure being here.
As Allie stepped inside, Ross practically felt the earth shift under his feet. It wasn't private anymore. Aside from the county clerk, no one in Haleswood knew he owned this place. No one understood the emotional baggage he stored here.
He made a mental note to have Eva bring in a few supplies. He wouldn't risk letting Allie out in public anytime soon and there was no way he'd leave her alone for any length of time.
"We're isolated by trees on all sides," he explained in his best strategist voice. "Only legal access is the gated drive off the state road about a half mile away. There's a path from the back yard that leads to the lake," he added as she looked around the big, airy kitchen. He wanted to know what was going on behind those wide blue eyes, but he didn't have the courage to ask.
"There's Internet and satellite TV."
"I was about to ask."
He ignored her sarcasm. "I figured both might help us sort out your trouble." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Aside from a musty old records clerk, no one knows this place is here and no one can tie it to you. You'll be safe." He needed something to do besides watch her examine the house. He plucked the landline phone from the cradle on the wall. "Thought I'd call for supplies. Any requests?"
"The staples I suppose. Don't expect me to be the domestic diva with all the cooking and cleaning."
"Good grief, Allie." He rolled his eyes. "I've managed to feed myself and clean up after for a few years now."
"Good to know."
He knew all too well how stress made people lash out at the nearest available target. Hovering over her only kept him in the line of fire. He'd really like to change that before either of them started tossing out regrettable words.
"Look, Allie, this situation is all about the teamwork. I'm not playing house or trying to dredge anything up. I'm not expecting you to be all sunshine and rainbows. You're in a helluva mess. Are you going to let me help you?"
She sighed and ran her hand through that short cap of hair. "Biting your head off was rude. I'm sorry. I think I'm jealous because you have a life and mine is over."
"Not yet it's not." The promise was out there, charging the air between them. He didn't know what came next. Didn't have a strategy for this. Noticing the unused phone in his hand, he replaced it. "I'll go send an email. Easier to make a list that way. Don't go anywhere."
A ghost of a smile teased one corner of her mouth, but her eyes were dark with emotions he wasn't ready to address. He made his escape, agreeing with the little voice in his head calling him a coward.
Truth was, he'd rather face an impossible life or death mission than deal with the internal turmoil Allie dredged up. The dangers were altogether different, but at the moment, the way she got under his skin, she was clearly the bigger risk.
In the office overlooking the wide backyard, he watched colorful leaves drift to the ground while the computer booted up. He knew every inch of the narrow trail that led to the lake. A trail that was only wide enough for one person, though his heart knew it was a walk that should be shared. He'd worked hard to bury the part of him that wanted to share that path with Allie, and here it was already rising to the surface.
A few hours in her presence and he was as tied up over her as he'd been in high school. They'd burned hot and fast then. And whatever they'd had burned right out at the first obstacle.
He should never have taken this case. On the heels of that thought, came the image of her in a jail cell waiting for whoever was setting her up so effectively. Whoever it was moved fast. Naming her as a prime suspect in the data theft, implicating her in money laundering, and now the connection to a murder case. He shook his head.
How could he convince her to trust him? He had a few pieces of the puzzle, but his gut told him she was still hiding critical information.
He sent the grocery list to Eva, sent another email to Rick with orders to head up and check out the situation in Virginia.
No one could dig out information like his team. If Allie wouldn't talk, he'd find out on his own and take appropriate measures without her consent. It wasn't the ideal solution, but he was determined to give her her life back. If only so he could move forward with his own.
He opened up the file Roberts had sent on Allie and reviewed every line. Again. He had the thing nearly memorized by now, but each hour seemed to bring him some new context to test his original assumptions about the information provided.
This should have been a straightforward theft and recovery situation. It might have been if the alleged thief wasn't 'his' Allie Williams. He scrubbed at his face. He'd gone into this job on behalf of the paying client and though he tried to hold the line, she'd already gone from thief to alleged thief in his mind.
He closed the file, set up a user name and password for Allie and limited her access in case she wanted to use his system instead of her own laptop. Regardless of his concerns and feelings about her and this situation, he wasn't ready for her to know everything about his own involvement in her case.
If Roberts was dead, what did that mean for Ross' obligation to the original job? In any other case he wouldn't have to ask. His inherent moral code and professional integrity was the answer. His team always finished the assignment. Of course, he usually managed to avoid the desperate nut-job cases where the client hired hit teams in addition to Ross' team.
Which begged the question of how this Roberts guy slipped under his normally reliable radar?
Did it matter? When Ross had seen Allie's face in that picture, he knew he'd take the case. He wasn't about to let anyone else track her down. Was it possible her boss had known about their past and chose Ross' team because they were both from South Carolina and Haleswood specifically? Had Roberts anticipated her retreat to Haleswood?
The more he thought about it, the more that detail pestered him like a sand burr that wouldn't shake loose. Why would anyone in her corporate world know enough or care enough about her past to specifically involve him?
It didn't add up. Of course, he knew he didn't have all the factors, but he hadn't stayed alive in some of the worst places on earth because he trusted fate or coincidence.
He returned to the kitchen to find her. More importantly he intended to find a way to make her open up and talk to him. Now, not later.
She wasn't in the kitchen, wasn't in sight at all. An icy fist lodged in his gut. No one knew they were here, no one had followed them. Calling himself all kinds of stupid for not setting the door chimes on the security system, he walked through the house, listening after every step.
He didn't dare call her name or she'd know how deep his worry went. He headed down the hallway toward the bedrooms. It was the soft whirring of a computer booting up that alerted him. He followed the sound to the master bedroom and peeked through the slightly open door.
Allie had fallen asleep propped against the headboard, pillows adjusted to support her head, the computer open on her lap. He tried to decide if he was amused or irritated, but gave up. She'd found the only real privacy the house offered beyond a bathroom or his office. The only bed too, but that didn't bother him near
ly as much as the urge to grab her computer and search it thoroughly.
He owed that much to the client and the hefty retainer, dead or not.
The voice in his head that never gave up trying to be conscientious told him to move the computer to a safer perch and leave her alone. She'd tell him the whole story when she was ready. They were safe now, they had time. And wasn't it a good sign that she felt comfortable enough to sleep here?
Ross wasn't sure he cared about signs of comfort. He tried not to care about how right she looked sleeping there on pillows he so rarely used. Had he pictured her here when he'd chosen the plans that would let warm afternoon sunshine stream through the big windows?
Knowing the answer and uncomfortable with it, he shook off the nostalgia. Allie had gotten herself into some serious trouble and she needed help. A circular argument which only proved he needed sleep as he was right back at the notion of searching her computer so he would know how to help.
He was stepping back, resolved to wait, when her eyelids fluttered open. Her computer had sounded some sort of alert, but he was struck by the beautiful softness of her features, while she was at ease, before the weight of the world settled heavy in her eyes and tugged on the corners of her lush mouth once more. He fought the driving urge to give her a worthy long-term distraction – like him.
"Come on in, Ross."
"I wondered where you went," he said as he pushed the door open. He didn't step over the threshold. "Need anything?"
"Do you have secure Wi-Fi access?"
"Yes." He took one step inside and waited. "I can set it up for you." She hesitated for a small eternity before she motioned him closer.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he suffered with the warm scent of her. Leave it to Allie to pack her favorite fragrances when she was running away from dangerous people. He typed in the code and handed the laptop back to her.
"All set. I wrote down an access code to the computer in my office too. In case you need a printer or whatever."
Her pale brows arched. "Thanks."
"I meant what I said about helping you figure this out."