by Desiree Holt
“He’s not my friend, exactly. We know each other from work. That’s all. He said he stopped in to get a muffin.” She grinned. “Of course, Margie’s muffins draw people.”
“I heard you talking about the inn before.” Margie walked back to their table, placed Terra’s coffee in front of her, and slapped a full-color slick brochure in front of Cassie. “Here’s everything about it. It’s generated a lot of excitement and activity around here. The owner is very community minded. He loves to have local people come out there to use resort facilities.”
Sam frowned. “Doesn’t that make it crowded? I mean, with all the guests and everything. Do you usually have a full house?”
Terra nodded. “But the owner expanded the recreational facilities to accommodate more people. It’s always crowded out there.”
Sam was looking at the brochure and frowning.
Cassie frowned. “Something wrong?”
“No. Probably not.” He rubbed his jaw. “I’m looking at the picture of the owner. I swear I know him from somewhere. I have no idea where the hell it would be.”
“Maybe from some kind of SEAL activity?” Cassie suggested.
“Doesn’t seem likely.” He shrugged. “Maybe he reminds me of someone.”
Terra forced herself to wait calmly as Sam kept looking at the photo.
Cassie glanced at the photo. “I don’t recognize him, either. Maybe like you said, he has a familiar face.”
“I don’t know.” Sam shook his head, shrugged, and slid the brochure back toward Margie. “Oh, well. Probably my overactive imagination. I see bad guys where there aren’t any.”
Margie slid a glance at Terra. “You like him okay, don’t you? I mean, you haven’t had any problems with him, right?”
“Right. He’s friendly but in a reserved way. He was very pleasant when he interviewed me.” Long practice allowed her to keep her voice normal and somewhat disinterested.
“Let’s take the brochure with us,” Cassie suggested. “It might come to you later on, Sam.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” But Sam still had that look in his eyes of someone mentally searching for a bit of information.
“Well.” As Terra took a sip of her coffee, her cell phone vibrated in her jacket pocket. She opened the message.
Rest area, I-95. Park at rear of building. Now.
Terra frowned. Apparently courtesy wasn’t one of Griffin Dunne’s traits. She texted back one word.
Okay.
She wanted to say, “Okay, asshole,” but she kept that to herself.
“I have to go,” she told the couple at the table. “I’m needed at the inn. I’m so sorry.”
Cassie nodded. “No problem. It was great to meet you and have a few minutes with you.”
“Ditto. Let me give you my cell number. If there’s something about my boss I should know, good or bad, I’d appreciate it if you tell me. I don’t get any weird vibes from him, but you can’t be too careful.”
“Sure thing.” Cassie picked up her phone. “Let me have it.”
Terra recited it and, in seconds, her phone rang.
“There.” Cassie put her own phone away. “Now we have each other’s numbers.”
“Maybe we can have coffee again before you guys leave.”
And maybe by then Sam will remember where he knows Jennings from. Something that might help me. She’d give anything to know what it was about Jennings that had rung a bell in Sam Alvarez’s brain. Hopefully he and Cassie would be in town long enough for him to remember.
Cassie nodded. “That would be nice. Meanwhile, I have to get back to the inn. Margie, can I get that latte to go?”
“Of course. I wish you could relax a little longer.”
“Even a few minutes here is better than nothing.”
“Well, here. An extra treat.” Margie handed her a small white paper bag along with her to-go cup. “Maybe we can all have dinner one night.” She chuckled. “I know people don’t ski at night.”
Terra nodded, anxious to leave. “Sounds good. I’ll call you.”
Then she was out the door, across the street, and into her car, wondering what the hell was going on. Something definitely had to be up for him to hunt her down like this. She pulled back out onto the road, headed onto I-95 and, ten minutes later, she was pulling in behind the rest stop building.
She had barely come to a stop when Griffin climbed out of his car and into hers, bringing with him a little zing that poked at her whenever she was near him. And what the hell was she going to do about that? She was an experienced DHS agent, for the love of all that was holy. She’d faced down insane gunmen, escaped a bombing, and arrested dozens of dangerous people. Where was her vaunted self-control when she needed it? Besides, he irritated the crap out of her. That ought to be enough of a buzzkill.
Yeah, right.
She forced everything else from her mind except his reason for wanting to see her.
“What’s up? I was shocked to see you in Rolling in Dough and then get the text.”
“I wanted to make sure where you were before I messaged you, in case I interrupted something.”
Her eyes widened. “What? What the hell, Griffin? What kind of something could you possibly be talking about?”
“Or maybe with people who would be poking their nose into your business. Who were those people, anyway? Besides Margie. Who was that guy?”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. Surely, he wasn’t jealous. Or maybe he thought someone else was getting the goods instead of him. She didn’t know whether to laugh or smack him so hard she broke his nose. He might have fucked her brains out, but she was sure he didn’t have the least sense of possessiveness where she was concerned.
She wanted to tell him it was none of his fucking business, but right now everything was his business. And hers. But he didn’t own her.
“You have some damn nerve. I’m an experienced agent. Twelve years on the job and with an impressive record if I do say so myself. Text me any time you want. I know what to do. Just what I did now. Told them I was wanted back at the resort. Damn, Griffin.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Except he sounded anything but. “And the guy?”
God, he was such a predictable male.
“He and his fiancée”—she stressed the word—“are friends of Margie’s. They’re here for a visit before going home to Coronado.”
“Coronado?” His brows lifted.
“Yes. He’s a former SEAL who teaches there now. She does physical therapy for the Navy. His name is Sam Alvarez, and hers is Cassie Malone. I don’t have their fingerprints. Are we through with the inquisition? I’m here now, so what’s going on? What happened that set your pants on fire?”
“It may be nothing.” Griff sat in silence for a moment. “I have a weird feeling about it, is all.”
“Everything is something. You’re a seasoned agent. You don’t fasten onto things that are nothing. What are you doing here, anyway? I’m usually booked at this time, so it’s your turn to keep eyes on Jennings. Let’s have it.”
“Jennings had a visitor about an hour ago.”
Terra frowned. “So? He gets a lot of visitors.”
“Yeah, but this one was different. The whole situation was out of character enough it set off my bullshit detectors. The man almost never gets unexpected visitors and, if he does, he never leaves the resort with them. At least not in their cars.”
“What do you mean? He got in a stranger’s car and left, just like that?” She shook her head. “You’re right. That’s not like him. Caution is the man’s middle name. Whenever he leaves the inn, he always takes his own car. No exceptions. What did the guy look like, anyway? Middle Eastern like the guys we followed to Massachusetts? Was it someone he was trying to integrate into the guests?”
“It wasn’t a high-value target, that’s for sure.” Griffin shook his head. “As a matter of fact, he looked”—he waved his hand in the air—“very international?”
Terra pinched her brows t
ogether. “International? Griff, that could be half the people who come as guests to the resort.”
“Yeah, I know, I know,” he grumbled. “And I remember Hal told us to expect that, considering Jennings spent all that time in international finance. But, Terra, there’s something weird about this one. He’s got more of an edge to him. Anyway, he and Jennings left the resort for about half an hour. Where the hell could they go in this area and get back that fast? There’s nothing out here. No, my detectors went off.”
“Bangor’s twenty-five minutes away.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Not enough time for them to drive there and back. What the hell?”
“It has to have something to do with the terrorists he’s bringing across the border and what they’re planning. I managed to get a picture with my cell phone without them noticing me doing it. I sent it off to Hal so DHS can dig around and see if they can identify him.”
“Excellent. I wasn’t sure if you’d been able to do that.”
“I did it while they were gone. I could have texted you, but I wanted to tell you in person in case you had any kind of idea about this.” He looked at his watch. “Listen. We need to have more than fifteen minutes to analyze this. I waited until Jennings was settled in for lunch with some guests to do this, but I have to get back. The supervisor I report to is a real asshole about time. I told him I wanted to go into town to get lunch, but he’s got me on the clock. We have to meet tonight.”
“And how do we do that if we’re only supposed to know each other casually from work?”
He was silent for so long Terra wondered if he was going to answer her.
“Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll come by your apartment tonight about eight o’clock.”
“What if someone happens to see us?”
“We’ll tell them we’re having a cup of coffee. Casual acquaintances. Maybe I want to learn to ski, and the only time we can talk about it is after work.”
“But you already know how to ski,” she reminded him.
His mouth curved in a rare grin. “Then they’ll think you’re a fantastic teacher. See you tonight.”
He slid out of the car before she could say a word. What if she didn’t want him in her space?
Now, who’s being the asshole? This is an assignment.
Anyway, it seemed the choice wasn’t hers. She sighed and cranked the ignition, hoping she could keep her shit together tonight.
Chapter 4
Inn on the Hills was a sprawling resort ten minutes outside of Castile. The massive two-story lodge, besides accommodations of different levels, contained a bar and cocktail lounge with a fireplace, a casual restaurant where guests could serve themselves from a buffet, and a full-service restaurant serving gourmet food to appeal to its international guests. The rear of the building was a series of glass doors so guests could enjoy the view of the skating rink and the mountain. Past the rink was the snow shack where guests could sign up for lessons and day visitors could buy lift tickets and rent equipment. And then the mountain, with its many alpine runs and cross-country trails.
Off to the left were the facilities for staff who lived on premises. A few of them, like Terra, were assigned their own apartments on the ground floor, for which she was eternally grateful. After long days on the slopes with crowds of people, she needed the privacy. The rest of the staff shared what amounted to studio apartments with a minifridge and a microwave oven.
This afternoon, she’d managed to focus on her classes, both individual and group, forcing speculation about what Griffin had discovered out of her mind. It was hard, though, each time she ran into Jennings. Or he ran into her. She wasn’t sure which. She was used to dealing with possible suspicion but with the timeline suddenly shrinking she had to be sensitive and alert about everything.
She wondered what Griffin had discovered about Jennings that he needed to see her. The man had been very visible for most of the day, doing what he usually did. He was either in his office, having coffee or a drink with a guest, or circulating through the resort. Always letting it be known when he was going into town. It seemed to Terra he went out of the way to make himself visible, so Griffin was right. That visitor was out of the norm.
Jennings was still taking his almost-daily snowmobile rides, often with one of his guests. Sometimes he was gone for two hours, sometimes four. Creating a pattern. She and Griffin took note of each one, her from the slopes, him from near the equipment barn. Checking out the time he left and the time he returned. Different passengers but none so bundled up as to defy identification.
When she signed off on her last class for the day, she gave thanks for the solitude of her apartment. No clamoring skiers, no Jennings bumping into her when she least expected it, studying her like a bug on a slide. She’d be a lot more worried if she hadn’t watched him do the same things to others. Still, in her situation, it paid to be paranoid, and she kept Griffin up to date on it.
After downing a passable frozen dinner, she indulged herself with some pastries from Rolling in Dough. Finally, she showered, pulled on her sweats, and brushed her hair back into a ponytail. Nothing fancy for Griffin Dunne. No sense giving him the wrong idea since he suddenly seemed to find her less appealing than the plague.
Well, fine. They had a job to do. Period.
The last thing she needed was to get involved. It wasn’t the knowledge of how emotionally disastrous it could be that was the problem. It could affect her assignment, and, in the end, both her reputation and her career would be finished. She should never have let it happen in the first place. What was it about the man, anyway, that made her brain go blank and her hormones do a wild dance? She’d hoped one night of off-the-charts sex would have finished it, but no, it kept popping into her mind every time she looked at him.
She wanted to get this meeting over with and not be cooped up with him in her tiny apartment. If he made a move, she knew it would take all her discipline to resist. Somehow, she’d have to do it, though.
She tried to watch television but couldn’t concentrate. She certainly wasn’t in a state of mind for reading. What did Griffin need to talk to her about that was so urgent? She was about to drive herself out of her mind when there was a soft tap on the door, it opened, and Griffin eased inside.
Terra couldn’t help noting how masculine he looked, in jeans that clung to his muscular legs and a winter jacket the exact shade of brown as his eyes. His cheeks, reddened by the weather and with their appealing scruff, for some reason made him look even sexier than usual. She’d promised herself to ignore any effect he had on her, but it seemed that was easier said than done.
Damn, Terra.
What the hell was wrong with her?
He closed the door gently.
“You were outside?” The apartment he shared with one of the other equipment workers was in the same building.
“I walked over to the main building to scope out the restaurant. I wanted to check if Jennings was having dinner with someone as usual. And no one saw me come in here,” he assured her. “We’re clear.”
“Well, like you said, we could always say we were having a cup of coffee.”
He unzipped his jacket. “And speaking of coffee, I don’t suppose you’ve got any here, do you?”
“I’ve got a single-serve coffeemaker, so I can whip one up in less than a minute. Any preference for flavor?”
The corner of his mouth tilted in a hint of a grin.
“Yeah. Dark and strong.”
“Coming right up.”
She brewed coffee for both of them and, when they had full mugs, they carried them to the little dining table off the kitchen. Griffin took a slow sip of his then leaned back in his chair and smiled.
“Thanks. This is just what I needed.”
“Tell me again about this guy you saw Jennings with. What was so unusual about him? I don’t know about before we got here, but since we joined the staff the only visitors he’s had are people from Castile or sometimes Bangor. Oh, and the people from
his international finance career.”
“It was obvious he wasn’t expecting him and equally as obvious he wasn’t happy about it.” Griffin took another swallow of coffee. “And another thing. We’ve been focusing on terrorists from the Middle East based on who and what we’ve seen so far. This guy looked Eastern European. Maybe you don’t know what I mean by that, but—”
She held up a hand, mildly irritated. “They let me out of the closet once in a while, Griffin,” she told him. “I know exactly what you mean. I had an assignment that took me to Croatia a couple of years ago. High cheekbones. Deep-set eyes. Slightly darker skin tone.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Exactly.
“Where was Jennings when the guy showed up?”
“He was walking over to the barn where the snowmobiles are kept. He had a couple with him, and I think he was going to hook them up with one for a ride. Comp them, I mean. They had started down the walkway to the barn when this guy came up to him. I think he was in one of the parking spaces in front of the lodge.”
“And you say Jennings wasn’t too pleased to see him?”
“Not a bit.” Griffin shrugged. “He managed to conceal it pretty well, but I was standing not too far away and saw the look on his face. He was shocked and angry, although he wiped it away so fast, I could easily have missed it. But they didn’t shake hands. Jennings shakes hands with everyone. It’s part of his jovial-host slash good-community-citizen act.”
“So what happened?”
“Jennings and this guy stepped aside for a second. There was no love there, I can tell you. Then both of them walked the couple to the snowmobile barn and, a few minutes later, Jennings and this guy drove off in the guy’s car.”
“What?” Terra was sure her brows hit her hairline. “We’ve only been here a couple of weeks, but I’ve never seen him get in anyone’s car but his own.”
“Ditto. Like I said before, he likes to be in control at all times.”
“So what do you think we’re looking at here? Is there a history of the Croats working with jihadists?”
“I haven’t seen or heard anything, but that means nothing. Washington can tell us.”