by Sheila Kell
The chair legs screeched against the wood flooring as he pulled it from the table. Accepting the plastic bottle, he slid down into the seat across from where she returned to her seat. “Rylee—” He took a deep, fortifying breath ready to tackle the toughest issue first. “I’m sorry. I want to help you.”
She narrowed her eyes a fraction and held his gaze. A tiny light flickered in her eyes. Hope?
He was about to smash it. Damn this sucked. “However, I think we need help.”
She jumped from her chair and any semblance of what he’d thought he’d seen in her eyes changed to fear. What the hell was going on? “No!”
“Rylee,” he said with as much patience as he could muster, “what’s the problem with getting help?”
The heaving of her chest told him of her fear. He couldn’t imagine why she didn’t want more help though. Not if the girls were truly at that house. That thought twisted in his mind that maybe she’d lied and there was another reason for this that she didn’t want to share.
“Look, if others get involved, the FBI will surely find out I’m here and want to speak with me.”
He saw no need to inform her that the FBI, at least their deputy director, probably already knew her location. He wouldn’t be surprised if the man hadn’t tracked their movements. Thankfully, Kate kept him at bay. “This isn’t about you though. Why not get them involved in finding these girls?”
She shrunk before his eyes, and it made him want to surge from his chair and carry her somewhere and hold her on his lap and comfort her. Instead, he watched her sit and gather her strength. This went much deeper than girls being held captive.
Devon listened to Rylee share the story of her undercover assignment, how she’d taken the girls’ protection personally and how they had disappeared. The FBI hadn’t seemed to care and she didn’t believe they’d care now. Not until she had proof. That was what she was seeking.
“And just how did you plan to go about getting this proof?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know her answer.
She stiffened as if he’d slapped her. “The same way I proved the other houses were clean.”
He placed his elbows on the table, connected his hands and leaned his forehead on it. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to calm himself. She’d obviously been putting herself in danger, and it wrenched at him that she could’ve been killed if she’d been dealing with such unsavory elements. “What other houses?” He didn’t look up at her, just stared blankly at the wooden table. His thoughts whirled with all she’d told him before about the situation. He fought to remain calm because he knew he wouldn’t like her answer. When she didn’t respond, he looked up at her and realized she’d been waiting for his attention.
She spread her palms on the table and studied them intently. “Okay, remember what I told you about the car accident?”
He raised his eyebrows in response. He knew she’d been hiding something. “Yes.”
“Well, I got into the limo because Dave told me he knew where the girls were. Then, when we were riding, he said that he had them hidden with a partner.”
“Son of a bitch. And, he had you in that car?” Holy hell. Fear slid its nasty way through him, leaving a cold shiver in its wake. They’d planned to kill her. He’d thought it bad enough the bastard had told her he planned to restart his father’s business. There would’ve been no other reason for the man to tell her about the girls unless he had no intention of releasing her.
“That’s not important.”
“Hell yes, it is!” At her shocked expression, he took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He missed the longer length in cases like this. Running his fingers through it had soothed him. By God, he would do it now with the shorter length. “Go ahead,” he directed with a nod.
Taking a moment to respond, he thought he’d pushed her to silence. Then, she huffed and spoke, “I’ve been looking for the girls since the day they disappeared. I won’t give up on them.”
“After you left the FBI, you still searched for them? How?”
“Brent and I followed up on any lead he heard about that was being overlooked. There had only been two… and they both led nowhere, but it was something more than the FBI, or ICE, was doing.”
He’d bet his paycheck someone had found out what Brent was doing and it got to the wrong person. Otherwise, why would Dave grab him also? Kidnapping one agent trained to protect themselves was bad enough, but to add a second one? Like most of this, that made no sense to him. Maybe Dave was just an idiot. “I guess I still don’t understand why this guy picked you up and bragged about what he planned to do.” The man took one hell of a risk by doing that, no matter if he planned to kill her later. There had to be a reason why.
“I think he wanted to rub it in about the girls because he knew how frantic I’d been when they couldn’t be found.”
“And he planned to tell you this and just drop you at the next corner?” He chuckled, but no humor escaped within it.
Her mouth dropped open and her face reddened. Now he wanted to truly laugh because he had an inkling her change of demeanor was in anger at him and not embarrassment.
“No,” she asserted. “At that time Dave wasn’t a threat.”
“They held a fucking gun to your friend’s head to get you in the car!”
She shifted her gaze away before she responded. “I thought Brent and I would be safe together with only Dave. It would’ve been two against one. If we’d stayed, there were two of his men there.” She looked back at him with a look begging him to understand. “Plus, Dave wanted to tell me about the girls, so I couldn’t just walk away.”
He wanted to scream at her, but he knew if someone held a gun to her head and told him to get in the car or they’d kill her, he’d get in the damn car, but not without her. Like she’d done with Brent. Then the information she’d been seeking for months was available to her. No, he’d probably have done the same thing. He inwardly scoffed at himself. He’d never admit it to her. “All right. You thought your safest route was with Dave. Then this sicko tells you all.”
“Yeah.”
“What if Brent was actually one of them? Have you considered that? He might not have kept you safe.”
She surged to her feet almost knocking the chair to the floor. “No!”
The force of emotion behind her statement told him that she cared deeply about the dead man. Well, hell. The Colorado Mountains weren’t the only ones he’d have to climb. He waved his hand for her to sit. “Calm down and sit. You sound so certain. How do you know?”
“I—” she sputtered. “He—” she tried again. “He loved me. He wouldn’t have put me in that situation. Besides, they had a gun to his head.”
His gut churned at her admission, but a swig of hope sprang free. She hadn’t said that she loved the man, only that he loved her. “Yet, they didn’t kill him.” He realized his mistake at the sharp look of pain on her face. “Not at first.” He reached across the table and touched her small, warm hand. “I’m sorry for your loss, Rylee.” It pained him to say it, but he didn’t like to see her hurting.
She sniffed, swiped at her damp eyes and nodded. “He wasn’t bad. I just know it,” she said in a low, yet determined voice.
He removed his hand and immediately hated the loss of her touch. Damned oddest thing. He sat back in his chair in an attempt to focus and hide his jealousy over a dead man. “Okay. He wasn’t bad.”
She looked up from her hand, the one he’d touched, and nodded again. She assumed the demeanor he’d seen many times on the HIS men—cold, distant but alert. She may have left the FBI, but the training hadn’t left her.
He cleared his throat. They needed to get back to the main topic. “You’ve given me a lot so let me see if I’ve got this all down right. Two girls were taken while on your op. You got so upset the FBI wouldn’t chase them, you quit your job with the bureau and looked on your own while managing the club.” He raised his eyebrows. “A club, by the way, that generates its own set o
f problems.”
Devon held up his hands when she started to interrupt. “Okay. Okay. Back to the problem at hand. Dave Westbrook, a man the bureau cleared of all wrongdoing during your undercover op, drags you and an ICE agent—” He couldn’t bring himself to say the man’s name. Dammit. He cleared his throat again. “Drags you both into a car—at gunpoint—and brags about stealing two girls and planning to sell them into sex slavery. But, then the car was in an accident. An intentional one, it sounds like. Everyone, but you, because you believe they couldn’t see you, was killed.”
He took a deep breath. “You grabbed phones and weapons from the victims and then disappeared. You don’t know who killed Dave and Brent. Yet, you refuse to speak with the FBI so it doesn’t become common knowledge you were there and could’ve witnessed who the killer was. Even though the two goons know you were there. With all that, you’re still searching for the girls, and you believe they’re here.”
Rylee nodded again.
“Hell, Rylee. Can you do anything but nod? This is serious shit.” He wanted to reach over and shake her out of this business-like stance.
She huffed, and he silently cheered that he’d elicited some emotion that riled her to life. He didn’t care if he pissed her off, as long as she participated.
“That about sums it up,” she finally said.
That wasn’t even close to summing it up. Too many things were missing, and he intended to find out everything. He’d tackle one thing at a time though. He believed she knew why that asshole picked her up and told her everything. The possibility of what it was scared the hell out of him. His dismal thought was interrupted when she continued to speak.
“Before I powered down Dave’s phone so no one could locate it and me, I copied down his most recent phone calls with the person’s information. I also pulled the e-mail folder he kept of travel. I figured he would’ve been to see the girls at some point.”
Good girl, he wanted to tell her as a spike of pride welled in him. “What about Brent’s phone? It sounds like you had both?”
She twisted her mouth into a grimace. “It was locked.”
With what he was learning about Dave Westbrook, he wasn’t surprised the man didn’t lock his phone. Incompetent sprang to mind. But, a government agent knew better. “I’ll check it out.”
Her eyes sparkled and awe floated through them. “You can get into it?”
He lifted his shoulders and held them a moment before he dropped them from a shrug. He hoped his delight at her barely masked excitement of his possible abilities didn’t come through in his expression. “Probably.”
Her chair creaked as she made to move from her seat. “I’ll get it.”
Devon reached out and clasped her hand to hold her in place. “Wait. There’s still plenty I want to know before we can move forward.”
“You’re right. Ask away.” She straightened and clasped her hands together on the table in front of her.
“Let’s start with the house you’re watching. Who owns it?” He’d confirm whatever information she’d obtained, but he’d like to hear all she knew. He thought of her joining HIS for a moment then pushed it to the back of his mind. He had to stick with the current problem… or, at least one of them. “What do you already know about his relationship with Dave?” His hands itched to get hold of Dave’s phone and find out all he could. He’d need to retrieve some equipment from the office to assist them. Getting it without raising an alarm would be difficult since he knew Em wouldn’t keep it from her husband and Jake wouldn’t keep it from Jesse, but he’d find a way.
He also had to figure out what he’d tell Kate for the time being about the situation. He wouldn’t lie to her, but he’d concede to Rylee’s request not to share. If the girls were actually in the house, all bets were off, and he’d deal with Rylee’s reaction.
“A man named Robert Carver.”
Jagged ice sliced through Devon’s veins and the cold made a strong attempt to paralyze him. He took a long drink of water to settle himself. “Robert Carver?” he asked with care to keep the question light so she had no idea the name wasn’t welcome. There was more than one man by that name, but his gut churned anyway.
She nodded. “I don’t know anything about him except Dave flew here several times last month.”
If it was the Robert Carver he knew, she wouldn’t have found out much and digging would alert him. That Robert Carver had been Devon’s CIA boss and had convinced him to keep quiet about the circumstances of CIA operative Greg Donovan’s death and Devon’s part in it.
RYLEE COULD TELL by the stiffening of Devon’s body and the shock on his face, and then his subsequent pull to mask it, that he knew that name and it didn’t sit well with him. She opened her mouth to ask, but instead, she bounced from her seat. “Coffee is ready. Do you want some?” She’d turned from him and had already reached for a mug before she finished her question.
“Sure.”
She poured two cups of coffee, doctored hers, and brought them to the table, setting one in front of Devon before reclaiming her seat. She didn’t want to anger him before she received his help. Biding her time was always tough for her, but she’d do it… for Misty and Mandy.
His long fingers wrapping around his coffee mug drew her attention. The forefinger lightly tapping against the rim caused a small ripple in the dark liquid.
“I’ll ask again.”
She snapped her head up at his words, embarrassed that her thoughts had turned to his large hand moving over her body and the ripple it could create all the way to her core. Crap. She didn’t need her mind concocting stuff like that.
“How sure are you that these girls are there? Just because Westbrook flew to Colorado doesn’t mean he stopped at that house.” He lifted the mug to his lips and took a cautious sip.
Forcing her mind on the conversation, she cleared her throat, ready to be all business again. She’d done all the research she could to determine the best options for where the girls could be held. Hell, she could be wrong, but she wouldn’t give up without trying. “There were several phone calls to the house that coincided with the travel dates.”
“Even then, Westbrook could’ve flown here for parties. Or maybe he has a lover living there. It could be a getaway retreat for him.” He picked up his mug and stopped halfway to his mouth, then set it down as if a thought suddenly occurred to him. “You even checked other places before this, so it wasn’t your first choice.”
Indignation stabbed through her at his doubt, and she wanted to rant at him. Yet, he was right, and she was adult enough to allow her flash of attitude to wash away, albeit with a bit of effort. There was no sense in arguing about her research, or lack thereof. She figured they’d have plenty of time for arguing when it came to their so-called marriage. “I checked the other places he’d been traveling to first because they were easy to search. Their homes having no real security should’ve tipped me off.” She shrugged, hating to admit her failures to him but having to do it so he could see she’d tried. “I didn’t want to chance it though, so I cleared them from the list anyway.”
He nodded as if he understood her need to check everywhere. Maybe that was just how she perceived the agreement because she wanted that to be his response.
“It took me some time to find somewhere to stay near Carver’s place. There are other rentals closer, but this was all that was available at the last minute.” She had enough time in a day to hike to the ranch, keep an eye out on the happenings, and hike back before it became too dark to see her way through the forest and trails. Plus, in case anyone was looking, her real name wasn’t on a rental contract for anyone to find.
There hadn’t been much time to scout before Devon and Kate had arrived. Being in the mountains a week, she’d lost her way the first few days. She’d never been a Girl Scout. On day four, she’d found the ranch and lost her way when returning to the cabin. Needless to say, she knew she needed help and since she didn’t have a compass—a major oversight on her par
t—she’d made special markers along the route to help her find her way there and back. She’d also cut out as much as she could where the path led off the trail with an ax she’d found by the firewood pile behind the cabin.
The remoteness of Carver’s ranch, and the fact it was surrounded by wide-open spaces, held her back from rushing to break in without a plan to check for the girls.
Devon leaned his left elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. His eyebrows dipped low. “How many other places do you have to check?”
“This is the last one that I pulled from Dave’s information.”
Silence followed her admission, and she wrapped both hands around her mug and gripped it tightly in an effort to keep from fidgeting. Rylee was thankful the cup had cooled enough that she felt no discomfort. “I feel in my gut that this is the right place.”
She experienced a shot of disappointment to the stomach at the doubt clouding his eyes. A doubt she’d felt a time or two wondering if her gut told her it was the place because she had no other leads to follow. She straightened. He didn’t need to believe her. Their agreement was for him to help her in exchange for…. She gulped at the thought of what she’d agreed to.
Devon eased back in the chair, his broad shoulders wider than the wooden back of the seat, and nodded. “Okay. But, we’re not running down there and breaking into the place. We do this my way.”
Rylee took the demand as her being unable to handle it and bristled. In truth, she wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of the situation. She could only imagine what he’d do if he knew she’d almost been caught searching the second house. He’d probably send her to the FBI and walk away or take over. Although, it sounded like he planned to take over anyway. Well, she’d see about that. She might have almost been caught, but she hadn’t. She knew what the hell she was doing. “Your way?”
He drained his cup and stood. “Yes.” He didn’t expound as he walked to the sink, rinsed his mug and stepped to the side, drying his hands on a kitchen towel.
Not wanting to allow him to stop their conversation, or have the last word, she approached the sink and dumped her lukewarm beverage before washing her own cup out. Now what? Her stomach grumbled. The day was half gone, and she hadn’t had anything to eat yet.
