He reeled back under the force of the collision, grabbing her shoulders in an effort to steady them both.
“Hannah. What is it?”
She pulled away from him and bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath, the nausea of exertion rising in her stomach. “Rex…you…startled…me.” Her words came out in rasping gasps.
“Talk to me. What spooked you?”
Still bent over, panting, she looked up at him. He was also in workout gear. His dark hair hung tousled and damp over his brow. Was he chasing her?
“Nothing…bear and her cubs. I lost my head.”
He raised a brow. He didn’t believe her.
“Someone was following you.” He said it so matter-of-factly. As if he already knew. He scanned the trees on the far side of the river. “How long do you think he’s been watching you?”
“What?” She stood upright, hand pressed tight into the pain of the stitch at her waist. “What do you mean ‘how long’? Why would someone be ‘watching’ me?”
“Keep it down.”
She glanced back into the woods, following his gaze. He was making her really uneasy.
He put a hand on each shoulder. “You’re not safe, Hannah, not until I get to the bottom of this.” He looked into her eyes. She felt suddenly self-conscious. She caught the wild strand escaping from her ponytail and brushed it behind her ear.
“Listen to me, you need protection.”
She attempted a laugh. It came out hollow. “And who’s going to protect me? You? The guy who breaks into apartments?”
“Damn right I am.”
She pulled away from him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Hannah, someone followed you when you left Amy’s apartment last night.”
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep, steadying breath. Her brain could no longer cope. It was in total overload.
“Hannah, we have to talk.” He looked around, then into her eyes. “But not here. Come, let me buy you breakfast.”
Coffee, she needed coffee. She needed space. He was crowding her, invading her life.
“Let’s go.” He took her arm and started to lead her down the path. She struggled to match his long gait as he ushered her along the trail toward the village. She was losing control, he was sucking her down into a confusing, gray maelstrom. She had to take a step back.
“Wait, Rex.”
He stopped.
“I…I’m going home to change first.” Besides feeling like something the cat had dragged in, the perspiration on her skin had cooled and set her shivering. “I’m cold.”
Rex skimmed his eyes over her, a twinkle brightening the ice for an instant. He grinned. Quick and wolfish. “Yes. I see. I’ll come with you.”
She wrapped her arms over her chest. “No. I’ll go alone and meet up with you later.”
“Hannah, you’re not getting it. You’re in the same kind of trouble Amy was. You have to trust me on this.”
There it was again. That word. Trust. She glanced back into the forest. She felt as if she was trapped between the devil and the trees. She was sure someone had been following her. What if Rex was right? Had she been tailed last night?
Hannah sat silent in his four-wheel-drive vehicle as he drove her around the lake.
He had the wheel and all the control. She had none. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into. She was being forced to trust him. Look where that had gotten her before.
They were approaching her condo. “Here. This one.”
He pulled into her driveway. “Nice place.”
“It’s mine.” The words escaped her mouth before her head even registered them.
“Still a nice place.”
“Thanks.” She’d made a decent investment in this property. She’d lived frugally during her foreign correspondent years. Her clothes had been utilitarian, her accommodation and food on the company tab. But she’d earned well and invested well. It had secured her this home. Now her freelance work plus the hours she put in at the Gazette supplemented her income. She and Danny were doing fine.
She climbed out of the car. He followed. He was going to come in. Into her home. Thoughts of Danny streamed through her brain. His room. His little bicycle. His toys. The photographs of him all over her condo. She turned to him. “Rex.” Her voice was firm. “I don’t want you in my house. Can you wait?”
He angled his head, curious. “Why?”
“I just don’t.”
“I’ll just come in and take a quick look around. Make sure things are safe. Then I’ll leave you in peace while you change.”
Panic licked at her stomach. “No. Please.”
Rex frowned, studying her face. Then he turned away and scanned the surroundings. He looked back at her. “And if there’s someone inside?”
“I’ll yell.”
He shook his head, looked up at the sky, blew out a stream of air in frustration. But he wasn’t pushing her. She had to hand him that.
“Wait.” He strode back to the SUV and fished a cell phone out of the glove compartment. He punched in some numbers and handed it to her. “Here. Press one and I’ll be there in a flash. Don’t lock your door. I’ll keep watch out here.”
Hannah stepped into her home and closed the door quietly behind her. She took her time. Not so much to spite him as to absorb and process the events of the past twenty-four hours.
Rex Logan had walked back into her life and turned it upside down, spilling it all directions like a box of kids’ toys. She turned on the shower and let hot water sluice over her limbs, beat at the dull ache in her shoulder. She was going to have to play along with him for a while. She had no other option. Fred LeFevre would laugh her out of his office if she came to him with a conspiracy theory and zero proof to back it up. And what if Rex was telling the truth? What if she did tie him up in bureaucratic red tape? Would that mean they’d never find out if someone had taken Amy’s life? And why?
Hannah steeled her resolve. She’d march to the beat of his drum for now. God help her. Because once they’d solved the mystery of Amy Barnes, she was going to have to deal with the fact that this stranger in her life was Danny’s father.
And she was going to have to try and resolve it all before Friday. Before Danny came home.
She toweled off and rubbed a mild gardenia-scented lotion over her body.
Hannah changed three times before she settled on a lemon-yellow sleeveless dress hemmed about two inches above her knees. It offset her tan and showed her limbs to best advantage. She couldn’t remember when she’d last worn a dress. Not this summer, anyway.
She appraised the result in the mirror, then muttered a curse. Why did she even care?
“Well, I’ll tell you why you care.” She leaned forward and addressed her reflection, wagging her finger at her alter ego. “You want to look cool and groomed and unfazed by his little charade. That’s why.” Her very feminine core, deep down, also wanted Rex to see what he’d lost. A part of her wanted him to eat dust.
Satisfied, she grabbed her sunglasses, sweater and purse and headed back to his car.
“You took your sweet time.” But the gruffness of his words belied the glint of obvious approval in his eyes.
And it sparked a small glow of warm triumph in her belly.
Rex said nothing as he drove.
She looked like a golden goddess, this woman sitting next to him. The soft floral scent of her freshly showered body stirred painful memories of crushed frangipani blooms.
He lowered the window, letting in the fresh air. He wanted to blow the scent of her from his nostrils.
He’d had altogether too little sleep in his SUV. After he’d seen that hulking figure step out from under the portico and walk in her footsteps, he’d followed Hannah home, parked across the street, just out of sight until he could be sure she hadn’t been tailed all the way.
When she set off for her run earlier this morning, he’d followed her in his vehicle but lost her when she cut into the f
orest. He’d dug his gym bag out of the car, changed into his sweats and tried to catch up to her, but she was packing a mean pace and he’d lost her, until she crashed into him near the suspension bridge. He would have to keep closer tabs on her.
Seeing her in the forest this morning, vulnerable, tousled, flushed, breathless, the damp T-shirt molding the soft roundness of her breasts, had near driven him wild.
He not only wanted to protect her, he needed to. It was a primal urge. He wanted to gather his woman in his arms and keep her safe from the evil of the world.
Only she wasn’t his woman.
And she could never be.
He gripped the wheel and stepped on the gas, negotiating the bend in the road.
The silence hung thick and charged between them.
Rex led her to an intimate booth in the back corner of Ben’s Bistro. A private cocoon in the midst of the lively clatter of plates and cutlery and steady buzz of voices. The sun spilled warm through small windowpanes, throwing square patterns onto the red-and-white checked tablecloth.
“We can talk here.”
She took a seat opposite him.
“Try the eggs.”
Hannah perused the menu. “I’m not that hungry. I’ll have the fruit cup. And a coffee.”
“The eggs are good. I had them yesterday. You look like you could do with some protein.”
“I’ll have the fruit.”
She watched him as he placed their order. He was still in his T-shirt and sweatpants, but that did nothing to diminish his dark aura of authority. He cut a powerful figure. She watched the muscles twist under the tanned skin of his forearm as he handed the menus to the server and checked his watch. Her eyes were drawn by the motion, the silver of the watch, the dark hair on his arm, the solid breadth of his wrist. She’d forgotten the beauty of his fingers. Long. Strong. Those hands. They could be so rough yet so achingly gentle. He had run them over her hot skin once. Moved from her ankles up, slowly, along the inside of her thighs—
No. She yanked her mind back into the present. He was watching her. Intently. His eyes deep, unreadable pools. His lids with their thick fringe of lashes low. God, he’d been reading her mind.
Shaken, she lifted her water glass, gulped and silently thanked the waitress for her timing as she arrived with a pot of coffee.
Hannah’s hand was unsteady as she poured cream into her coffee, remembering that he took his black. Funny how little details could stick in your mind over the years.
Rex spooned sugar into his cup, still silent.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
He leaned forward, forearms on the table. His words were low, for her ears only. “Keep your voice down. Don’t whisper. Mumbling is better. The sound doesn’t carry as well. Got it?”
She nodded.
He looked deep into her eyes, searching. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. I don’t want to involve you.”
“Rex, I’m in this whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t. And what I’m going to tell you has to remain between us. Hannah, I have to trust you. Lives could depend on it.”
“You’re a fine one to be talking about trust, Logan.”
She saw the slight narrowing of his eyes, the shadow that flitted through them. But he let her jibe pass. He wasn’t going to be drawn there. “You’re a reporter.”
“I can keep a secret, Rex. Believe me. I haven’t gone to the cops.” Yet.
He took a sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim.
“Well, what did you find in Amy’s apartment?”
“Two library books and a document.”
“Oh, that definitely means she met with foul play.”
He wasn’t amused. “It’s the subject matter. Amy Barnes was reading up-to-date information on biological warfare.”
“What?”
“It wasn’t just biological weapons she was interested in. She was reading up on genetically engineered BW technology.”
“Okay. I’m having real trouble joining the dots here. Help me out.”
“We have reason to believe that Amy came across something here in White River that landed her in trouble. Something to do with biological weapons.”
“We?”
“Bio Can.”
“What’s a pharmaceutical company got to do with this?”
“Let’s just say Bio Can has a highly specialized division focused on developing antidotes and vaccines for bugs with a potential to be weaponized.”
Her head was spinning. “But I thought your field was more indigenous medicine.” At least that’s what you told me in Africa.
“It is. I work in both divisions.” He stopped talking as the server arrived with their food. Rex tucked into his egg and bacon platter, savoring a mouthful before continuing.
Hannah stared at her fruit. Biological weapons? What in the hell had Amy been up to? “Maybe she was just researching something, Rex, for a story.”
He chewed, nodded. “Maybe. But there was a piece of paper in one of the books. On it is the name and number of a CIA agent, one who specializes in biowarfare intelligence.”
“Oh my God.”
He sipped his coffee. “How’s the fruit?”
The question seemed suddenly so inane. Hannah looked at the plate in front of her, picked up a fork and jabbed at a strawberry. “Fine.” She felt ill.
“And I checked Amy’s computer last night. The hard drive has been cleaned out.”
Hannah stiffened. “That’s it. The breakin. That’s what they took. Electronic data. No wonder the cops didn’t find anything.”
“Well, whoever took the data didn’t find the library books.”
“But who?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out. I’m hoping you’ll help.”
“I don’t get it, Rex. Why White River? What’s the connection?”
“We don’t know. But the forensic toxicology conference is a common denominator here. We suspect something may be going down.”
“Like what?”
“A deal. An information exchange, maybe. We haven’t got much time.”
“But what does a conference like that have to do with biological warfare, anyway?”
Rex pushed his plate aside. “There is a component on the conference agenda that covers lethal viruses and new research in the field of forensic detection. It’s that kind of stuff that draws top scientists from around the world. Ideas are exchanged. Connections made. Deals made. Most of it happens offstage. Bio Can likes to keep on top of these kinds of developments. So do a lot of other agencies.”
Hannah looked out through the little window panes at a group of young people gathered in the sun on the patio across the village square. Amy should be with them, laughing, planning her next snowboarding trip, her next surfing expedition. She had been cheated out of her future.
She turned back to face the man in front of her. “So you’re telling me you’re one of the good guys?”
“Good is a subjective term.”
“Is that why you don’t want the cops involved?”
“This is beyond small-town cops, Hannah. This is the big league. The global league.”
She pushed her uneaten fruit bowl aside. She felt as if all the blood had left her head.
He leaned forward as if to take her hand. Hannah braced for the touch but it never came. He seemed to catch himself, lifting the coffeepot instead. He held it up. “Refill?”
She shook her head. “What happens now?”
He poured seconds for himself. “Now, you tell me about Ken Mitchell.”
“Ken Mitchell?”
“This slices both ways, Hannah.”
“Rex, I don’t know any Ken Mitchell.”
“You were lunching with him at the Black Diamond yesterday.”
Hannah felt something slip in her stomach. “You mean Mark Bamfield, the freelance writer?”
“Try CIA.”
“I see.” Her brain was numb.
&nbs
p; “So he’s calling himself Bamfield. What’s his cover?”
She cleared her throat. “He said he was a freelance reporter from Washington, that he was here for the toxicology conference and that he was doing a story on Amy Barnes.”
“See the links now?”
She nodded. She didn’t like what she was seeing at all.
This time he placed his hand over hers. “And, Hannah, if you go to the police now, if you tie me up with bureaucracy, you could end up getting yourself killed.”
She looked down at the large hand covering her own. She could feel its warmth, its roughness. It was the hand with the ring, the token of her love, the symbol of her naiveté. She looked back up into his eyes. She couldn’t read them. “That sounds like a threat, Rex.”
“No, Hannah. A warning. I don’t want you to get hurt. You’ve crossed the line. There’s no going back now. Now you play by new rules.”
He was right. She didn’t see how she could turn back. Her world hadn’t only shifted on its axis; she’d been thrust into a whole new one where she didn’t know the players and she didn’t know the rules. And she sure as hell didn’t know the man sitting in front of her.
She pulled her hand out from under his. “What do you want me to do?”
Something flickered through his eyes. Then it was gone. “Can you get me into the Gazette office? I need to take a look at Amy’s work computer, see if she left any trail there.”
“I can do that.”
“Now?”
She looked at her watch. It was early on Saturday. The Gazette offices would likely be empty. “Now’s good.”
He stood up. “Let’s go and see what we can find before it’s too late. And then I need a shower and a change of clothes.”
He moved around to Hannah’s side of the booth. “Coming?” He held out his arm for her to join him. He cut a paradoxical figure. A striking but unshaven British gentleman in sweats. She stood up and took his arm.
Melting the Ice Page 5
