by DiAnn Mills
Chapter 10
Ash watched Meghan disappear, leaving a hint of citrusy scent. That woman spent more time in his thoughts than he wanted to deliberate. She had a knack for getting in the last word that left him scrambling, and he wished he had a recording of what went on in her mind. Gutsy. Gorgeous. Good agent. He was on a roll, and it was time to stop.
He picked up his mug and walked into the kitchen for another hit of coffee. Surly best described him, and the caffeine would give him the punch to keep his brain charged. He had too much work to do, and thinking about Meghan was a distraction.
He hadn’t talked to Lindsay yet, but Dave Sanchez and Meghan had indicated she asked about him. Odd, since Lindsay despised him. He didn’t look forward to witnessing her withdrawals again, watching a beautiful young woman spiral into a helpless, pitiful human being. The hallucinations were the worst.
Victor entered the kitchen, sleep glossing his eyes. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a sausage biscuit in the other. Sliding onto a stool at the counter, he yawned and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He hadn’t been to bed since he’d gotten off his shift at 0800, and Ash had seen him swimming laps shortly after that.
Victor studied him through half-open eyes. “Anything I can do?”
The quiet Asian seemed to sense when Ash had cratered to new lows. Victor apparently understood he needed space to think through details.
“Thanks. I appreciate it. Is Wade still with the Leonards?”
“Yeah. They’re talking weather.”
“Good.” Ash stared at the steadily blackening sky. “Storm’s blowing this way. Should bring cooler temps.”
“Or a tornado.” Victor slid his finger across his phone’s screen, then showed Ash a weather map. “Conditions are right. Want me to check on the storm cellar before I head to bed?”
“Thanks. Take Pepper with you. I saw her in the garden a few minutes ago. That’ll keep her out of my hair until I can make my rounds outside. Hope the tornado passes by us. Not enough room in the storm cellar for all the agents. However, I do know who I’d keep out.”
“Then who’d cook?”
Ash chuckled. “You, Victor. I’d take wonton soup over pico de gallo any day.”
“Rooster’s beak.”
“What?”
“That’s what pico de gallo means in Spanish.”
“Figures. I’d give up my vacation for a decent meal.” Sometimes Ash wondered if God was getting even for his colorful past.
“If you don’t need me, then I’ll check on the storm cellar.”
Ash’s phone rang soon after Victor left. Tom Warrington’s name flashed on the caller ID.
“Are things quiet at the Dancin’ Dust?”
A car horn would be a welcome sound. “It’s clear. Our protectee hasn’t emerged from her room yet.”
“Has she started her new treatments?”
“No. But today’s a new day.”
“For the VP’s sake, I’d sure like to see her kick a few habits. Wanted to give you a heads-up. Lindsay’s Bimmer was blown up at her apartment.”
He shuddered. She could have been killed. “Anyone hurt?”
“A woman was killed and a man wounded. Happened about thirty minutes ago. We’re working on it. Looks like a pipe bomb.”
“Any warning?”
“Nothing.”
Ash’s mind raced. None of this made sense. “Tom, I’m processing aloud here. How angry could Lindsay have made a drug dealer that he’d take on the US government?”
“Maybe this isn’t the first time she’s held out money.”
“I don’t recall that being the case in the past. She always found the money somewhere.”
“As I said, we’re on it.”
Ash picked up on the vagueness. What was Tom holding back? “I’m simply exploring. Don’t you find this situation strange? A drug dealer threatening the VP’s daughter? Untraceable e-mails and texts sent to her? And now a bombing?”
“Hard to say at this point.”
“I’m talking a conspiracy. One man from Colombia doesn’t act on his own to create such havoc.”
“Right.”
“But you’re not telling me a thing, are you?”
“Just keep Lindsay safe while we unravel this.” Which told Ash that Warrington was receiving lots of heat.
“You got it. How’s the VP doing?”
“Always the Shield.”
“What about the media?”
Warrington swore. “They’re all over it. Call me if they find Lindsay.”
Ash flipped the phone shut and tucked it into his pocket. His mind continued to draw out the possibilities. Although Warrington had blown off Ash’s speculation, or gave that impression, whoever was behind the bombing and threats had powerful resources. He needed to talk to Lindsay, but in her condition, she could have a meltdown. Best keep her in the dark for now.
Ash wished he could get his hands on the reports flying across the desks of Homeland Security. Realizing the ones responsible had the technology to evade DC’s sophisticated trackers made Ash cringe to think of what they might do next.
Midafternoon, Ash walked into the kitchen for a Diet Coke. He’d seen Pepper step outside and stole the opportunity to get his hands on something to drink. While he was drinking the Coke, Meghan entered the kitchen. He was tempted to ignore her. After all, his thoughts weren’t keyed to being congenial, and she seemed to bring out the worst in him.
“Who’s with Lindsay?”
“She and Dave are in a counseling session on the front porch. Nice breeze out there. Bob is close.”
Ash couldn’t find a thing to criticize.
Meghan opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle of water. Her jeans clung to every curve. He’d watched her run that morning—perfection beat into every stride.
“Sir, do you have a moment to discuss Lindsay?”
“Has she slapped you?” His sarcasm bit into his conscience. Why couldn’t he accept the fact she did her job as well as any agent on the team?
She stiffened. “No, sir. I wondered if you could fill me in on your dealings with her.”
“I already did.”
Meghan wrapped her hand around her water bottle and squeezed. “Sir, she’s frightened, and I’d like to know if this is normal behavior. Crack withdrawal symptoms are basically emotional, but she’s experiencing nausea. The alcohol causes depression, and she’s had a few hallucinations. But the fear is what bothers me the most.”
Ash needed to stop the intimidation, but old habits were hard to break. “Have you talked to Dave? He has her medical records.”
“He agrees with me. She’s hiding something.”
Ash leaned back against the refrigerator. Isolating himself from one of his agents could put their protectee at risk. “Lindsay doesn’t have normal behavior. She wavers between high and hysterical. And hysterical is accompanied by lashing out at whoever is in her way.”
“My conclusion is still the same. She’s afraid.”
“You’re wrong.” Ash shook his head while she studied him. A chill crept up his spine. “What are you looking at?”
“The SAIC I’m talking to.” She took a step his way. Fire sparked in her eyes. “I know you’ve been assigned to Lindsay for the past four years. I know you hate the idea of working with a woman. I know we’re both up for the same assignment with VP Hall. But Lindsay is our protectee, and besides her addiction, someone out there wants her dead. We need to work together on this.”
She was right, and he’d been unprofessional. Ash pointed to the kitchen door. “Let’s take a walk. How about the driveway toward the road?” He set his Coke can on the counter and reached for a bottle of water from the fridge. “The rest of the team knows what happened this morning in DC, but you were with Lindsay, so I waited to brief you.”
Outside, he explained the car bombing.
“This doesn’t sound like an upset drug dealer. I wonder how far it reaches.”
&nbs
p; “My thoughts too.”
Under a gray sky, they neared the front gate. Where did he begin except to tell all he knew about Lindsay? The words refused to come. Or was he working harder at ignoring his attraction to Meghan than at confiding in her about their protectee? Most agents scurried into the woodwork when he approached them. But not her. She had strength and pull with the VP. Her last qualifying proved her marksmanship equaled his. And that wasn’t the only area in which she rivaled him.
Meghan had moved from what he thought was an easy replacement to a worthy team member. They did need to work together on all fronts. It was time he stopped allowing his personal feelings to interfere with his responsibilities.
“I’ve been a real jerk, and I want to apologize.”
“Thank you.” She tossed him a smile that could rival the Dancin’ Dust’s wildflowers. “Apology accepted. There have been times when I could have walked away, but instead I said exactly what I felt.”
He chuckled. “That’s one of the things I admire about you.”
“Pepper’s pretty good at speaking her mind too, but I don’t want to go there.”
“Don’t get me started on our spicy cook. This assignment might break the bank in antacids.” He noted the change in conversation topic had helped him relax. “I did wonder if you cooked.”
She laughed, an easy lilt that caused him to do the same. “A little. But it’s not on my list of favorite things to do. In case you’re interested, Pepper collects stamps.”
“Thanks. I’ll log onto the post office’s site and memorize a few.” He took a deep breath and stared at the steadily darkening sky. He needed to tell her what he knew about their protectee. “You’ve read Lindsay’s file. You have the stats. What you don’t know is how she got to this point. I took over this assignment four years ago. Shortly after Mr. and Mrs. Hall returned from their latest humanitarian mission, President Claredon approached the Halls about the upcoming election. The nation was ready for a change, and Jackson Hall became Claredon’s running mate. About the same time, Lindsay was kicked out of boarding school, and the Halls decided to bring her home. That’s when I came into the picture.”
“Do you know why she’s such a handful? At twenty, she’s a little old for adolescent behavior. Her sister is finishing her grad work at Yale, and—” Meghan stopped and faced him. “I get it. She couldn’t handle her parents’ work with third world children while she sat in a boarding school. She resented their mission work, saving other people’s children when she needed to be saved too.”
“I think you’ve nailed it. Lindsay and I never got along—mostly my fault because I did my job and that was it. She needed more attention, and her parents didn’t understand her behavior. She constantly reminded them about those years in boarding school.”
“Holidays and summer vacations weren’t enough?”
“For Lindsay, no. For her sister, Kelli, it was fine. She’s older and has her career mapped out. An independent and intelligent young woman. To the best of my knowledge, she’s never given her parents any problems. While the two girls were in boarding school, Kelli tried to steer her sister in the right direction. Mothered her too.”
“When did Lindsay start using?”
“That’s why the school removed her. Got caught smoking pot in her room.”
Meghan blew out a sigh. “The VP and his wife must have explored every type of counseling and rehab out there.”
“Remember what the VP said? He’d do anything to help his daughter. They’ve never given up. Scottard Burnette has tried for years to counsel her, but he’s never been able to get through. Not so sure I’d have the same commitment. But I don’t have kids.”
They walked on in silence while he waited for Meghan to respond.
“I understand Lindsay much better now, and I see how the VP and his wife could blame themselves. Guilt is pretty powerful. Drives you hard.”
Ash blinked. Had Meghan read his records?
“Has she ever been threatened before?”
“Nothing substantial. Upset boyfriends, and those leads have all been checked out.” Ash shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Here’s one for you. If she cares so little for life that suicide was the only way out, then why is she frightened? Looks to me like she’d welcome any method of putting herself out of misery.”
“But a murder attempt is out of her control. From what little I’ve seen, Lindsay must be in control of everything around her. I know that doesn’t make sense when she uses drugs and alcohol to escape her problems. But again, she chooses those methods.”
Ash had heard a similar thought from Alexa Hall. “Then why isn’t she helping the authorities track down this guy?”
“Maybe she doesn’t think she’s worth saving.”
“You’re contradicting yourself.”
“Drug addicts don’t make sense.”
“Sounds like firsthand information.” Ash stared at the navy-blue sky. Clouds had rolled in, casting an ominous aura across the sky along with decidedly lower temperatures.
“Maybe it is,” Meghan said. Ash looked at her, but she was watching the sky. “What if she has no idea who this guy is?”
Ash pointed to a greenish-black area to the west of them. “Then we have more trouble than the storm headed this way.”
Chapter 11
Early Sunday morning before her shift, Meghan read Chip Leonard’s background check for the third time. Although those who were trained to track down killers were working nonstop to find who had threatened Lindsay, that didn’t deter her from investigating every angle.
Chip had cleared the Secret Service radar, but not to her satisfaction, and she intended to find out the source of her doubts. Something didn’t ring true about a man with an MA in statistics leaving a lucrative job in Dallas to help his dad breed and train horses. He was twenty-eight years old. No wife or kids. His dad was fit, and Meghan had Ethan’s latest medical checkup in front of her. That ruled out responsibility to an ailing father. Chip had never been in trouble. Had no questionable ties to any of Homeland Security’s blacklisted organizations, and he was extremely intelligent. The latter picked at her like a pesky mosquito. Wasn’t he bored living out in the middle of nowhere with only his father and horses for company?
Ethan Leonard swore allegiance to Jesus, Texas, and the Republican Party in that order. He’d buried his wife ten years ago after a long battle with breast cancer. Chip came to live with him about the same time the VP took office. That could be a coincidence or part of strategic planning. She’d ask Ash and the team about a possible link. If her theory proved true, Chip had the advantage of keeping an eye on Scottard Burnette and any of his high-ranking political guests. The idea Chip might have overheard some of the agents’ conversations surfaced again. Did he have a listening device tucked away beneath his belt buckle?
Thunder cracked across a dark sky, and she jumped. Another storm increased the likelihood of Ash threatening to send them to the storm cellar again. He knew nothing about Texas twisters. Yesterday afternoon’s light and sound show was a baby kicking its feet.
“Chip a puzzle for you, too?” She hadn’t heard Ash enter the room, and now he stood behind her. Dangerously close for a woman who found him attractive.
“He’s no hayseed, and he’s watching every move we make.”
“What do you think motivates him to live here and work so hard?”
Ash’s interest in her thoughts was a rarity, but she’d play along. After all, yesterday he’d talked to her like a real human being. “Curiosity. Maybe boredom with the normal routine. But a smart man can only be stimulated for so long before he starts looking for other means to occupy his time.”
“My concern too.”
“I’d like to find out why he really gave up a prestigious career for mucking out stalls.”
“Mucking?”
“Shoveling manure.” Meghan bit back a grin. Ash needed a fast-track course in ranch life.
“According to Wade, Chip said he
was finished with the fast-paced life.”
“What does Wade make of it?”
“Thinks he’s the real thing.”
Meghan’s skepticism remained intact, but she could be wrong. “He knows when I run in the mornings and my path, which I change every day. And he knows the moment you’ll stick your head out the door to check on me, and he picks up on the agents’ conversations.”
“I wasn’t exactly checking on your running status.” Ash rubbed his forehead. “Give me some examples.”
“Sunshine. The Shield. The status of the front gate’s camera. President Claredon’s current health status. And his dad calls me by a name only my dad used. Of course, that could be nothing.” Meghan drummed her fingers against the tabletop. “It’s as though he has all of us bugged. He could be simply perceptive, but I’d like to be sure.” She omitted the time Ethan referred to Ash as A2Z. No point going there.
“I’ll talk to the agents, but those men are trained to keep information confidential.” He frowned. “My team doesn’t step out of protocol.”
“My point.” Meghan scrutinized the lines on Ash’s face that she’d quickly learned to interpret as the way he conducted his thought process. “I’ve heard stories about men abandoning their careers to get back to nature, but those men had families—a deep-rooted need to raise their kids away from city life. Chip’s a statistician. I want to know why he gave up a hundred and fifty grand a year for room and board out in the middle of nowhere. I know our profession boasts of 70-percent accuracy in detecting lies, but I honestly can’t tell with him, and it’s driving me crazy. All I have to go on is his unusual background.”
“Meghan, he talks to you as much as he does to Wade. Chip’s job here doesn’t offer mental stimulation, unless other things are occupying his mind. Why don’t you see if he’ll open up?”
“I think I will. He’s expressed interest, but I don’t want him to think we’re using him.”
