Attracted to Fire

by DiAnn Mills

“Ready for a Texas-style concert?” Chip pulled his chair away from the table.

  “I am.” Lindsay flashed him a smile and pulled Chesney into her lap. The terrier snuggled up to her like a long-lost friend. “Why don’t you sit closer to me?”

  “No, thanks. I need room.” Chip must need to concentrate. The Dancin’ Dust had enough problems without Lindsay zooming in on him, especially with the suspicion surrounding the ranch hand’s questionable actions.

  He played a few chords, then broke into a tune made famous by Keith Urban, followed by another song by Kenny Chesney. Lindsay clapped and asked for more. Three songs later, Chip set his guitar on a lounge chair and pulled a bottle of water from the ice chest.

  “Mind if I take a look at your guitar?” Lindsay’s soft voice didn’t give any man much of a chance to refuse.

  “Not at all. Do you play?”

  “A little.”

  Meghan just learned something new. She’d wondered why Lindsay kept her nails short, and now she knew the reason.

  “Thanks. Mine is under my bed at my apartment. If I’d known I was headed for a vacation, I’d have packed it.”

  Chip handed her his guitar. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Lindsay didn’t hesitate. She sat on the edge of a patio chair and began to strum a familiar tune.

  “Isn’t that an old Reba song?” Chip leaned in closer. “‘Fancy’?”

  “It is. One of my favorites.”

  “Can you sing it?” His gentle voice coaxed a smile from Lindsay. “I’ve seen Reba perform live. Always a great show.”

  “Me too.” Without looking up, she played and sang the tune that caused Reba fans to go wild. When she finished, the entire group clapped.

  “You are good.” Meghan emphasized the last word, and she hadn’t stretched the truth.

  “Better than good,” Chip said. “You have a set of lungs, girl.”

  Lindsay held out his guitar. “Thanks.”

  “Keep it,” Chip said. “We all need another song.”

  “Really?” She blushed—the first Meghan had seen. Lindsay glanced from Chip to Meghan, then to Ash.

  “I don’t know who Reba is, but I like the music.” Ash eased back in his chair.

  “What was I thinking singing a song from someone you don’t know?” Lindsay looked genuinely happy.

  Meghan hoped she saw more of this side of their protectee. “I want to hear more too. Makes me want to send a recording to a music company.”

  Lindsay shrugged. “I think you’re all deaf, but I do have a few favorites. Do you like Carrie Underwood?”

  Chip whistled. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  Without waiting for another response, Lindsay began a Carrie Underwood song. Lindsay had a unique style all her own, fresh and filled with passion.

  When she finished and gave Chip his guitar, he asked her about voice training and the make of her guitar. “What other talents are you hiding from us?”

  “None.” She tilted her head. “You’ve heard the only one. I like to play and sing, and I do write a song occasionally.”

  “Stop it, right there.” Meghan waved. “I want an original.” How much could she encourage Lindsay without scaring her off?

  “But I’m not very good. Really.”

  “Let your friendly Secret Service agents decide your talent,” Meghan said.

  “And your local ranch hand.” Chip’s voice caused a hush from the others.

  Lindsay hesitated, her eyes void of any signs of drugs or alcohol. She sang about a small-town girl who left for the city and all it offered. But she broke a boy’s heart. The girl realized she’d made a mistake but was afraid to go home. She missed the boy and the love they’d once shared. When Lindsay finished, she returned the guitar to Chip and thanked him again.

  “Anytime, Lindsay. Maybe we can try a duet someday soon. I bet your parents love to hear you play and sing.”

  Lindsay’s gaze settled on Chip, obviously uncomfortable. “I don’t think either of them knows I own a guitar. It’s not as though they’re interested.”

  “Lindsay, I’ve heard you before, and you’re talented.” Ash picked up a Diet Coke from the ice chest. “Many a night I listened to you compose songs. Every one of them was a keeper.”

  Admiration for Ash lifted a notch. His comment was exactly what Lindsay needed. Tonight, Meghan had found plenty of good things about Ash.

  Lindsay blushed again, clearly flustered. “Thanks. I guess I’m ready to go inside. Dave has probably been jotting down questions for our session.” Glancing around, she smiled. “I haven’t had such a good time in years. Thanks to all of you for making tonight wonderful. And happy Father’s Day to those of you with kids.” She grinned at Ash. “Superman didn’t crawl out from under a rock.”

  Meghan settled into the lounge chair and processed what had happened this evening. She refused to think about Ash. That went nowhere, and right now she was furious for allowing him to creep into her heart. He wanted to be friends after he’d kissed her and blamed it on stress? She needed to concentrate on Lindsay. Her musical ability ranked above a casual interest to a possible career. She had the face of a blue-eyed, blonde angel and a unique low-range voice. Her lyrics touched the heart of country music and perhaps the heart of Lindsay Hall.

  Meghan allowed another thought to swirl and float around her mind. Songwriters often developed their lyrics from personal experiences. How strong was the possibility that Lindsay might have revealed who was behind the crimes in her songwriting?

  Chapter 29

  Monday morning, Meghan and Lindsay enjoyed breakfast poolside. Lindsay was unusually quiet, and Meghan felt certain it had to do with the previous evening. When Meghan mentioned her music, Lindsay told her—with a few expletives—not to bring it up again. How sad for this talented young woman to open her heart to something other than drugs and rebellion, only to feel as though she shouldn’t have exposed her gift.

  The morning drifted to afternoon in silence. Lindsay swam laps, and her body language shouted apprehension. Fear of what? Certainly not her music. Had she sobered enough to rethink her danger?

  A few of the agents were sitting around the patio when Wade announced that at 1600 his wife had given birth to a baby son. He regretted not being there for his birth, but he’d have two weeks with his family soon. Between phone calls with his wife and family and being the recipient of many pictures, Wade was one proud daddy.

  “Congratulations.” Lindsay wrapped a towel around herself and asked to see the baby’s picture. Wade handed her his phone. “He looks huge.”

  “Eight and a half pounds. His sister barely weighed six. I think I have a linebacker.”

  Bob took a long look at the baby’s picture. “He has football hands.”

  Meghan did her share of admiring. “Does he have a name?”

  “Not yet. We’re still talking.” Wade must have grown a foot since the day before. “I’ll let you know as soon as we decide. My wife’s tossed out a name, and I tossed out another, but I’m leaving it to her. She did all the work. Right now, I need a run. Like ADD on steroids.” Wade looked at the sky. “It’s a little hot yet, but I can handle the temps. Can’t seem to come down from being a new daddy.” He gestured toward the pool. “I might have to cool off once I’m back.”

  “Enjoy,” Meghan said. “Then you can tell us what the rest of your family has to say about the new baby.”

  Wade disappeared into the house and returned shortly thereafter. He waved and jogged toward the driveway. Chip joined him, a common occurrence between the two men.

  “He’s lucky to have a family.” Lindsay’s remark revealed another need, one Meghan hoped she soon realized.

  “One day, we’ll all have a houseful of kids.” Ash walked to the pool’s edge, holding a can of Diet Coke. He dipped his fingers into the water. “Feels like bath water. We should celebrate Wade’s son in style.”

  Bob propped his feet onto a chair. “I’m always hungry, and Pepper’s a
darn good cook. Reminds me of my mom.”

  “At least I’ve gotten her to put the hot stuff on the side. Smells like French-fried shrimp inside.”

  “The batter is loaded with pepper,” Victor said. “Another night of peanut butter and jelly for you.”

  Lindsay joined Ash at the pool’s edge. “How about letting me have a drink of your Diet Coke?”

  “I don’t think pop is on Dave’s list.” He dangled the can in front of her.

  “Agent Zinders, you might have changed for the better since getting here, but you’re still selfish. Dave will never know.”

  “You’re right.” He handed her the can. “I couldn’t exist on what he’s having you eat and drink.”

  She toasted him and laughed. A real laugh. Maybe Lindsay had worked through whatever plagued her this morning. Meghan prayed this upward trend for Lindsay would stay. Maybe—just maybe—she could convince the girl to share her songs. Even better if she shared what she knew about the stalker.

  “I’m going in to talk to Pepper.” Ash headed for the door. “See if I still have the charm. Who knows? She might fix me shrimp without the heartburn.”

  “Hey, Ash, I suggest you have me sweet-talk her.” Victor hurried to the door and blocked him. “You haven’t seen charm until I step into action. You think I’m good on a skateboard? Watch this.”

  “I’ve seen your suave techniques. Worthless. I’ll handle Pepper.”

  Kids. They were acting like kids. This side of Ash brought to the surface feelings Meghan wanted to deny. Inappropriate. Against Ash’s personal rule book. Tell that to her heart.

  Ash found Pepper in the kitchen. She dropped breaded shrimp, one by one, into hot oil. It sizzled, and the enticing aroma made his mouth water. An evening of Rolaids didn’t register on his to-do list.

  “Sure smells good in here.” He reached inside the fridge for another Diet Coke since Lindsay had kept his.

  “Do you like shrimp?” She took a sip of Dr Pepper, a habit while she cooked, since he’d eliminated the wine.

  “I sure do.”

  “This is my shrimp diablo. Scottard and his family love it.”

  Ash plastered on a smile. It would be hotter than blazes. “Any chance of getting mine plain?”

  She smiled and pointed to a plate with a small mound of shrimp. “That’s the weenie platter. Suit you?”

  “For sure. Why the concession lately? Is it my irresistible personality?”

  She waved a pair of tongs. “You’ve started acting human.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll try to keep it up. How—?” His radio beeped, and his attention focused on the caller, stationed somewhere on the property.

  “Agent down.”

  Ash’s senses flew into action, with the report pouring through his ears. He rushed onto the patio, where the protective team hovered over Lindsay, escorting her inside. “Hurry!” Agents moved inside, toward the living area and the hard room. “Meghan, you’re with me. The rest of you keep the perimeter secure.”

  She drew her weapon and fixed her eyes on the panoramic view around them.

  Ash needed more information from the agent who made the report. “What happened?”

  “Wade was shot while he and Chip were running.”

  “How is he?”

  “Gone. Three of us are at the site—a mile and a half east of the front gate.”

  “What about Chip?”

  “We have him right here. He’s shaken but okay.”

  “Call an ambulance. I’m on my way.” He raced to the gate with Meghan keeping pace. Every agent on the ranch scurried into position. Every weapon ready to fire. But quiet met him, with only the sound of grasshoppers pounding in his ears.

  Chip, the resident statistician, was all right, while an agent lay dead. Ash knew who was behind the shooting. Too many coincidences. Heat added moisture to his skin and dripped down the sides of his face. Anger burned his cheeks as much as the temperatures.

  Not Wade. Good man. Excellent agent. New baby, too. Hadn’t even named him. Chip had to be behind this, and Ash intended to pull a confession out of him. He got away with setting up an accident for Lindsay, but not murder. Adrenaline forced speed into his legs, and the physical exertion helped curb his frenzied emotions.

  Now was the time to gather information and do what he did best.

  At the site of the shooting, the three agents stood with Chip, and one agent knelt beside Wade’s body on the dirt road.

  Meghan dropped to the ground beside Wade. She studied his forehead and the exit wound. “Looks like a Remington 700.”

  Ash joined her. “Keep talking.”

  “Speculation here. But the shooter is no amateur.” She peered up at him. “Trained sniper. Possibly from the military. Looks like he positioned himself about 850 yards south of here.”

  Ash pointed to two agents, and they hurried off in that direction. He stood, his gaze focused on Chip. The man’s eyebrows were drawn together, and his slightly parted lips revealed his fear. Was that fear of what he’d witnessed or what Ash might do? Chip shifted from one leg to the other.

  “Chip, what happened out here?”

  His shook his head. “I don’t know for sure.” His gaze met Ash’s. “My friend’s dead, and I have a right to know what’s going on.”

  Ash seized him by the neck of his T-shirt. “We have the right to know who killed our agent.”

  Chip’s jaw clenched, and he lifted his chin.

  “Listen, Mr. Back-to-the-Ranch Statistician, someone just didn’t sit out here and wait for a Secret Service agent to jog by. That sniper had inside information and knew when to squeeze the trigger.”

  “I don’t know anything about it.” Chip’s voice rose.

  “Give me one reason to believe you aren’t behind this.”

  Chip struggled under Ash’s hold, and two agents gripped his arms. “Okay. I’ll tell you what happened. But I’m ready to take a polygraph or whatever’s out there to prove my innocence.”

  Ash took a breath. “I’ve heard that before. Don’t leave out a thing.”

  “How about having your men take their hands off me?”

  Ash nodded. If Chip tried anything, they’d fill him full of holes. The first bullet would be from Ash’s SIG.

  “We were jogging about two miles from here. We turned around and headed back. Wade fell, and I thought he stumbled. Then I heard a sharp, quick crack like the sound of a pencil breaking. When I checked on him, he didn’t respond. So I turned him over, and that’s when I saw blood seeping from his head.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I felt for a pulse. When I didn’t get a reading, I snatched up his radio and contacted the first man who answered. I’ve had first aid and CPR, so I administered it to see if I could resuscitate him. But I think he was already dead.”

  Ash turned to the agent who’d radioed him about Wade. “Can you back up any of this?”

  “Some of it. He was kneeling on the road beside Wade giving CPR when we arrived.”

  “Escort Chip to the house. Have Bob get a full statement. I want his quarters thoroughly searched. Confiscate any computers or cell phones.” Ash looked at Meghan, whose attention focused on the area south of them. The terrain was hilly and rocky, the perfect area for a sniper to hide.

  Who’d ordered the execution? And why? Did Lindsay know who stood behind the shooting? Fury raced through him. She wasn’t close enough to Wade to confide in him, which made Ash wonder if he’d discovered something. Questioning her had to be done whether Dave approved or not.

  Maybe the sniper wanted to show he could take out an agent. Or was Wade’s death supposed to scare Lindsay into taking some kind of action or keeping quiet? Speculation and nothing concrete.

  Ash turned his gaze back to Chip. He didn’t trust him. Neither did he believe a single man instigated the bombing in DC, the threats, or Wade’s death. Time to get this guy off the Dancin’ Dust until they had answers.

  This was bigger than anything he
’d ever faced.

  Ash understood this wasn’t the work of just an inside man but a sophisticated operation, bigger than any of them could conceive. The thought had taunted him before. Now it had substance. Drugs didn’t make sense. Could that be a cover-up for the real focus? But what?

  Chapter 30

  Ash took the call from President Hall in the operation room and assured him Lindsay was unharmed but shaken in the aftermath of Wade’s death. They’d removed her from the hard room but limited her to inside the house. “What do you have on the sniper?” The grief was obvious in his voice.

  “Not a trace of evidence at this time. But the local sheriff’s department is assisting us in combing the area.”

  “Ash, I don’t understand the crimes here and at the ranch. With all of our technology, why can’t we find who’s behind this? My office received a call right after the shooting. Traced it to a deserted office here in DC.”

  “Did the caller give a reason or make demands?”

  “It came through on my personal cell phone—muffled. Said it wouldn’t be the last assassination. He also said the one responsible for Wade’s death knew why, and that person was to blame. Warrington is handling the trace.”

  “Mr. President, we’ll find who’s behind this.”

  “I know I can count on all of you. Please, I’d like to talk to my daughter.”

  Ash walked back into the living area where Dave sat with Lindsay. She’d vomited after learning the news about Wade. “Your father wants to talk to you.”

  She reached for the phone. Her lips quivered. “Daddy, are you all right?”

  Odd that she’d ask her father the same question he’d posed about her. The concern in her voice confirmed that she’d made progress in her rehabilitation, more than any other time in the past. Meghan claimed Lindsay was withholding information about the crimes. Then why didn’t she speak up?

  Lindsay reached for a tissue. “Be careful. You’re president now, and the country needs you and Mom.” She sobbed. “I’m glad Uncle Scottard is there with you too.”

  Ash had never heard her sound so caring. Getting off drugs had made a big difference and in such a short time. Dave and Carla’s methods must be working, or maybe Lindsay had made the decision to put the drugs behind her.