by DiAnn Mills
While Bob and Meghan filled in for Ash and Wade’s shift, Ash stayed close to the computer. He anticipated e-mails to arrive for Lindsay, and he hoped the powers in DC changed their minds about not moving her. Caution rode with him. Here on the Dancin’ Dust, Lindsay and those who protected her were in danger. Couldn’t the president and Scottard see that? And how had Warrington been convinced that the ranch was the best place for her? For the first time, Ash realized how much he cared for Lindsay. He’d lost Wade, and he refused to give up Lindsay or anyone else to an assailant.
The agents swapped tales about Wade until after ten o’clock. Ash listened, adding a comment here and there. His mind continued to spin with memories . . . and why someone had gunned down an agent.
Once the other agents disappeared, he stepped out into the darkness to see Meghan. Ash needed to relieve her so she could get some rest. But he doubted any of them would sleep tonight.
Remembering the last time they were alone in the dark gave him pause, especially in his emotionally spent condition. He refused to take advantage of her grief to ease his own anguish. “Need some company?”
“Sounds good. I have a few things I’d like to discuss.” She sounded weary. When she finished what she had to say, he’d insist she take a break.
Beneath the black veil of night, Meghan stared out at the surroundings through night-vision binoculars. A professional who didn’t take her work lightly.
Ash processed her earlier statements about Chip. First the loose wire over the air duct in her bedroom. But he could have lied. What interested Ash was Chip’s admittance to reading lips, reinforcing his belief that the guy wasn’t on their side. A mole to report their conversations and actions.
Anger sliced through his stomach and burned the back of his throat. “Bob didn’t get a thing out of Chip today. He aced every question.”
“Strange, since it looks like he’s in the middle of the crimes. He could have been well trained, but his past doesn’t indicate a military background.”
“What about Ethan?” Ash honestly wanted her thoughts. “Do you think he’s involved? I know you formed a good relationship with him.”
“Actually I doubt it. He’s a different breed from Chip—God-and-country sort of guy. Sure would like to know the kind of company Chip kept in Dallas.”
“We’re on that. Chip could be taking a paycheck that would more than compensate what he left behind in the corporate world. If he’s guilty, Warrington will find out.”
Meghan lowered her binoculars. “Can we talk about the information we have regarding the happenings here and in DC? I keep thinking we’re missing something that’s right in front of our noses. I’m sick about Wade, and I’m angry enough to be persistent until the killer is found.” Her soft voice gave her a fresh appeal, innocence in an odd sort of way. Ash knew better. Behind those brown eyes smoldered intelligence and calculating skill. Another reason he liked her. Another reason he’d kissed her in the wee hours of the morning. Perhaps she had more insight after successfully working her way into Lindsay’s confidence.
Her question to Ash surfaced. “Do you think today is linked to a drug cartel? Because I think it’s something on a much bigger scale.”
He believed the same, but he wasn’t ready to share his thoughts. “I’m listening.”
“We’ve already discussed the possibility of a cartel that had an agenda of mammoth proportions. I’ve considered organized crime stemming from one of President Hall’s opponents or even enemies overseas. But to be honest, my intuition tells me the crimes between DC and the Dancin’ Dust are connected, and it will get worse before it gets better. The longer it takes us to find who’s responsible, the bolder the actions.”
He liked the way her mind worked. Whether he agreed with her theories or not. “What about how thick Chip could be involved?”
“Not sure there. Until tonight, I didn’t suspect him of anything. But he pretty much nailed his coffin closed with his admittance to reading lips.”
“Tried, convicted, and judged, huh?” Ash studied her.
“He might not have pulled the trigger, but I bet he knows who did. I’m sure of it.”
“Or do you want to have it solved so you can sleep better tonight?”
She stiffened. “Maybe. I’ve never been the type to condemn without evidence, but this is different. As crazy as it sounds, I don’t want to think it’s Chip . . . for Ethan’s sake.”
Meghan had taken this personally. Ash recognized the signs. The problem was he felt the same way. “It all goes back to the same questions we’ve asked ourselves all day. Why would someone hire a sniper to kill an agent assigned to the president’s daughter? A daughter who has been trouble for this administration since Hall took office. Could this be about loyalty to Jackson Hall? Is that what the caller meant today?”
“Do you mean someone wants to eliminate Lindsay so the president can accomplish his goals and keep his opponents and the media out of his business?”
“Possibly. I’m sure Lindsay’s demise has been on a few politicians’ minds.”
“Ash, think about it. Lindsay’s an embarrassment, not a global problem.”
“Some view her position differently. You and I have heard the comments that President Hall can’t run the country effectively if he can’t control his daughter. Makes me wonder what angle DC is taking in bringing this to a close.”
“You could ask Warrington.” Again, her soft voice did things to him that he welcomed and shoved away at the same time.
“I’m not in the elite circle.” His voice sounded harsher than he intended.
“But you need to be. You’re the detail man, and I think you’re blaming yourself for the whole situation.”
The fact she was right made him angrier. “Since when did you become a shrink?”
“I’ve been taking lessons from Dave.”
His thoughts swung back to Joel’s death and his vow to keep those around him safe from sociopaths with their own agenda. “You have no idea the ground you’re stepping on.”
“Wade’s death was not your fault.”
Did Meghan know about the counterfeit job, how he hesitated and killed his best friend?
“It’s our job to keep our protectee safe. We all know the risks.” He threw more anger and frustration into his words.
“Then act like it.”
Adrenaline pumped through his veins. “Just what do you mean? Wade and I worked together for four years. Now he’s gone, and I have no clue who pulled the trigger.”
“Don’t you think whoever is orchestrating this will eventually make a few mistakes?” She stuck her finger into his chest. “You’re the SAIC, not God. Blaming yourself is not part of the equation. Just do your job. Keep the rest of us agents in line and focus on keeping Lindsay safe.”
He clutched her fingers, but she kept her gaze leveled at him. If he could just see her face in the darkness.
“You’re good at what you do, Ash. You’re levelheaded, and you have the ability to think like the enemy.”
“Thanks.” He released her fingers. She was defusing him, and he didn’t know whether to blow off more steam . . . or kiss her again.
“Still want to punch me?” A smile played into her words.
“Not exactly.”
“Are you ready to talk about Wade?”
“I think so.” He turned from her. She was good for him in more ways than he could calculate. She was tough when the situation called for it and tender when he needed a woman’s touch. He took a deep breath. “One more thing about Chip. Another angle for us to consider. So many things point to him that I wonder if he’s really a part of the master plan. However, the obvious could be a ploy to throw us off. In any event, Chip’s now in the hands of the Secret Service.”
“That’s the A2Z I know.”
“I’m afraid you know me better than I find comfortable.”
She laughed, and the sound filled the night air, easing the sorrow. “Is that so bad?”
> “I’m thinking it might be. Time will tell.”
“You asked if we could be friends, and I gave a flippant answer. What I want to say is I am your friend, Ash. I respect your position and the way you care for Lindsay and the rest of us.”
He wanted to draw her into his arms and speak those emotions buried in his heart. But not yet. Maybe not ever.
Chapter 33
Lindsay couldn’t bring herself to eat, drink, take mounds of supplements, or consent to counseling today. Dave wanted her to get some sunshine, but all she could think about was Wade’s murder. Alone in her room, she attempted to nap. But her mind continued to spin.
Wade—good and kind Wade with the new baby son—had been murdered. She’d seen pictures of his lovely wife and adorable three-year-old daughter.
The Secret Service had Chip in custody. Could he really be working with the demon? Chip had been sweet, seemed to be interested in her music. But her demon knew how to be convincing. After all, he’d pretended to care for her in the beginning.
If only she weren’t clean and sober. Then she could forget the past and what the future held for too many people. What frightened her the most was that the demon had become more evil, as if he’d ever had a shred of integrity. People were dead. A bomb. A threat on Daddy’s life, and a possible attempt on her own life. If she could figure out what he really wanted, maybe she could devise a plan to stop him. He hadn’t wanted Daddy to be president, so what next?
Not quite two weeks ago, she believed suicide was the solution. But she’d been high then. Now she understood staying alive might be the leverage to stop him—and why he might want her dead too.
He’d have something for her to do soon. As in the past, she’d refuse. Then he’d go into his bargaining mode, then his threatening mode, before she finally gave in. What could he want from her this time?
Lindsay punched her pillow. He could arrange for Daddy’s death. She wished she knew what he’d gain if that happened. Politics . . . she’d start paying more attention. Maybe learn to think like him. Tears slipped over her cheeks. He said she wasn’t smart, that nothing she could do would stop him. She wanted to believe he’d lied then too.
Lindsay searched deep inside for someone she could trust. Someone who could help bring him to justice. Not just a sympathetic ear. But a person who would believe her story, a drug addict’s account of a terrible conspiracy.
But who? echoed through the chambers of her heart. If she couldn’t find someone to confide in soon, she’d find a way to kill the demon—before he found a way to kill her father.
Chapter 34
Ash studied the calendar on his computer. Ten days had passed since Chip had been escorted off the ranch. The media hadn’t learned about Wade’s death, due to his family’s agreeing to a private funeral. Lindsay’s whereabouts would remain a secret. Another agent was assigned to her protective team, a man by the name of Trey Phillips, a veteran agent. Likable. Didn’t say much.
The Dancin’ Dust had grown quiet, giving Ash time to analyze Wade’s murder and develop a possible link to the threats made on Lindsay. Perhaps he’d spent too much time twisting the facts inside and out, because neither he nor the Secret Service had found any clues to help solve the unsettling crimes. At least no clues were revealed to him. Frustrating. Fearful, as though another crime would erupt at any moment. He expected it. Could feel it in the pit of his stomach.
Meghan entered the room carrying a guitar case.
He shifted his attention her way, his heart taking a nosedive. That situation had worsened too. He was drawn to Meghan like a magnet, rather ironic since they sat at opposite poles. “You got it.”
“I did. I’ll have to thank Victor for filling in while I drove to town to pick it up.”
“Glad you’re back safe.”
“Ash, you can’t follow your team around like an old mother hen. If a sniper manages to take another one of us out, there’s not a thing you can do.”
But his feelings went deeper for Meghan, far deeper than he wanted to admit even to himself. “It’s my job.”
She leaned the guitar against the bookcase. “You’re not our daddy.”
He chuckled. “I get the message. Should we take this to Lindsay? I’m hoping she’ll play for us on the Fourth.”
“You had a great idea about purchasing this for her. She’s going to be thrilled.”
“Hope so. I’ve never been known as the Santa Claus type.”
“So you’ve turned over a new page in the life of A2Z.”
“Hey, watch it. You’re only supposed to call me that behind my back.”
She smiled. “You’re a great SAIC, and I’m honored to be on your team. How’s that?”
He knew why there’d been a change in him, but he couldn’t let her find out. After all, he’d been the one to spout so many negative things about women agents and his personal code of conduct.
“Are you ready, Santa? Not sure where Lindsay is. I left her watching The Egg and I.”
“Can you believe her? I ordered more of those old classic movies this morning. This time she requested Cary Grant, Henry Fonda, and John Wayne. Yesterday I mailed back a couple with Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn.” He picked up the guitar. “When she’s not watching old movies, she’s glued to the news. Heard her talking about her father’s peace summit.”
“I think you’re beginning to like her.”
“After four years, I guess I should. Honestly, clean and sober, she’s great. Good sense of humor. Intelligent. And full of surprises. Yesterday she asked if I could find some books about World War II.”
Meghan planted her hands on her hips and grinned.
“What’s so funny?” Oh, he liked the way she looked.
“You. What started out as an effort on our part to help Lindsay work through Wade’s death has helped all of us.”
“Maybe I should go back to my grumpy self.”
“I like the friendly, detailed guy.”
He could get lost in those brown eyes, but not today. “Let’s find Lindsay and deliver her guitar.” He paused. “Have you discovered anything in her song lyrics to help us?”
“She refuses to share them, which makes me think something is hidden there.”
Ash opened the door. “We’ll keep working on securing her confidence. Follow me, Agent Connors. I think our protectee is in the game room.”
They found Lindsay absorbed in Sense and Sensibility.
At the sight of them, her eyes widened. “What do you have?”
She reminded Ash of a child. Too bad the president couldn’t see her fresh and full of life.
“We thought you might like a guitar. Victor did the research on the best country brands. Bob and Rick got you to tell them what models you preferred. Trey knows somebody who knows somebody who owns a guitar store. I ordered it, and Meghan picked it up.”
Lindsay bit her lip, and her eyes misted. “Thanks. Oh, thanks so very much.”
Ash started to hand it to her, but she reached up and hugged him. “I’m so sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. I’m trying. I really am. But some things are impossible to change.”
Chapter 35
In the early morning of the Fourth of July, Meghan jogged into the third mile, always mindful of the sniper who’d killed Wade. Her weapon accomplished nothing when a sniper could be hidden yards from where she ran. As soon as she showered, she wanted to talk to Ash and any of the other agents who’d listen. Something wasn’t right.
America’s birthday. Meghan loved this holiday—red, white, and blue. The love of friends and family. The smell of grilled hot dogs and hamburgers and mounds of potato salad. Homemade ice cream on a slice of hot apple pie and fireworks that lit a night sky. So why did she sense today could have an unhappy ending? A nagging pain at the base of her skull sent a message to her brain to be on alert.
Her thoughts came in sound bites.
Terrorists from around the world would love to make an impact on the US today.
Those behind Lindsay’s threats hadn’t been apprehended.
Wade’s murderer remained at large.
However, the Dancin’ Dust and DC had been quiet since Chip’s arrest. He hadn’t given the Secret Service any information, and he’d taken a polygraph and passed. The latter meant nothing since there were those who knew how to beat it.
Frustration charged through her body—and a heavy dose of fear.
Fear made her wary.
What was Lindsay hiding?
In the past, she’d kept her intuitions to herself. But history had proved these were God-given warnings, feelings of apprehension that paralleled her faith. She denied belief in the paranormal, but she did hold stock in God’s supernatural. Let Ash take her thoughts and do whatever he wished. She owed them to Lindsay and her team.
Heading toward the front entrance to the Dancin’ Dust, she waved at the agent posted there and Ash, who toasted her with a huge mug of coffee. Soon she recognized his favorite cup with the words Coffee, Creative Lighter Fluid written on the side. As strong as he drank his coffee, she wouldn’t light a match near it.
“Good morning, Meghan. Sure glad I run before dawn. I can handle only so much sweat.” Ash reached up onto a fence post and handed her an icy bottle of water.
Odd . . . Chip used to have one ready for her when she finished her run. “Perspiration.” She managed between breaths. “Women don’t sweat.”
“Uh, maybe I should take your picture.”
She took a long drink. “Very funny.” He didn’t use to tease. Lately she wondered if he felt some of the same attraction. Lord, have mercy on them if he did. For sure they’d destroy each other—two type A personalities who were in line for the same promotion.
“Can we talk on the way to the house?” The seriousness in his tone propelled her back to her apprehension about today.
“Sure.” She glanced toward the stables. Ethan had mentioned last night about wanting to talk to her, but they could chat later on today. “I have something I’d like to run by you too.”
