Blue Ridge Ricochet

by Paula Graves

  “He must trust you.”

  She gave a small shrug. “He knows my history. I take care of myself. I land on my feet.”

  “Your history?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “One we have a little time for, since we’re waiting on word from your boss about that computer equipment.” He sat in the chair in front of the fire again and reached across to pat the empty chair beside him. “Come on. Story time. I’m too wired to sleep yet. How about you?”

  Her lips quirked slightly as she gave him a side-eye look and sat in the chair next to him. “Only if you spill a little of your story, too.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Mine is dull. We’d be asleep in no time. You tell me your story instead. Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Nicki North—”

  “Jamison.”

  He slanted a look at her. “Jamison North?”

  Her lips quirked. “Nicki Jamison. Nicolette, actually.”

  “Pretty.”

  “Thank you. I had nothing to do with choosing it.”

  “Who did?”

  She leaned her head back against the chair. “My mother. Andrea Jamison. She was just seventeen when I was born. I never knew my father, and, to be honest, I don’t really believe any of the stories she told me about him.”

  “Why not?”

  She closed her eyes. “Because one eighteen-year-old boy from Ridge County, Tennessee, can’t be an astronaut, a guitar player in a rock band and the next Bill Gates all at the same time.”

  “Your mother dreamed big.”

  “She did.” Nicki turned her head and opened her eyes. “Too big, sometimes.”

  “What does she think about your new assignment?”

  Nicki’s slight smile faded. “She died when I was sixteen. Drunk driving accident. She killed herself and a family of four after a few too many at the Whiskey Road Tavern.”

  He winced. “I’m sorry.”

  “She just couldn’t get it together.” She sighed. “Hell, most of the time, she didn’t really try.”

  “What happened to you after that?”

  “Nothing. I got myself declared an emancipated minor. I was already working afternoons at a diner in Bitterwood, and the owner, Maisey, let me live in a room over the diner until I graduated.” Her smile was wistful, as if the memory was bittersweet. “Maisey offered to let me stay with her and her family, but I wanted out of Ridge County. So I left as soon as I could.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Straight to hell in a handbasket.” She laughed, but he didn’t hear much amusement in her tone. “What about you? How’d you get from Kentucky to FBI headquarters?”

  “By the skin of my teeth.”

  She nudged him with her elbow. “Are you trying to avoid my question, Mr. Cole?”

  He was, a little. There was a lot in his past he’d rather not remember, including how close he’d come to destroying his life.

  “You are avoiding it, aren’t you?”

  “I just don’t like to dwell on the past.” The directness of her gaze was making him feel restless. He pushed to his feet and walked over to the window near the door. He opened the curtains a notch, just enough to look out on the moonlit yard without showing his face. He saw no signs of movement outside, but the earlier home invasion had left him feeling wary and restless.

  “What happened out there?” Nicki asked, her voice closer than he anticipated.

  He turned to look at her. She stood a couple of feet away, her head cocked with curiosity. The glow of firelight brought out glints of red in her dark hair and burnished her skin to a warm gold. “Out there?” he asked.

  She closed the distance between them until she was only a few inches away. Close enough that he smelled the lingering scent of lemon-basil shampoo in her hair. “You seem—different.” Her voice lowered a notch. “Dangerous.”

  He almost smiled at that notion, a rueful, humorless sort of smile that came from knowing just how close to the mark she was. There had been a time in his life when he had been on the cusp of being very dangerous indeed. A few steps in the wrong direction and he could have ended up like his brothers, venal and ruthless, carving out a truly wicked sort of life in the harsh Kentucky hill country.

  He’d lied when he said there was no family left in Kentucky. There were his brothers. But he hadn’t seen them in years.

  By design.

  “I’m a teddy bear,” he said aloud.

  She laughed. “No. You’re not.” She placed her hand flat against his breastbone, as if feeling for his heartbeat. His pulse leaped in response to her intimate touch, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning toward her.

  “You’re right. I can be very dangerous if I want to.” He pressed his hand over hers, pinning it in place over his heart. “I’ve just tried really hard for a lot of years not to want to.”

  “But you want to now?” Her voice deepened. Softened.

  His pulse rushed in his ears. “I don’t want to. But I can if I’m forced to. That’s what I remembered today. Out there.”

  Apparently, he still had a little bit of those unforgiving hills left inside him after all. And that piece of Kentucky might be his best hope of getting out of River’s End alive.

  Nicki touched his face, her fingers sliding across the stubble of beard with a soft rasp. “Have I ever mentioned I have a soft spot for dangerous men?”

  “No.” He bent closer to her. “But I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  She rose to her toes, her mouth soft against his. Sweet as mountain honey, darkened by the razor edge of raw desire. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, molding her body against his until he felt utterly enveloped by her soft heat. He explored the sleek contours of her body, drawing a mental map of the endless possibilities of pleasure.

  With his fingers he traced the arch of her spine, sleeked along the dip of her waist and the sweeping curve of her hips. A soft hum of pleasure rumbled from her throat, and he kissed her there, along the taut tendon he found at the side of her neck, drowning in the scent of her, the silk of her.

  She threaded her fingers through his hair and dragged his face away, looking up at him with passion-drunk eyes. “As much as I want this—and believe me, I do—I don’t think we should.”

  He wanted to argue. Almost did. But the harsh crackle of the fire as a piece of burning log fell into the embers made his nerves jerk, a potent reminder that for all the trappings of security the cabin might offer, neither of them was truly safe. This night was, at best, a brief respite in the fight for their lives yet to come.

  And letting desire sweep them into mindless oblivion, however tempting a proposition, was pure folly.

  They couldn’t afford folly.

  “You take the bed tonight,” he suggested, moving a safe distance from where she remained, temptation incarnate, her desire-dark eyes and kiss-stung lips promising pleasures beyond imagination.

  “You’re still weak.”

  “No,” he assured her. “I’m not.”

  Her eyes flickered at the raspy tone of his voice. “Okay. Try to get some sleep.” She turned quickly and disappeared down the hall.

  He almost followed. He actually took a few steps toward the doorway before he stopped himself, turning instead toward the sofa. The pillow and blankets she’d used the night before were nowhere to be found, he realized. She must have put them up this morning when she rose.

  He found the bedding in the hall closet.

  One door down from the bedroom.

  He stared for a moment at the closed bedroom door, pressing the pillow and blankets tightly against his chest. He heard a whisper of movement beyond the door and pictured her readying herself for bed. Stripping out of her sweater and jeans, unfastening her bra to reve
al the ripe curves of her breasts. Berry tipped, he thought. As sweet and lush as her lips.

  He forced his feet to move back to the front room, nearly stumbling in his haste. He made up the sofa, stripped out of his sweatshirt and lay on his back on the sofa, gazing up at the play of light and shadows on the exposed beams of the ceiling.

  She needs your help, he reminded himself.

  And you need hers.

  * * *

  DALLAS WAS AVOIDING HER. Not that he could really get very far away from her in the small cabin, but he somehow conspired to be in a different room as often as possible.

  She aided his attempts at keeping his distance by taking double shifts at the diner for the next couple of days, partly to keep Trevor happy and partly in hopes of running into Del McClintock.

  If the head of the Virginia BRI had really made the decision to take her on as a medical caretaker, shouldn’t someone have approached her by now?

  When her second shift ended without any sign of Del or any of the BRI boys at the diner, she started to worry. Maybe they’d found something at the cabin to give them pause, though she couldn’t think what it could have been. She’d taken all of Dallas’s dirty clothes and discarded them in a Dumpster the next town over that first day when she’d gone into town to work the morning shift. The only other incriminating things Ray and Craig could have found were her notes from Quinn and Dallas Cole himself.

  What was the holdup?

  She parked behind the hardware store again after her evening shift and hiked up the mountain to the drop site, not really expecting a message this early. But the signal was in place. Agent X had left her a message.

  She retrieved the bundle of notes from the niche in the cave and scanned Quinn’s message with the penlight on her key chain. The message was a brief set of directions that led her to a fallen pine tree fifty yards to the north of the cave. Under a canopy of pine boughs, she found a large backpack stashed out of sight.

  Inside the pack was a new laptop computer and several pieces of equipment that she couldn’t readily identify.

  But Dallas Cole could, she was sure. He was the one who’d requested them.

  She trekked down the mountain with the pack on her back, careful once she was out in the open to make sure she wasn’t being watched. She stashed the backpack in the passenger floorboard and headed for the cabin.

  As she slowed for the stop at Miller’s Crossroads, a loud horn blared behind her. Checking her rearview mirror, she saw Del McClintock’s jacked-up Chevy Silverado idling behind her Jeep.

  Damn it. If he saw the backpack and started asking questions—

  The Silverado’s driver’s door opened and Del got out, heading for her Jeep.

  She put the Jeep in Park and got out to meet him. “You scared the hell out of me, Del McClintock!” She softened her words with a smile.

  He laughed. “I like to keep you on your toes, sugar!”

  “Where’ve you been? I’ve been hoping to see you at the diner.” She took another step closer to him, keeping him from getting too close to the Jeep. She touched the front of his jacket, fiddling with the zipper. “You don’t like my cooking?”

  “I love your cookin’, sugar. You know that.”

  “You been out of town?”

  “I had to go see somebody.”

  She flashed him a pouty look. “A girl?”

  “No. It was business.”

  Her pulse quickened. “Anything good?”

  “You might think so.” He tugged at a lock of her hair. “How would you like to get away from that diner for a while? Work somewhere else?”

  “Depends on where.” She slid her hands teasingly up to his shoulders, swallowing her revulsion.”

  “I told you about my friend who’s havin’ trouble keepin’ his diabetes under control, didn’t I?”

  “Right. You said he might need to go into the hospital for a while if he can’t get his blood sugar regulated.”

  “He refuses to go to the hospital. His daddy went to the hospital a few years back with nothin’ but a broken arm and died two days later. He won’t go near a hospital.”

  “If he can’t get his blood sugar under control, he’ll end up there no matter what he wants,” she warned, trying not to let her impatience show. Was he going to offer her the job or not?

  “That’s where you come in, sweetness.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She tried not to react, but a faint shudder rippled through her. She had gotten bad at this game. There’d been a time when she could play the role of dutiful girlfriend without even blinking.

  A lot had changed over the past few years. Herself included.

  “He needs a personal nurse, I’d guess you’d say.”

  “I’m not a nurse,” she said, hoping it wouldn’t change his mind.

  “You’re close enough. You know how to administer his medication, right? Monitor his condition. Cook the kinds of meals he needs to eat to keep his sugar under control. Right?”

  “I can do that,” she agreed, excitement and dread fighting for control over her emotions.

  “He wants to meet you. If he likes you, you’re hired.” Del grinned at her. “He pays really good, baby. And if you do a good job, he’s gonna remember I’m the one who recommended you.”

  “Is that important?”

  “It is.” He pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips against her ear. “Real important.”

  That almost sounded like a threat, she realized.

  She pulled back to look at him. “Then I’ll be sure to do a good job.”

  He kissed her lightly. “I knew you would, sugar.” He nodded at her idling Jeep. “You in a hurry to get home?”

  “I have the morning shift, and I’ve just worked a double shift today. I’m beat. Rain check?”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  “When do I interview with your friend?”

  He laughed softly. “Interview?”

  “It’s a job, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s a job.” His smile faded. “You doing a double shift tomorrow?”

  “No, I’m off at noon.”

  “I’ll see if I can set something up for later in the afternoon.” He kissed her again, this time a longer, slower caress that made her skin crawl. “Call you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be expecting it.” She pulled away from his embrace, flashed him a smile she hoped didn’t look as sick as she felt and hurried back to the Jeep.

  She hadn’t stopped shaking by the time she reached the cabin, but she did her best to present a calm front when she carried the backpack of computer equipment inside where she found Dallas pacing by the fireplace.

  He turned to look at her, his brow furrowed. “You’re nearly an hour late.”

  She set the backpack on the coffee table and faced him. “I didn’t know I was on a schedule,” she snapped.

  He shot her a disbelieving look. “You don’t think I have a right to be concerned if you don’t get back when I expect you to? Considering the kind of people you’re rubbing elbows with?”

  She wished elbows were all she’d rubbed with Del McClintock. She could still feel his hands on her back, his mouth on hers.

  She felt dirty.

  Dallas’s expression shifted, his annoyance melting into concern as he crossed to her side. He put his hand on her cheek. “Are you okay?”

  When he touched her, something inside her broke, and she flung herself into his arms, burying her hot face in the curve of his neck. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her close and murmuring nonsense against her temple.

  After a moment, he cradled her face between his hands and made her look at him. “Did something happen?”

  In answer, she rose to her toes and pressed her mouth against his, s
ilencing his questions.

  Chapter Ten

  She tastes like fear.

  The thought entered his overloaded brain and dug in its heels, refusing to budge, even as his body responded wildly to the feel of her slim, curvy body pressed intimately against his.

  Her tongue tangled with his and all he could taste was the acid bite of fear. Her hands tugged the hem of his sweatshirt upward and slid along the flat planes of his abdomen, and he felt only the tremble of dread in her fingers.

  He caught her hands and pulled away, gazing down into her too-bright eyes. “What happened?”

  Her gaze dropped to his chest. “So much.”

  He led her over to the crackling fire, sat her in one of the chairs and crouched in front of her. “Start at the beginning. Why are you so late getting home?”

  “I checked the dead drop and found Agent X had left me directions to that.” She waved her hand at the backpack she’d set on the coffee table.

  “Agent X?” he asked as he crossed to the backpack.

  She shot him a sheepish smile. “That’s what I call him. I don’t know his real name. I don’t even know what he looks like.”

  He unzipped the main compartment. Inside, he found a laptop computer and accessories that matched the inventory of items he’d requested to the letter. “Quinn got his hands on this stuff very fast.”

  “That’s Quinn,” she said faintly.

  He left the computer equipment where it sat, ignoring the itch to set it up and get started. Computer equipment hadn’t sent unflappable Nicki Jamison into an anxiety attack. He crouched in front of her once more, ignoring the aches in his knees and back. “Why do I get the feeling that’s not all that happened?”

  “Because it’s not,” she admitted. “After I got the equipment, Del McClintock flagged me down at Miller’s Crossroads.”

  The unease wriggling in Dallas’s gut intensified. “Did he see the backpack?”

  She shook her head. “I got out to meet him so he wouldn’t see it.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I may have an interview tomorrow.”

  “An interview?”