by Paula Graves
He frowned at her bleak tone. “Were you able to do something for her?”
“I kept her from going into shock. I kept her calm. But a uterine hemorrhage is beyond my ability to stop outside of a hospital.” She examined her arms again and apparently found them satisfactory. She wiped them dry on a hand towel hanging nearby and turned to look at him. “This isn’t about me or this case. That son of a bitch knew she was pregnant. He got her that way, and then he took it from her.” Her lips were trembling, and her jaw was tight with rage.
“I take it this isn’t your first time dealing with them?”
“I’ve been trying to help some of the women.” She pushed past him into the hall, then through to her bedroom. “Sometimes I think it’s a lost cause. Nobody respects them as valuable human beings. Not even themselves.” She opened one of her dresser drawers and pulled out a change of clothes. “Some of them barely know how to read or write. Some are hooked on meth or heroin. They have babies who are born with drug habits.”
“Poverty is brutal.”
“It’s not just poverty. It’s these people. These sick, violent, power-hungry bastards called the Blue Ridge Infantry.” She slammed the dresser drawer shut, making the mirror rattle against the wall. “I’ve known people in militias before. Some of them honestly wanted to be prepared to defend themselves in the case of some sort of foreign invasion. Some were just idiots with guns looking for a reason to play soldier. But the BRI is different. They’re criminals who try to excuse their crimes under the guise of patriotism. They make me sick.”
“Tell me what I can do,” he said quietly.
She stopped in the middle of picking up her clothes and looked at him, as if startled by his tone. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“I’m not talking about the BRI. I’m talking about you. What can I do for you?”
Her lips trembled, and she shook her head. “I’m okay.”
He didn’t believe her. When she reached for the clothes again, he caught her hand and tugged her to him, wrapping his arms around her.
She resisted a moment. “You’ll get blood on your clothes.”
He didn’t let her go. “It’ll wash out.”
She relaxed against him, resting her temple against his chin. Her breath was warm on his collarbone. “I don’t know if this will affect their plans for me. I hope it won’t, but I may have to work at this a little longer, regain some of their trust.”
“Because you tried to help one of their women?”
“Because I called paramedics for help. They really don’t want to get any sort of authorities involved. And the paramedics called the sheriff’s department.”
“Which means the big bad bully has to answer to the law?”
“Also not a good thing.”
“Did you lie to the deputies?”
Her voice came out low and tight. “No. I told them everything I knew about the things that bastard has done to Kaylie since I’ve been in River’s End. Maybe I shouldn’t have played it that way, but—”
“Good for you. Being undercover shouldn’t have to mean selling your soul.” He cradled her face between his hands. “Go take a shower. I’ll make sure everything’s secure for the night.”
He took his time, making sure the cabin was locked up tight while she showered off the rest of the blood. As he was looking around, he scouted a new place to keep his computer equipment, since tonight’s surprise visit had made it clear that the front room was far too exposed to be a good choice.
Besides the front room, the small cabin had four other rooms—the bathroom, the kitchen, Nicki’s bedroom and a tiny room that she seemed to use as a storage area. He was still looking around the small room, gauging its utility as a computer room, when Nicki came out of the shower and found him there.
She’d changed into a pair of slim-fitting yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, her feet encased in a thick pair of socks and her wet hair turbaned in a towel. “What are you looking for?”
He told her. “I think we could stack a few boxes in the corner there and make room for some sort of desk here near the window. It should allow for decent cell phone reception, which I’ll need for the internet.”
“Del said he’d try to set up an interview for me later in the afternoon. He’ll call to let me know. But I think that’ll give me time to pick up a desk at the thrift store in Abingdon before the interview.” She looked him over with a bemused half smile. “I could pick up some clothing for you, too.”
He looked down at his mismatched, borrowed clothes. “That would be welcome,” he admitted. “But are you sure you’ll have time?”
“I’ll make time,” she said firmly. “I’ll need you to feed me information once I get deeper into the operation, so it’s in my best interest to get your computer set up and working.”
“Are they going to expect you to give up your cabin?”
“I’m sure I’ll be moving in with the patient to give him twenty-four-hour care.”
“So people will expect the place to be empty.” He frowned.
“It’s so far off the beaten track, I’m not sure there’d be anyone around to notice if it’s occupied,” she said. “Not that it matters. I rent the place, anyway, so if I leave, they’ll just figure someone else rented it.”
“What about your landlord? Won’t he or she ask questions?”
She smiled. “My landlord is Alexander Quinn, actually. Though this place can’t be traced back to him easily. So you can remain here to do your computer magic while I’m gone.”
His gut twisted a little. Gone seemed such a final word. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Her brow furrowed. “Your staying here?”
“No. Your going there.”
“Oh.” Her smile faded. “I don’t know if I’d call it a good idea, no. But it’s necessary. And I’m in the best position to do it.”
“Assuming what happened tonight doesn’t change their plans.”
She nodded. “Assuming that.”
“You look tired. You should get some sleep. I’ll go fetch the computer stuff I left in the cellar. I think there might be an old table down there I can use until you have a chance to pick up a desk at the thrift store.” He started past her, then stopped, touching her cheek with his fingertips. “I hope your friend is okay. When will you find out?”
“I don’t know. Probably when I get to work in the morning. Small town. News travels fast.” She touched his hand where it lay against her cheek, giving it a light squeeze. “Thank you. I’m not sure what I’d have done if you hadn’t been here tonight.”
“You’d have done exactly what you did,” he said with certainty. There was a reason a man like Alexander Quinn chose Nicki Jamison to take on the job of getting inside the Blue Ridge Infantry when none of his male operatives had been able to pull it off.
And it wasn’t just her pretty face or killer curves.
Impulsively, he kissed her forehead, his lips smoothing over the furrows he felt forming there. “Good night.” He left the room while he still could and headed down to the cellar to gather his computer equipment.
By the time he’d carried everything up to the spare room, including the battered wood worktable he planned to use as a desk, Nicki had disappeared into her bedroom and closed the door. Taking care not to make a lot of noise that might wake her, Dallas set up the equipment again and got to work making a to-do list of things he wanted to accomplish with his newly regained access to the internet.
He had started a cursory search for information about Del McClintock before Nicki’s nightmare had interrupted him. He hadn’t gotten very far, though he’d found a promising entry in a list of Virginia National Guard members involved in a counterdrug program. A Delbert McClintock had been part of the program in southwestern Virginia.
He made a note to look de
eper the next day. But he had another priority at the moment.
His own access to the FBI’s network would have been cut off by now, but he knew where the back doors were in the system. If he played his cards right, took care not to leave a footprint, there was a chance he could sneak all the way to the top of the food chain.
Well, almost the top. Assistant Director Philip Crandall hadn’t made it to the top spot yet.
But taking down an assistant director would take more than the word of a disgraced FBI support staffer.
Dallas needed proof. Hard evidence that Crandall had an agenda that had nothing to do with bringing the Blue Ridge Infantry to justice.
And time was running out.
* * *
DEL MCCLINTOCK HADN’T called Nicki by the time she finished her morning shift at the diner. In fact, none of the BRI boys showed up at the diner at all, a fact that made Nicki more nervous than she liked to admit.
But news of Kaylie Pickett’s misfortune was already making the rounds on the River’s End grapevine. Descriptions of her condition varied from critical to stable, but everyone agreed that Keith Pickett had caused her injury and Nicki had saved her life.
“You’re a hero,” Bella told her in a hushed tone, her eyes wide with admiration that made Nicki feel a little uncomfortable. “I heard she was bleeding to death and you stopped it.”
“I just called an ambulance and kept her warm and as calm as I could,” Nicki said, trying to cut off any further discussion. The last thing she wanted to be was the center of attention. It was a sure way to put a target on her back. “It’s too bad about the baby.”
“Oh. You didn’t hear?” Bella lowered her voice. “She didn’t lose the baby.”
Nicki stared at her. “That’s not possible.”
“I heard the doctor said the same thing. But that little fella was still hanging in there last I heard.”
Bella must have heard wrong, Nicki thought. She’d seen the amount of blood, the condition Kaylie had been in by the time the ambulance arrived. The grapevine must have this part wrong.
But, as it turned out, Nicki was wrong. The diner phone rang shortly before eleven, as she was helping Bella and Trevor clean up after most of the breakfast crowd had cleared out but before the lunch crowd started to wander in. Trevor went to answer it and came back with a frown on his face. He looked pointedly at Nicki. “Del McClintock. Wants to talk to you.”
She went very still, her pulse suddenly pounding in her ears. Forcing her feet into motion, she walked back to the break room and picked up the phone. “Hi, Del.”
“I hear tell you’re a hero.”
She glanced at Trevor, who had followed her down the hall and stood in the doorway, watching her with a troubled expression. Turning her back, she lowered her voice. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”
“You saved Kaylie Pickett and her baby. That’s pretty big, I’d say.”
“So the baby really did make it.”
“He did.”
“It’s a boy?”
“That’s what Kaylie said the doctor told her. Says she’s going to name him Nick. After you.”
To her surprise and mortification, hot tears welled in her eyes. She pushed them away with her knuckles. “Tough little fellow. I never would’ve thought he’d make it.”
“Kaylie’s gotta be real careful for the next couple of months. But the doctor thinks she’s got a real good chance of that baby comin’ out just fine.”
“Amazing.”
“That’s what I said when I told my friend about what you’d done.” Del sounded satisfied. “He was very impressed. In fact, I think the word he used for you was ‘gutsy.’”
“I’m surprised you and your buddies aren’t slamming me for telling the law what Keith did to Kaylie.”
Del’s tone was dismissive. “Keith’s an idiot. And a brute. Not everybody thinks women are punchin’ bags, you know.”
“Enough do.”
“We’re workin’ on that,” Del said.
Nicki knew better than to believe him. She’d heard the way he talked to—and about—women when he didn’t know she was listening. He was putting on an act for her because he needed her as much as she needed him.
She was as much his “in” with the top guy as he was hers, she suspected.
“He wants to meet you, but he can’t do it today. How about tomorrow?”
She suppressed a sigh of frustration. Waiting another day wouldn’t kill her, but patience wasn’t one of her virtues. “Okay. Tomorrow’s great. Any particular time?”
“What’s your work schedule?”
“I’m off Fridays.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up around eleven and we’ll go meet your new employer.”
“Don’t jump the gun,” she said, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt. “He may hate me.”
“Impossible, sugar.”
“Listen, why don’t we just meet at the diner so you don’t have to come all the way out to my place?” The last thing she could afford was Del finding out she had Dallas Cole stashed at her cabin.
“If you want.” Del lowered his voice, as if he didn’t want to be heard on his end of the line. “I have tonight free. Want to drive into Abingdon with me for dinner?”
She frowned. Del had never asked her out on a formal date before. “I’ve let my cabin get in terrible shape this week, so I really need to stay home and clean. Maybe tomorrow after we talk to your friend? Maybe we can make it a celebration.”
“It will be.”
“It’s a date,” she said with as much warmth as she could muster. She hung up and turned around to see Trevor still watching her.
“What?” she asked Trevor.
“Del McClintock isn’t a nice guy.”
“Maybe I’m not lookin’ for a nice guy.”
“Nicki—”
“I know what I’m doing, Trevor.” She met his gaze without flinching. “I know exactly what I’m doing.” She untied her apron and tossed it in the laundry bin near the break room door. “I’ll come in early Saturday, but I’m leavin’ for today.” She walked out past him, her head held high.
Outside, the day was mild, with plenty of warm sunshine to drive away the slight morning chill. Spring would be here soon. She had a feeling it would be a pretty season in this part of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It always had been one of her favorite times of year back home in the Tennessee Smokies.
She slid behind the wheel of the Jeep and pulled out her cell phone. Calling information, she got the number of the hospital in Abingdon and called to see if Kaylie was still a patient there. To Nicki’s surprise, she’d already been released.
She’d drop by later to check on her, she decided. But first, she needed to make a run to the thrift store in Abingdon.
An hour later, she had a bag full of used clothes for Dallas, but she’d had no luck finding a desk. The worktable would have to do a little while longer, she supposed.
Before she’d left that morning, she and Dallas had worked out a knock signal. Three sharp raps meant everything was okay. If she entered without knocking, he was to bug out as fast as he could.
She parked in front of the cabin and climbed the stairs, giving three sharp raps on the door before she entered. She half expected to hear the clatter of the laptop keyboard coming from down the hall, so the silent stillness that greeted her caught her off guard.
The storage room was empty, though Dallas’s computer setup was still there, out in the open. She continued to the kitchen, where she found him sitting at the table, reading what looked like a letter.
He looked up when she entered, waving for her to sit at the table with him.
She put the bag of clothes in the empty chair next to him. “Got you a few clothes, but I didn’t
find a desk yet.”
“Thanks.” He flashed her a strained smile that quickly faded. “How was your shift?”
“The usual,” she said. “Del called before I left.”
“Is the meeting with your potential patient still on?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.” She nodded at the letter. “What’s that?”
“A message from your boss. I found it on the hard drive when I got in there and started looking around. He was kind enough to include a small printer in the setup, so I printed it out.” He handed it to her.
She scanned the note quickly, recognizing Quinn’s terse tone. She reached the end and read it again, her gut tightening. “This is crazy.”
Dallas nodded, looking grim. “I know.”
“This Michelle Matsumara—she was your boss at the FBI, right?”
“Right.” His voice came out low and strangled.
“And now they think you killed her?”
He looked up, tears in his eyes. “Maybe I did.”
Chapter Twelve
“You didn’t kill her.”
Dallas looked up at Nicki as she rose from her chair, flattened her palms against the table and leaned over him, her expression fierce. Not for the first time, she reminded him of some sort of fabled warrior princess, her eyes flashing blue fire and her jaw squared with determination.
He was lucky she was an ally, not an enemy.
“I didn’t mean it literally.” He slumped back against the chair and regarded her, acutely aware that by coming here, he may have put her in Philip Crandall’s crosshairs, as well. “But she was killed because of me. Because of the choices I made.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Don’t I?”
“Have you even looked for the story online? Or did you read that note from Quinn and immediately start beating yourself up?”
He glared at her. “I looked it up.”
“What happened to her?”
“The police have been tight-lipped, but the speculation is that she surprised an intruder.”
“Maybe that’s really what happened.”
“There’s a reason the police are looking for me for questioning. Don’t you think?” He pushed up from his chair and paced to the window, gazing out past the curtains at the small backyard. Sunlight dappled the ground, filtering through evergreens that towered over the small cabin. The day looked mild, the first mild day in a week.
