Accidental Agent (River's End Ranch Book 3)

by Amelia C. Adams

  He tucked everything in the trunk, double-checked that the car was locked, and walked over to the café. This was going to be hard.

  Liz looked up from wiping down the counter when he walked in. “Oh, no. You’re wearing your agent clothes. What’s going on?”

  “Break on a case. I need to get back to LA effective immediately.”

  “Immediately? Like, right this minute?”

  “Like, I should be on my way to the airport right now.”

  “Ah. Well, there’s a small airport in Lewiston.” She paused. “Your car?”

  “Leaving it here. Gwen’s renting me a spot.”

  She gave a quick nod. “So, how are you getting to the airport?”

  “Hadn’t thought that far. Hitch a ride.”

  “No, I’ll take you.” She pulled off her apron and tossed it behind the counter. “Lindy, I need you to cover for me.”

  Lindy, their new hire, looked panic-stricken. “What? But . . .”

  “Tell Kelsi I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Liz grabbed her purse and was back in a flash, her pink uniform looking so cute and yet so old-fashioned and awkward. “Let’s go.”

  Jack strode out to Liz’s car and hopped in the passenger seat. “Trial by fire, eh?” he said, nodding toward the café.

  “Lindy? She’ll be fine. Kelsi only ran over to the bunkhouse to get some change—she’ll be back any minute.”

  “Will you get in trouble for taking me?”

  Liz didn’t take her eyes off the road as she pulled onto the highway leading to Lewiston. “I figure I’ll worry about that when I get back.”

  “Seriously. You might get in trouble for this. Why are you risking it?”

  She glanced at him and smiled. “Because I might never see you again, and in a case like that, I want my last memory of you to be a doozy. Remembering you climbing into a cab is so boring, but remembering taking off in the middle of my shift to drive you? That’s something worth daydreaming about when I’m ninety.”

  “So that’s what you think? That you’ll never see me again?”

  She didn’t answer for a minute as she changed lanes. “I’m not naïve, Jack. I know how life pulls people apart, and sometimes, they don’t come back together. If that’s how it is, then that’s how it is. I’m not going to waste time pining after something that can never be.”

  Something twisted in his gut at her words. “But what if it can be?”

  “Then it will be. We’ll see what destiny has to say about it, all right? In the meantime, if you’re supposed to be in LA, we’d better get you there.” She punched on the gas, and her car shot forward. “You have your badge on you, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. If we get pulled over, you’ll need to explain this is official business so I don’t get a ticket.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Liz concentrated on traffic. Okay, there wasn’t a lot of it, but it was something to keep her mind off the fact that Jack was leaving. She’d known this moment would come. She’d known it since he first arrived at the beginning of the week. Wow—had it really been less than a week? It had been, and the most fulfilling week she’d ever known. Saying good-bye was going to be really tough, but at least she had these last few minutes with him and this hadn’t been reduced to a “See ya” at the diner.

  “Like I said, I’m leaving my car here, so I’ll come back and get it as soon as I can,” Jack said. “I’ll just have to see how this case plays out. My boss thinks this is huge—that’s the only reason I’m leaving.”

  “I hope you’re able to get it wrapped up quickly and safely,” Liz said. Good grief—she sounded like someone’s maiden aunt. She didn’t know how to talk to him, though. Should she say “Break a leg” or “Bon voyage” or . . .? What was the correct sendoff when the guy you’d just met was leaving you to go into the thick of danger and possibly get himself killed? Jack hadn’t said as much, but Liz could imagine that whatever this case was, it wouldn’t be solved sitting behind a nice, safe desk.

  “I mean it. I’ll be back. I’ll pick up the car, and we’ll figure out whatever this is between us, all right?”

  Jack seemed intent on reassuring her. Well, she didn’t need that. She was a grown woman, and she could certainly handle herself without a pat on the head. “I’m fine, Jack. Just concentrate on your case—you have more important things to focus on right now.”

  “You sure?”

  She let out a little exasperated breath. “I don’t know what impression I’ve given you, but really, I’m fine. I’m not going to waste away, wondering about the good old days and naming every dog I ever own after you. You’re not the only guy to wander onto the ranch, and you certainly won’t be the last.” She didn’t know what made her tack on that last part. She was speaking out of pain, most likely, but she didn’t stop to analyze it. All she knew was that she sounded mean and spiteful, and she didn’t like that in herself.

  “All right, then. When I come back for the car, I’ll check in and say hi.”

  She didn’t reply. She didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make things worse.

  She pulled up to the terminal at the airport, and Jack hopped out. “No need to see me in,” he said. “I’ll be fine. You’re not my first ride to the airport, and I’m sure you won’t be my last.” And then he was gone.

  Ouch.

  She’d deserved that barb, but that didn’t take the sting out of it.

  ***

  Because of his badge, Jack was able to get a plane ticket pretty quickly and was on the next flight out of Idaho. They said something about changing planes somewhere—he wasn’t really listening because he was so distracted by remembering his parting shot at Liz. What on earth had gotten into him? He couldn’t believe he’d let his temper get the better of him that way. He’d been immature and purposely hurtful—two things she didn’t deserve.

  He scrunched down in his seat and stared out the window. He knew what was going on—he’d been prepared to lay it all on the line with her, stop by a jewelry store and buy her a ring on the way to the airport, give her a big romantic kiss, and make it official before he took off, but she’d treated his departure like it meant nothing to her, and that hurt. So he’d taken that hurt and thrown it back at her like a dorkface. That’s right—he’d become the very thing Jaclyn had warned him against.

  He growled, then glanced over at his seatmate, an older fellow who had dozed off and didn’t seem to have heard anything. Good—that would be kind of hard to explain.

  When the plane descended for their short layover in Seattle, Jack was able to pull up Internet on his phone, and he found a florist in Riston. He had to get this mended as quickly as possible—he had no idea if it was eating Liz up too or if she even cared, but he needed to do this for his own peace of mind.

  ***

  Liz: You know how you guys are always telling me I should write romance? Well, I now have even more proof that romance is the very last thing I should ever write. I’m terrible at it in real life—how could I be good at it on paper?

  May: Uh-oh. What happened?

  Liz: Jack got called back into FBI headquarters and had to leave immediately. I threw a hissy fit, so he threw a hissy fit right back at me, and I’ll probably never see him again.

  May: I’m so sorry.

  Liz: So now you see why I can’t write romance.

  Kaya: You don’t think we write romance because our own love lives are perfect, do you? It’s called having an imagination. Men in romance novels never have bad breath. Have you ever noticed that?

  May: And men in romance novels never fart. Ever. But real men do. And you know what—that’s okay because they’re real and we can love them for who they are. But don’t confuse romance in a romance novel with real love. Real love has warts. That’s just how it is. But you can count on real love in ways you never can a romance novel. I’ve seen that with lots of my friends, and it gives me hope.

  Kaya: And everyone throws hissy fits, and everyo
ne gets over them. Don’t count him out entirely, Liz. Wait and see what happens.

  Liz: I don’t like waiting.

  Kaya: Neither do most people. That’s how the cookie-dough-eating trend got started. And the dough tastes pretty good, but you’ve got to admit, the real cookie is a lot better. A tiny bit of patience goes a long way.

  May: Look at you, getting all philosophical.

  Kaya: Hey, I have a deep thought once in a while.

  May: Don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Liz was grateful when Sunday morning dawned—the diner wasn’t open on Sundays. It was a great chance to catch up on her sleep, which was especially needed because she’d hardly slept at all the night before.

  There was so much weighing on her mind. The contract, Jack, Jack, Jack . . . She rolled over and pressed her face into her pillow. Joni was at church, and that’s where Liz really ought to be too, but she’d known she’d never make it through the service on so little sleep. And now it wasn’t like she was sleeping anyway—her brain had decided to start churning, and she couldn’t make the stupid thing stop.

  He wouldn’t leave his car on the ranch forever. It was a nice car, and she was sure it had set him back quite a ways. He’d be back. Or maybe he’d send someone to get it. Oh, that would be bad—his one real reason for returning, and he wouldn’t even do it himself. The twerp.

  Or he’d come back, but he wouldn’t talk to her at all. He’d just show up, get in the car and drive off, and she’d only know he’d been there because the car would suddenly be gone. The dweeb.

  Or the car would be gone, but that’s because it was stolen, and when Jack came to get it, he’d be mad at them because they didn’t file a police report, but they didn’t file one because they thought he’d come back to get it without telling anyone (the jerk), and now the car was at a chop shop and he’d never see it again.

  This wasn’t helping at all.

  Liz climbed in the shower and stood under the hot water until it ran cold, then got out and put on her favorite sweats. They were old enough that they fit her body just right, but they were new enough that the fluff on the inside hadn’t turned to balls yet. Then she mixed up a box of macaroni and cheese and settled in to watch an old movie, an afghan draped across her lap.

  “Oh, no. Macaroni and cheese, huh?” Joni closed the door behind her and took off her heels. “That bad?”

  “The worst. My imagination’s doing horrible things right now, and sleeping in definitely didn’t happen.”

  Joni grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter and plopped down on the couch. “So, what are you going to do?”

  “I scanned the contract and sent it over to May and Kaya. They’re reading it over, and they’ve promised to give me their thoughts tomorrow. One of them has a lawyer friend, and I should know what I want to do pretty soon. As far as Jack goes, well, we’ll see.”

  Joni tossed her banana peel toward the garbage, and it actually went in. Liz couldn’t aim that well. “And in the meantime?”

  “And in the meantime, I’ll just imagine that he’s been killed or that he’s being held prisoner or that he’s met a super-gorgeous girl agent and they’re off having marvelous adventures together and that he’s forgotten all about me.”

  “That sounds like a pretty miserable way to live.”

  “I agree, but I don’t know how to shut off my brain. Believe me, if I knew how, I would.”

  Joni looked thoughtful. “Maybe you just need to feed it different messages. Every time you think, ‘Jack has been killed,’ think, ‘Jack is sitting behind his desk, doing paperwork.’”

  “Jack hasn’t been mauled by gorillas—he’s doing his laundry,” Liz replied.

  “Jack isn’t running off with a leggy blonde spy—he’s organizing his tie collection. Now, see? Isn’t that better?”

  “I guess, but if all he’s doing is paperwork and laundry and organizing his ties and he still hasn’t called me, then what?”

  “Then maybe he dropped his phone in the washing machine and he’s got it in a bucket of rice, waiting for it to dry out.” Joni stood up and put her hand on Liz’s shoulder as she walked past. “And if he still doesn’t call, he wasn’t good enough for you anyway.”

  Liz covered her face with her afghan. Apparently, she was so awesome and amazing and wonderful that no man ever born was good enough for her, and that’s why she was still single.

  ***

  Special Agent in Charge Rick Holden studied Jack’s face. “How are you holding up, Saunders?”

  “I’m all right, sir. I’m ready to get back to work.”

  Agent Holden nodded. “When Dr. Nearing did your workup after the shooting, he said he believed you’d be all right after a break. I’m sorry it wasn’t longer.”

  “That’s all right, sir. I hiked and rode a horse and had some excellent meals. I believe it did the trick. Now, tell me what’s going on with del Gato—I’d like to get busy.”

  Agent Holden nodded once and picked up a folder that rested on his desk. That was one thing Jack particularly liked about the man—he cared about the welfare of his agents, but he didn’t belabor the point. When he’d first been assigned here from Salt Lake City, Jack thought he might be too soft for the job, but his doubts had quickly been squashed, and now Jack trusted him more than any boss he’d ever had.

  “One of del Gato’s men was picked up on a drug trafficking charge, his third, and he decided to plea bargain,” Holden said. “We’ve got him in deep lockdown for his own protection and also in case he tries to escape. Thing is, del Gato has to know we have him, and he’s going to try to clear out before we can get in there. We’ve had surveillance on a warehouse downtown for the last twenty-four hours, watching for any sign. Nothing. Not one muscle has even twitched.”

  “You sure this man isn’t lying?”

  “Of course we’re not sure, but this is the best tip we’ve had for months, and I figured that since you’ve been on this case so long, you’d want in.”

  “Absolutely. I’d like to go join the surveillance team immediately.”

  Holden slid the folder across the desk. “Address is there on top. Enter from the west side of the building—we’ve rented office space facing the warehouse on the east. Parker and Nelson are already there.”

  Jack nodded once and began walking toward the door.

  “Saunders.”

  “Sir?” He paused.

  “Glad you’re back.”

  “Me too, sir.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Joni stuck her head in the kitchen. “Liz, someone’s up front to see you.”

  Liz’s heart gave a thump, and she plopped the sack of coffee she was carrying on the counter and headed up front, wishing she looked at all cute in her uniform. She was disappointed when she entered the dining room and didn’t see Jack anywhere, but she did see a delivery guy holding a huge bouquet of flowers.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get these sooner, ma’am,” he said, “but the order came after we were closed, and we got them here as fast as we could.”

  “No, that’s all right. Thank you.”

  He gave her a nod and left, and she stood in the middle of the diner holding a giant bouquet of every sort of flower she could even imagine in a riot of color.

  “So, who are they from, as if I need to ask?” Joni came up beside her and took the flowers out of her arms. “Let’s put them back behind the counter where they won’t get trampled before the end of your shift.”

  “Good idea.” Liz relinquished her grip, but she grabbed the card before Joni carried the arrangement out of reach. Her fingers shook as she opened it.

  I was way out of line, and you deserve so much more. Please call me at eight tonight, if you can. Jack

  His number was scribbled at the bottom of the card, but wait—what did “tonight” mean? When had he placed the order, exactly? He left Saturday, and it was Monday now . . . was she supposed to have called Saturday
or Sunday? What if he thought she’d blown him off and wasn’t going to call him at all?

  She glanced at the clock. It was only ten. That meant another ten hours would go by before eight, and he must have a reason for choosing that time—maybe that’s when he got home from the office. Or maybe he specifically meant eight o’clock just for that night . . . whatever night it was . . . and she could call him any time. Or maybe he’d given up on her and wouldn’t want to take her call.

  “Are you all right?” Joni asked.

  “What time is Lindy coming in?”

  “She’s not. She’s off today. We’re closing, remember?”

  That’s right. And they closed at two, meaning that they still had four hours, and that meant four hours until she could call this number.

  Torture! Sheer torture!

  As frustrating as that was, though, it was a huge burden lifted to know that Jack was thinking about her and wanted to talk to her. The flowers were a nice bonus, too. And they were in a nice vase, one she could keep and not one of those cheap plastic things that she’d have to throw out as soon as the flowers died. Or she could throw it across the room and shatter it if she ever got mad at him again. Hmmm. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.

  It was going to be a long four hours.

  ***

  Jack rolled out of his sleeping bag and joined Parker at the window, where they had set up a camera with a telephoto lens and trained it on the warehouse. Another set of agents had taken up positions on the opposite side of the warehouse, so between them both, they should have the place pretty well covered.

  “Anything?”

  “Not a thing.”

  Jack nodded. “Get some sleep. I’ll take over.”

  Parker stumbled off and plopped on his own bedroll, and within seconds, the soft sound of his breathing was the only noise Jack heard.