by Angi Morgan
She was at her breaking point. A breaking point for Jane was only indicated by the slight rise in the pitch of her voice and the fact that she moved her arms while she spoke instead of hugging her middle.
“Keep it together, Janie. You can’t lose it now.”
Mothers in Jane’s situation usually ranted. Not her. Or they shut down completely. But not his Janie. She tapped her foot as if she’d lost patience with him. She nervously nibbled on a fingernail until she noticed and then tucked her fingers in her front jeans pockets.
He was so proud of her for not losing it. For keeping everything together no matter how much he thought she should cave. Then he took a close look at the way she held her stomach—as if it hurt. A closer look at her face showed the stress in the taut lines around her eyes. The dark circles revealed more than a lack of sleep.
“I can tell you’re shaken up. The first time you’re caught in cross fire is a little hard on the nerves.” He tried to divert the conversation away from Rory. They hadn’t made much progress this afternoon, but he didn’t want to verbalize that thought.
But then she didn’t have to. No matter what her words indicated, she was thinking about her son. He waited until her eyes finally made direct contact with his and she stopped. Then like the Titanic hitting an iceberg, she sank.
Reaching out, he caught her around the waist and gently tugged her into his arms. Couldn’t she let him in for a minute? Her heart beat as erratically as his own. And God, even after running and perspiring in fear, she smelled wonderful.
“It’s okay, Janie.” He smoothed her windblown curls. “We won’t stop till we find Rory. Not ever.”
Each word was a promise he meant to keep.
One resolute sniff and she pushed her stiff body back, totally under control again. He wanted to keep her wrapped against his chest. Wanted to shelter her from everything they were going through. He should tell her how he felt. Then maybe she’d open up and share some of those bottled emotions with him.
Instead, he shoved his hair back off his forehead, and repositioned his Stetson. The war with his conscience continued. Should they try this Jane’s way? Or should he do what made sense to him—get a team working on obtaining the information they needed?
“Before you go any further, Steve, there’s something you need to know about Rory’s father.”
“What?”
Rhodes knocked twice and came inside. Steve didn’t enjoy the smile on his friend’s face nor the interruption. Jane curled her arms around her stomach again and stared out the window.
“Hey, finally got a place for you to lie low tonight.” He held up a bag. “I also have tacos.”
Chapter Ten
The junkyard was the perfect ending to a terrible day. Jane shivered at the thought of what lived in the deepest, hidden parts of the old cars piled three or five high. The excessive humidity from the July afternoon had continued to build into a dank night. She swatted mosquitoes buzzing around her ears while picking her way along the path.
It was eleven-thirty, the clouds had gathered and the heavens were about to open up. The rain that had been their enemy at the lake was about to catch up with them again. Dark clouds were blowing their way, yet the air around them didn’t seem to be moving at all.
“It’s a camper. This is where we’re staying?” she asked Rhodes. His nod verified her fear.
“A friend of mine uses this place. He’ll crash at my pad tonight,” the DEA agent said.
Was it a homeless person? Oh, God. She couldn’t let her thoughts stray to Rory growing up…without parents, without love.
The derelict camper sat on tireless rims amidst rusting dishwashers, car parts and other discarded items. There was a three-foot dirt path around its edge and a tattered awning over the doorway.
A steel pole wedged in the middle of a large wooden spool covered in fast-food wrappers and crushed soda cans held up one side of the awning. The opposite was tied to junk on the far side of the path. A folding chair held together with more duct tape than original strap sat next to the door. She couldn’t sit in that.
“I’ll go get my laptop and wifi card from storage. The trailer is much better equipped than my company-issued apartment.” He shook Steve’s hand and headed up the path. “It’ll take me a couple of hours to get back. Be safe.”
“He’s not taking his truck?”
“I talked him into leaving it here in case of an emergency.” He jingled the keys, then shoved them in his front pocket.
The truck’s engine smelled liked burning oil. In the confined space Rhodes’s friend had carved out for his home, the odor overwhelmed all other possible foul aromas.
Jane set the bags down on the worn indoor-outdoor carpet that covered the dirt like a patio. Steve kept looking down the path after Rhodes.
“I might associate with a DEA undercover, but I’m still a bit paranoid. I need to check out where we are.” He, too, disappeared into the cavern of precariously stacked junk.
Jane stood her ground and waited. The past few hours had become a steady blur of running and hiding. Desperation, fright and longing for Rory built inside her, crippling her thought process.
Not knowing what would come next was beginning to take a toll on her, too. She loved a well-ordered life and laboratory. Depended on it. The monotonous repetition of experiments kept her from thinking too much.
Sitting in the truck next to Steve, her mind had neared a meltdown. Or her body. Maybe both.
Or it might be the constant ache to tell Steve the truth about his son. Was it too late? How would he react? Whatever his reaction, he deserved to know the truth. It was easier not to assume how he’d react. But none of this tragedy had been easy.
Think of what needs to be done. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head. Take it step-by-step. Logical progression by logical progression.
Scooping up the bags, she entered the camper. She would make use of her time alone by reading the computer manuals they’d purchased. Then she’d be prepared to hack into the Maryland state records and track the person who forged the death certificate.
It might not be the person trying to frame her, but there should be some kind of a trail. Right? Wasn’t there always a trail in the movies?
They needed to accomplish something toward finding Rory. Anything.
She wouldn’t let herself doubt that they would find him. She had to believe Steve when he promised they wouldn’t stop searching. They could do this. She had to believe in them both.
Okay, Jane, you’re getting maudlin here. Get busy.
There wasn’t much room in the travel trailer and she didn’t see any bathroom. She turned the sink’s tap, hoping for a drink, but rusty water barely trickled out so she quickly turned it off. There was a small table under the full-size, fold-down bed. They could rotate who slept—if they were here long enough to sleep.
Thank goodness she didn’t have to share another bed with Steve. It didn’t matter how big or small, she’d end up close, warm and completely enclosed in his arms. Now wasn’t the time to mend fences. Nor imagine his hands moving up and down the length of her body. But it certainly didn’t stop her from longing for it.
Or craving it like a sex-starved jailbird. Or a single mother who hadn’t managed any level of intimacy since he’d ended the best six weeks of her life.
She had to act as if it didn’t bother her. She tried to convince herself it didn’t as she lifted the bed up into its travel position.
But each time it was harder and harder to pull free from Steve’s arms. Harder and harder to pretend to be strong. To stand on her own. Even before the kidnapping had brought Steve back into her life. She’d wanted to move her research to Dallas. Because she didn’t want to be strong, emotionless and…alone?
Providing a stable life for her gifted son would require more than she could offer by herself. Her emotions had nothing to do with the logical choice of returning to where Rory’s family lived.
The heavy manual made a thud on
the table. There didn’t seem to be any electricity in the trailer, but there was a battery-operated lantern. She opened the curtain behind her to let the light from a security lamp filter in, too, then turned the pages and burned another book into her memory.
She flipped the last page and closed her eyes, retrieving the volume from a shelf in her mind and opening the pages referring to system vulnerabilities, routers and packets. It was all there. Stuck away forever in a brain she feared would explode one day.
“Hey, that seat taken?” Steve asked as he slid onto the bench across from her. “I waited until you were finished…reading. That seems a strange word for what you do.”
“I didn’t hear you come inside.” Her breath hitched when Steve squeezed his long legs into the tiny space under the table. The room seemed to get even smaller. “I think I can get the information we need.”
“I never doubted it.” He tipped his hat back off his forehead with one lean finger. It was a shot straight from any Western. His white teeth practically sparkled when the light caught them just right.
Think, think, think. Hacking…cracking…computers…
“There are always system vulnerabilities, and if you know how to exploit them, it’s a breeze. You have to hit all the access points. The Internet goes through a lot of routers and machines—”
“Jane,” he said, turning her monosyllabic name into a song. “I believe you, honey.”
Good grief. Everything about him made her heart jump up and down. He didn’t have to add an endearment. The sparkle of fun in his eyes made her breath catch again. His inviting grin was out of place for their situation. They should be thinking about Rory and only Rory.
Maybe he would if you told him he was Rory’s father.
“I’d like to get started as soon as possible.” She attempted to be all business. Working together was a temporary arrangement until they got Rory back. That was all. “Will Rhodes really be gone two hours?”
“He’s on foot and has to make it across town.”
Steve adjusted his legs under the cramped table so they no longer touched Jane. Her nerves were so tightly strung he could pluck them from across the room. And touching him only made her shift in her seat more. He shifted, too, but not because he wanted less of her body near him.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
That was the question of the century. “What isn’t wrong?”
“I’m a big girl. I think I can handle it.”
“I think Hayden’s our guy.” That was genius. Just blurt it out. Just say her best friend wants her dead. “You’re delusional.”
“Hear me out.” He reached for her hands, but she quickly moved them into her lap. So he covered his movement by leaning forward over the table and linking his fingers together. “You contact him and a couple of hours later two goons show up trying to kill us.”
“He couldn’t possibly know goons like those men.”
“They picked us up right after your call from the hotel.” His voice treated Hayden like a suspect, making certain Jane knew. “I bet you told him we were headed to a mall, didn’t you?”
Yes, she had. Her eyes couldn’t hide the truth from him. Hayden was their guy. He needed to call his team.
“I don’t believe you. Hayden wouldn’t do that.” She forced books back in her bag, stuffing them on the bench seat with her, then stood without touching anything. She looked like a brand-new colt ready to run to the hills at the slightest whisper.
“I want you to pull his bank records and see if there’s been any unusual activity.” If she could actually do that. If she could even locate what bank he used. There were so many small states up there, he might work in Maryland and live somewhere else.
“I’ll do it, but it’s not him.” She straightened the edges of the bags. “I can’t just sit here.”
“We need to wait. Rhodes is a good guy. He’ll be back with what you need.”
She walked out anyway. Just as he reached the torn awning, the rain came down in sheets. Not a heavy drizzle or light rain. No, it was the flash flood kind of downpour this part of Texas was famous for. Steve couldn’t see ten feet in front of him.
“Great. Wonderful.” Jane dashed past him back into the trailer. “I need to find Rory and I’m stuck doing nothing.” Not a we, just an I.
She slammed her hand on the counter. He watched from outside on the makeshift porch even though water dripped on his shoulder. As much as he wanted to believe Jane could find the information they needed, he knew his team could find it faster.
He’d tried to think of a way to tell her, to ease her into the idea. But nothing came to mind. He was the straight-shooting guy on the team, the one who didn’t pull any punches. He left the sensitivity classes to his partners. He wasn’t much good at relationships. Never had been.
Except…yeah, except maybe when he’d met her. It didn’t seem that either of them could do any wrong that go round. This time it didn’t seem fate would let anything happen right.
So he might as well hit her with the rest of his plan. He stayed outside the camper, getting wetter by the second. He spanned the doorway, filling the opening.
“I need to call Stubblefield,” he said, trying not to plead like a groveling male who was wrong.
She spun around and stomped her foot, shaking the trailer. God, he was glad she didn’t have a gun or it might have been blazing.
“No. Absolutely not.” Her foot stomped the dirty linoleum again, her hands waved as if she was trying to shake something off and her voice trembled. “You can’t contact the FBI.”
“Selena Stubblefield helped us. Remember? They have access to information…and can get it easily. They can verify, if they haven’t already, that Rory’s alive and work to get him back. Don’t you see? We need them and their resources. We can’t do this on our own.”
Inhaling a deep breath and slowly releasing it through her nose, she regained control of her actions. But he saw the resentment in her blue eyes.
Lightning flashed behind her and for a split second he could see her as a vengeful Valkyrie come to chop off his head. Her words echoed in the midst of the following thunder.
“I’ve given everything that’s happened a lot of thought, too, Mr. FBI-aholic. I only know one thing for certain. Every time the FBI gets closer to me…I’m pushed further from my son.”
Steve fell to the ground flat on his butt when Jane pushed his chest and ran from the camper into the rain.
“You’re killing me,” he mumbled to himself because she was completely out of sight.
They weren’t secure here. Rain or no rain, he wasn’t about to let her run around alone. He scrambled to his feet and followed her out into the downpour. Just around the first curve in the path she was stopped with her back to him.
“You ready to come back inside?” he roared over the noise of rain hitting the metal junk around them.
“Go away.”
“I’m one of the good guys, remember?” He gently turned her to face him. It was crazy to be standing here in the rain discussing anything. “No matter what you might think right now.”
Man, she looked good. No makeup, her hair plastered to her scalp, every part of her sopping wet and dripping. She didn’t need to dress up to impress him. Shoot, she didn’t need to dress at all. He could remember every inch of her body, wanting every inch of her body, loving every inch of her body. One look at her and he craved her more.
He missed their conversations. The long ones they had walking casually down by the pond. Or the short ones right before they couldn’t stand it anymore and ripped their clothes off. He’d never connected with someone like that before.
Yep, she was great.
A simple description of the most complex human being he’d ever met.
After what she’d been through, he could wait in the rain if that was what she really wanted. Maybe she just needed to be away from him. No way that was going to happen. He was sticking to her side like permanent bond glue.
“Come on.” He interlocked his fingers with hers. When she didn’t pull away, he led her down the path and hurried to their shelter.
“Don’t call the Bureau, Steve,” she said the moment they stepped through the door. Her lips quivered and her body shook.
Warmth. She needed warmth. The stress must be taking its toll on her. Wouldn’t she understand why he needed to call when she was more in control of herself? He tossed his hat into the sink to drip dry, then went in search of a towel or blanket. He banged cabinet doors open and closed, finding one after another practically empty.
“Cap’n Crunch. Pop-Tarts. And a box of condoms.” He slammed the last door shut not wanting to physically react to the sexy memories that just shot through his brain.
The small upright cupboard that served for a closet had some clothes tossed on the floor. He shoved his wet hair back from his face. “Guess laundry day hasn’t happened in a while.”
Jane stared into space, unsmiling, her hands rubbing her arms in an attempt to get warm. He could see the goose bumps from three feet away. Her vacant look started to worry him, so he pulled the outside door closed and locked it.
“Strip. Get out of those wet clothes before you… Shoot, I don’t know. Are you going into shock, Dr. Palmer?” He pulled the curtain by the table.
“N-no.”
“There’s not one stupid thing in here that will dry you off.” Dumping the clothes they’d bought that morning onto the cracked-vinyl seat, he picked up his extra shirt and began tousling her hair.
“Stop, you’re going to break my neck.”
“Then you do it.”
While her hands were busy on top of her head, Steve bent down in the close space and removed her tennis shoes, tossing them to the opposite end of the camper.
