by LENA DIAZ,
She just wished that didn’t bother her so much.
He chose that moment to come out of the bedroom. He had an armload of files, and when he plopped them on the table she saw that he’d thought to include a couple of legal pads and pens.
She was about to thank him when he held up his hand to stop her.
“I’m not discussing anything with you except these files and our plan for listening in on tonight’s Council meeting.”
“Suits me.” Because, really, what did it matter? It wasn’t like she needed to learn everything about him. Why worry about his past if they didn’t have a future?
He gave her a curious look. “Did something happen while I was in the bedroom?”
“Nope.” She checked her watch. “When does this dinner party start? I don’t remember Sebastian mentioning a time.”
“He didn’t. I figure as long as we’re there by five, even if it’s an early dinner, we’ll be in position with plenty of time to spare.”
“I agree. No respectable dinner party starts before six, and most start later.”
“Five it is. Let’s look at these first.” He plopped a file folder in front of her.
She flipped it open, surprised to see headshots of men and women, with names typed beneath them. “What is this? Wait, I know some of these people. They work at EXIT.”
“It’s from the surveillance I performed. I wanted to catalog as many employees of EXIT as I could, or regular visitors. Since we want to figure out the Watcher’s identity, I thought maybe you could look these over and tell me if any of them are usually out of town but have been back for several months. Their return might have made sense, but looking at it in terms of someone being chosen by the Council to keep an eye on your father, maybe you can look at them with fresh eyes.”
“Makes sense.” She pointed at a dark-haired man with a mustache on the first page, halfway down. “I can tell you right off that he fits your description—Ethan Garcia. He’s a tour guide, and he’s always, for years, worked tours out of the country as his main gig. But late last fall, he requested to work out of the Boulder office, said he needed a break from all that travel. We didn’t really need him locally, not during our off-season, but he’s been a loyal employee for years, so I gave him an office and put him to work planning future tours. He’s there every day.”
Jace snapped a picture of Garcia’s headshot with his phone. “All right. Anyone else?”
She pointed out two more candidates for the Watcher role, with similar stories to Garcia’s, then closed the folder. “That’s it. Not sure how helpful that was.”
He shrugged. “You never know. Let’s go through these binders now.”
Two hours later, they’d gone through every binder, except the Hightower one, and all of the surveillance files that Jace had—noticeably minus a file specifically on her. She assumed he didn’t want her to get upset if she saw what all he’d seen in those two months. And he was right. She’d rather not know. But in spite of all of their hard work reading the reports, throwing out theories, brainstorming, they were no closer to figuring out anything that seemed remotely helpful. They certainly hadn’t found whatever Jace was hoping to find, judging by how disgusted he looked. And they weren’t any closer to knowing the identity of either ski-mask guy or the Watcher.
Melissa rubbed her shoulders, which were starting to ache and bunch up from leaning over the table for so long. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this investigation stuff. I’d much rather pore over financial reports all day long than spend even five more minutes doing this.”
Jace scrubbed his face with his hands. “I was sure there’d be something useful in those files on the Council. If something doesn’t shake loose tonight, we might need to plan another trip to your father’s hidden office.”
“No way. Forget it. That place creeped me out, and we almost got caught. I’m not going back in that dungeon.”
“Now, Mel. It wasn’t that bad.”
She crossed her arms.
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. We’ll discuss it later. I’ll grab what we’ll need for tonight’s little operation.”
“There’s nothing else to discuss. I’m not going back inside that hidden office, ever,” she called to him.
He held a hand up in the air. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He went into the bedroom.
Impossible. The man was absolutely impossible. She plopped down in a chair and stared at the stacks of binders, sorted into piles, and the legal pads with all of their notes.
Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, her gaze went to the one binder they hadn’t reviewed. The one that said Hightower on the spine.
She glanced down the hall, then back at the binder. She’d promised she’d look at it later. That she’d focus on planning tonight’s surveillance. Well the plan was in place. And it was definitely later. She drummed her nails on the table.
She wanted to know the truth. And Jace had certainly proven that he wasn’t the one she could count on to tell her that. So, what, exactly, was she waiting for?
She grabbed the binder and pulled it toward her.
JACE SET THE duffel bag on the bed and double-checked everything. Receivers for the listening devices. Extra ammo. Binoculars. A first-aid kit an ER would be jealous of because, hey, always be prepared. He smiled at that, remembering Melissa quoting the Boy Scout motto. He tossed in a few bottles of water and some energy bars, zipped the bag closed, and headed to the kitchen. As soon as he saw Melissa, he knew he’d made a mistake. He should have taken that damn Hightower binder and hidden it. Or better yet, destroyed it.
Her eyes were red, and the binder lay closed on the table in front of her. But she wasn’t crying, at least, not anymore. She looked composed and at peace.
Crouching beside her chair, he set the bag on the floor and took her hands in his. “Are you all right?”
“My father ordered the murder of a man I was dating. And that started a domino effect, resulting in the deaths of both of his parents. Are you sure you want to ask me if I’m all right?”
He winced. “Yeah. Poor choice of words. I guess what I meant is can I do anything to help?”
“Yes. You can stop treating me like I’m fragile. I’m strong. I’ll get through this. If you think about it, I’ve had months to prepare. It’s not like I didn’t wonder every time I added a picture to my boards, every time I drew a red line. I just . . . I really, really hoped you were wrong about everything.” She pushed his hands down and stood. “If we’re going to make it to my father’s by five, we should probably go.”
She headed to the door. Jace swung the duffel over his shoulder and grabbed her before she could open it.
“Hold it.”
Her brows drew together. “What?”
He wanted to erase the haunted look in her eyes, the barely concealed pain that had tension lines at the corners of her mouth and drew her skin taut across her cheekbones. He didn’t want her to be afraid, or hurt, or to have the realization that her father—the one person in the world she should be able to trust and rely on—was the one person who was responsible for all of her pain. But he could do none of that. So instead, he decided to do the only thing he could do. He would tease her and try to make her smile, and maybe, just maybe, he could take away the hurt for a little while.
“You forgot one thing,” he said, affecting a serious look.
“I did?” She looked back toward the table. “What did I forget?”
“It’s customary to send a warrior off to battle with a kiss.”
She looked back at him, her brows arching up in surprise and confusion. “You’re a warrior now? Going into battle?”
He nodded.
“But I’m going with you. I’m not sending you off to fight for me.”
“Okay. Well, in that case. Maybe I should kiss you instead.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her—thoroughly, completely, until she was moaning in his arms. Or that might have been him. He wasn’t sure. He jus
t knew if he didn’t stop right this second, he was going to drag her down the hallway and make love to her for the rest of the night, EXIT and the world be damned.
He broke the kiss, forcing himself to let her go and step back.
She blinked up at him, her eyes unfocused, glazed.
Damn. Now he just wanted to kiss her again. He reached for her.
She backed up, holding out her hands. “No, stop. I mean . . .” She shook her head. “Holy cow. Wow. But, we can’t . . . we have to . . .” She drew a shaky breath. “We have to go.”
He grinned. “Holy cow? Is that good or bad?”
“Good. Oh, it’s good. Definitely good.” She smoothed her jeans. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Now it was his turn to glance around the room. “I don’t think so. Everything we need’s in the duffel.”
“Including my derringer?” She held out her hand.
The determined look on her face told him it would be pointless to argue, even if he’d wanted to, which he didn’t. It made sense for her to have a gun, so she could protect herself if something happened to him. He just hadn’t thought of it earlier because, well, he’d never protected someone before who was determined to help with their own protection.
He gave her the gun, and ammo to go with it this time.
After loading it, she shoved the derringer in her jeans pocket. The gun was so small he wouldn’t have known it was there if he hadn’t seen her put it there. But small or not, it was a deadly weapon.
She reached for the doorknob.
“Let me make sure it’s clear first.” He gently pushed her back and cracked the door, scanning everything around them. “All right. Let’s go.”
Chapter Fifteen
Melissa clutched the armrest as Jace steered around another sharp curve. They were on the same twisty road she’d been on when the van had forced her into the ditch, a road she usually tried to avoid. There were so many curves and desolate sections where only narrow shoulders and low guardrails stood between a careless driver and a deadly plunge off the side of the mountain. And it was particularly dangerous during the winter, like now.
Her fear of driving on this road and her desire to avoid it had directly influenced where she’d bought her house in relation to her work. And it was the sole reason that she only went to her father’s house about once a month to have dinner with him. Unfortunately, the only other way to get to her father’s would be to go around the mountain. She and Jace didn’t have time for that if they wanted to get into position well before the time when they were guessing that the Council meeting would begin.
“Melissa,” Jace said. “Smile and look at me.”
She turned and frowned. “Why?”
“That’s not a smile.”
“This road is scary. It’s snowing. And we’re going to be freezing our derrieres off soon, hiding in the woods by my father’s house. What do I have to smile about?”
His mouth quirked up. “You’ve got me there. If you can’t manage a smile, just promise me something. No matter what I say, keep looking at me. It’s important. Can you do that?”
“You’re making me nervous.”
“Promise me.”
“Okay, okay. I promise. What’s going on?”
He checked the mirrors. “Someone’s following us.”
The instinct to turn around and look behind them was almost impossible to fight, but she resisted the urge, only because he’d warned her. She pasted a smile on her face. “I’m guessing it’s not some random tourist taking the scenic route?”
“I don’t think so. He’s been following us since we left town, pulled behind us from a side street about the time we hit the city limits.”
“He?”
“If I’m not mistaken, it’s your father’s chef, Richard Keller.”
She laughed. “Richard? Trust me, he’s not following us. Not on purpose anyway. He’s probably running late and in a hurry to get to my father’s house. I can’t imagine Dad having a dinner party without his favorite chef. Wait, how do you know what kind of car he drives? Or what he looks like? Oh, wait, never mind. Because you performed surveillance on me. I really wish you hadn’t brought that up.” She shook her head. “Then again, I guess I’m the one who did.”
“Let me know if you actually want me to join in on this conversation we’re having.”
“What? Oh, sorry. Why do you think Richard is following us? Assuming that it is Richard.”
“Because when I slow down, he doesn’t try to pass me. He’s had plenty of opportunities, especially back on the straightaway before we began climbing into the mountain. He’s just keeping pace.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s a very careful driver, ridiculously so. That’s why he doesn’t pass us. Pull over.”
“Hell no. He could slam the bumper and send us crashing into a guardrail. I’m not willing to test whether it will hold.”
“Richard isn’t one of the bad guys. I doubt he even knows that this is your car or even who you are. Trust me. Pull over.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Tighten your seat belt.”
“Jace—”
“Now.”
She frowned at him and tightened her seat belt. “If you kill us, I swear I’ll come back and haunt you.”
“Won’t that be hard to do if I’m dead, too?”
“I’ll find a way. I’ll make your eternity a living hell. So don’t get us killed.”
“Well, gee. I was totally going to try to kill us before, but now that I’ve been warned, I’ll be more careful.”
“Jace?”
“Yes, Mel?”
“No one likes a smart-ass.”
He grinned. “You do. I know because when I kissed you in the greenhouse, you made sexy little noises in the back of your throat. And then you wrapped your legs around my smart ass and rubbed your—”
“Jace!”
He laughed and steered through the next curve onto another straight section of road before checking the mirrors again. “Here we go.” He stomped the accelerator.
Melissa let out a yelp as the car rocketed down the straightaway. She bit her lip to keep from crying out again, and had to close her eyes when he skidded around the next curve. A few more slips and slides, and he barreled down another straight section of the highway.
“Hold on,” he yelled over the roar of the engine.
“If I hold on any tighter, I’ll shred your armrest.”
“Well don’t do that. Do you know how hard it is to find parts for this car?”
She hurled a few inventive curses at him and held on as tightly as she could as he skidded around another curve. His grin had her glaring at him. “Please tell me you are not enjoying this!”
“I’m not enjoying this.”
“Liar.”
He laughed again, then suddenly slowed, throwing her against her seat belt.
“Sorry,” he called out. “Here we go.”
“Here we go . . . where?”
He jerked the steering wheel, making a hard right into one of the few picnic areas this little mountain road boasted. He slammed the brakes, skidded in a 180-degree turn, and jerked the car to a stop, facing back toward the highway under the shelter of some trees. He immediately killed the engine and relaxed back in his seat as if they hadn’t just run the Daytona 500 through a twisty, winding mountain road in the dead of winter. In the snow. And she was pretty sure there had been some ice.
A bird had the audacity to chirp somewhere outside her window.
Melissa gulped in huge lungfuls of air as she tried to calm her racing heart.
Fifty yards away, almost hidden by some scraggly bushes and evergreen pines, was the opening to the park and a view of the highway they’d just left.
A few seconds later, Richard’s sleek, deep green BMW drove past. And shortly after that, an old black Mercedes drove by.
“Doesn’t anyone drive American anymore?” Jace grumbled.
“Excuse me?”
; “Nothing.” He started the engine. “You were probably right. Richard would have given chase if he was purposely following us. But at least we blew the cobwebs out of the cylinders. If we get in a real chase later on, we should be good to go.” He patted the dash.
She narrowed her eyes. “If you ever drive like that again with me in the car, I swear I’ll put another bullet hole in your paint job.”
He winced. “Duly noted.” He pulled back onto the highway toward her father’s.
She frowned at the light snow falling onto the windshield. “I hope you thought to pack a water-resistant blanket in the duffel bag, or we’re going to be miserable at my—”
Bam!
The car rocked wildly and spun around, tires screeching.
Melissa screamed and braced herself against the dash.
The car kept spinning, round and round, out of control. Jace fought the wheel, pumping the brakes. Melissa watched in horror as they veered toward a guardrail, and beyond that, empty space.
“The cliff! Oh my God! Jace!”
He swore and punched the gas. Then he jerked the steering wheel, sending them straight toward the railing.
“What are you doing?” she screamed.
“Hold on.” He wrestled the wheel. “Shit, shit, shit.” He stomped the accelerator and jerked the steering wheel the other way.
Whump! The car slammed sideways against the railing. Metal squeaked and bent. The car shuddered and rocked crazily.
We’re going over. Oh, God. We’re going over! She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to suppress a whimper.
A groaning noise sounded. Tires spun. The engine roared, and she was thrown back against the seat. She covered her face with her hands.
The car shuddered again, and everything went still. And silent.
“Melissa?”
Her breaths were coming so fast, she felt dizzy.
