by Penny McCall
“Why would I jump?”
“Gee, I don’t know, because someone was shooting at you?”
“You’ve got good ears,” Tag said. And a good brain, the kind that read between the lines instead of taking a story at face value.
“Well?” she said. “Why the gun, why the plane, and why did you get tossed out?”
“It’s better for both of us if I don’t answer those questions.”
“Ignorance is bliss?”
“Something like that.”
“Funny,” Alex said, “it feels a lot like I’m the only one who’s ignorant and you’re the only one it benefits.”
“I can’t help that,” Tag said. Even if he’d been a hundred percent sure she could be trusted, FBI protocol had to be followed. He was undercover; he couldn’t break cover unless absolutely necessary, and he couldn’t tell her the truth without breaking cover. Lying wasn’t an option, either. He didn’t know enough about her yet to feed her a believable story. “If I told you what was going on you wouldn’t believe me anyway. All you’d have to go on is my word, and you’ve made it clear that’s not good enough.”
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again, and he knew he had her.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get some rest.” Tag let his eyes drift shut, but he could feel her watching him. Skeptically. It pissed him off. “I fell out of a plane, remember?”
“Yeah. I was there. You dropped thirty-five feet, forty at most, into the equivalent of a twenty-inch-thick feather mattress. Not the softest landing, but you survived it. You weren’t even hurt except for some bruises. If you’re going to complain about something, maybe you should try crabbing about the fact that they came back and shot the place up, just in case the fall didn’t kill you. Of course, you dodged that bullet, too. Literally.”
“Wait, what?” Tag reared up, fighting his way past the stab of pain in his head. “They came back?”
“And shot at you.” Alex folded one leg under her backside and sat at the foot of the bed. “You don’t remember that part because you’d already fainted.”
“Passed out,” he corrected her. “I’m lucky my brains aren’t permanently scrambled.”
“You’re lucky there was a couple of feet of snow this late in the season, although it almost got me killed. I don’t think they cared if they hit me, as long as they got you.”
Tag didn’t say anything, busy looking at the situation in a whole new light. Unfortunately, the new light didn’t provide any additional illumination. All it did was create shadows, and every one of the shadows was a complication that was going to take time to work through.
He wasn’t in this position by accident. Okay, being tied up in Alex’s bed wasn’t exactly intentional, but he’d been dropped on her purposely, to gain her sympathy. That’s what the guys in the plane had told him, right before they’d shot at him to convince him jumping was actually the smart option.
He figured the second round of shooting was for Alex’s sake, but if that was the case she was being severely underestimated. She’d saved him, but she didn’t trust him, and no amount of gunfire was going to change that. Not that he was jumping on the trust bandwagon, either; her being evasive about her past wasn’t exactly giving him the warm fuzzies.
So far he’d been able to figure out she was from Boston, but that only sparked all kinds of new questions. Harder questions, ones only she could answer, and she was clearly not in a talkative mood. Ever.
He looked at Alex and found the same kind of speculation in her gaze that must be on his face. And the same wariness.
“They who?” she said.
He rolled his eyes, instantly regretting it. “You were shot at and you still want to know what’s going on? Jesus, what’ll it take to get through to you?”
“It’s not like they’re coming back any time soon. They can’t land a plane here. Maybe a helicopter, but they won’t risk that, seeing as it’s almost nightfall. And they can’t come by land, not without someone to guide them. I’m not exactly listed on the maps.”
“So we have some breathing room. Not that you need breathing room. You’ll be safe once I’m gone.” He fed her the lie with an absolutely straight face. Of course she didn’t buy it.
“First,” she said, “even if you had suitable clothing and the first clue how to get to safety, you’re not in any shape to leave. Second, they tried to kill me once, just because I was in the way. I don’t think they’re going to be too happy that I rescued you. In fact, I imagine they consider me a problem, and they appear to be the kind of people who find permanent solutions to their problems.”
Tag shut his eyes and lay back, really tired this time, exhausted by the day’s events and the ramifications of the fix he’d gotten himself into.
The mattress jiggled as she stood. Thank God she’d finally taken the hint because he couldn’t think anymore, and she wasn’t the kind of woman he should be talking to without the benefit of forethought. And then he felt her slip the ropes around his wrists and realized forethought had deserted him some time ago. She’d been sitting within reach for the last ten minutes. Sure the rifle was right there, but even with a killer headache and a sore… everything, he could have gotten to her before she got to it. Before she got it pointed at him, at any rate.
“You’re cutting off the circulation,” Tag said as she tightened the ropes. “Do you really have to do that?”
“Yes.” She tied the knot off and tucked the ends of the rope between his wrists for good measure. “Unless you can convince me there’s no reason for it.”
He heaved a sigh. “I feel like I’ve landed in a Stephen King novel. There’s not a typewriter around here, is there?”
She gave a slight laugh. “Fiction isn’t going to get you out of those ropes, but you might try the truth.”
“I’m not a threat to you,” Tag said. “They were shooting at me, remember?”
“That doesn’t prove anything. Maybe they were FBI agents and you’re an escaped criminal.”
“They’re not FBI. They’re not law enforcement of any kind.”
“If they’re not good guys, they’re bad guys, and you knew that when you got mixed up with them.”
“They didn’t exactly give me a choice.”
She thought about that for a minute, those wintry eyes steady on his face and searching. Then she shook her head. “You’re not the kind of man who gets caught up in circumstances beyond his control.”
“You sure about that, or is it just that you’re the kind of woman who sees every man through a filter of bitterness?”
That eyebrow inched up again, but the mouth wasn’t reflecting humor. The mouth trembled, just a bit, before she pressed her lips together. Worse, he could see the doubt in her eyes. Before he could identify what he was feeling as guilt, get past the shock, and decide what to do about it, she bounced back.
“Good try, Svengali,” she said. “And thanks for convincing me I’m right. You knew exactly what type of people you were hooking up with, which tells me you’re an ends-justify-the-means kind of guy. You ought to be more careful who you jump into bed with.”
“Climb in here and give me a chance to improve my record.”
She smiled then, for the first time, and Tag shook off the feeling he’d seen her somewhere before. The smile took her face to pretty, even if what that smile said about him wasn’t.
“The only thing I want from you is your absence,” she said. “And since I don’t trust you enough to let you loose, I guess I’ll have to take care of that myself.”
Chapter Three
ALEX PUT THE GUN DOWN NEXT TO A TABLE SET under the single window by the door, and unhooked a radio microphone.
“Now what are you up to?” Tag wanted to know.
“Talking to you turned out to be a waste of time. That doesn’t mean the questions went away.” She held up the microphone, gave him a minute.
He just smiled at her, eyes sparkling, handsome as sin, looking so sincere
she wouldn’t have been surprised to see his eyetooth glint.
If he hadn’t been shot at by questionable associates, fallen out of an airplane, and pointed a gun at her, she’d believe any sob story he dished up. And wasn’t that pathetic, considering she’d almost married the biggest con man this side of Pluto?
“MLR1 to Casteel Base,” she said, shoving her ex-fiancé back into the dungeon of her brain, where he was eternally tortured for his sins. Tag Donovan she was keeping right where she could see him.
“MLR1, this is Casteel Base. Hey Alex,” Matt Harrison said. “How’s the wood holding up? I was worried about you with the snow.”
“Has he actually met you?” Tag muttered.
She ignored him. “Everything’s fine, Matt. How’s the best sheriff this side of the Mississippi?” This time she slid a glance Tag’s way. A smug glance.
He still looked like he could have cared less, but she knew he was thinking crap, the guy on the other end of the radio is the local cop.
“Great, now that I get to talk to you,” Matt said, and her smirk turned into a heavy sigh.
They’d had a casual romance during the second summer of her four years in Colorado. She was still trying to convince Matt it was over.
“Listen,” she said, “there’s a man here, says his name’s Tag Donovan.”
“A man?” She could all but see Matt jumping to his feet, a scowl on his honest, square face, his protective instincts going into overdrive. “How the hell did a man get there?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“He fell out of a plane.” And before Matt could pepper her with questions, she told him the rest. He was predictably stuffy about it. And insulting.
Judging from the way he bit off each individual word, she suspected he might be angry, too. “You shouldn’t have gone anywhere near him.”
Nope, not angry, she concluded. Pissed off. “It’s not every day a man drops out of a plane,” she pointed out.
“So you’re saying you were curious?”
“Isn’t there some saying about curiosity and cats?” Tag asked, grinning.
“Mostly I figured there was a good chance he was dead so I didn’t have anything to lose,” Alex replied to Matt. Her response to Tag was visual.
“And when he wasn’t dead, you felt compelled to save his life?” Matt asked.
“Would you have done differently?”
“I’m not a woman living alone with help a day away.”
Alex took a second, the rage in Matt’s voice making her rethink any objection to his macho attitude. “He’s tied up.”
“In her bed,” Tag yelled.
“Do you want to die today?” she hissed at him.
“A day away, remember? He can’t kill me until tomorrow. And he won’t kill me anyway, he’s a cop.”
“He’s not above beating the crap out of you. And I imagine there’d be something I had to do outside when he got here.”
“You’re a cold, mean woman.”
“And proud of it.”
“Alex?” Matt said. “I’m sorry. Over.”
“No you’re not.” But at least he was calm enough to observe radio protocol.
“I’m sorry I got mad. But you should have called me before you went anywhere near that guy.”
“If you’re done criticizing, maybe you could check him out,” she said to Matt. “He might not be the mass murderer you think he is.”
“I’ll do more than check him out. I’ll take him off your hands.”
“You won’t be able to do that until tomorrow,” Alex said. “In the meantime, run him and see what’s what, okay? Over.”
Matt asked for Tag’s name again, and Alex repeated it.
“Spelled just like it sounds,” Tag said, adding after she signed off, “he has a crush on you.”
“Worried?”
“Grateful. I figure that means he’ll get back to you right away, and once you learn I’m not a threat you can untie me.”
“Let me know if he does,” Alex said, and set to layering on snow gear, starting with wool socks, quilted pants, and a down vest.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“You’re going to leave me here all alone? Trussed up like a Christmas turkey?”
“If the rope fits,” she said with a half smile. “I have to go take care of Jackass before it gets full dark.”
“I’m afraid to ask. But whatever Jackass is, I’m willing to bet it’s male.”
“Jackass is my horse.”
Tag caught the affection that crossed her face, no more than a flicker, and realized he was learning to read her. It went a long way toward restoring his confidence.
“I put him in the stable, but he needs to be fed and rubbed down, and there’s nobody else to do it.”
“Why do you live all the way out here, anyway?” he asked. “Besides your complete disdain for other human beings.”
“Now I’m supposed to get all defensive, right? Prove you wrong by untying you?”
“Not yet, but that was the ultimate goal.”
“Well, gosh, I’d love to accommodate you, but my complete disdain for other human beings is too strong. Not to mention the fact that you’re keeping secrets.”
“You haven’t exactly answered my questions. Why a cabin in the middle of nowhere?”
Alex took off the hiking boots she was wearing and tugged on a pair of heavier ones, then stood and went to the row of pegs by the door. “I’m out here on a grant to study mountain lions.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Only to the cats,” she said, taking a shearling coat off one of the pegs and shrugging into it. “The farmers and ranchers will kill them off, given half a chance, because the lions go after their livestock.”
She pulled a knit hat over her hair, winding the long ends scarflike around her neck. “See how I don’t have any trouble telling you what I’m doing because it’s the truth?”
That was the mistake most people made, Tag knew, thinking that telling the truth was the right thing to do when it was a hell of a lot smarter to keep your mouth shut. There were people out there who could twist the most harmless scrap of information into a weapon. He’d learned that the hard way.
Alex picked up her rifle, slung it over her shoulder, hesitated for a second, then clipped the satellite phone to her belt. “Rest up, Irish,” she said. “When I get back I’ll see if I can whip up something more appetizing than oatmeal. I’m leaving the dinner conversation to you. Make it interesting.”
———
ALEX BUSTLED AROUND THE CORRAL, DOING HER EVE chores the same way, in the same order she’d done them every night for the last four years. It felt good, comforting, considering the rest of her life had taken a sharp left turn from normal. Okay, more like she’d gone a whole planet away from normal. Things couldn’t be weirder if she’d been beamed up by aliens.
Sad to say, the weirdest part of all was having a man in her bed. A man who was tied up and naked, except for his boxers, and leaving him those had been more of a struggle than she cared to admit. And, all right, she’d peeked. Once she’d gotten an eyeful of the muscles he’d been hiding under his preppy clothes it had been too tempting not to lift the waistband of his silk boxers and see if the rest him lived up to the advertising.
Her mouth went dry and her pulse spiked just remembering. Normally she would have felt a little slutty about that, but considering the circumstances she only felt stupid.
So what if Tag Donovan was movie-star handsome, action star buff, and porn star… Nope, not going there.
He’d fallen out of a plane, she reminded herself. He’d pointed a gun at her when she’d tried to rescue him, and withheld information that, at the very least, she probably needed to know in order to protect herself. He was too charming, too slick for her taste.
And yet she was smiling. She would have thunked her head against the wall—several times—but app
arently her brains were already scrambled enough. What she’d been through would have turned Pollyanna into a pessimist, but not Alex Scott. No, she still wanted to see the best in people.
She had a feeling the best of Tag Donovan would be spectacular. As long as a woman didn’t believe it was real. Or that it would last.
There was no chance of that in her case. The only thing she wanted was to see the last of him.
But suppose he was telling the truth? Suppose her ignorance was for her own protection? She found it hard to buy, but was that cynicism or a gut feeling? Either way it was a possibility she had to consider.
She needed to find out what he was up to before he left. Her life might depend on it—and yeah, she was curious, too. Who wouldn’t wonder why some random guy fell out of a plane after being shot at? Who wouldn’t want to know why the shooters had come back and tried to finish the job? And if they’d be looking for her after Donovan was long gone?
He hadn’t told her anything, but that wouldn’t matter to them. It mattered to her.
“I don’t like being kept in the dark,” she said to Jackass. “And look at what he put you through. Standing out here in the cold without being rubbed down. And after we rescued him. Some people have no sense of gratitude.”
Jackass rolled his eyes and nickered, which could have meant anything from “we’re both in the dark”—it being nighttime and horses being literal creatures—to “I’m hungry.” She had to admit the latter was more plausible, since he fell on the oats she ladled out like he was starving to death.
She knew how he felt.
Her dinner, unfortunately, would have to wait because the minute she opened her front door an arm shot through and dragged her inside by the coat front. Her Winchester was pulled out of her hand and she was shoved, stumbling, into the cabin. Tag Donovan, dressed in his own rumpled and half-damp clothing, his pistol in his waistband, shut the door and stood between her and it.
“You always talk to your horse?”
She raised an eyebrow, which was easier than it should have been with a gun in her face and panic spiking through her bloodstream. Then again, the gun wasn’t in her face, exactly. It wasn’t even aimed at her.
