The Quiet Seduction

by Dixie Browning

  But that was another story, and right now time was at a premium. When he’d been knocked off course by that twister, he had already gathered most of the evidence needed to put a crimp in the mob’s activities for the next ten to twenty years. On the verge of documenting the last piece of the puzzle to turn it over to the FBI, fate in the form of the weather had intervened.

  Ellen opened her mouth to ask a question—he had offered her only the sketchiest of explanations. He couldn’t afford to tell her any more, even if he’d had the time.

  “Now listen, I want you to call your father and—”

  “My father? No way. Absolutely not!” She plopped down onto the chair across the table, then jumped up again.

  His patience already badly frayed, Spence tried again. “Ellen, I’m not asking you to go hat in hand, begging for favors. You said before that you’d never do that, and I can appreciate your feelings, but for Pete’s sake— What I mean is—” He broke off and swore. “Oh, hell, just listen to me, all right? Now, you mentioned your father’s bodyguard.”

  “Driver.”

  “You said bodyguard.”

  “I exaggerated. Howard was hired as a driver, but he was an ex-policeman, so he sort of doubled as a bodyguard.”

  “All right, all right. The thing is, if your father’s the kind of man I think he is, you’ll be safe there. At least as safe as anywhere I can come up with on short notice. Even safe houses take some arranging, and under the circumstances we can’t even be sure their security hasn’t been compromised.”

  She was scared. She was trembling. She was also as stubborn as one of those locust fence posts he’d worn himself out wrestling into submission.

  “Ellen, time’s passing and we’ve got to come up with something. The sooner we get started, the better. My friend will locate a place, but it might not be what you’re used to. You’d be a whole lot better off with your father.”

  “I told you—”

  They were both on their feet by now. Spence, with a feeling of trouble closing in on him, practically shouted, “Damn it, I can’t just walk off and leave you and Pete here alone!”

  “We were alone before I dug you out of that ditch. We’ll be alone once you’re gone.” Her chin trembled when she spoke, and he forced himself to calm down. One thing he’d always been known for, even back in the days of his wild and reckless youth, was coolness under fire.

  “All right, then, we’ll just have to come up with something else. In a few minutes I should have some answers. Either you can go along with whatever arrangements have been made on your behalf or I roll you up in a rug, toss you into the back of the truck and haul you to—” He’d been about to say his apartment, but that would be the last place to stash her. The first place anyone would look. His ranch was out of the question for the same reason. “To the freight office and ship you off to your father C.O.D,” he finished, dangerously close to losing it again.

  Before she could return fire, the battle was interrupted by the arrival of reinforcements. Greatly relieved, Spence crossed to the windows, twitched aside the hopsack curtains and peered outside. Two dark SUVs pulled up into the shadow of the tractor shed. Ellen hurried to switch on the outside lights, her eyes round as saucers. “I have a shotgun,” she whispered.

  “Thanks, honey, but these are our guys. You can stand down now.”

  She looked at him as if she thought he’d lost his mind. All things considered, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, he admitted with a wry touch of irony.

  Ellen went to brush past him and, acting on impulse, he caught her in his arms and kissed her soundly before she could utter a single protest. “There,” he said, reeling slightly from the effect. Or maybe the effects of the past two weeks—the past few hours, in particular. “That’ll have to last us for the duration.”

  It was Spence who opened the door for the new arrivals. “If you guys ever want a career change, I’d recommend Nascar.”

  “I distinctly heard you say you were running out of time.”

  “You heard right. Look, there’s a lot to explain, but first I need to know…” And then he saw the men staring at Ellen.

  Well, hell, what man wouldn’t? He made the introductions quickly. “Ellen, this is Flynt Carson.” Spence indicated the tall, sandy-haired man with the unsmiling face. “And this is Tyler Murdoch. They’re both old friends. You can trust them with your life.” Unfortunately, it might come down to just that. “Guys, this is Ellen Wagner. Her son, Pete, is sleeping upstairs. Other than that, the place is empty.”

  Tyler, dark and ruggedly handsome, nodded and said, “Ma’am.” To Spence he said, “I recruited Jose and Donita. They’re up for it, they know horses and besides, they owe me a favor. Nita’s out there now looking over the stock while Jose checks out the perimeter.”

  Flynt glanced through the drawn draperies. “We’d better get a move on, folks. It’s starting to get light.”

  “Much traffic?” Spence wasn’t too concerned about a tail, as the whole thing had been set up so hurriedly. But then, he hadn’t stayed alive for thirty-five years by taking things for granted.

  “All clear. Be good if we can get out of here within the next twenty minutes, though.”

  Ellen looked from one speaker to the other, a dazed expression on her pale face. Spence couldn’t much blame her. She hadn’t asked for any of this, yet she’d been tossed into deep, shark-filled waters with no warning. This was the only life boat he had to offer and from the way she was looking at him, she didn’t quite trust it not to sink with all hands on board.

  “You sound like…like some kind of agents. Tell me you don’t smear black paint on your faces and jump out of airplanes.”

  “Nothing so glamorous, I’m afraid.” It was Spence who answered. “I’ll fill you in on their résumés when we have more time. Things are moving a little too fast right now. I want to get you and Pete away from here before we have any unexpected visitors.”

  “Spence, I told you—”

  “It’s just for the duration.”

  “I am not—underline that—not going home to my father. When and if I do, it won’t be when I need something from him.”

  Flynt looked at Ellen, then looked at Tyler and shrugged. Spence had no trouble interpreting the look. Our friend here is in more trouble than he let on.

  “Okay, message received,” he said to Ellen. “When and if you go back home, it’ll be on your own terms. Look, we’ve burnt up too much time arguing already, so you’re just going to have to accept whatever arrangements have been made. Do we have a deal?”

  Pride was something he could understand and even admire, but this was a hell of a time to have to skirt around a family feud. He turned to Tyler Murdoch. “What have you got lined up?”

  “Ever hear of Greasy Pond? It’s about ten miles east of town. No connection to any of us. Couple dozen fishing shacks. Old geezer who runs the place minds his own business. I did him a favor a few months ago. He says most of the shacks are empty now, so I put a hold on three together. I can have security moved in before we get there, if Ms. Wagner doesn’t mind roughing it for a few days.”

  “Ellen?”

  “Fine! Whatever! If I have to go, I’ll go. But I’m on record as not liking it, y’hear?”

  “Protest duly noted,” Spence said.

  “What about my horses? What about my house?”

  “The couple they brought in will take care of everything. You won’t be gone long. Give me a couple of days to set certain wheels in motion, and you’ll be back home before you know it.”

  Ellen’s face was pale, her eyes wide and wary. Spence knew what she was thinking, but damn it, there was no time for reassurances. Not the kind he wanted to make at any rate. And definitely not with an audience.

  “We’d better start moving, then.” It was the dark, rugged-looking Tyler who spoke, after signaling someone through the window. “Jose and Donita will look after things here, don’t worry about that. They’re both special age
nts, but they know horses.”

  “What kind of agents? They don’t know my horses.”

  Any other woman and Spence swore silently he’d have dumped her into a trunk, hauled her out and stashed her in the SUV for her own good. He was tempted, damned if he wasn’t. “Honey, let’s face it—neither do you. You’ve got some book learning, but not a whole lot of practical experience. Jose was born on a ranch. When he’s not on a mission for— Well, never mind that. Suffice it to say he’s spent years working with horses in one capacity or another. Donita barrel-raced her way to a state championship, so your stock will be in excellent hands. Besides, it’ll all be over in a few days.” I sincerely hope, he added silently.

  “This place you’re taking us…this Greasy Pond place? What will we do there? Where will you be? How will we know when it’s safe to come home?”

  Gently, Spence placed a finger over her lips. “Don’t worry about that right now, worry about how much you want to tell Pete while you’re packing enough to last for a few days. You’ve got five minutes. Go!”

  Ellen raked her hands through her hair, leaving it standing on end. With one bleak look, she went. Spence knew he hadn’t heard the last of it, not by a long shot. He was going to have a whale of a lot of explaining to do when this business was all over, but for now, at least she trusted him enough to follow his instructions. That womanly instinct thing again. God knows, it had to be something like that, because no woman in her right mind would swallow all he’d sprung on her in the past twenty-four hours.

  Ellen trudged upstairs. She refused to cry. Pete would be upset enough without her falling apart, too. Standing near the foot of the stairs, the three men conferred quietly. She tried to listen in, but they might as well be speaking in Swahili for all she could understand.

  “Is the kid going to be a problem?” Flynt murmured when the woman disappeared into one of the upstairs rooms.

  Spence shook his head. “Best-case scenario, he won’t even wake up. I can scoop him up in his blanket and carry him out to the car, and by the time he wakes, Ellen can hand him a fishing pole.”

  Flynt raised his eyebrows. “How old is this kid?”

  “Unfortunately, he’s too old, not to mention too smart, not to want some answers.”

  The words hadn’t left his mouth before a sleepy Pete Wagner, wearing a rumpled pair of pajamas, appeared at the head of the stairs. “My mom says we’re going somewhere.” It was an accusation.

  Spence waited until he was halfway up the stairs to answer. “Pete, something’s come up. Awhile ago I remembered who I am and where I was going, and right now, I need you and your mom to help me out.”

  He was getting nowhere, that much was obvious by the sullen look on the boy’s face. Funny, he’d never noticed it before, but Pete definitely had his mother’s jawline. “Just tell me one thing…do you trust me?”

  It took all of ten seconds—ten seconds they didn’t have to spare. Pete nodded. “Yeah…I guess. Yeah.”

  “Okay, then, go scoop up whatever you’ll need for the next few days and be down here in three minutes, you got that?”

  “Do I have to take my schoolbooks?”

  One of the men shook his head, the other one chuckled. Spence said, “Wouldn’t hurt to toss ’em in. Don’t forget to bring a few comic books, though, in case you get tired of fishing.”

  “Fishing?” Pete’s eyes widened.

  “Go, man! Two minutes and counting.”

  Ellen could hear Pete in his own room. Lord knew what he was packing. All his model planes, probably. She called softly from her room to his, “Don’t forget your sweater and slippers.”

  Spence had called their temporary lodgings a shack. Not a cabin or a cottage, but a shack. She hoped it had running water.

  Oh, Lord, what had she gotten herself involved in? She should have left the darn man where she’d found him instead of dragging him home with her.

  Pete came in and dropped his backpack and a stack of schoolbooks beside the door. “Mom, do I really have to take my schoolbooks? I don’t have room in my bag.”

  Quickly, she sorted through the stack, handed him two and said, “The others can wait. Did you bring another pair of shoes?”

  “My black boots are on the back porch. Why do we have to go? Won’t Miss Sara need us?”

  While she finished packing, Ellen answered the questions she could and postponed the ones she didn’t know the answers to. “Did you bring a change of underwear?”

  “The ones without holes that I got for my birthday. Is Spence going to stay with us?”

  Her hands stilled on the suitcase she was latching shut. “I don’t know. Hon, he’s probably got a lot to do now that he knows who he is and where he belongs.”

  And who belongs to him.

  Ellen watched as Pete digested the information. Then he said, “But what about Miss Sara? She might not know how to have a baby by herself.”

  Relieved at not having to explain Spence’s recovery, she said, “Moxie did just fine by herself. Miss Sara will come through like a champion—and this time, maybe we’ll get a little girl. Now, if you’re sure you’ve got everything you’ll need, we’d better go.”

  “’Kay.” He shrugged into his backpack and picked up the schoolbooks. “Mom, girl babies are called fillies.”

  Ellen took it as a good sign. At least he’d stopped asking unanswerable questions. She veered into the bathroom again on her way downstairs and grabbed her shampoo. She wasn’t sure what a fishing shack would offer in the way of amenities, but it couldn’t be much.

  It wasn’t much. Other than cane poles, spinning rods and two overflowing tackle boxes, the unpainted board-and-batten cabin offered a flyspecked, three-year-old calendar, some stained plastic dinnerware, a coffeepot and three cast-iron frying pans. The furniture could best be described as early utilitarian; a mixture of plastic and wooden porch furniture, for the most part, with a few yard-sale leftovers. Other than that, there were two bunk beds, a wood-burning stove, a two-burner gas range and a refrigerator that held one empty ice tray and three dead roaches.

  Spence had explained that if she needed anything at all—if she heard or saw anything that bothered her, she was to scream her head off, that help was only a few yards away.

  If he’d wanted to frighten her, that had done the job. Up until now everything had moved so quickly that she hadn’t had time to think about the situation in which she found herself. It had been Donita who had suggested she take along a couple of pillows, sheets and light blankets.

  Surprisingly enough, she’d instinctively liked the pair who’d been delegated to stay at the ranch. No sooner had they been introduced than Jose had tugged at his hat brim and headed back out to the barn to oversee Miss Sara’s lying-in. Donita, whose barrel-racing days must be far in the past judging by her well-rounded figure, had been given a quick tour of the house. Both, Ellen had noted with shock, wore small sidearms under lightweight twill jackets.

  “Don’t you worry about this place, ma’am. Your horses, they’ll be just fine. Jose’ll look after them like they were his own babies.”

  And with that, she had to be satisfied.

  The sun had risen in a blaze of glory shortly after they’d gotten under way, lending a further air of unreality to the whole crazy scenario. They had circled north of Mission Creek, with Spence driving Ellen and Pete in one SUV and the other two men following some distance back in the other.

  “You realize I’ll be without transportation?” Ellen had left the keys to both trucks with Jose and Donita.

  “You won’t be going anywhere, not without one of us,” Spence had told her. He’d fallen silent then. In the pink light of dawn, he’d looked tense, worried. After the first few attempts she had given up trying to communicate. Pete had fallen asleep in the back seat, and Ellen had leaned over and covered him with one of the two blankets she’d brought along.

  They had pulled up in front of a shack that looked as run down as all the others, including the ramshac
kle pier leading from the porch to the pond. Flynt and Tyler had pulled in right behind them, and two men emerged from the shacks on either side of the one she was expected to inhabit. Graying, nondescript men wearing baggy jeans and windbreakers, they’d been introduced as Beau and Melvin. Frick and Frack, she’d amended silently, knowing she would never be able to keep them apart in her mind.

  “They’re here if you need them. If they go fishing, it’ll be from the pier where they can keep an eye on things. If you need groceries, make a list. One of them will run into town.”

  That was it? she’d wanted to ask. After all we’ve been to each other?

  Oh, God, you’re pathetic, woman!

  The leave-taking had been public. A few feet away, Tyler kept glancing at his watch while Flynt conferred quietly with Frick and Frack. Spence, too, had obviously been chaffing at the bit to leave, and Ellen told herself that after being away from his friends for two weeks, it was perfectly understandable.

  But still she thought now, standing alone as she watched the sun glint off the forty-five acre pond, he could have taken her aside. He could have reached out and touched her face or her hand. He could have said he’d see her in a day or so. He could at least have said—

  “Mom, what do catfish eat?” Pete asked, interrupting her unrewarding thoughts.

  “I don’t know. Worms? Bugs?”

  “I think they’d pro’ly eat chicken bits, don’t you?” They had stopped at a twenty-four-hour fast-food place and Spence had gone inside, emerging a few minutes later with several sacks of chicken nuggets, biscuits with and without ham and eggs, French fries, a carafe of coffee and a gigantic paper cup of iced orange juice.

  “We’ll get you more provisions later on today, including a cell phone and a list of numbers where you can reach us at any time,” he’d said just before he’d taken his leave earlier that morning.