“I’ll call Cullen. He can have someone arrange transportation, but it’ll probably take them a while.”
“I saw a turnoff to some cabins up the road,” she offered.
“Works for me. Going to get dark soon.” He bent into the rental and pulled out a duffel bag. She didn’t have to see its contents to know it contained the essentials. His precaution didn’t surprise her. Men like him were never caught unprepared.
She walked to the opposite rear door and opened it, grabbed her leather jacket and tote, seeing he’d also grabbed the laptop. Slinging the tote over one shoulder and draping the jacket over the other, she started walking up the road. Jag caught up to her in two or three easy strides.
“You think Friese killed that man?” she asked.
“Looks that way to me.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t hear a gunshot.”
“He could have used a silencer.”
“And then punctured our brake line?” Unless someone else had gotten there ahead of Friese, that’s what had likely happened.
“We’ll go with that for now.”
She nodded. “But let’s not discount other possibilities. Friese would have had to have killed that man really fast.”
“Gone in and pulled the trigger. Yep.”
It hadn’t looked as if the man had struggled. Shot in the back of the head.
She looked to her side at the darkening forest, where rhododendron and mountain laurel spread beneath the canopy, and then ahead at the dirt road that curved into the trees and disappeared. Her father had been killed on a road like that.
Now that the excitement of the afternoon had passed, and all he had to occupy his mind was a long walk in the dark with Odie, Jag couldn’t stop his thoughts from wandering back to that kiss. He still couldn’t figure out what had made him do it. It hadn’t even mattered that they were in a busy restaurant, either. She refused to tell him everything she knew about her father’s murder and that made her seem shady. He didn’t think she was keeping anything from him about Friese, but if she did learn something he doubted she’d share it without him prying it out of her.
Though he couldn’t deny his growing attraction to her, he had to consider the worst. If what she was hiding was related to Hersch, it wouldn’t paint her in very favor able light. Had her father been involved in something unscrupulous before he was killed? Or had he discovered something bigger than he could handle? The way Odie was behaving, he’d go with the former. But would she hinder a TES investigation for personal reasons? He had a hard time imagining her willing to do such a thing. But then, it might be her father’s reputation on the line. How far would she go to protect it?
He checked Odie to see how she was holding up. They’d walked about ten miles so far. She didn’t seem bothered. And then he felt silly for thinking she couldn’t keep up with him. He had to admit, that part about her appealed to him. He’d never met anyone like her. She was tough and capable, and then there was a softer side he doubted very few people ever saw.
“Are you going to tell me why you don’t carry a gun?” he asked. It was a good way to lead into other questions he had for her.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to.”
She was like a guy that way. Brief and to the point. Very little emotion. Always logical and on the mark. Not that every guy was like that, but those who worked for TES were. “Do you have any guns at your house?”
“No.”
“Keep any at TES headquarters?”
“Nope.”
He turned to see her. She kept her profile to him and her face void of reaction. “Is it because your husband was killed in action?”
Abruptly, she stopped. He was slower to do the same. Bingo.
“How do you do that?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“Guess everything.”
He shrugged. “Common sense.”
“It’s annoying.”
He smiled, unable to help it. Other than the loss of her husband, she said whatever was on her mind and didn’t waste much time tiptoeing around feelings. He didn’t realize how much he liked that in a woman until now. If only that extended to the connection between Hersch and her father.
She started walking again and he fell in step beside her.
“How long ago did he die?”
“Your common sense is faltering.”
He did his own math. “You’ve been with TES what…almost six years now?”
She stopped walking again, this time folding her arms, her dark eyes beaming with challenge.
So, her husband had died about six years ago. “That’s a long time.”
Her brow lifted. He ignored it. She needed to be pushed every once in a while.
“Was that engineer the first man you’ve been with since then?”
“And this is your business…how?”
“I’m just curious. You don’t have to answer.”
“I’ve dated other men over the last couple of years.”
So for four of those years she hadn’t been interested in anyone. “But no operatives.”
“I dated a couple of those, too. At first.”
Was that why she’d cried in the car earlier? Had she been thinking of her husband? What had made her think of him? Being with an operative again? Kissing one and liking it?
Had she felt it that much? He sure as hell had.
He caught himself. “You’re right. It’s none of my business.” He started walking again. He didn’t want to desire a woman who kept secrets, especially one with Odelia Frank’s background. She could be dangerous. Why did it matter what she thought of him? It didn’t. At least, it shouldn’t.
She caught up to him, her long, dark hair shiny and thick and swinging with her movement. She didn’t wear makeup but her dark eyes were striking on her smooth, proportioned face. She’d put on her leather jacket. One hand swung free at her side and she had her work tote hanging from her other shoulder. She had great thighs, long and toned in those faded jeans. She always wore hiking boots, too. He’d like to see her in high heels.
Catching himself again, he looked ahead.
It was a still night. No clouds. The stars were far away, not as bright as they were in Roaring Creek. The elevation here was so much lower.
“Don’t take it personally,” she said.
What did she think he was thinking? “Take what personally?”
“I just don’t like talking about him, that’s all.”
“That’s okay, I don’t like talking about my ex-wife, either.”
“You were married?”
He saw her surprise. “Do you think every man in my profession isn’t marriage material?”
“No. Not if they work for TES. There must be something in the water in Roaring Creek.”
“So, there is hope for you.”
“I drink bottled water.”
He chuckled. Damn, he liked her mind. He walked without saying anything for a while, but he could tell she wanted to know more.
“When did you get divorced?” she asked.
“Three years ago.” He really didn’t want to talk about this. Maybe he should have avoided the topic of her husband.
“What happened? She get tired of you always being gone?”
“No.” But he’d bet that’s what she hadn’t liked about her marriage.
“What then? Is she the one who portrayed herself as someone she wasn’t?”
He contemplated not answering. Out of fairness, he did. “She was arrested for a hit-and-run.”
Odie whistled and looked at him with incredulous eyes. “She ran from an accident?”
“One that killed a woman and her son. She went to prison for it.”
“Oh, my God, that’s terrible.”
“She was also into drugs. I didn’t know any of that until after I married her. I didn’t know about the accident or her drug dealings. Not until the cops came knocking one day.”
“Didn’t
you spend enough time to get to know her?”
“She told me she was an English teacher who’d just moved to the East Coast and was looking for a job. She said her parents were killed in a car wreck and she didn’t have any siblings. The truth was her mother was a hooker who couldn’t identify daddy without a DNA test. She grew up in a poor suburb of Detroit. Her first husband abused her and was unfaithful. That’s when she got into drugs. I didn’t even know she’d been married before. She was running from the law when I met her. But of course, she didn’t tell me that.”
“How long were you married?”
“Six months.”
“I won’t ask anything stupid, like, did you love her.”
Figures, she’d have to say something smart. “Thanks.”
She smiled.
And it lifted his mood.
Spotting a sign ahead, he pointed. “There are the cabins.”
Odie stepped up the stairs onto the front porch of the cabin they’d rented. There were two left and Jag had paid for the one with two bedrooms. If he’d have picked the one-bedroom cabin, she’d have said something. There was no restaurant here, but plenty of fish. The woman who’d checked them in had given her the fish her husband had caught that morning. She’d also succumbed to Jag’s charm and handed over a pasta salad and a bottle of wine.
Inside the cabin, Odie turned on a light. A small living room with a gas fireplace in the corner was sparsely furnished with a brown sofa and chair with a lamp next to it. One picture hung on the wall. Stairs near the door led to a loft, off which were two bedrooms.
Odie went through the living room to the kitchen and searched for a pan to cook the fish in. She turned on the oven and a few minutes later put the fish inside. The sound of a cork being freed from a bottle made her turn and smile.
Jag poured wine into two glasses and handed her one.
“Who’d have thought we’d be vacationing tonight?” She sipped the wine, a good Chardonnay.
She eyed Jag’s chest and biceps in the black henley.
“Yeah, all alone with a woman who can shoot better than me and probably give me a black eye.” He looked down at her boots. “Sexy shoes, too.”
“You like them,” she said. “Admit it.”
“You prefer your women more flowery?”
He didn’t agree or disagree, but she could tell he did like her shoes. It made her wonder what kind of woman he was attracted to.
“What was your wife like? Do you mind me asking?”
“You’re asking if I mind?”
She leaned her butt against the stove. “What was she like?”
He grinned. “Actually, she was a lot like you.” He moved to stand in front of her. “Not that I’m comparing you to a criminal. I just mean she was outdoorsy and independent. Strong-willed. Tough.”
So, he liked women like that? Women like her? “I pictured you with someone more feminine than that. You know, the kind that can’t kill spiders.”
His grin renewed and he nodded as if to some kind of irony he’d found in that. “I’ve found that most women like that are too afraid of me.”
“I don’t always dress like this.” She looked down at her jeans and boots.
“Did you wear a dress for the nerd?”
“No. He never took me anywhere fancy.”
“He probably didn’t think you’d want to.”
That was probably true. “Do you think you’ll ever get married again?” His last marriage might have tainted him.
“Sure. If the right woman comes along. I’m going to be a lot more careful next time, though.”
“Who can blame you?” He probably felt as if he had to be careful with her.
“What got you into this kind of work, anyway?” she asked, changing the subject.
He lowered the glass after taking a sip. “When I was growing up I was interested in everything going on in the world. I read the paper, watched news programs, and read all kinds of books. I wanted to get into politics and maybe work my way to Congress, but I was too restless for that. I also wanted to travel the world and try new things. That’s why I joined the navy.”
“What about the world intrigues you?”
“Intrigue might not be the best word. Pissed off does a better job.”
“What kinds of things pissed you off?”
“You already know. Terrorism, poverty, dictatorship. Reading about those kinds of things made me feel lucky to be an American. It’s a little clichéd, but I wanted to fight to preserve what made this country what it is.”
He believed in the foundation of America and wanted to fight for it. Make a difference. Why did that appeal to her so much? It never appealed to her in other men like him, so why was he so different? She’d never noticed it in other men. She’d never really spent any time with men like him, either. Sure, she’d dated, but that had never lasted and she’d never allowed the conversations to go very far. Since Sage died, she’d been so sensitive to men like him. Guarded.
“Did you ever wish you’d have chosen another career?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’ve never regretted it. But I’m not going to do this type of work much longer.”
That got her attention. “Why not?”
“I’m getting older for one thing. There are other things that interest me, for another.”
“What things?”
“You’re awfully curious for someone who can’t stand guys like me.”
Yes, but he wasn’t like the others she’d met. The more she got to know him, the more that was true. And now he was telling her he wasn’t planning to work for TES much longer. For a moment she actually considered the possibility of pursuing him. Then a familiar sensation circled and plunged in her stomach, something dark, a reminder of how she’d felt in those months after Sage died.
For the first time since then, love seemed possible again. Really and truly love. Not like it was with the nerd. That wasn’t love. She’d almost married that engineer because she’d felt safe with him. There was never the threat of loving him the way she’d loved Sage. But Jag…
“I like to cook and fix old motorcycles,” he said.
“You cook?”
“My dad owned a bakery. I learned at a young age how to make great bread. Some day I’d like to open one.”
“Huh.” She took in his big frame and rugged face, marveling. “I’d have never guessed.”
“I fix up old bikes, too.” He sounded worried about what she thought.
“That saves your masculinity.”
He grunted a laugh. “I like to woodwork, too. I’ve built furniture.”
“Wow. The tourists would love you in Roaring Creek. Fresh bread, furniture. And motorcycles, too.”
“I thought you hated that town.”
“I struggle between love and hate.”
“You do strike me as more of a big-city girl.” His eyes went on an unhurried journey down her body, lingering on her boots before returning to her face.
She smiled. “I do miss D.C.”
“Do you regret going to work for Cullen?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Did you want to leave the army?”
She knew what he was asking. Did she want to leave after her husband died or had she simply been unable to do her job? “I’ve never regretted going to work for Cullen. The only regret I have is that he relocated to a remote mountain town.”
Sipping her wine, she watched him read between the lines of her answer. No, she hadn’t wanted to leave, but she was happy where it had taken her. She let the conversation go quiet for a while. He moved to a window and peered outside, sipping his wine. She watched him until she realized more than a half hour had passed.
She faced the stove and removed the cooked fish, while he got some plates and put the unfinished bottle of wine on the table.
They sat and ate in silence. Odie stole a few looks at him. She was uncomfortable over how easy it was being with him all of a sudden.
“Don’t get any ideas, okay?” she said.
He stopped chewing to look at her. “About what?”
“You and me.”
Leaning back, he finished what was left in his glass. Then he lifted the bottle and poured more into her glass first before filling his.
“Why would I get ideas, Odie? You’re always reminding me how lacking I am as a TES operative.”
Yes, but he’d just told her he wasn’t going to do that much longer. “We’re getting along.”
“Would you rather fight?”
“You know what I mean. This is starting to feel…I don’t know…off.”
He breathed a laugh, sounding cynical, and shook his head as he ate more fish.
“Don’t you think it seems different?” she pressed.
“What’s the matter, afraid you’re going to start liking me?”
“I’m not afraid. You’re the one who should be afraid. I’m just trying to save you some grief.”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I think I can watch out for myself.”
“I’m not having sex with you.”
“We might not be able to control ourselves.” He was still joking.
“I’ll be able to control myself. Stop trying to be funny.”
“I wasn’t. You’re overreacting.”
“I’m overreacting.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to have sex with you, either.”
And she immediately knew why. He had been married to a woman who hid things from him. He obviously wouldn’t want to make the same mistake twice.
“Right. It’s a silly concern.” She leaned back in her chair and drank some more wine, disconcerted by her sense of disappointment.
“When are you going to tell me how you know Frasier Darby?”
Back to business. Odie took her plate and put it in the sink. That was her answer. She wasn’t going to tell him.
Chapter 6
Odie stirred when she heard a sound outside her window. It took her a moment to remember where she was. She lifted her head and listened. Something clattered. Pulling the covers off her too-warm body she swung her feet onto the cold wood floor. After looking out the window and seeing nothing, she went to the door. Jag’s room door was open. Moving to the loft railing, she saw him peering through the narrowly open front door. His gun was drawn.
Special Ops Affair Page 7
