by Rachel Lee
But he still remembered the skin-crawling feeling of wondering which wall, which door, which rooftop might harbor a deadly threat. People who came to him for medical attention were often putting their own lives at risk, depending on who might be watching. And sometimes no one at all came to him, a sure signal they were in enemy territory.
Lacy had no signals to assure her she might be safe, even here. He stifled a sigh, hoping they could find a way to get her past this. That note provided little reassurance.
Stupid. He’d thought just bringing her here would make her safe, would make her feel safe. Apparently she’d forgotten how to trust in her own safety, and now he wasn’t so sure himself.
He glanced her way again, and saw her leaning toward the window, as if enjoying the snow-laden trees that lined the street.
“It looks so Christmasy,” she said. “Like a postcard.”
“Yeah, it does.” And she looked better than the winter’s charms. His body insisted on stirring every time he saw her, and no amount of mental warning and self-checks could prevent a very masculine response to her. Damn, under any other circumstances he’d be trying to date her, dreaming about eventually making love to her.
But not under these circumstances. It would be a betrayal worse than that note he’d kept secret. She’d come to him for safety, not a fling, not a romance. She’d come to him as Sara’s husband, and he needed to remember that. What’s more, he’d invited her, promising safety. He hated to think he might not be able to provide it, but at the time it had seemed like a good idea. Get her away from Dallas, get her off the grid. At least then she could relax for a while.
Except she wasn’t relaxing and now he was wondering what he might have waded into. Money laundering indicated some very high-level operation. Big bucks, nasty people. He wondered if Gage would just automatically agree that the FBI’s assessment was the best, or if he’d poke around a bit.
He went straight to the sheriff’s office and parked on the side street facing the courthouse square.
“Will he be in?” Lacy asked.
“Probably. He swears his entire job has devolved to handling paperwork and politics.”
A little laugh escaped her. “Probably.”
He set the parking brake and turned off the ignition. “Do you want to talk to him?”
She looked down for a moment. “Not really,” she admitted. “Every time I say this out loud, I start to feel silly.”
“So I’ll have a word with him for you.” Which would make it easier for him to share that damn note. “Okay?”
“Thanks. I mean, if he really wants to talk with me, I will, but...you know what?” All of a sudden her voice grew tight.
“What?”
“The agents made me feel like a fool for even thinking someone might be after me.”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment. “Bad on them. You’d just helped them solve a major case. Helped bring the bad guys to justice. Stuck your neck out. A little courtesy seems like the least they could do.”
“Oh, they were courteous. It was the way they did it.”
He nodded. “Got it. Well, Gage is a pretty good guy, but you can wait out front unless he needs to see you.”
“Thanks.”
Inside the sheriff’s office, everything looked the same as it always did. He sometimes thought it was an unchanging tableau, especially with old Velma sitting at the dispatch desk and still puffing away at her cigarettes under the no-smoking sign. A couple of deputies were engaged at various desks. A line of battered chairs stood along the window front. Lacy hesitated only a moment before sitting in one.
Velma waved him back through a cloud of smoke and he headed for Gage’s office. The sheriff sat behind a desk that was buried in files, papers and a computer, any one of which looked in danger of being accidentally pushed to the floor.
Gage himself was a tall man with dark but slowly graying hair and a burn scar that covered nearly one side of his face. From a car bomb back in his DEA days, Jess had heard. It was a story people around here never seemed to tire of telling. Hell’s Own Archangel, they’d nicknamed him when he’d first arrived here. The opinion had apparently changed considerably over the years.
Gage leaned forward without rising and shook Jess’s hand. “What can I do for you?”
“Evaluate my thinking, assess a situation.”
Gage smiled crookedly. “Do I look like a psychiatrist?”
Jess flashed a grin. “You look like a lawman with a lot of experience. I have none.”
“So shoot.”
Jess took the chair facing the desk and arranged his bum leg for maximum comfort. It had been a short walk from the heated car to the front door, but the joint felt stiff and cranky. He pushed the awareness aside. “I have a friend visiting.”
“I heard.”
Jess rolled his eyes, making Gage chuckle.
“What can I say?” Gage asked. “The confirmed widower suddenly brings a lovely young lady to stay. You think the grapevine hasn’t been working? Even a storm can’t stop those phone calls. So tell me.”
“She’s Lacy Devane, my late wife’s oldest friend. They go all the way back to childhood.”
Gage nodded. “So you’ve known her a long time, too.”
“Thirteen years.”
“Friendly visit?”
“Not quite.”
Gage nodded and reached for a legal pad and pen. “So now we get to the law enforcement stuff. What’s up?”
“Lacy turned in some of her former bosses to the Feds in Dallas. Seems they were money laundering for a drug operation.”
Gage sat bolt upright. “I remember that case. She’s the one who reported it?”
“And worked with forensic accountants on developing the case. And testified both to the grand jury and in court. And was in protective custody until the trial was over.”
Gage whistled quietly. “Quite a brave woman.”
“Well, that’s the thing, Gage. She’s not feeling very brave right now.” Jess moved his leg again, then leaned forward until his arms were folded on a narrow strip of bare desk. “The Feds assured her the threat was over, that they’d mopped up everyone who was involved, and now that the convictions have come down, she’s safe.”
Gage frowned faintly. “She doesn’t believe it.”
“I figure it’s kind of hard after being in protection for so long. Her whole life upended because there was a credible threat against her. Living in a safe house with agents around all the time. How do you shake that off?”
“It wouldn’t be easy,” Gage said slowly. “Not easy at all. But she got assurances?”
“Apparently so. But she still feels like she’s being watched. Stalked. I don’t know exactly. What I do know is that she was turning into a wreck, always looking over her shoulder. So I suggested she come visit me. We made a plan. She bought a bus ticket to Portland, told her friends—the ones that are left, anyway—that she was going back to visit some old friends from college, and then she got off the bus here. She hasn’t been using credit cards or debit cards since she left Dallas, at my insistence.”
“Good thinking.” Gage rapped his pen on the desk a few times. “What’s your gut feeling?”
“That I can’t ignore her gut feeling.”
After a beat, Gage spoke again, quietly. “I ignored a gut feeling once, to my everlasting sorrow. Logic said my cover hadn’t been blown. My gut was turning sour. I should have listened.”
“The bomb?”
“It cost me my family. Anyway, I don’t want to go back over that, except to say I pay attention to my gut. Her gut is screaming, and I guess you have the same attitude.”
“War does that.”
“Yeah, I imagine it would. Okay, I can rattle some old contacts, ca
ll a few favors. Since this was drug money, you can believe DEA fingerprints are all over the case. I should be able to learn something. Anything else?”
Shifting onto one hip, Jess pulled the folded and crumpled paper from his pocket. “Found this on my porch, just before the storm really got going. Less than a day after I picked up Lacy at the bus.”
Gage opened and smoothed it out, staring at it while Jess’s internal clock ticked impatiently. Lacy was out there waiting for him, probably wondering what the heck was happening.
Then Gage shocked him, putting a cold spear right through him. “Jess. You wouldn’t have any enemies, would you? From before?”
* * *
“Jess? Jess?”
He’d been far away in a place he never wanted to go again, explosions inside his head, screams filling his ears, curses erupting around him, a child falling... He blinked.
Lacy bent over him. Gage stood to one side. “Jess,” he said. “Come back.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. His mouth felt dry as dust. He realized he was gripping the arms of a chair so tightly that his hands ached. Come back. Gage’s office. Lacy looking worried. Here. Now. Not back then.
Gage pried one of his hands open and pressed a bottle into it. Lacy urged it up to his mouth, and next thing he was drinking as if he hadn’t wet his mouth in a week. The last drop went down his throat and he tossed the bottle. He didn’t care where it landed.
No one really touched him, except for Lacy gently bringing that bottle to his mouth. Then she pulled back, squatted and waited, looking at him with fear. Fear? Worry. He closed his eyes, reaching for the present. He definitely didn’t want to be touched right now. Not yet. He might react the wrong way.
That thought, as much as anything, firmly centered him in the now. He opened his eyes again, forced himself to mutter, “I’m okay.”
Gage studied him a moment, then nodded. He pulled a chair over for Lacy and urged her to sit beside Jess. Then everything was silent except for phones ringing in the outer office and the occasional sound of Velma’s cough.
They left him alone, but after a couple of minutes he felt he had to say something. “It hasn’t hit me like that in a long time.”
Gage nodded. Lacy asked, “What?”
“Flashback,” Gage answered for him. “Just let him be. He’s going to be okay.”
“But what happened?” Lacy asked Gage.
“Guess I said exactly the wrong thing,” Gage answered.
Jess couldn’t deny it, but neither was he sure what had triggered the flashback. A quiet conversation. A simple question. What the hell?
Gage limped out of the office and yelled down the hall. “One of you run across the way to Maude’s. I want coffee, three lattes and three pieces of pie. Make it fast.”
Gage then returned to his seat. “You need some calories, my man. That’ll take it out of you fast.”
Jess managed a short nod. “I didn’t do anything?”
“You didn’t do a damn thing. You just snapped back to some place you don’t want to go like a switch flipped. But you didn’t do anything. You just froze up, wouldn’t respond.”
“Great,” he muttered. Reluctantly he looked at Lacy. He’d never wanted her to see him like this, but now they had another problem. “Some protector I’ll be.”
She edged closer and tentatively touched his forearm. At least he didn’t flinch. He was indeed coming back. “I don’t want a protector. What I needed was not to be alone with my fears. You’re providing that, Jess, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
She smiled then, the sincerest, most open smile he had seen from her since her arrival. It warmed him to his very core.
“About the protection thing,” Gage said. “We’ll discuss that after we get him warmed up and full of calories. Adrenaline does the damnedest things.”
“He’s damp,” Lacy said.
“I know,” Gage responded.
“Fear and rage can do that,” Jess said. But he wasn’t afraid to look at Lacy as he said it. She’d just seen something worse than his stump and she was still there, still touching him, still smiling at him.
Flashbacks hadn’t troubled him in years. He was still shocked that Gage’s question had snapped him back in time like that. He needed to think about that. But later, when he was sure his mind was his own again.
A deputy eased through the door with a big brown bag. “Thanks, Lou. Close the door on your way out.”
Then Gage opened the bag and doled out coffee and foam containers that held lemon pie. Rich, calorie-laden.
“Eat, drink and be merry,” Gage said, resuming his seat with a faint grimace. “And I’m not kidding, Jess.”
Jess knew he wasn’t. He’d been in borderline shock from that memory. He was professional enough to recognize the symptoms in himself.
The latte was hot, almost too hot to drink, but he guzzled it anyway. A coldness seemed to have seeped into his bones.
“Eat my pie, too,” Lacy said, pushing it toward him. “I’m still on sugar overload from breakfast.”
Gage looked at Lacy, removing Jess from the center of attention for the moment, and he was grateful for it. Soon he’d have enough energy to feel embarrassed for losing it. Then he’d have to start wondering why he had.
“So Jess has explained your situation to me,” Gage said. “Did he tell you I’m former DEA?”
She nodded.
“It was a while ago, but I still keep up my contacts. I read about the case you were involved in. Call it professional interest. Anyway, since it was drug money that was being laundered, I’m sure DEA was involved, even if you never saw it or knew it. So I’ll call a few people and get their assessment of your situation.” He tilted his head. “The FBI is good, but DEA undoubtedly handled all the operations against the drug people. Which means they might have a better assessment of your situation than the FBI.”
“Thank you. I’m so grateful. Sometimes I just think I’m losing it.”
“Don’t tell yourself that,” Gage said gently. “Drug operations have lots of heads and even more tails. Seldom are they totally contained. So there might still be remnants of this group out there. The question is whether they’d have any reason to want to get you.”
Lacy hesitated. “Would they? For revenge?”
“It’s always possible. Some of these guys have a lot on the line when it comes to scaring people into not giving them trouble. On the other hand, you were a high-profile witness, and if anything happens to you, everyone is going to know which way to look. So I’ll find out what I can.”
Jess saw Lacy smile crookedly. “Maybe I’m more trouble than I’m worth to them.”
“Very possible. But I don’t think you’re losing your mind or silly to be concerned about it, okay? I’d be concerned in your shoes. So let’s get some real information if we can.”
“I am so grateful. To both of you.”
Jess didn’t feel as if he deserved much gratitude just then. Gage’s question plagued him on two levels. First, it had precipitated a flashback for some reason. Secondly, what if he did have an old enemy coming back to haunt him?
He might have put Lacy in even more danger. The possibility made his insides curdle.
* * *
Lacy was more shocked than she wanted to let on. She’d gone racing back to the sheriff’s office when she had heard him insistently calling Jess’s name. What she had seen had shaken her to the core. He’d been as rigid as stone, so pale he’d had no color at all. Occasional tremors had run through him, but he made no sound, and was utterly unresponsive. It was like a seizure, but not, not really.
Memory could do this to someone? She never would have imagined. She’d had minor flashbacks, but she’d always been aware, as some moment of memory had gripped her, of the world around her. In
an instant she could return to the moment she had learned Sara was dead, to the minute she realized that she was caught in a spider’s web of deceit and illegality, to the moment when the FBI had told her she was being put in protective custody. The moment when she had been told her parents were missing at sea.
Those memories could rise up and transport her back to the very instant, the feelings, the shock and horror. But not the way Jess had apparently gone back to some time and place in his memory. For several minutes he had simply been elsewhere, as if only his body remained in the present.
She was glad that he was able to eat both pieces of the lemon pie, and when he finished his coffee she passed him hers. Her stomach had knotted up too much to be able to eat or drink much of anything.
Thank God Sara hadn’t had to see this. Or maybe she had sometimes when he’d been home on leave. She’d never mentioned it, but much as the two of them had shared, Sara had never shared details about Jess except for the lighthearted and romantic. If there had been any darkness in their years together, Sara had remained firmly mum.
She worried, too, about what had set it off. Her situation? Or something else? He said it had been years since he’d done that. Something must have happened.
Gage had mentioned a question, but she didn’t dare ask about it. She didn’t want Jess to have any more trouble.
Ten minutes later, Jess stood. “We need to get Lacy some pants to protect her legs from this cold. And some decent boots.”
She looked up at him. “That can wait.”
He shook his head. “I’m fine now. And the last thing I want is for you to get frostbite because we didn’t take reasonable precautions. It’s too cold out there right now, and while it’ll warm up again, this isn’t the last of it for the winter.” He smiled crookedly. “That is, unless you’ve decided to move on quickly.”
She jumped to her feet. “No way,” she said firmly. “Your invitation was open-ended, and I’m holding you to it.”
She meant it, too, and hoped he could read her determination. What had happened had scared her only for his well-being. Apparently they both could use a friend. If there was anything she could do for him, she intended to do it. Anything.
