She sucked in her lower lip as she trudged along the trail, Ian breathing heavily behind her. She’d have to tell him about Travis. She’d always planned on it, but she’d had a hard time contacting Ian over the years.
Both of his parents had died even before she and Ian had gotten married, not that she’d missed any familial bonding. His parents had been druggies and alcoholics, a couple of losers who’d given up their son years ago. When they’d discovered Ian had made something of himself, they insinuated themselves back into his life. That hadn’t lasted long. Even Ian’s strong desire to reconnect with a mom and dad, any mom and dad, couldn’t override his feelings of disgust for his parents.
Of course, Meg had to deal with the fallout from that experimental family reunion—a husband who never wanted to have children, a husband determined not to repeat the mistakes of his own father.
As if strong, capable, honorable Ian Dempsey remotely resembled his drunken father.
Ian touched her shoulder. “Is that where we hike up?”
She nodded at the direction of his pointing finger. “Yeah, we can scale up the side. It’s a gentle slope with plenty of footholds.”
Gripping the straps of his backpack, Ian scanned the gorge, his jaw tight. “I didn’t see anything that could’ve led to Kayla’s murder.”
“Maybe it was just an accident.” She touched his hand, wanting to give comfort as she’d tried to so many times during their marriage.
“That would be too much of a coincidence.”
“Coincidences happen.” Like her leading this hike instead of Richard. Maybe this coincidence was a sign that she needed to tell Ian about his son. This coincidence had dropped her husband into her lap—no excuses this time.
Ian chewed on his lower lip and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, it’s a coincidence that one of Prospero’s old foes is involved in this deal, too.”
“What do you mean?” Prospero had so many foes, she didn’t think Ian could distinguish one from another.
“Prospero crossed swords with a particular mercenary terrorist several times. I swear, this gang seemed more interested in the money than any higher calling or cause. The leader of the cell, a guy named Farouk, had a hand in securing the money for this arms deal.”
“Sounds like Farouk’s broadening his horizons and traveling the world.” Meg shrugged and then jerked her chin toward the vertical trail to their right. “Here’s where we ascend.”
Meg’s hands found their way to the first holds, and her feet followed as if on autopilot. She cranked her head over her shoulder. “Just follow my path.”
“I’m right behind you.”
Meg reached the top and hauled herself over the edge, inching forward on her belly to make room for Ian. She rolled onto her back, propped up by her pack, and stared at the gray clouds ringing the peaks.
Whether or not Ian wanted to be involved in Travis’s life, Meg resolved to tell him about his son before he ran off again in pursuit of bad guys, in his endless quest to save the world to make up for his parents’ detachment from it.
Ian clambered over the edge and crouched on his haunches beside her. “Are you taking a nap, or what?”
Closing her eyes, Meg said, “Just waiting for the slow guy.”
“There’s one in every group.” He tapped her on the shoulder and she opened one eye. “Are you ready?”
“I’m ready, but with a caveat.”
“Uh-oh. Like I have to carry you the rest of the way?”
She snorted. “When have you ever had to do that?”
“Everest…not that you allowed me to carry you. You never ask for help, even when you need it.”
Meg jumped to her feet, ignoring Ian’s outstretched hand. Asking for help showed weakness—and gave the askee all sorts of power over you. “Well, here’s the warning, and I guess you can call it asking for help. You need to give Rocky Mountain Adventures and maybe even the cops a heads-up as to your purpose out here. Your behavior at the death of your wife is going to seem really odd if you don’t, and they’re not going to expect you to hang around here once her body is sent home.”
“That’s an easy request.” Ian yanked off his gloves and stuffed them into his pockets. “I was planning on giving them some info, but not all. Is that okay with you?”
“That’ll work.” She pointed to the trail ahead of them. “I think we’ll be safer up here.”
“You’re probably right, but I’d rather be down there searching. If someone’s shooting at us, chances are good he hasn’t found the cargo either.”
“You’re going back down there, aren’t you?” Ian never gave up when he really wanted something. That’s how she knew he didn’t really want her. He’d given up way too easily.
“In time. I owe it to Jack, and now I owe it to Kayla.”
Meg sighed, not even bothering to argue. As they negotiated the remainder of the trail, Ian regaled her with stories of his Everest adventures…without her. Apparently he’d been working as a guide since he left Prospero. She’d never gone back to Everest. She’d accepted her time on the mountain as a once-in-a-lifetime event, a goal to achieve and check off her list.
“But nothing beat the first time.” He nudged her shoulder with his as they now walked side by side on the widened trail, which was fast coming to an end. “How come you never went back? I half expected to find you up there one day.”
Could she blurt out the truth to him right here and now? How she couldn’t go back to Everest because she had a greater purpose in life—the care and feeding of their son. She drew a deep breath of clear mountain air into her lungs and blew it out slowly.
They both jerked their heads up at the sound of yelling and cheering coming from the end of the trail. Several of her coworkers from Rocky Mountain Adventures were charging toward them.
Richard reached them first. He must’ve come in on his sick day. “My God, Meg, we were worried. What happened to your radio?”
“I lost it in the river. It’s a long story, Richard.”
Richard placed his hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Mr. Shepherd, I’m sorry for your loss. Rocky Mountain Adventures will do everything in its power to launch an investigation.”
“Thank you. Are the sheriff’s deputies here yet? I need to talk to them.”
“They’re in the office.”
Meg slid a glance toward Ian, now purposefully striding toward the A-framed building that housed the Rocky Mountain Adventures office at the top of the mountain. “What about the other hiker? Before I lost radio contact, Matt said something about another hiker missing.”
“He’s still missing. German guy.”
Ian’s step faltered as he met Meg’s gaze and lifted a brow. She could question Richard more thoroughly once they got to the office. Right now they had to clue in Matt that she hadn’t lost one of her hikers through negligence, that a murderer, a terrorist, lurked in their midst.
They gathered in a circle in the office, everyone chattering at once. Matt came from the back and pulled Meg aside. “You had me worried when we lost contact. Also, I don’t want to add to your stress level here, but you got a call when you were on the hike.”
“A call?” Meg’s heart hammered in her chest. Getting a call while on the job was never a good sign.
“It was Felicia. She had to take your son to the emergency room.” Matt patted her arm. “It’s nothing too serious. He fell off his tricycle and sliced his chin…got a few stitches.”
Meg clutched the straps of her backpack as the blood rushed to her head in a quick succession of fear and relief. She stumbled back, her hip catching the edge of a bookshelf filled with pamphlets.
She put out a hand to steady herself and her gaze collided with a pair of icy green eyes drilling a hole into her very soul.
Looked like she didn’t have to tell Ian about his son after all.
Chapter Four
Ian tried to assemble his jumbled thoughts, his breath coming out in short spurts. Had that man just mentioned Me
g’s son?
Meg was still clutching the edge of the magazine rack with white, stiff fingers. She dropped her gaze from Ian’s, and turned to the man who had brought her the news, murmuring something in his ear.
Could that man be the father of Meg’s son?
Hot, thick rage thudded against Ian’s temples. Someone touched his shoulder and he spun around with clenched fists and nearly punched a face, any face.
“Mr. Shepherd?” A sheriff’s deputy, his dark eyes dipping to Ian’s battle-ready hands, raised a pair of eyebrows to the rim of his cowboy hat. “I’m Sheriff Cahill. I’m sorry for your loss. Can we speak in the back?”
Great. He’d almost assaulted an officer of the law, one who looked ready to accept the challenge. Probably some small-town sheriff with a chip on his shoulder…which was about to get bigger. Squeezing his eyes closed, Ian pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not Mr. Shepherd, but I’ll explain all of that in a minute.”
Cahill narrowed his eyes and scratched his jaw. “Something tells me I’m not going to like this…or you.” He glanced beyond Ian’s shoulder. “Meg, you need to join us in the back room.”
Ian shifted to the side of the irritated deputy to study Meg’s face. She avoided his eyes and focused on Cahill’s square jaw instead.
“I have a personal emergency, Pete.” She held up a cell phone. “I’m going to make a call first.”
Ian’s brain had started functioning again and he realized the man, Matt, had referred to Meg’s son as your son. Matt couldn’t be the father. So who had that distinction? That lucky distinction.
Meg turned her back on him and put the phone to her ear. It didn’t look like an explanation to him rated on her list of priorities right now. Payback was a bitch.
“We’re set up in there.” Cahill pointed a steady finger toward the corner of the room.
Ian trudged after the sheriff, feeling as if lead lined the bottom of his hiking boots. He wanted to listen in on Meg’s conversation. Was she calling the boy’s father?
The thought of Meg with another man tightened hot coils of anger in his belly. Then he let out a long breath. Although neither one of them had filed for divorce, Ian had no right to these possessive feelings about Meg. Had he really expected her to be as pristine as the snow frosting the top of the Rockies?
He hadn’t thought about it. Didn’t want to think about it.
Ian trudged into the room behind Cahill, and squared his shoulders as he faced the room with two other deputies seated at a serviceable table nicked with scratches and scars. Seamlessly, his thoughts shifted from Meg to the job at hand. Meg had resented his ability and propensity to switch his focus so quickly. But his work had always been a top priority for him. His parents had demonstrated to him what happened to people who couldn’t commit to a job or responsibilities, and he refused to follow their example.
Cahill reached around Ian and snapped the door closed, the glass set in the center trembling with the force. “Okay now, Mr. Shepherd, or whoever you are, do you want to explain what’s going on? Why did you stay behind and hike out of that canyon instead of boarding the chopper with your wife’s body? And I don’t want to hear about any wedding ring.”
Ian reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and yanked out his wallet. He dug into one of the many compartments, his fingers closing around his I.D. Then he snapped it on the table top. “My name’s Ian Dempsey, and I’m on a high-security mission for the United States military. The woman who…fell was my partner and CIA.”
The three deputies sucked the air out of the room. That probably wasn’t what they’d wanted to hear. And technically Ian hadn’t told them the whole truth and nothing but. Colonel Scripps would vouch for him. He’d better, because the Agency didn’t have any knowledge of this operation and would hang him out to dry.
“Dempsey?” Cahill cleared his throat. “What branch of the military are we talking about?”
His name seemed to stick in Cahill’s gullet. Ian ran a finger along the inside collar of his jacket. He knew Cahill wouldn’t be a pushover, by the set of his jaw and the suspicion in his eyes. “Intelligence. Covert ops.”
Cahill cursed. “How much are you going to tell us and how much of that is going to come close to the truth?”
“My partner and I…” The door swung open and Ian snapped his mouth shut.
Meg poked her head into the room, her ponytail sliding over one shoulder. “Sorry.”
“Everything okay with your little man, Meg?” Cahill’s eyes softened to brown pudding when he looked at her. So she had that effect on the sheriff, too. All men wanted to be her Sir Galahad, but she preferred to don the armor herself. She’d learned from an early age that support came with a myriad of strings attached.
“How’d you know it was Travis?”
“Matt told me before all the craziness started. Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. A cut beneath his chin and a few stitches.” She folded her arms across her chest. “What did I miss?”
“Mr. Dempsey here was just telling us he’s on a top-secret mission, and the poor lady who died wasn’t his wife.” Cahill wedged his hands on the table top and hunched forward. “How did your partner wind up at the bottom of the gorge, Mr. Dempsey?”
“I have no idea, Deputy Cahill.” Had Dempsey been the school bully who’d stolen Cahill’s lunch money? The good sheriff seemed to sneer every time he said Ian’s name.
Ian felt Meg’s glance slide across his face, but he kept his gaze pinned to Cahill, as unpleasant as that was.
“Any chance you’re going to tell me what you’re doing in our neck of the woods?” The deputy’s dark brows created a deep V over his nose.
If Ian ever did need help, he wouldn’t hesitate to enlist Cahill’s talents. Even though the sheriff clearly didn’t like him, Ian knew he could trust the no-nonsense lawman. But he had no intention of putting the local law in some terrorist cell’s line of fire.
Ian shrugged, raising the right corner of his lips. “I’m on a reconnaissance mission, Sheriff Cahill.”
“I’m gonna need more than this two-bit badge to trust you, Dempsey.” Cahill glanced at Meg and tapped the plastic CIA ID on the table, nudging it with his fingertip. “We have a woman’s death in our jurisdiction.”
Ian fumbled through his wallet to locate Colonel Scripps’s latest cell phone number. The colonel wouldn’t appreciate a call like Cahill’s, but he’d come to expect being called upon to provide the legitimacy of his operatives from time to time.
At least he had. The members of Prospero hadn’t been Colonel Scripps’s operatives for a long time now, but the colonel was the one who had called them all out of retirement to help find Jack. He’d have to accept a few glitches along the way, especially since they were conducting operations stateside now, instead of in the lawless regions of Afghanistan or Somalia.
Cahill swept the card from the table and peered at it. Then he flicked it with his finger. “I’m off to do a little fact checking. Can you keep an eye on this one, Meg?”
Meg chewed her bottom lip as if seriously considering Cahill’s question, or seriously considering something. “I—I can vouch for him, Pete. Ian Dempsey’s my ex…my husband.”
If Ian’s earlier announcement about his true identity had floored the three deputies, Meg’s knocked them out for the count. At least the other two deputies, whose mouths gaped like a couple of salmons swimming upstream. Cahill seemed to take the news in stride, pressing his lips into a thin line, a martial light gleaming in his dark eyes.
Leave it to Meg to put it all out there.
“Are you involved in this mess, Meg?” Cahill put a comforting hand on her shoulder and Ian felt like knocking it off.
She patted his long fingers. “No more than you are, Pete. Don’t worry. Mr. Dempsey has everything under control.”
Ian nearly choked on the snort he half swallowed. He had nothing under control, including his own emotions, but he wasn’t about to correct Meg. Especially in
front of this man who seemed way too close to his wife.
Cahill turned his cold gaze on Ian. “Watch yourself, Dempsey. Nobody walks into my town and plays fast and loose with Meg O’Reilly, husband or no husband.”
“Furthest thing from my mind.” Ian held up his hands, flexing his fingers so he wouldn’t curl them into a fist.
When Cahill left the room, the other two deputies got down to business, asking about Kayla’s accident. Although Ian had expressed his firm belief to Meg that Kayla’s fall had been no accident, he backpedaled with the deputies. The last thing Ian or Prospero or Jack needed right now was a swarm of deputies blanketing the mountain looking for a weapon. Hell, Ian didn’t even know what to look for at this point.
Meg kept her mouth shut through most of the questioning, not even raising an eyebrow at some of his blatant lies. She’d learned more as a spy’s wife than he’d given her credit for.
As the deputies wound up their cross-examination, Ian had a couple of questions of his own. “Has anyone located the German tourist missing from the hike yet?”
Deputy Jensen scratched his chin and dropped his pencil on the pad of paper filled with Ian’s lies and half truths. “As far as I know, he’s still missing.”
“How’d that happen, Brock? Matt was leading them out, right?” Meg twisted her hands in front of her, lacing her fingers in an intricate pattern.
Did she still have her son on her mind? Ian wanted to sweep away all her worries. He’d always had that desire and had tried to keep his professional life out of their domestic life. It hadn’t worked out as he’d planned. Meg had always felt shut out when all he’d wanted to do was protect her.
Jensen shrugged. “Apparently the guy kept hanging back and taking pictures, wandering off the trail. Matt was anxious to get the others up to the summit and eventually lost track of the guy.”
“Just great.” Meg rubbed her creased brow. “This is a banner day for Rocky Mountain Adventures, isn’t it? The guy acted the same on our portion of the hike, but it could’ve been some kind of cover. Maybe he had something to do with Kayla’s fall.”
Mountain Ranger Recon Page 4
