by V. R. Marks
He believed her. Unfortunately for the progress of his case. "Go on. It'll be safe in the trunk. I promise I won't mess with it."
He amended that promise with all sorts of conditions in his mind, but he knew he wouldn't violate her privacy unless he had to. At this point he felt sure he could bring her and the stolen data in without much more trouble. She looked to be in a pretty cooperative mood. Being on the wrong end of a gun could do that.
Still, she had run away from her life. "The car isn't quite your style and I guarantee you won't get more than a mile down the road if you try to run." Her eyes narrowed at the insult. He admired that. She'd always been tenacious. "Or you can keep this guy company and I'll take it out there for you."
"I've got it." She fisted her hand around the strap of the backpack. "And I would never steal your car."
Until her name hit his desk he'd believed her wild streak only went wide enough to date a guy like him. Now he knew better. Knew he had to be ready for anything.
* * *
Dawn was a whisper teasing the horizon and the water birds were barely stirring on the lake behind her aunt's home when Sheriff Cochran finally released her.
"Stay in town, Allie. I'm sure we'll have more questions."
Of course they would. As soon as someone contacted her office and discovered 'leave of absence' had been her pretty way of saying she'd been blamed for stealing proprietary - incriminating - data about the company's new product. It would only get worse if they learned about the money.
Not if, when. Dread turned her stomach inside out.
She didn't care to lie to a man who'd played church league softball with her father for years, but she couldn't afford to volunteer any real information. Not yet. Not when her boss had been playing fast and loose with the charity fund he'd told her to set up a few months ago.
She stared up at her aunt's house, the windows glowing in the stone facade like so many eyes. The sight had always been comforting, but now worry, and tears, muddied the feeling.
Inside, the crime team examined the minutiae of the scene. The coroner, another of her dad's buddies, had paused to hug her as he'd escorted the body away. She was home, but what kind of trouble had she brought with her?
Where could she turn? Her superiors didn't want to know what she knew about the product and with stolen data in her possession, the authorities would never believe she wasn't behind those fishy bank transactions. Certainly not when another chunk of it had landed in her account last week.
"Come on." Ross pressed the key fob and the lights flashed on his car. "Sheriff says I can drive you to the motel."
That would have tongues wagging in three counties before noon. Local rumors weren't anything to ignore, but her thoughts kept circling back to how and why he just happened to be right here in the lakeside neighborhood of a town he'd left as soon as possible after high school.
"Fine." She didn't have much choice since the data on her hard drive, her few remaining possessions, and the last of her dwindling cash were in his trunk.
The sheriff had separated them to take statements, so she had no idea what Ross had told him, or how if he'd offered a decent explanation for his presence in her aunt's home.
"Why were you there?" she demanded as he put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb. "Why are you even here?"
"To save your life, apparently."
That much she'd figured out on her own and she was grateful. It had finally clicked that Ross had fired even as she was charging the wannabe assassin. She knew he hadn't been there just to save her, and even if he was helping with random patrols, he hadn't answered her about getting into the house.
As she tried to voice the question, the dead man's lifeless face flashed through her mind and she suddenly worried Ross might be in serious trouble for helping her. "Will they arrest you for...?" She couldn't finish the question.
"Doubtful. Justified force and I'm licensed to carry. Besides, around here they like you enough to appreciate how my actions kept you alive."
"That won't last," she muttered.
"Pardon?"
She felt the glance he slid her way like a warm touch on her cheek even as he rounded the curve. In a minute they'd be crossing the bridge and two minutes after that they'd be parked again on Main Street.
"What's going on that has people shooting at you?"
She wanted to tell him, but couldn't bring herself to put him in the line of fire. No matter how they'd parted, what they'd shared was a sweet spot in her heart that she preferred to keep tucked away.
"I'm sure it's a misunderstanding. Probably a robbery that went bad. Everyone knows my aunt is out of town and she has plenty of valuables."
"True. That explains her absence but not why you're here."
"You first." She shifted in her seat, watching his face in the improving light. "No one's seen you since the summer we graduated and you miraculously turn up at the right moment tonight?"
"More of my well documented bad luck?" He winked at her, but she wasn't buying the careless routine. He was up to something.
"Stop with the bull. Don't think I missed the fact that you were in the house." She gulped as a new possibility occurred to her. There were rumors he'd joined Special Forces and been dealing with covert missions around the world. She didn't give the gossip much credit and yet she'd read enough to know that Special Forces personnel often found work as bodyguards or private investigators. Sometimes even as hired muscle. Since she hadn't hired him... "Oh. God. Let me out."
"What?"
"Let me out. Let me go. Please, Ross." Why hadn't she put it together before now? She fought back the rising panic. He'd been in the house. He'd said he was doing his job. She might have asked precisely what that meant...if she hadn't just been shot at.
"Allie, calm down."
"I'm so stupid." She wrestled with the door handle before she remembered the proof she needed was still in the trunk. "You're with them aren't you? You shot him so he couldn't tell me you were working together."
"That's ridiculous."
His voice, dark and flat as the lake in the early morning, sent a chill over her. "Is it?" She reached into her bag but the sheriff had confiscated the bottle of mace she kept on her key ring. She dropped her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes, defeated. "Whatever you're going to do, please be quick about it." Surely he could do that for old time's sake.
His answer was to slam on the brakes and stop the car with an obnoxious squeal.
"I'm not going to kill you." He shoved the gear shift to park. "I don't go around killing people to shut them up."
She opened her eyes just a crack, enough to take in the full heat of his infuriated stare. She did a mental replay and realized what she'd said, how he'd taken it. "That's not what I meant."
"Isn't it?"
Again she hit rewind, tamping down the panic. "Fine. It is. Sort of. But you won't answer my questions. Why shouldn't I think the worst?"
His inhale was loud, the exhale louder. He'd always stopped to take a breath like this when he was irritated or otherwise stressed out. She'd admired that control even when they were kids in the back seat of his old Chevy Camaro...
No Allie, don't go there. "It's been a tough road lately. I don't have much faith in anyone." Not even herself.
"Allie. You are safe." His voice was low, each word deliberate. She could practically hear his teeth grinding together. "I don't know who you think I'm working for. I'm doing a favor for Sheriff Cochran, " he said. "That's all there is to it."
"Right. Okay." His answer soothed her frayed nerves. She reached again, but the door was still locked. "You can let me out. I won't go screaming into the night." She glanced up and down her side of the deserted street for anyone else who might be pointing a gun at her. Surely no one would take a shot at her in front of witnesses. She wanted to look at the motel, to see if anyone was in the office, but that meant looking in Ross' direction again. Not worth it, not when she felt this fragile.
<
br /> "You are staying in town."
"Not much choice," she agreed.
"Nope." He punched the button and the doors unlocked with a loud clack. "I'll get your bag."
"I've got it." She scrambled out of the car, sliding the back pack over her shoulder and racing to reach the trunk first. She wanted to trust someone, but she couldn't. No one else should be hurt because she'd been naive and foolish.
They reached for the bag at the same time, fingers brushing where they met on the handles. He was as warm as he'd ever been, but his hand was harder, stronger than before. She studied it, saw a new, white scar slicing across his knuckles. This wasn't the hand of the boy she'd loved, this was solid proof of how much she didn't know about the man he'd become.
"Let me carry the damn bag, Allie."
She let go. Southern style chivalry was probably the root of it, but he was cagey now, so unlike the open book he'd been in high school. He was up to something. She didn't know how he fit into her problem, but she didn't believe in coincidence or perfect timing.
"Thank you," she said as he dropped the trunk lid back into place.
He grunted, but otherwise all was silent as they crossed the street to the motel.
When the night clerk turned away from the computer monitor, he did a double take. "Why Allie Williams, you look wonderful. So glad to have you back in town."
"Hi, Tim." She tried to return his bright smile and offer more of her rehearsed explanation when Ross butted in.
"We need a room."
We? What was he doing? She could never share a space as small as a motel room with Ross. They needed two rooms, preferably on opposite ends of the establishment, and only if he didn't have somewhere better to be.
"Yup, I'm all ready for you. Sheriff called and gave me a head's up. Terrible what happened up at your aunt's place tonight. Are you okay, honey?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Such good timing." Tim winked at Ross with conspiratorial speculation. "Always said the two of you were something for the long haul."
"That's –"
Ross halted her protest with a tug on her hand below the counter. "Thanks. We'll take that room for a week if possible." He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and withdrew a credit card.
Oh, this went way beyond chivalry. Why would he encourage Tim's notion that they were together? After the way they parted after high school, Ross couldn't possibly want to restart those rumors any more than she did. And why would the sheriff make Ross stay with her?
She fumed behind a brittle smile as the transaction completed. Her manners were flawless as she'd been raised to be polite, kind, and never make a scene in public. But, oh, was she lining up her arguments for the moment they were behind closed doors. She was going to make him tell her the truth.
Chapter 2
At the room, Ross closed the curtains and dead bolted the door. He didn't have to wait for the battle he'd seen simmering in her eyes from the moment Tim handed over the room keys. She wanted information, they both did. He braced himself for the challenge of getting intel out of her without giving any to her.
"What the hell is happening here?" Allie demanded.
"Just what it looks like. I rented a motel room for us."
"There is no us! Why did the sheriff call Tim about you and me and...and one room?" Her head was spinning from one chaotic moment to the next.
"It's a one motel town, Allie. Cochran made the call for safety and security. He thinks the world of you, you know that. Do you want your key?" He held it out, forcing her to come to him. She glared, stepped forward and snatched it out of his fingers.
"I can pay my own way."
According to the roller coaster financial report he'd seen she was in a low spot, but he shrugged one shoulder. "We'll have Tim split the bill at checkout." He hoped like hell he lasted that long. The woman - and the flood of memories - was a serious threat to his sanity. As soon as Cochran had an identity on the shooter he'd suggest Allie be released on her own recognizance.
"No. We need separate rooms. Now." Her knuckles were white against the black straps of her bag. "We can't stay here like this. Tim thinks we're together."
Based on her tone, Ross assumed being here with him was a situation she ranked alongside death and taxes. "At the moment we are."
"Not for long. I'll take care of myself."
"Like you did with the shooter?"
Those blue eyes shot daggers at him. "That's not fair." She spun away from him, spun back and planted her hands on her hips. "I would've handled that. Somehow," she added. "You can leave me alone. I've been rattled since that guy shot at me, but I'm safe now. Thank you for helping, but I'd like to be alone. I don't need a babysitter, I don't need your money, and I don't even want your help."
He'd been ready for the outrage and indignation. That she managed to deliver both without raising her voice or throwing anything impressed him, but he knew it wasn't the real issue or even close to the whole story. "You don't want the gossips talking about us again but there's no way to stop it."
She sighed. "Town gossip isn't the point, Ross."
It had sure been a point against him when they were growing up. "Then tell me what the point is."
"The point is this mess is my problem. It isn't your concern."
He waited, but she didn't elaborate. "Since I stopped a man from killing you I'll stay concerned for a while longer."
She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head slightly, as if she couldn't quite force herself to look at him. It wasn't fair since he couldn't seem to stop looking at her. Finally she made eye contact and the determination on her face made him want to applaud. She'd always been tough underneath the beauty and gracious manners.
"You expect me to blindly accept your help, but I need a clear explanation. Please, Ross, why were you in Aunt Ruth's house?"
"You first." He mimicked her earlier phrase and regretted it as the bravado leaked out of her. It was a struggle to hold his ground when he felt an overwhelming and entirely unwelcome urge to soothe her.
"I had an invitation. And a key," she snapped.
He managed a sober nod instead of laughing aloud. At some enlightened moment in the lonely years after high school he'd decided being too much alike was the root of their problem. They'd both been too stubborn to compromise.
But this wasn't the time for a personal relationship epiphany. She was in danger and he'd effectively put himself between her and whoever hired the shooter. The unexpected arrival of a hit man was a piece of the puzzle that really bothered him. He needed a few hours and some real intel to put it in perspective. Why couldn't she come clean and save all of them a load of time and effort? Too bad not even saving her life could restore his credibility where she was concerned.
"And you used the key because?"
"Fine." She shoved her hands into her back pockets. He did his best to ignore the way the move thrust her breasts forward. "It's a simple misunderstanding. I got caught in the middle of a...a power struggle at work. I need some time away to let things cool off. When it all gets sorted out, I'll head back. Besides I had vacation days that won't carry over to next year and it's nearly Thanksgiving. The sheriff has probably already determined that the guy at the house was some random robber."
He half-listened to the rambling, knowing she wasn't giving him anything useful and she expected him to believe her tall tale. He wasn't supposed to know the murky truth about her running off with sensitive information. Doing another mental rundown of the case, he decided his team needed an update. A quick text would ensure Eva or Rick would be properly prepared when they arrived for the shift change. He checked his watch, noting he had a little better than three hours until that meeting.
"You're timing me?"
He sighed. "Of course not. I'm checking to see how much sleep I can catch before the shift changes." He sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. He placed them next to the bed with habitual military precision, where he could reach them i
n a hurry, but he wasn't ready to reveal the pistol at his ankle or the knife at his wrist. Sheriff Cochran kept his primary weapon for ballistics analysis, and while he didn't like it, he realized the necessity and wisdom of cooperating with local law enforcement.
"What shift? What the hell are you talking about now?"
"You and I are here," he circled his hand to indicate the room, "because the sheriff released you into my custody. He asked me to keep you safe. I take that sort of responsibility very seriously. For the safety of the witness, or person of interest in your case, protective custody happens in shifts. If you're done ranting about sharing a room - a detail that cannot be changed for your safety - I suggest we get some sleep before my relief arrives." He was bluffing about the sleep, but she didn't need to know how afraid he was to be alone with her. If she offered even the slightest invitation he'd be all over her, the years and hurt between them long forgotten.
"Your custody! He didn't say that to me. Why didn't you say that to me?"
He made a study out of the proper position of the pillows on the bed nearest the door and leaned back as if he wasn't fantasizing about all the other things her mouth could do besides berate him. "Thought you knew."
She chewed on that for all of two seconds. "Bull."
He shrugged. "Maybe I knew you didn't know. So what? You obviously need protection. I proved I'm capable. Either settle down and get some rest or tell me why anyone would want to shoot at you?"
"It was a robbery gone wrong," she insisted, obviously exasperated with him. "Why were you in the house?"
He gritted his teeth. It was never wise to be the first to give up real information, but maybe if he opened up, she would too. He wanted to stamp 'closed' on this case as quickly as possible and move on before he did something stupid where she was concerned. "I was in town on business. Wrapping up another case," he added, before she could ask. "I was in the neighborhood because Sheriff Cochran had complaints from the residents about a stranger poking around. My team gets called in to assist law enforcement for that kind of thing occasionally." That much was true. The sheriff had offered those details when he questioned Ross. Of course there was more to it as it pertained specifically to Allie, but the bottom line was still true.
