by Debra Webb
The impact of that realization hit him head-on. She was protecting her father and herself. If she never got close to anyone she didn't have to lie. Not outright anyway. It was the easiest way. No risk. No threat to the last person on this planet who shared her DNA.
Did she even realize that's what she was doing? Pushing the world away for those rare moments with her phantom father? The idea made him sick to his stomach. What had the bastard told her? Had he brainwashed her into thinking the enemy could be anyone, anywhere, anytime?
But she had gotten involved at least once before. Rafe had said something about some guy. A stranger to town like Heath. The memory of that kiss…of tucking her into bed after the party. As tough as she wanted to play, she was still vulnerable. Had some other guy taken advantage of that vulnerability? Heath had an uneasy feeling it wasn't as simple as that.
Forgetting his lunch, he pushed up from the table and sought a more private place to make a call.
The corridor outside the main dining room offered the only privacy from the lunch crowd and an unobstructed view of Jayne's table.
"Altitude Bar and Grill," blasted across the line along with deafening music.
"Rafe, this is Heath Murphy."
"I can't talk now," Rafe fairly shouted into the phone over the loud music and chatter in the background.
"Wait!" Heath urged. "I need you to answer one question."
"All right. All right. Let me go to the kitchen."
Heath waited, his impatience pounding in his temples, while Rafe made his way to the quieter setting of the kitchen.
"Shoot," Rafe snapped. "And make it fast. I got customers waiting."
"You remember telling me about some stranger who hurt Jayne a couple of years ago…maybe last year." Damn. He couldn't remember.
Dead air filled the void that went on for three beats.
"Why do you ask, Murphy?" Rafe's suspicious tone was to be expected. He loved Jayne, wanted to protect her.
"You have to trust me, Rafe, I need to know." Heath held his breath, hoping like hell the old man would cooperate.
"His name was Richie or Richard Rydner. I don't know. I've tried to forget the bastard."
"Thanks, Rafe."
Heath ended the call, not waiting for whatever warning the guy would surely have issued. His next call was to Cole Danes. "Danes."
"I need you to check something out," Heath said quickly, not wanting to be distracted any longer than necessary.
"I'm ready."
"Richie or Richard Rydner." Heath could hear the scratch of a pen on the other end. "He and Jayne had a thing for a little while a year or so ago."
"This would impact the case in what way?"
"Just a hunch I've got," Heath admitted. "This guy suddenly disappeared when things turned serious."
Danes hummed a note of disinterest. "Nothing original about that but I'll check it out."
"Could you do it now?"
"It could take some time."
Heath shifted his weight impatiently. "With your connections you should be able to reach out and touch someone and get instant feedback."
"Stand by."
Heath leaned against the wall next to the door, his full attention on the woman under his watch. Hell, he would have loved watching her even if it wasn't his job. Her hair was pulled back in that long braid again. She looked painfully young and completely innocent. His biggest regret was that he wouldn't be able to protect that innocence.
She smiled at the woman speaking to her and then held up one hand as if to halt the conversation. The reason became clear as she reached for her cell phone. A look of surprise brightened her face and she grasped the phone with both hands as if the call was both unexpected and thrilling.
Her father.
Heath's mouth formed a grim line. He knew it was him. Damn him.
A little late to be calling and wishing her a happy birthday. A decent father would have called her first thing this morning. Heath watched the happiness dance across her face just as it had the night before last. Late or not, she'd needed it…hoped for it.
"Richard Rydner," Danes said, jerking his attention back to the phone. "Twenty-six, software engineer from Phoenix. He was found dead in his own apartment. Murdered. The police ruled it as a robbery/homicide. The case stands unsolved." The date Danes provided coincided with the time frame of Rydner's involvement with Jayne.
"Bingo," Heath muttered.
"Would you like to share where you think this is going?"
"The bastard killed Rydner to protect himself."
"What?" Danes asked, skepticism in his voice.
"See if you can find any other men in her life who died an untimely death." He was on to something here, Heath was certain.
"She told me she was all alone," he went on. "What better way to ensure she never shared the truth with an other human being? Anyone who got too close went away. Giving her all the more reason not to trust men," Heath concluded, more certain than ever of his assessment.
Danes assured that he would do a thorough search of her background as far back as age twelve, but Heath was only half listening.
Someone talking in the room across the hall had distracted him. One of the private dining rooms, he assumed. He forced his attention back to watching Jayne and paying attention to the conversation with Danes.
His instincts wouldn't relent. The voice…won't be long now. Love you. The words were barely audible.
I love you.
This time he didn't hear the words, he saw them as Jayne uttered them to her caller.
He was here.
"I'll get back to you." Heath slammed his phone shut and dropped it back into his pocket while simultaneously whirling toward the door across the hall. By the time he burst through he had his weapon in his hand.
One large window on the far side of the room stood open, its sheer curtains flapping in the frigid air.
Heath swore hotly. He'd missed him. He knew it had been him. The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end.
"Give me the weapon." The cold, hard tone was accompanied by the nudge of a steel barrel to the back of Heath's skull.
He bit back another curse. "No way," he ground out.
"Then die."
The cocking of the weapon echoed in the room.
"Go ahead, kill me," Heath taunted, in an effort to buy himself some time. "You're a dead man already, you just don't know it yet."
The barrel jammed harder into his scalp. "You think so? Tell me who the Colby Agency hired to find me and maybe I'll give you a fifty-fifty chance at survival. A gut shot instead of a bullet to the brain."
Heath laughed and told him what he could do with himself, which would be physically impossible in the literal sense.
"What's his name?" Stephens roared. "I want to know who managed what even Lucas Camp could not."
It was now or never. Heath knew he had to make a move. He was dead for sure if he didn't.
A scream and a loud crash near the door provided an abrupt but blessed distraction. Heath whipped around, leveled his weapon. Stephens had anticipated just such a move. He'd already grabbed the waitress who'd entered the room and shielded himself with her.
"Back off," he growled at Heath.
Heath ignored the order and moved in unison with him and his hostage as he closed in on the window.
"Let her go." Heath kept a bead on the bastard but the woman was in the way.
Stephens laughed. "Still too much of a cop to risk the hostage, I see."
Heath resisted the urge to lunge at him. His trigger finger itched to pull back.
Running footsteps pounded in the corridor.
Stephens shoved the waitress at Heath and dived out the window.
Heath stumbled back, catching the woman, but losing his aim on Stephens.
He steadied the lady then rushed to the window but it was too late.
Stephens was gone.
CHAPTER NINE
Convincing the restaurant mana
ger that he was fine took Heath longer than he would have preferred. Thankfully the waitress had only seen the other man's gun. She hadn't noticed Heath's since her eyes had been squeezed shut in fear as Stephens used her for a human shield.
The manager had assumed the incident was an attempted mugging and insisted on calling the police. Heath barely talked him out of it, doing a little insisting of his own. He'd come to Aspen for a good time, not to deal with a mugging and the police. The mugging attempt had failed, no real harm done. In the end, Heath had won out.
The customer was always right. Wasn't that the motto in the restaurant industry?
Apparently the noise level had been high enough in the dining room that Jayne and her group had been spared the excitement.
As the group gathered their coats and readied to depart for the trailhead, Heath's cell vibrated in his pocket. He'd set it on vibrate before going into Jayne's class this morning.
"Murphy."
"What the hell happened?"
Heath swore. He should have called Danes back immediately but the manager had taken up valuable time and then there was Jayne and her group. He swore again. This was not a one-man operation. A guy as experienced in this business as Danes should have considered that little detail.
"Our man had a question for me," Heath said flatly, then offered a smile for Jayne as she herded the geriatric group toward the exit.
"What was the question?"
Heath shook his head, still surprised by the audacity of his target. "I can't believe this guy," he muttered, turning away from the folks loading on the tour bus. "He set me up to walk in on him. He wanted me to know he was there. I'd probably be dead now if that waitress hadn't screamed and dropped a tray of glassware."
"The question," Danes repeated. "What was his question?"
Heath stilled. Danes had known this would be coming. He knew this guy's M.O. "He…" Heath swallowed, a new kind of uneasiness making his gut tighten. "He wanted to know your name. Wanted to know who had done what no one else appeared able to do."
Nothing.
Not a single word.
Silence.
"Oh, hell," Heath accused from between clenched teeth. "You know this maniac." He moved a few more feet away from the bus, scarcely able to keep his voice down. If Danes was playing games with him, Heath would—
"I don't know him," Danes allowed, taking some of the force out of the storm brewing inside Heath. "I know his kind," he added.
"Whatever. I have to go." Heath was sick of both Danes and Stephens. Both had clearly spent too much time in the spook business playing kill or be killed games.
"There's been a change in plans," Danes said, disregarding Heath's comment.
"What kind of change?" Heath couldn't hold up the group any longer. He climbed aboard the bus and claimed a seat at the very back.
"You must know, Mr. Murphy, that the final confrontation is near."
"No kidding," Heath muttered. Jayne glanced back at him and he pushed a smile into place for her benefit.
"I had hoped we could perhaps detain him, question him regarding a number of exploits in his past. I'm sure he knows things this government would very much like to learn."
"I'll do what I can." Heath couldn't make any promises. Stephens was not the kind of prey a mere cop usually went after, especially not alone. And Jayne's safety was Heath's number one priority.
"Don't trouble yourself. I want you to eliminate him. He represents far too great a threat to risk allowing him to escape."
Shock radiated all the way to the soles of Heath's feet. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he asked carefully. No way could he have understood right.
"Your orders are clear, Mr. Murphy. If you get Howard Stephens back in your sights, shoot to kill."
"I can't do that." No way in hell could he simply shoot a man without provocation. "Not unless he forces my hand."
"Take my word for it, Mr. Murphy, he will provide all the provocation you require. Make no mistake. Only one of you will survive the confrontation. The only decision you have to make is whether it will be you or him."
The conversation ended on that note.
Heath closed his phone and dropped it back into his pocket. Funny thing was, he didn't recall any of this being in the vague briefing he'd received prior to taking this assignment.
"Is everything all right?"
Heath looked up just as Jayne took the seat next to him. He smiled, unable to help himself. With her this close he didn't have to fake it. "Everything's fine."
She looked away for a moment. "I thought maybe that was your girlfriend or your wife."
Heath shook his head. "No girlfriend, no wife."
"Good." She started to stand but hesitated and leaned toward him instead. "I would have hated to punch you in front of all these people for kissing me last night if you were already taken."
He watched her go back to the front seat, pausing to chat with one person after another in her group. Damn her father and damn Cole Danes. They'd put him in this position. What the hell was he supposed to do? Shoot her own father right in front of her?
There would be no happy ending to this story.
Only shattered lives.
* * *
JAYNE SURVEYED THE group, ensuring everyone was properly suited up for the trek. Just over three miles with a gentle incline of about six hundred feet would be no problem for anyone in this group. As long as no one had fibbed about his or her general health and physical activity level. That was her only real concern in her line of work, especially when dealing with a slightly older crowd. No one wanted to admit they were old.
The driver would come back in four hours to pick them up, unless she called in and specified otherwise.
She made her way to where Heath waited, watching the bus leave the trailhead behind. "No need to worry, Murphy," she teased. "The bus will be back and this one's real easy, a baby slope."
When his gaze connected with hers she saw worry there. Maybe he just wasn't going to be able to deal with this environment at all. She suddenly wished she knew how to make the old hurt he carried around go away.
But she didn't. They barely knew each other, were still strangers really.
No, she amended, not strangers. Friends.
He pasted on a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm okay. Don't worry, I won't freak out on you or any thing." He reached down and secured his snowshoes, taking a good deal more time than necessary.
She braced her hands on her hips and watched his confident if prolonged movements. "I hope not. You'd be really embarrassed if any of this group had to carry you back to the trailhead."
Straightening to his full height, he laughed and this time the smile was genuine. "You have my word that I'm good to go," he promised on a more serious note.
"Let's get this show on the road then."
He nodded and gestured for her to go first.
"Okay, folks," she called out. "Let's go tramp some snow."
Since all of the participants had been in Aspen for more than twenty-four hours, altitude problems wouldn't be an issue.
Jayne described the terrain as she took the lead, explaining that this trail offered a pleasant and scenic hike, even in the snow.
The trail hugged the wide, swiftly running creek that cut across the ridge. The edges of the water were frozen, the blanket of snow pushing onto those icy ledges like a winter coat. If they were lucky they would see some of the local wildlife, maybe an elk or deer. Preferably no black bears or mountain lions. Though she carried a defibrillator she didn't want to have to use it.
For the next two hours Jayne did what she did best, talked about the beautiful landscape and pointed out the little things most first-time visitors missed. Like the way the sun peeked through the trees and dropped be hind the summits of distant mountain ranges.
Today's generous sun had boosted the temperature to a pleasant thirty degrees Fahrenheit. To compensate for the unexpected warm spell, Jayne loosened her parka.
She tried not to get caught up in thoughts of Heath. Each time she looked in his direction he was preoccupied with the terrain. She couldn't help wondering if he'd made a game of it, like counting trees or looking for faces in the clouds, anything to keep his mind off what ever ghosts haunted him.
Tonight they had to talk. She wanted to know why he took no notes for his story. Why he hadn't spent more time asking her about her work. He didn't strike her as the type to procrastinate where his work was concerned.
No girlfriend, no wife.
Excitement bubbled inside her at the prospect that he was, indeed, a free man. She reminded that foolish part of herself that he would be leaving and that falling any further for him would be a huge mistake.
Twice she'd fallen hard and lived to regret it.
She should be smarter than this, at least be more romance savvy.
But, in reality, was there anything practical or strategic about love? It just happened—came out of no where the same as Heath had.
Maybe the third time would be the charm. Wasn't that how that old saying went?
No, no, no. She gave herself a mental shake. She would not use the word love in the same thought as Heath Murphy. Not safe. Not safe at all.
Besides, how could she possibly ever trust him or any other man with her heart…with the truth about her father? His enemies would go to any extent to eliminate him. He'd told her that dozens of times.
Whatever she shared with Heath or any other man would always be overshadowed by that lie. The same way her mother's life had been. She had died an unhappy, lonely woman.
Apparently, Jayne was doomed to that same fate.
But her father was all she had. How could she risk causing him harm?
She couldn't. It was too much to sacrifice.
Jayne paused and pointed out a deer in the tree line ahead. While cameras were whipped out and amazed whispers rumbled, her thoughts returned to her nonexistent love life. Why did she worry about any of this? If she was to be alone forever as her mother had been, why not take her happiness wherever she could.
Like now.
With Heath.
Her gaze drifted back to him.
He was looking directly at her. A jolt of need roared through her. She hoped he could read in her eyes just how much she wanted him. She was tired of denying herself. He would leave anyway. What were one or two nights of stolen pleasure? The only person who would be hurt was her and maybe it would be worth it. She remembered the way his bare chest had looked, the strength his body radiated and she knew damn well it would be worth it.
