“Dana, you have to say something. While I can definitely appreciate the need to run from somebody trying to kidnap you, you can’t expect me to go on some wild ride without more intel. Either you start talking, or I hang a U-turn and take you straight back to where this all went down.”
Dana stared out the window of Rich’s blue pickup and chewed her lower lip as the darkness sped past. He was right, whether she wanted him to be or not. She’d asked him to put his life in danger by being seen with her after the attack, but there had been no other choice.
She couldn’t run on her own. There was no telling what those two had done to her vehicle. At best, there was a tracker hooked to the frame.
At worst...it could explode as soon as someone turned the key in the ignition.
Which meant that until someone checked everything out, driving it was out of the question.
“Start talking.” Rich’s voice was firm, and it brooked no argument.
How could she tell him what was going on when she didn’t even know herself? The man knew her name. He’d targeted her. She had no idea why. If she leaked that bit of intel, every friend she had at WitSec would shut down the wedding reception and start hunting for the reason why. It was bad enough she’d let Rich call the police chief to search for those guys on the down-low.
No, the sooner she put some distance between herself and her friends, the better. “Drop me off at the bed-and-breakfast. I’ll change my flight, pick up a ride share to the airport, and then you don’t have to worry about—”
“Too late.”
She whipped her head toward him. “Too late for what?”
“Too late for you to catch a flight out tonight. Too late for me to drop you off anywhere alone.” He flicked a quick glance her way then refocused on the winding road. “Too late for me not to worry.”
The words elicited a shiver somewhere in the vicinity of her heart, but she ignored it. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need a bodyguard.” She’d spent years proving herself in this field where men were perceived to be stronger than women. True, she’d ultimately found her home on the cyber side of WitSec, but she’d done her time pulling security and protecting witnesses. While Rich’s Special Forces training probably gave him a slight edge, Dana was as competent as any male deputy marshal. Still, the stab of pain in her neck every time she moved her head screamed how her well-practiced self-defense techniques had failed.
“I have no doubt you’re a professional, and I’d never question your abilities.” Rich slowed at a stop sign, then turned left. “Having someone watch your back is an asset, not a liability.”
“I’m fine. Those men simply saw an opportunity and took it.” It was sort of true. They’d taken the opening when she was alone to wrestle her down, but they’d almost definitely been hired to come after her.
Rich didn’t need to know that. Because if he did, he’d never let her out of his sight.
“Nice try. Someone tried to kidnap you. Or worse.”
“They saw an oppor—”
“That’s a great line you keep saying, but do you think I’m an idiot?” It was hard to tell if anger or hurt honed an edge on his words.
No, but she’d kind of hoped he wouldn’t be too observant.
Fat chance. The man had been in Special Forces. He probably knew how to observe in his sleep.
“You keep right on saying it was random, but your actions tell me the exact opposite. Two guys grabbed you. You refuse to take your car and insist on taking my truck. You won’t let me get help on-site because it might put the entire wedding party in danger.”
Oh yeah. She’d said that out loud. Dana dug her teeth into her lip again and waited.
“You forget, I’m unfortunately becoming an expert on pulling security on home turf. Finding out there’s a target on your back would be the least surprising thing to happen this year.”
He was probably right. When Jenna Stephens had been stalked by her twin sister’s would-be murderer, Rich had helped Wyatt stand guard over her. And it had been Rich who provided shelter for Sam and his now-wife, Amy, when her WitSec ID was burned. Seemed he had a way of being where he was needed most.
Dana didn’t want to need him.
Rich slowed to pull onto a winding road on the side of a mountain. It didn’t look like the route to the B and B, but she hadn’t been this way in the dark before. “They weren’t trying to kidnap me. They were trying to kill me.”
Rich slammed on the brakes, the back end of the truck fishtailing slightly. “There’s a whole lot more you need to be telling me.”
“I’m sorry that I put you in the middle of this.”
He sliced the air with his hand then leaned across her, popped the glove compartment open and pulled out a pistol. He leaned to the side and anchored the holster to his belt. “The problem isn’t you got me involved. The problem is you think someone wants you dead. Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“A little truth, please?”
Dana sighed. He’d never stop asking. But if she was in his shoes, neither would she. “They knew my name.”
Rich scrubbed the back of his neck. “That changes everything. You’re a deputy marshal, along with several key people at the wedding. The reception could be a target.”
“No.” Dana shook her head. “They headed for me. For my vehicle. This isn’t about my team, or they’d have gone straight for them. It’s personal.”
The silence deepened as he eyed her, probably considering his next move.
The trill of his phone over Bluetooth made Dana jump.
Rich glanced at the radio then pulled to the side of the road. “Wyatt.” He punched a button on the steering wheel. “You’re on speaker.”
“We made a quick search for your bad guys, but we didn’t find anything. Preliminary run of the plates on the car says it was reported stolen in Asheville earlier today. Once the reception breaks up, I’ll have someone tow it and the department will process it. No sense disrupting Sam and Amy’s big day, but I’ve got a few extra officers keeping an eye on things just in case.”
Dana kept her gaze away from Rich as she leaned closer to the mic on his side of the truck. “Have someone sweep my rental car before they move it. One of the guys was underneath.”
Rich muttered something under his breath.
“Are you kidding me?” Wyatt sounded frustrated, and she couldn’t blame him. As Mountain Springs’ newest police chief, he knew this wasn’t something they could ignore. “Are you thinking a bomb?”
“More likely a tracker.”
“Dana, what’s going on here? There are eighteen things wrong with how this is going down. I’ve got two criminals on the loose, a rental car that’s been tampered with and a stolen vehicle. We haven’t even begun talking about the fact someone attacked a deputy US marshal on my private property. You need to get back here. Now.”
Dana shook her head. “Give me some time to sort this out and then I’ll talk to you. Let Sam and Amy have their night.” They deserved it. Dana heading anywhere near the wedding would be problematic if those men were still skulking around.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking her to my place for the rest of the night. It’s less obvious than the police station and so isolated no one should be able to find her.”
“No!” Dana snapped. If they were being followed, taking her to his place would mount a target in the center of his forehead.
“Do you want to be at the B and B with the rest of the wedding party if those guys come looking?”
True. “Take me to a hotel.” She wouldn’t be responsible for another person’s death. It would kill her.
Wyatt’s voice broke in. “I agree. Your place is safer. I’ll be there in an hour to get her statement, and we can decide what to do from there.” He cut the call.
“I am not taking you to a hotel.” Rich rested his hand along the back of the seat, checked the road behind them and shifted the truck into gear. “You’ll be safer at my place.”
“I need some of my stuff.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m not dumb enough to grab anything electronic. My phone is at the barn with my purse, which I’ll need to fly home tomorrow. But I do want different clothes.” She extended her leg to display a rip in her skirt. “At least let me grab clean jeans.”
“They knew your car. They knew you’d be at the wedding. That tells me they definitely know where you’re staying. If I were them and you were my mission? I’d hightail it straight to the B and B and wait for you to show up. It’s tactical skills 101, and if you were thinking straight, you’d know it.” He handed her his phone. “Text Wyatt that you need your ID. Have him get an officer to take your belongings to the station. I have some of Am—” He cleared his throat. “I’ve got some old clothes at the house that might fit you.”
Dana furrowed her brow but said nothing. She couldn’t go back to the B and B. He was right—she wasn’t thinking straight.
And with Wyatt and Rich on one side and two hired guns on the other, she was also trapped.
While Rich walked Wyatt to the door, Dana slouched against the leather couch cushion, stretched her legs and wrapped her arms over her eyes. The only good thing to say about the past two hours was she’d finally been able to change out of her ripped skirt and a shirt that hadn’t been comfortable even when she put it on earlier in the afternoon. The borrowed jeans were a little loose, but the Auburn University sweatshirt was the next best thing to a warm hug. Whoever these clothes belonged to, they were all about comfort.
Comfort was what she needed right about now. Between the attack and walking a tightrope of answers to Wyatt’s questions, she was as wrung out as an old dishrag. If everyone would leave her alone, she could sleep right here.
Rich’s footsteps thudded across the hardwood, and the leather of the love seat across the coffee table from her creaked. “Doing okay?”
The question was softer than his usual all-business tone, and something about the timbre of it brought tears to the corners of her eyes. Dana swallowed hard. No. Those men did not get to make her cry. She cleared her throat. “I’m fine.”
“Sure you are.”
Dana pulled her arms apart an inch and peeked between them. Rich sat in a position almost identical to hers, legs outstretched but with his arms along the back of the love seat, making his shoulders appear even broader than usual. He looked relaxed, but she’d worked too many protection details to miss his tense signals. His posture was tight, like a cat ready to pounce. While his head was leaned back on the couch and his gaze fixed on the wood-beamed ceiling, the tilt of his chin said he was tuned in for sounds that had nothing to do with her answer to his question. Even though Wyatt had posted officers nearby, Alex Richardson wasn’t the kind of guy to relax.
This was more than military and police training, though. The way he talked, the way he acted... It ran deeper than duty. Too bad she didn’t know him well enough to ask what made him tick. She could use a conversation not directly focused on her.
Dana dropped her hands to her sides and glanced around the room. The house was larger than she’d expected, with exterior walls made of polished logs and interior walls painted white. The hardwood floors nearly matched the logs, but braided rugs broke up the monochrome effect. In the corner near the fireplace, a massive tree held court, decorated with old-fashioned bulb lights and ornaments shaped like fish, birds and other outdoorsy kinds of things.
A massive TV dominated the space over the fireplace, while fly-fishing rods and outdoor prints decorated the walls. Several seating areas of leather couches and chairs gathered around the room, and a dining room table anchored the other side of the open kitchen. The whole space was masculine yet meticulously planned and designed. “This is your house?”
“I live here.”
Interesting answer. Dana eyed the upstairs balcony over the kitchen. Several closed doors to what were probably bedrooms led off the entry. “So whose house is it?”
“It’s mine.”
Dana shifted her gaze to the man across from her. “I don’t like riddles.”
“I’m not trying to be one.” He leaned farther into the sofa and laced his fingers behind his head. “I own the house. I live in the house. But it’s not necessarily for me.”
“Riddles.”
He flashed a smile that flew away as quickly as it landed. “A few years ago, after an incident overseas, the army stationed me and my team at Camp McGee as instructors. After some other events happened...” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, still staring at the ceiling instead of looking at her. “Well, a couple of us attended an outdoor retreat in Colorado. They offered therapy to wounded warriors and those suffering from PTSD. I got to thinking I could see myself doing the same thing for others.
“I grew up not too far from here, spent my childhood years fishing and hunting, so I bought half of the side of the mountain. Somebody built the house to be a bed-and-breakfast, but I got a deal when the property went into foreclosure. It makes a good base camp, and the TLC it required kept me busy whipping it back into livable shape.” He shrugged and sat up, aiming his gaze at the fireplace behind her. “So yeah, it’s mine, but it also will eventually belong to the nonprofit.”
“You decorated it?” Because if he did, he could come down to Atlanta and do something about her apartment. She’d lived there for five years, but the walls were still bare. Who had time to fuss with pictures and knickknacks?
“You think I couldn’t? Are you stereotyping? Implying that all guys have bad taste?” For the first time, real amusement sparked in his eyes.
Boy, did it change everything about him. It made him human, softer...and downright gorgeous. Not in the classic sense. More in a rough-around-the-edges, scruffy kind of way.
Nope. Dana crossed her arms over her eyes again. She couldn’t go down that road. Not with a job that demanded all her time and energy. “It’s a really nice place.”
“If you’re tired, you can take your pick of rooms upstairs. They’re not decorated, but there’s a bed in each one. You’re probably ready to hit the rack.”
It was weird, him playing host. They’d chatted over the past few days, but it had all been surface topics and career stories. Hanging out at his house seemed to catapult them into the kind of friendship she had with Sam and her other teammate, Isaac. Those partnerships had taken years to build. No way could she have camaraderie with this guy so quickly.
Not that it mattered. There wouldn’t be a lot of sleep happening for her tonight, even though she’d been entertaining thoughts of dropping where she sat. “I’m good, but if you had some coffee, I could definitely go for the biggest mug you’ve got.”
“Not a problem.” The couch creaked again as Rich stood. “I don’t keep girly-flavored creamer around, though.”
“Girly?” Dana dropped her hands from her eyes and sat up. She watched Rich head for the open kitchen, where he filled the coffeepot at the brass-and-ceramic sink. City girl that she was, she could get used to the kind of rustic beauty this upscale cabin offered. It was quiet and would be peaceful if she didn’t keep picturing killers lurking in the dark woods outside. “I drink it black. And since when is creamer only for girls? Now who’s stereotyping?”
“I’ve never used it.”
“And you are the only man in the whole wide world.” She sat up taller and stretched her arms wide, the sleeves of the sweatshirt sliding to her elbows.
Man, she could fall in love with this outfit. The sweatshirt was obviously his. When she moved, it carried the faint whiff of whatever mysterious scent guys seemed to have. But the jeans? These were perfectly worn women’s jeans. “Speaking of girly stuff...why do you have a woman’s clothes at your house?”
“What?”
Yeah, he might be acting like he didn’t hear her, but the way those broad shoulders stiffened ever so slightly said otherwise. Why would a question about clothes make him bristle? Come to think of it, he hadn’t even looked her in the eye since he handed over the jeans and sweatshirt before Wyatt arrived.
Interesting.
Peeling herself from the couch, Dana padded across the hardwood to the bar separating the kitchen from the living area. She leaned on her elbows and planted her toes, stretching her battle-weary legs. “I think you heard the question.”
“I think I didn’t answer.” The words weren’t angry. They were flat. Empty of all emotion.
Dana slid onto a wooden stool and leaned her elbows on the bar, resting her chin on her laced fingers. While Rich loaded up the coffee maker, his movements precise and measured, she simply waited. Something in her gut said not to push. He’d speak when he was ready.
Maybe.
After he pressed the start button, Rich reached above the machine and grabbed two thick pottery mugs. When he turned and set them on the counter by the bar, his eyes caught hers for the first time since she’d changed clothes.
He swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple dropped. Even though something haunted flickered across his expression, he didn’t look away. Neither did Dana. Those stormy eyes trapped her, caught her up and swept her into the pain hidden there. “I’m sorry.” The words escaped before her good sense could stop them.
Rich blinked and turned away, apparently watching the coffee drip into the pot. “For what?”
“For whatever happened to make you look like you just looked.”
He froze. His back and shoulders were a solid line. The muscles in his neck tensed. For a long time, he said nothing, but then his chin lifted ever so slightly. “Sweatshirt’s mine. Jeans belonged to my fiancée. Her parents asked me to drop them off at a charity, but I never did.”
Parents. Charity. Past tense. Something really bad must have occurred. “What happened?” Her voice fell to a whisper. This was sacred space, although she had no idea why.
Rich sniffed. “She was murdered.” He turned, and his gray gaze pinned hers. “Because of me.”