Sheltered
HelenKay Dimon
She'd always preferred handling things on her own. Until a sexy undercover agent stepped in to protect her.Strong-and-silent Holt Kingston has one mission: to infiltrate a dangerous cult with more firepower than faith. But when the compound’s ruthless leader has a gorgeous former member in his sights, single-minded Holt won’t rest until the mesmerizing Lindsey Pike is safe.After living undercover for years helping others flee, Lindsey isn’t used to someone else calling the shots. Not even someone as capable and captivating as Holt. But now someone knows she’s back—and wants her captured. Maybe even killed. As the cult slowly closes in on them, Lindsey can no longer hide how much Holt’s protection soothes her peace of mind. And heals her wounded heart.
“Do you need something?”
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “You.”
She couldn’t have heard that right. All the adrenaline and crackling of her nerves had her brain misfiring. “What did you just say?”
“Nothing.”
The mattress dipped from his weight and her body slid into his. “I can’t seem to calm my nerves. I feel like I’m six seconds from flying apart.”
His palm slipped over her thigh. “It’s aftermath.”
“Do you always feel like this?”
“Just sometimes.” He slid his hand over hers and their fingers entwined. “Your nerve endings are on fire. The danger and fear, the sadness and pain. It’s all mixing and getting jammed up inside you.”
“How do I get rid of it?”
“Different things work for different people.” His thumb rubbed against the back of her hand. Slow, lazy circles that soothed her even as her insides continued to churn.
Bold had worked for her once before. She tried it again. “Any chance kissing does the trick?”
Sheltered
HelenKay Dimon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
HELENKAY DIMON, an award-winning author, spent twelve years in the most unromantic career ever—divorce lawyer. After dedicating all that effort to helping people terminate relationships, she is thrilled to deal in happy endings and write romance novels for a living. Now her days are filled with gardening, writing, reading and spending time with her family in and around San Diego. Stop by her website, www.helenkaydimon.com (http://www.helenkaydimon.com), and say hello.
Thank you to my husband, James, for the trip to Oregon. All that beautiful open space gave me tons of suspense ideas.
Contents
Cover (#u81b40dae-706c-5519-b058-090359ec0100)
Introduction (#u911864d2-64a7-5021-b177-a76acf600855)
Title Page (#u3a9e7dcf-4513-5f40-b8c5-7e83625335ef)
About the Author (#u95177282-982a-5422-aeeb-3b11d02b07f3)
Dedication (#u6259ad55-f976-5320-a8f0-d52ab5a8c7d8)
Chapter One (#u22b17db4-b728-5d64-a282-e15e60fd5d34)
Chapter Two (#u6fffb616-f0af-5184-a91f-14175d85dbe3)
Chapter Three (#u9917ee34-5314-56c1-a82b-e9d8c67434b0)
Chapter Four (#ub88eea85-8582-59cd-b241-81f7dc2f785b)
Chapter Five (#u341f4ceb-9d51-5f44-b5d5-87da60b0e328)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_7712f04a-7be2-57a2-a782-31f20818b97e)
For the third night in a row the wind and rain whipped up the Oregon Coast and smacked into the side of Lindsey Pike’s small cottage. The temps dipped into lower than normal range for late summer, but that was only part of the reason for keeping her windows closed. The other sat about eleven miles away, up a steep hill and behind a locked gate.
But cool temperature or not, a steady banging put her already zapping nerves further on edge. The rattle came first, then the thud. That would teach her to wait on fixing the shutter in the family room until “sometime next week.”
She leaned back into the stack of pillows piled behind her on her bed and reopened her book. After she stared at the same line for what felt like the billionth time, she decided maybe this wasn’t the right night for dry research reading. She slipped her legs over the side of the bed and winced when her bare toes hit the chilled hardwood floor.
She made it two steps down the hallway in search of the perfect mindless magazine before she stilled. Something was off. In the air, in the tight space...something.
Up on the balls of her feet, she spun around, thinking to head back to the bedroom and to the gun she kept locked in a safe in her nightstand. Then it hit her. No banging. The wind still howled and the rafters shook now and then. But no more noise.
Torn between possibilities, she stood there. The poor shutter probably finally blew off. That meant hunting it down tomorrow and reattaching it, properly this time. Even as the rationale hung in her mind her unease increased. The slow churning of dread deep in her stomach spun faster. Yeah, she’d lived through paralyzing anxiety before and knew the sensation never led her wrong.
She turned back toward the family room and saw him. It...whatever. Big and looming and shadowed. Without thinking, she took off in a sprint in the opposite direction. Her feet tapped against the floor as she broke for the bedroom. For the gun and the phone. She’d use the lamp as a weapon if she had to. Anything to survive.
Footsteps thundered behind her, louder and faster. Just as she hit the doorway a hand fell on her shoulder. Fingers clenched against her pajama top and dragged it and her backward. She landed with a thump against a solid mass.
“Listen to me.” The deep voice vibrated as he whispered.
“No.” She scratched and clawed. “Let go!”
She wound up for the most deafening scream of her life, but it choked off in her throat when his hand landed on her mouth. “Lindsey, stop.”
In the haze she didn’t recognize the voice. Didn’t matter if she did. Forget that he knew her name. This person broke in. She had to get him out or take him down. Those were the only two options. She would not be a victim again.
“Lindsey, it’s me.” He pulled her in tighter against him, banding an arm around her middle and trapping her legs with one of his.
“Get out,” she screamed, but the words got muffled against his palm.
She went with biting. Clamped down hard on the fleshy part of his hand and heard him swear as he jerked back. His arm loosened and she scrambled away. She couldn’t get the bedroom door shut, but she could get to that lockbox.
Her heartbeat hammered in her ears as her fingers fumbled with the drawer pull. She’d barely opened it when the attacker knocked her back on the mattress. She flailed, kicking out, trying to land a punch or a hit, or anything that would slow him down or double him over.
Adrenaline pumped through her. Between the race down the hall and the fear pulling at her, she should be exhausted. Instead, energy pulsed through her. She believed she could lift the house, if needed. But first she had to move this guy.
She shoved a knee deep between his legs, but he reached down and caught the shot just in time. With her head shifting on the bed and her body in constant motion, she could barely see. All of her focus went into thinking and moving.
“Lindsey, it’s Hank.”
His frustration hit her. The words took another second. She maintained her tight grip on his wrist as she looked up. Her gaze went to the broad shoulders and coal-black hair. Those intense dark eyes.
Recognition struck. Right, Hank...something. He was the new handyman, the gofer, whatever his real title, for the New Foundations Retreat. The place she hated most but could not escape.
If he thought letting her make that connection in her mind would make it easier to accept his presence, he was dead wrong. She put anyone affiliated with New Foundations in the “never trust” category. The scruffy rough-and-tumble look would not get him off that list, especially now.
She bucked her hips, trying to knock him off balance. “Get off.”
When that failed, panic rolled through her. His weight anchored her to the bed, which left her few options.
“You need to listen,” he said in a harsh whisper.
“No.” She tried to wiggle her wrist free so she could scratch. If he’d put just a bit of space between their locked bodies, she would knee him hard enough to send him rolling on the floor.
Lightning lit up the room and a crack of thunder came right behind. She remembered childhood tales about the time between them having something to do with the distance you were from the storm. Probably hogwash, but she needed something mindless to block the blinding fear.
He touched her cheek and moved her head until she faced him. He stared down, as if willing her to believe. “Men are coming.”
With that her body froze. “What?”
“Some people at New Foundations want to talk to you and I don’t think they care if you want to listen.”
A new wave of desperation hit her. Maybe he was there to warn her. Maybe he was there to help whoever was coming, if that threat was even true. Didn’t matter, because she refused to stick around and see.
Inhaling and trying to calm her breathing, she didn’t flinch away from his touch or try to get away. For a few seconds she put all her energy into convincing him. “I have to get out of here.”
“I need to keep you safe.” He nodded as the grip on her wrists eased. “That’s why I’m here.”
He broke in and scared the hell out of her. Those facts kept running through her mind and pushing out everything else. “You’re one of them.”
“Lindsey, no.” He shook his head. “I am not here to hurt you.”
The calm tone. The orders delivered in an even cadence. She’d experienced it all before, sometimes from well-meaning folks who promised they would help. But those other times weighed on her, had her skepticism snapping. “Why should I believe you?”
“Wish I had a good answer for that, but I don’t.” He hesitated and then lifted off her, inch by inch, until he balanced on his knees, straddling her. One quick glance down between his legs and he shifted to kneel to the side of her. “I’m only a few steps in front of them.”
She’d never been one to get dizzy or faint. Not her style at all, but the oxygen seeped out of her until the room spun and bile raced up her throat. “Let me slip out the back.”
“Would never work.” He held up his hands as he stepped off the mattress and stood in front of her. “They need to think you’re with me.”
She jackknifed into a sitting position, ready to make a second grab for the nightstand depending on what he said next. “What?”
“Trust me.”
That was never going to happen. Not for him. Not for anyone. Those days were long gone for her. “No way.”
She barely got the words out before a crack sounded at the front of the house. A new surge of fear whipped through her.
He glanced behind him as he kept that hand out, gesturing for her to stay down. “Do not move.”
From the bed? That wasn’t happening either. “I will kill you first.”
“And that would be your right if I tried to hurt you, but I won’t.” The words sounded good, but he started unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you doing?” But she knew. Knew and would throw every single thing in the room at him, nailed down or not.
He left his blue long-sleeve shirt open over a T-shirt and reached for his belt. A few quick moves and he had the zipper down and the jeans on the floor. “Making it believable.”
Her hand inched toward the lamp. The heavy base right to his skull might stop him. “Okay.”
But he didn’t come at her in his boxer briefs. He bent down and slipped something out of...a gun. With a touch of a finger to his lips he turned toward the doorway.
“Who’s there?” His deep voice echoed down the hall.
She had no idea what was happening. Shadows moved outside her window. She assumed branches, but she didn’t know. Everything blended together and morphed until the walls pounded in on her.
He kicked off his shoes and stepped into the hallway. The floorboards creaked under his weight.
She thought about diving out the window but had no idea what lurked out there. Forcing her mind to focus, she grabbed for the nightstand drawer. Punched in the lock code and had the gun loaded and in her hand as she crept out behind Hank.
“I am not going to let you touch my girlfriend.” He kept his back against the wall as he slid farther down the hall toward the family room. “Leave now and this ends fine.”
My girlfriend? Her mind stuck there and refused to unstick. The most she could do was stand up and get to the bedroom doorway.
She stopped in time to see the collision. Hank took one more step and a body smashed into him. She aimed her gun, but only darkness greeted her. The two men were locked in battle, rolling like a ball across her floor. She heard grunts and saw arms rise and fall. One back thumped against the hallway wall, then another.
Lightning flashed and she saw blond hair and a dark jacket. She didn’t recognize the intruder. Only Hank. She could make him out as he landed punch after punch against the blond’s jaw.
Thunder boomed and then an eerie quiet fell over the back of the house. The men tumbled as they slipped out of sight. Something fell to the floor with a crash, but the usual buzz of the lights and hum of the refrigerator had stopped. She reached out and flicked the switch by her head, but nothing happened. Either the storm knocked out the power or a group of men outside her home did. She hated both options.
Gripping the gun, she stepped into the hall and tried to make out one figure from the other. She didn’t know Hank and didn’t owe him anything, but he could have dragged her outside and handed her to the blond. He hadn’t, and the confusion from that kept her from shooting him now.
But she could see shapes. Hank had the blond on the floor. Hank’s legs pinned the guy, and an arm hooked around his neck. Looked to her as though her make-believe boyfriend had this one won. Nothing about that realization had her relaxing.
The scuffle continued. The blond’s heels smacked against the floor. The battle seemed to be dying down until another figure stepped into the far end of the hall opposite her. Her insides chilled and her body shook hard enough for her teeth to rattle. She couldn’t make out his face but got the impression he was staring at her. Waiting.
One swing of his arm and he knocked Hank’s head into the wall. She aimed, ready to fire at anyone who came toward her. But the newest man reached down and dragged the blond to his feet. Then they were gone.
She stood there, unable to think. Unable to breathe.
“Lindsey?” Hank stumbled to his feet as he scooped his gun off the floor. “You okay?”
His voice snapped her out of her stupor. She reached inside her bedroom and ripped the emergency flashlight out of the socket, then grabbed the second one she kept just inside the bathroom door.
She fumbled to hold them both in one hand and aimed them in Hank’s direction. He blinked as he rubbed one hand over the back of his head. The other one, the one with the weapon, dropped to his side.
His gaze traveled over her, and then he frowned. “Where did you get a gun?”
Not exactly the response she’d expected, but until he asked she forgot she held it. “It’s mine.”
“Maybe you could lower it.”
She wanted to ask if he was okay. After all, unless he’d put on some great show, he’d just saved her from two intruders storming in and taking her away. But that wasn’t where her mind went. “Who are you?”
At first she didn’t think he heard her. He walked through the small house. Checked the front door. Looked outside.
He finally turned back to her. “You should think of me as Hank Fletcher. A handyman who blew into town looking for work. We met, started dating and now I’m at your house most nights.”
Wrong answer, and that was before she got to the boyfriend thing. She ignored that part completely. “But that’s not who you are.”
“No.”
At least he didn’t lie or try to shrug her off. But she still wanted an answer. “Tell me or the gun stays up.”
He leaned against the armrest of her couch. “Holt Kingston, undercover with the Corcoran Team, and right now the best hope you have of not being dragged up to the compound and questioned.”
She had no idea what any of that meant but grabbed on to the “undercover” part and hoped that stood for police or law enforcement. Really, anyone with a gun and some authority who could help.
Going further, the idea of trusting him even the slightest bit brought her common sense to a screeching halt. But as much as it grated, there was something about him. It had been that way from the beginning. She’d seen him in town and driving the New Foundations truck and she couldn’t stop watching. She chalked the reaction up to being cautious, but what she was thinking of doing right now, letting him in if only an inch, struck her as reckless.
Even now, standing there in his underwear, with this massive chest and...well, everything looked pretty big. Still, the fear that had gripped her body and held it to that spot in the hall eased away. Tension buzzed through the room, but the panic had subsided.
Ignoring the warning bells dinging in her head, she verbally reached out. “So, you know New Foundations is a cult.”
“Oh, Lindsey.” He shook his head. “It’s worse than that. So much more dangerous and threatening.”
At least he understood that much about the place that starred in her nightmares. That was more than her father ever understood. “Okay, then.”
His shoulders dropped a little, as if the tension stiffening them had ratcheted down. “So, we’re good?”
No way was she going that far. Not yet. Probably not ever. “Let’s just say I’m willing to hear you out.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
She let the hand with the gun drop to her side but didn’t let go. “Talk fast.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_f9e1a739-cc0e-51ce-8cbc-7c0bba571d10)
Holt felt the tension ease from his shoulders the second she dropped the gun. The close call would teach him to break protocol. He’d overheard two New Foundations bruisers talking about grabbing Lindsey and snapped into action. Gone to her house and the rest was a combination of pure luck and timing.
Not that he usually dropped cover. He rescued for a living. That was what the Corcoran Team did. Worked undercover in off-the-books operations, preventing kidnappings before they happened and when called in too late, being the first to rush in and get victims out. Hired by governments and corporations, they performed work others couldn’t.
His three-man team moved constantly but reported back to the main office in Annapolis. Connor Bowen owned the company and ran the show, including the four agents who worked out of Maryland. Holt only had to check in with one person—Connor—and the boss would not like how this assignment had spun out.
Holt could hardly admit getting his head turned by a pretty woman. And Lindsey Pike definitely qualified as that. She possessed a girl-next-door prettiness. The shiny brown hair with streaks of blond. The big green eyes. The confident way she moved around the town of Justice, Oregon, the most ill-named town ever.
She’d intrigued him from day one, and hearing she was in trouble tonight got him moving.
Now he figured he had about ten seconds to convince her that he was one of the good guys or see her whip out that gun again. Actually, from the frown, maybe more like five.
“Tell me exactly why you’re here.” Her expression didn’t change. Those lips stayed in a flat line as a sort of grim determination moved over her.
No shock. No panic. That told him she knew exactly how dangerous the folks at New Foundations were. Maybe she’d expected them to hunt her down. Maybe she’d been poking at them. Either way, she appeared to possess the type of intel he needed.
In cases like this, with the adrenaline still pumping, the simple truth tended to work, so he went with it. “There were orders to bring you in.”
“From?”
He had a feeling the call came from high up, but he couldn’t pinpoint it yet. “I don’t know.”
If possible, her frown deepened. “Of course you do. Who told you to come after me?”
That explained it. She still viewed him as attacker, not rescuer. “No one. I overheard men talking at the compound and got here first to warn you.”
“Compound.” She scoffed. “The place almost sounds nice when you say it that way.”
Not what he’d seen. Sure, on the surface, everything ticked along fine. The camp operated as a retreat. Cabins lined up in a serene wooded area. Communal gardens and shared meals in a dining hall. Staff had the option of living in less private bunkhouses a few hundred feet from the main area, behind the yoga studio.
It all seemed peaceful, the perfect place for people who were tired of being plugged in and those sick of government regulations or city life. But on the inside something festered. Groups of men would leave for hours at a time. The gun range had a steady stream of customers. So did the makeshift village built on the back of the property. The one where people practiced drills storming houses and learning how to fight off attacks.
But none of that worried Holt like the sheer amount of firepower he’d seen brought onto the property. He recognized the crates and couldn’t come up with a single reason a retreat that featured yoga would also have grenade launchers.
Corcoran had been sent in after information leaked. But finding former members proved difficult. People went there and stayed, which had government officials thinking cult. That was what Holt had expected on this assignment, but now he knew better. New Foundations had the makings of a homegrown militia.
He stepped carefully with Lindsey now, hoping he’d finally found a thread he could pull to bring the place down. “Apparently you ticked off someone at the retreat.”
“You have no idea.”
But he wanted to know. With her, he guessed the direct question might not get the job done, so he verbally walked around it, hoping to land on the information he needed. “Were you a member?”
She tightened her grip on the gun. “For now, I think I’ll ask the questions.”
The woman played this well. He admired her refusal to get sucked in. “Why do you think I’ll agree to that?”
“You are in my house. You dragged me out of bed, stripped down and—”
“Fine.” Round One to Lindsey. “Go ahead.”
Using the hand with the gun, she motioned for him to sit down on the couch. “What’s the Corcoran Team?”
He settled for leaning against the armrest because he had a feeling he needed to be up and ready to fight with this woman. “Can’t tell you that.”
She stood right in front of him, close but not close enough for him to grab the gun or get a jump on her. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she’d been trained. And if he was right that she’d spent some time at the retreat and lived to talk about it, her survival instincts might rival his own.
“Are you with the government?”
“With?” He knew what she was asking but didn’t know if she knew.
“An FBI agent or something.”
The out waited right there and he took it. “Or something.”
She sighed at him. Threw out one of those long-suffering exhales that women did so well when men ticked them off. “I feel like we’re going backward here.”
“We’ll get to all that, but first we’re going to contact the police.” He should have made the call as soon as the attackers left.
“No.” That was all she said. A curt denial.
People generally didn’t question his orders. Probably had something to do with his size and no-room-for-debate scowl. His sister said he’d inherited the look and demeanor from their dad. Holt knew that wasn’t exactly a compliment.
“Excuse me?” He kept his voice deadly soft in an attempt to telegraph his mood to her.
Her eyebrow lifted. “Oh, I’m thinking you heard me.”
This woman didn’t scare easily. He had to admit he found that, along with everything else about her, smoking hot. The not-backing-down thing totally worked for him.
Not that he had time for anything but work, which led him right back to his point. “We need to file a report.”
“We know who attacked. You just confirmed it. You came here to stop it...I guess.”
Her refusal to get that point had his temper spiking, but he didn’t let it show. He never let it show. He didn’t need the West Point education and years in the army after to teach him how to remain calm. For him, playing this game amounted to common sense and he could pull off outward disinterest even while his insides churned. “The people at New Foundations can’t know I’m onto them.”
“Why?” Her tone now rang with interest, as if she were trying to fit the pieces together in her head.
“I’m working undercover, which means you can’t say anything.” He’d already blown that one, but since she hadn’t shot in him in the head he believed he’d made the right call.
“Who would I tell?”
That wasn’t exactly his point. “I have no idea.”
She hesitated while her gaze toured his face. “Let’s talk about the undercover thing for a bit.”
Yeah, enough sharing. “After we call the police.”
She shook her head. Looked even more determined to shut down his plan. “The police around here protect the people who run New Foundations. They have some sort of relationship that keeps the camp in business.”
Holt got that. There would need to be some sort of quid pro quo for the retreat to operate in such an information vacuum. At least he hoped so. “I’m counting on that.”
Her stance eased and some of the tension tightening her shoulders disappeared. “You lost me.”
A quick once-over glance told him some of her fear had subsided. The glance also tugged on his concentration. Her pajamas, the lack of a bra...he noticed it all.
He forced his mind back to the conversation and off her body and that face...man, she was killing him. “We have one hope of keeping you safe.”
“What’s that?”
“Me.”
She treated him to a second sigh, this one longer than the first. She also put her gun down on the table at the end of the couch. “I knew you were going to say that.”
No need to spook her, so he didn’t make a move or even look at the gun, even though it sat just inches from his thigh. “If they think we’re dating, I become more helpful.”
“How?” The skepticism in her voice slammed into him.
He gritted his teeth as he tried to ignore the attitude. “You stay protected.”
“Why wouldn’t they just grab me?”
A fine question, which led him to one of his own. “Why do they want to?”
“Don’t know.” She folded her arms across her midsection. “Ask them.”
“Are you always this difficult?” She was almost as prickly as he was when it came to holding back information. He admired the skill even as it blocked him from getting the intel he needed.
“Yes.”
The honesty was pretty hot, too. Still, Holt knew his plan provided the right answer. “We call the police. We file a report. The report gets back to the New Foundations folks and my cover holds. With all that in place, it becomes that much harder for them to grab you.”
She shrugged. “Or I could leave town.”
A good plan. The smart one. For some reason not one he liked very much. “That’s the better option, but I was betting you’d say no if I suggested it.”
“Why?”
“In addition to the fact that you seem to question everything I say?”
The corner of her mouth lifted in what looked like an almost-smile. “I’m tempted to deny that, but I fear it would prove your point.”
Since he felt as though he actually won that round, he answered the original question. “The people I’m protecting usually refuse to leave their homes, family, friends...you get the picture.”
He’d heard the refrain so many times that he was starting to believe Connor’s argument that people valued family and home above all else. Not one to stick around in one place for very long, Holt didn’t really get it.
He had people in his life he’d die for and a job he loved, but the whole craving a home thing never registered with him. Maybe it stemmed from having a father more dedicated to the army than his kids.
Maybe it was what happened when the person you trusted most left you to die on an abandoned stretch of dirt road in Afghanistan. Holt suspected that didn’t help, but it didn’t really matter how he got to the emotional freeze-out, because that was his reality and he didn’t see it changing.
“You do this a lot?” she asked.
“Rescue? Yeah, it’s all I do.” All he knew.
The final bit of tension zapping around the room ceased. “So you can actually shoot that thing?”
He followed her gaze to his gun. The one she could see. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re not a handyman.”
It was his turn to shrug. “I’m handy.”
“Oh, really?”
“I’ve got skills.” He needed to pull back. Knew it but didn’t.
Her expression changed then. “Are you flirting with me?”
So tempting. “That would be bad form, since two guys just tried to kick my butt.” He needed to stay on his feet and aware, though he could understand why she asked. His gaze kept wandering. So did his thoughts.
Not good at all.
“I don’t understand any of what’s going on tonight. I’ve seen you around town. I stay away from the camp and never say anything about what goes on there.” She broke away and walked toward the kitchen, then paced back.
She walked with her movements jerky for the first time. Frustration pulsed off her.
Yeah, he needed this intel. He felt for her, but she talked about knowing what happened in the camp. Didn’t say she “heard” tales. No, she had personal knowledge. He’d bet on it. “You’re saying you don’t know what you did to upset the New Foundations people?”
“Of course I do.”
Round and round they went. She gave new meaning to the term pulling teeth. “And?”
“My entire life is dedicated to ruining that place.”
Bingo. “Well, then...”
She pointed in the general direction of the front door. “They don’t know that.”
“Clearly they do.” And she had him curious. Her hatred sounded personal. That could mean she once lived there. She might know about former members. People his team needed to interview.
“You are not the only one working undercover. For me, it’s more like working underground.” She went back to pacing. “And up until tonight no one ever bothered me. I live just far enough away, keep my name out of the papers and protests. I drive miles outside of my way just so I can avoid driving near the entrance.”
When he couldn’t take the quiet tap of her bare feet against the hardwood one more second, he stepped in front of her. “Maybe someone recognized you.”
He needed more details but decided not to press because whatever the reason, she’d landed on someone’s radar screen. That meant the life she knew and protected was over.
Her head snapped up. “It could be worse than that.”
“How?”
Tension tightened her features again. “Someone up there must have figured out who I really am.”
Chapter Three (#ulink_d47c816f-b4c5-5f95-bd66-16a7712a8ea1)
Simon Falls leaned back in his desk chair. The only desk chair on the property. Everyone else preferred mats and cushy chairs. He wanted a stiff-backed seat that put him face-to-face with the monitors on the wall and in front of him. Security feeds, including two rotating video shots of places in town.
Now was not the time to descend into touchy-feely madness. He’d leave the talk about privacy and personal space to the workshop leaders. No one paid him to hold hands. His job came down to one simple idea: protect the camp at any cost. A task that would be easier if everyone did their job, which brought his mind back to this meeting.
He tapped his pen against the desk blotter as he stared at the two men he depended on to handle trouble. This time they’d failed him. He’d handed them one assignment—grab the girl and bring her back unharmed.
They’d run into trouble and had all sorts of excuses. Only one interested Simon.
“What man?” When neither underling answered him, Simon tried again. “At the house. Give me the identity.”
“It was Hank Fletcher, one of the newer guys on our staff.” Todd Burdock, the best shot in the camp, gave his assessment while standing at attention.
Simon turned the information over in his mind. “You’re saying Hank is dating Lindsey Pike.”
Todd frowned as if he were choosing his words carefully. “I’m saying he was sleeping over.”
Grant Whiddle nodded. “No question they’re together.”
None of that information matched the surveillance. Simon watched Lindsey. Had watched her for months once the whispers started and the background investigation ran him into a wall. “Since when?”
Todd shook his hand. “I don’t know.”
Not a sufficient answer, and the man should know that. Simon did not countenance failure. Not here. Not on his watch. “Find out.”
“We can call him in,” Grant suggested.
Simon knew that was the exact wrong answer. That was the reason he ran camp security and the two in front of him didn’t.
“Hank is not to know we were behind tonight’s incident.” That would make tracking impossible, and now Simon had a new person to track. “No, this needs to be handled differently. Who does Hank know at the compound?”
“No one. He sticks to himself,” Todd said without giving eye contact. Then again, he never did.
But Hank was the issue here. A loner. No surprise there. They littered the camp. Disillusioned men who needed a purpose filled the beds and the coffers. They came with what little they owned and handed it over in exchange for a promise.
Simon remembered tagging Hank as one of those types during his interview. Dishonorably discharged for firing when any sane person would fire. He had potential plus a gift for shooting. And he might still work out, but that didn’t mean the Lindsey Pike connection could be ignored.
“He lives at the bunkhouse.” Simon knew because he’d assigned Hank the space. “Is this his first night away from the compound since arriving?”
Grant gave Todd a quick look before speaking. “No.”
That didn’t quite match up with Simon’s view of the man or with what Simon saw on the monitors day after day. Hank did his job, never wavered, rarely asked questions. But everyone had an agenda, and Simon would find Hank’s.
“We need a closer watch on him. I want every minute accounted for, including those with Lindsey.” Especially those with Lindsey.
“So we’re not bringing her up to camp now?” Grant asked.
The question screeched across Simon’s nerves. So stupid. That was the problem with hired guns. They didn’t always come with brains. “You can’t very well try to drag her out of her house two nights in a row. She’ll be expecting you.”
Grant shook his head. “But we’ll be expecting Hank this time. We can take another guy and—”
Enough. “The original mission is on hold until we know more about Hank.” Simon dismissed them by returning to watch his monitors.
Todd cleared his voice. “She is potentially dangerous, sir.”
“She is.” Simon stared at the men again. “So am I. You would both be wise to remember that.”
* * *
THE COUNTY SHERIFF’S office proved less helpful than Lindsey had expected. She didn’t want to file a report or even involve law enforcement. That opened the door into an investigation, which meant someone could stumble over pieces of her past. Pieces she’d kept hidden for years.
“Vagrants.” Deputy Carver made that announcement after his walk-through of her house.
The guy had been on the job for about eight months. He’d earned it the old-fashioned way, by taking over when his father had a heart attack. The elder Frank Carver went into the hospital and then rehab and now waited out his disability leave at home as he worked to get his strength back.
The younger Frank Carver stepped in. Never mind he was green and over his head, he’d grown up in this town. Knew everyone by name.
What Frank Carver, Jr., with his red hair and cheeks stained red the way they did anytime he talked with anyone, lacked in experience, he made up for in sheer shooting ability and endurance. He’d simply been tagging along after his father long enough to be considered a fixture. Combine that with the town’s love and loyalty to his father, and the kid wasn’t going anywhere.
He wasn’t doing anything to help her either. She fought the urge to say “I told you so” to Holt. Settled for mouthing it instead.
The deputy had done exactly what she’d predicted—nothing. No forensics. No photos. He just walked around with Holt at his heels.
“No other answer, really.” Deputy Carver took a closer look at the doorjamb. Studied it. Even got up on his tiptoes since the thick-soled shoes only put him at five nine, and that was just barely. “You said they weren’t kids.”
Holt stood there, studying whatever Deputy Carver studied and shaking his head. “These were grown men.”
“Good thing you were here, then, Mr. Fletcher.” Deputy Carver shot Holt a man-to-man look.
“You can call me Hank.”
She was impressed Holt refrained from rolling his eyes. At six-foot-something, he towered over the kid. Also looked as if he could break the deputy in half. The contrast in their sizes and confidence, styles and stance could not have been more pronounced. At twenty-four, Frank Jr. had to be a decade or so younger than Holt, but the difference in maturity shone through.
Not that she was looking...but she couldn’t really stop looking. Recognizing Holt standing in her house had shaken her. He didn’t belong there. She’d locked the doors, performed her nightly safety check. But that wasn’t what had her rattled to the point where her teeth still chattered.
No, she’d been thinking about him. A lot, every day, at odd times. Ever since she’d seen him in town weeks before, he’d played a role in her dreams. The quiet stranger who walked into town, didn’t ask questions and swept her right into the bed. Pure fantasy wrapped in a tall, dark and dangerous package. The broad shoulders and trim waist, the coal-black hair and the hint in his features of Asian ancestry.
She blamed the dark eyes and brooding look. That was why she stared. She’d see him around town and she’d watch, her gaze following him, then skipping away when he’d look back. The whole thing made her feel like a naughty teen, but it had been so long since she’d felt anything for a man that she welcomed the sensation.
“I’d hate to think what could have happened,” Deputy Carver said, droning on.
Holt waved the younger man off. “But it didn’t, so we’re good.”
She tried to ignore the deputy’s attempts at male bonding and the way both men talked around her, as if she weren’t even in the room.
But this was her house. Her life. “For the record, I can use a gun.”
“Of course.” The deputy didn’t even spare her a glance before talking to Holt again. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Are you new in town?”
“I work odd jobs at New Foundations.”
Lindsey couldn’t figure out if this amounted to the deputy’s attempt to question Holt or if the younger man was so enamored that the staring reflected some sort of weird hero worship. Either way, it was getting late and she needed to clean up and get to bed.
“Good work. Good people up there.” Frank Jr. tucked the small pad of paper back into his pocket without ever taking a note.
“Yeah, right.” Not that anyone asked her, but she threw the words out there anyway. When Holt smiled, she figured he at least got her point about being ignored.
“And you’re with Ms. Pike.” The comment came out of the blue.
Holt didn’t show any outward reaction. She had to bite back a groan.
Here we go. “Are you asking about my love life?” She really wanted to know.
“Of course not.” The deputy looked at her for the first time. A short look. Long enough to frown, but that was about it. “Just making an observation.”
“We’re together.” Holt inched closer to her.
She hadn’t actually noticed him moving, but one second he stood by the door and the next he stood beside her. She concentrated for a second, tried to block out the whoosh of blood through her ears and the comforting feel of his hand low on her back. Long fingers. A warm palm.
She almost choked, and not from fear. No, this churning felt much more like excitement.
“We’ll let you know if we find anything, but I’m sure this was a once and done. Probably someone looking for drugs or money for drugs.” The deputy took out his car keys. He hadn’t run down the porch steps but looked two seconds away from taking off.
Holt’s questions stopped him. “Is there a big drug problem around here?”
“Isn’t there everywhere?” Frank Jr. asked as he glanced over his shoulder at them.
“Then it’s good I’m living here now. With Lindsey.” Holt’s voice rang out.
He didn’t yell, but he might as well have. It felt as if even the breeze stopped blowing. He sure had her attention.
The deputy turned the full way around and faced them. Kept his focus on Holt as an atta-boy grin crept across his lips. “Is that right?”
She had the opposite reaction. Shock rolled over her. Pretending to be her boyfriend was one thing, and she hadn’t even agreed to that yet. Being her live-in sounded much bigger. To the people in town and everyone at the camp, it would be bigger. But she guessed that was the point.
She hadn’t worked it all out in her head when Holt’s fingers tightened against her back. Ready or not, it seemed he wanted her support. She coughed it up. “Uh, yeah.”
The deputy just stared. Stood on the bottom step and looked them both up and down, never bothering to close his mouth or hide his delight at being the first to dig up this small-town gossip. “Then you have even less reason for worry.”
“That’s how I look at it.” Holt nodded in what came off as a dismissal.
The deputy must have gotten the hint, because he walked the rest of the way down the steps and to his car. Didn’t say anything about the attack in the house or give her any warning or advice. It was as if Holt had spoken and that resolved everything.
While she liked not having to answer questions, the way the whole scene rolled out had her feeling twitchy. Someone broke into her house and went after her, and only Holt mattered to the deputy.
She knew who—New Foundations—and why, but she doubted the deputy did. She’d done everything to keep her past and true identity hidden. Revealing it now out of frustration was not the right answer, so she let the whole thing drop.
Well, not all of it. There was still the small bit of gloating she planned to do. “That was a waste of time. I’ll refrain from saying ‘told you so’ a few hundred times.”
Holt took one step down. The move put them close to eye-to-eye. “Again, the point of that exercise was to send a message. We accomplished that.”
“You want people to think we’re not looking at New Foundations as the culprit.” She got it. The more she thought about the long term, the more she appreciated Holt stepping in with a rational head.
She wasn’t the type to run on emotions, but facing down men with a gun threw off her emotional balance. She still fought to regain a sense of normalcy...or what passed for normalcy for her.
“That and to establish me as the guy they have to get through before they can touch you,” Holt said.
That part didn’t quite fit together in her head. “Speaking of which—”
Holt leaned against the beam holding up this side of the porch. “When they think I live here it becomes less likely they come back.”
“You think they’ll just leave me alone?”
“No.”
Not exactly the answer she’d expected. The guy could use a lesson or two in tact. “That’s not very comforting.”
“I was going for honest.”
And she had to appreciate that. She’d spent a lot of her life trying to ferret out emotions and counteract the games people played. Holt appeared to be a straight shooter. She knew on one level she should love that, but when it came to being dragged out of her own house, she needed a little reassurance.
She also needed to set some ground rules.
“Then, honestly, you should know you’re not living here.” The last thing she needed was a walking, talking fantasy sleeping on her couch. Dreaming about him already messed with her sleep. Having him nearby, hearing him, smelling him, being able to look at him all the time, might just break her control.
Instead of commenting on her point, Holt crossed his arms over that impressive chest. “You danced around it before. Now tell me exactly why they want you. While you’re at it, you can finally tell me what you meant an hour ago with that talk about your identity. Maybe start with how many you have.”
Yeah, she could play this game, too. He stood on her turf. That should count for something. As far as she was concerned, he should go first. “Only if you tell me exactly what you’re really doing here and why. You can also throw in who sent you. Maybe give me a list of what you’ve found out so far.”
Standing there in the quiet he didn’t say touché, but she sensed it.
“Impressive.” He smiled. “I think we’re at an impasse.”
The twinkle in his dark eyes and that dimple in his cheek...oh, so tempting. She had to marshal all her resources to push back and fight off the energy zipping around inside her. “That still doesn’t get you a bed for the night.”
“I’ll take the couch.”
This guy had a ready response for everything. “Hank...Holt...” She actually didn’t know which was right, let alone who he really was and if he could be trusted. Her instincts told her yes, but even letting him plant the seed about being in a relationship with her amounted to a big risk. “Okay, I give up. What do I call you?”
“In public, Hank. If it makes it easier and helps you remember not to slip up, always call me that.”
She preferred Holt. The name fit him. It felt big and secure and special. Not that she could let him know any of that. “I don’t know you.”
He winked at her. “Right back at ya.”
Maybe it was the voice, all rough and husky. Maybe it was the fact he could have hurt her a dozen times, dragged her right up to the compound or let the two goons who broke into her house do it. For whatever reason, a sense of calm washed over her when he came around.
She wished she knew why. “Why should I trust you?”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Wrong. That was the one thing—possibly the only helpful thing—she’d learned from her father. “People always have a choice.”
Holt shrugged. “Fine. Leave town until it’s safe.”
He gave her the out and she should have grabbed it. The words sat right there on her tongue. She could leave, take a few days away and get her bearings. But the idea of leaving him, of running, made her stomach fall. “When will that be?”
“I don’t know.”
The guy did do honesty well. It didn’t always serve his case, yet he stuck with it. She liked that about him. That and those shoulders...and the face...and the hair that looked so soft. “I have work to do.”
“Which is what exactly?”
She couldn’t exactly say: rescuing people from the camp. That would open a whole new line of questioning, and she was not ready to go there with him. Or with anyone. “We’re spinning in circles.”
His arms dropped to his sides and he moved in closer. “Look, I get that you’re afraid and wary and don’t know me. Up until a few hours ago I only knew you as the woman in town who looked so hot in dark jeans.”
Wait... “What?”
He just kept talking. “Now I know you’re messed up in New Foundations, which is a crappy thing to be. Some of the people up there are dangerous, possibly delusional.”
They were all those things and more. She knew because she’d lived there, fought them. Escaped and hadn’t stopped emotionally running since. “I need to stop them.”
“You need to stay away and let me take care of them.” His eyebrow lifted. “You just have to trust me.”
She wanted to believe. She’d been in this battle so long exhaustion had crept into her bones. The idea of turning over the reins and walking away sounded like sweet relief. But she knew things that he didn’t, and not seeing this through would slowly pick away at her.
No, she needed to bring down New Foundations on her own. Every cabin. Every workshop. Send every person home.
If only Holt didn’t look so sincere. His laser-like gaze never slipped. He watched her until she started to squirm in her skin. She knew what he wanted and she couldn’t give it to him. “You’re asking a lot.”
“I know.”
His ready acceptance chipped away at her defenses, just as so much of him did. “You seem to take for granted I’ll look at that face and those shoulders and fall in line.”
He cleared his throat. “You like my shoulders?”
He stood very close now. Right there until only a few feet separated their bodies. His ego just might kill her.
Time to bring him back down to earth. “You’re missing the point.”
“I am here to assess what’s happening at the compound, determine the danger level and, if necessary, get people out before things blow up. Literally.”
That sounded so promising. She’d been stymied by her limited resources and inability to safely infiltrate the fence surrounding the place. To divulge everything to him might help her case against the camp, but it would put her identity at risk. The constant balancing act got old.
Still, if he really could help, really was willing to step in, she couldn’t ignore that offer. “But you’re not FBI.”
He shook his head. “Not FBI or ATF.”
“I want to believe you’re one of the good guys.” But that left a lot of other possibilities, both legitimate and not.
He held up three fingers. “Give me three days to prove it to you.”
That icy reserve melted inside her. She felt that resistance give way and her need to say yes overwhelm her. With him she might make progress. He wasn’t promising the impossible. He was offering protection, and right now it looked as if she needed it. Maybe together they could work through what the people at the camp knew and what they wanted.
At least that was her assessment. She still needed to know his. “And during those three days?”
His gaze bounced up and down her body, heating a trail as it went. “You get a pretend boyfriend with good shoulders.”
He’d hit upon the one thing she could no longer resist. “Deal.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_d6cdd5f5-2a42-522b-83df-2c3a2ba6ccee)
For the first time since throwing in with the Corcoran Team, Holt seriously considered not showing up at the prearranged time for a meeting the next morning. This one took place two towns over. He’d lost his tail easily and doubled back, circled around. Now he stood in the storage room of a hardware store with his men, waiting for them to snap out of their joint stupor.
He’d known the crap storm he’d wade into the second he opened his mouth and filled them in on what had happened last night, including the part where he camped out on Lindsey’s couch. He stuck to the facts and rapid-fired his way through them in his oral report.
Fallout time.
“You did what?” Shane Baker, Holt’s best friend and the man he trusted most in the world, looked as if he couldn’t fight off his smile.
The openmouthed staring had given way to smirks, which meant Holt needed a new topic of conversation. “Let’s move on.”
“When do we get to give you a hard time for picking a woman over the job?”
Holt reassessed his decision to lay out all the facts. He should have skipped right over the Lindsey piece, but Shane was about to walk into town playing the role of an old military buddy. For the fake romantic relationship with Lindsey to work, Shane needed to play along. That meant coming clean...unfortunately.
“Never,” Holt said, wondering how to regain control of the conversation. Taking on two of them made it tough.
The snorting sound came the second before Shane’s response. “Wrong answer.”
Cameron Roth, the team’s flying expert, shook his head. “Sorry, man. It’s happening.”
Holt thought he’d at least have an ally in Cam. The guy had run into a similar situation with a woman and a mess followed by a rescue three months before. “Should we talk about you and Julia and how you had us all racing through an abandoned shipyard to save you?”
“Huh.” Cam made a face. “That’s not how I remember it.”
Shane held up a hand. “Wait, are you comparing your situation with Lindsey to Cam’s sad lovesick whining over Julia?”
Cam shook his head again. “I don’t remember that either.”
“Oh, please.” Shane took a seat on a stack of boxes balanced against a wall. “You fell in love and got stupid.”
Holt felt a punch of relief when Shane and Cam went after each other and jumped over him. Comparing his relationship with Lindsey to the one shared by Cam and Julia, a couple on the verge of getting engaged, did not amount to a good strategy. But he’d dodged that disaster.
Now he needed his men back on track, and fast. “We’re on limited time here.”
Fully engaged now, Shane crossed one ankle over the other and leaned in. “Then let’s get back to your cover.”
Not exactly where Holt wanted to take the next round of conversation. “What about it? It’s intact.”
“Do we know that or are you going to get called in to see the boss at the camp and get shot?” Cam asked.
“The thing with Lindsey makes me more interesting to management.” Being followed ever since he left Lindsey’s house clued Holt in. He’d gone from being one of the many faceless men roaming around the campground handling odd jobs to a person they watched.
Not that the person following him could be called an expert. No, the guy closed in too fast and showed too much interest. He also managed to pick a vehicle Holt recognized as regularly being parked in Simon Falls’s private garage. Not a New Foundations company vehicle but one Holt had already staked out during his late-night recon on the property.
Shane frowned. “Which is the problem, since the point was to blend.”
“This is better.” Every minute Holt became more convinced and he’d get Connor on board in the next hour or so.
Lindsey’s intel placed a target—whatever it was, and he’d get that out of her soon enough—on her forehead. That put Holt in the middle, and if he was going to sit there he might as well use the position.
The system worked like a circle. He wanted the information Lindsey possessed, and now someone at New Foundations would want to know what he knew. Either that or eliminate him, and Holt had no intention of letting that option happen.
Shane’s frown deepened with each question. “How can the impromptu plan you’re using now be better than the one we worked out for a week, taking all contingencies into account?”
All contingencies except Lindsey. Nothing prepared Holt for her, but he didn’t volunteer that piece of information.
“Because under his new plan he gets to sleep at Lindsey’s house.” Cam twisted the top off the water bottle in his hand. “She is the prize here.”
“It’s not like that.” And Holt would work very hard to keep it that way. He was not a dating guy and he never fooled around on a job.
Cam saluted him with the water bottle. “Yet.”
The man-to-man look from Cam made Holt worry they’d never stay on task, so he looked to Shane for help. “I need you on this.”
“What’s the ‘this’ you’re talking about?”
“Watching over Lindsey when I can’t.” Holt had to keep up the job at the camp. That meant leaving her without protection. Enter Hank Fletcher’s old friend in town for a few weeks.
The cover gave Shane an excuse to hang around. Cam could continue to fly tourists around on the helicopter while really conducting aerial searches of the campground and surrounding areas.
“Does she know she’s about to get a second roommate?” Shane asked.
Since she barely wanted one man in the house, Holt hadn’t exactly jumped at offering details between coffee and cereal at the kitchen sink this morning. “No.”
“Can I be there when she finds out you plan to spring me on her?” Shane’s smile could only be described as annoying.
Holt hid a wince. “Go away.”
“Make up your mind.” Shane dragged out the sing-songy voice. “You want me to stay. You want me to go.”
“To the public we were in the military together. Met there, served and remained friends through everything.” Connor and Joel had set up the cover. “Now you’re out and looking for a place to land, but you were there when I shot the locals in Afghanistan. You think I got a raw deal.”
New Foundations sought out disgruntled men with skills. That meant Holt had needed a story that fit the type. And since he had a horror story of his own in his past, it wasn’t all that hard to call up those feelings of frustration.
The difference was he didn’t blame the army for what had happened to him. In real life, he’d been the one left to die by someone he trusted. In his cover story, he did the killing. He hated both end results, but he’d lived with the realities of one of them for years now.
“You said that’s the story to the public. Interesting word choice.” Cam and Shane started talking at the same time, but Cam rushed to finish first. “Are you saying you’re going to tell Lindsey who I really am?”
Didn’t matter who spoke up, because the answer didn’t change. “She already knows my real name and about Corcoran.”
“How did that happen again?” Cam asked.
And that brought them right back to where the conversation had started. Instead of staying on the ride, Holt jumped off and started doing what he did best—issuing orders.
He looked at Cam. “You keep up the flights. Take photos. Send them back to Joel and Connor and see if they can make sense of what you’re seeing.”
Joel Kidd took the lead on Corcoran’s tech needs. He could make sense out of nonsense better than anyone Holt knew. And Connor was just about the most competent man on the planet. Holt trusted them to help all the way from Maryland.
“And what about Lindsey?”
“What are you talking about?” But Holt got Cam’s point. Connor led Corcoran by a few simple rules to get the job done—collect all the information you can before going in, trust your team and know that Connor would come behind you and clean up the mess.
“The Maryland office, Joel in particular, needs to rip her life apart. Investigate her.” Shane slipped into protocol-speak. When no one said anything, he looked around the closed-in room. “What, am I wrong?”
Cam shook his head. “He isn’t.”
Not in the mood for an argument, Holt conceded. He’d planned to conduct some research into Lindsey and her past. He’d just hoped to do it on a limited basis, without the entire Corcoran Team watching. Apparently that was not going to happen. “Fine.”
“She’s going to love it when she finds out we’re digging into her past,” Shane said.
Holt knew the easy answer for that. “We’re not going to tell her.”
“Yeah, I’ve found that’s not the best strategy with women. You think it’ll be fine, but it never works out that way.” Cam clapped a hand against Holt’s shoulder. “But you keep living in your fantasy world and thinking you control this thing with her.”
“I can.” Holt was impressed with how strong his voice sounded.
Cam shook his head. “I almost feel bad for you.”
* * *
LINDSEY SLIPPED OUT onto her porch later that evening. The sun had started to set and a stray cool breeze kicked up. Summers this close to the water and tucked into the base of the woods meant still needing a sweater some nights.
For as long as she could remember, she’d loved sitting outside, watching the sun go down. After years of living at the campground and adhering to all the rules, she enjoyed her freedom. No early morning rising for chores and gun practice. No lectures.
But tonight the air carried a chill and it cut right through her. She’d spent the day making contingency plans if she had to move out without notice. She’d contacted the former New Foundations members she helped place in alternative living situations and gone over the go codes and emergency evacuation drills.
Somewhere in there she’d done some research on Holt and the Corcoran Team. Not that there was much to find on him, but she’d had some luck on his group.
She walked over to where he stood by the edge, staring out into the yard and across the black water of the small lake fifty feet in front of it. He leaned with his palms resting against the railing. The move had him bending slightly, showing off those shoulders and his very impressive backside.
The faded jeans balancing on those hips. The muscles rippling to the point she could see them through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. She’d never noticed a man’s clothes before, but on him she noticed everything.
She stood even with him and listened to the sound of animals scurrying in the dark and the steady brush of leaves blowing in the wind. “So you’re always going to be hanging around here when you’re not working.”
He nodded without looking at her. “For now, pretty much.”
Even though his stance appeared relaxed, something about him seemed to be on high alert. She could feel the energy pulse off him. Watch his gaze as he scanned the area from one side to the other.
With him around she felt safe, and that was new. She’d learned early to depend on herself. Not expect anything. Hide and run and adapt. That had been her mantra to the day she found her way back to Justice, Oregon, only a few miles from the place that defined so much of who she was and how she saw the world.
As the months ticked by, exhaustion settled in. She helped other members of New Foundations get out. Laid the groundwork and found them new living arrangements. Through her past had the contacts to change identities and keep them safe.
She’d only worked with a few because breaking the silence barrier at the compound proved almost impossible. She had to wait until someone said something to someone and it filtered through contacts back to her. Then came weeks of secret meetings as she built trust.
The whole strategy could be tedious and never amounted to enough. The campground still loomed.
But last night, for the first time in years, she slept without moving and jerking and waking up every few hours. She wanted to think handling the two armed men who stormed her house had something to do with it, but she knew a large thank-you went to Holt. He’d stayed on her couch and kept his promises. Harm did not come knocking and he did not do anything to scare her.
And now they’d arrived at night number two. “I’ve decided it’s okay for you to stay.”
He threw her the side eye before going back to his visual tour of the property in front of them. “You just figured that out now?”
It was amazing how she could start thinking good things about him and working up a warm fuzzy feeling and then he’d talk and—boom—the goodwill fizzled. Communicating did not appear to be where they excelled. “I looked into the Corcoran Team.”
He turned then. Stood up and gave her his full attention. “Okay.”
“I’m thinking I saw a sanitized version, like the version you and your people were okay with me seeing, but I was able to find some references.” After an internet search turned up bland and unhelpful results, she’d called in some favors to help her get through a firewall or two. She had a bit of inside information on the group.
“That’s kind of the point. It’s hard to work undercover, which we sometimes need to do, if everyone can find your face all over social media.”
“Makes sense.” And the information she’d found bore that out. The group had taken on huge companies and small governments, the NCIS and government contractors. The only allegiance the members appeared to have was to each other. “Even confirmed your existence on the team with your boss.”
That had been an interesting exercise. She’d seen a few references to Connor Bowen, the owner and leader, and to one other member of the team, a former NCIS agent, but no one else. There could be two guys on the team or two hundred and there was no way for her to tell just by searching around.
The wall of secrecy extended to the team’s location and exactly what they could do and how much the government knew about their work. There had been exactly one photo, an older one of Connor Bowen. He had the tall, dark and handsome thing down. Looking at Holt, Lindsey wondered if “speech-stealing hot” was some sort of job requirement for this group.
Connor’s deep and reassuring voice had matched the confident look he wore in the photo. He hadn’t sounded all that shocked about Holt giving away his identity, but Connor had made her repeat three times the part about Holt playing the role of her fake boyfriend. She’d swear he’d laughed.
“Wait a minute.” Holt shook his head as if trying to assess what she’d just said. “Connor actually talked with you?”
“Well, finding the number proved impossible. I had to call other agencies and do a bunch of internet searches, all which pointed to the fact the Corcoran Team didn’t have a number I could access. To the extent anyone admitted Corcoran even existed. Then right when I gave up, the phone rang and Connor was on the line.” The whole thing had a Big-Brother-is-watching feel that freaked her out. “Spooky, by the way.”
“Joel tracks all searches for Corcoran. He lets people see only what he wants them to see so he can monitor and do some looking of his own.”
She had no idea who that was, but her mind went to a bigger question. “Searches where?”
A faint smile crossed Holt’s mouth. “Everywhere.”
“The information lockdown is a bit intimidating.” She could think of a few more words, but that seemed like the nicest.
“Just as Connor wants it.”
“Well, he didn’t seem happy about me bugging him, but yes. He answered my questions...sort of.” The man had sounded downright stunned when she insisted she needed some sort of verification of Holt’s identity. She could only assume other people saw Holt’s imposing form and I’m-in-charge swagger and capitulated without a fight.
Not her. If he wanted that kind of woman, she was not his type...not that he served as anything other than a bodyguard for her.
“I filled him in on the status of the assignment an hour ago.” Holt started to say something else, then stopped.
“He must have called me right after that.” Or at least that was what he’d told her. “Apparently you told him you broke cover.”
Holt switched to frowning. Something he excelled at to the point of being an expert. “You’re sounding sort of official there.”
“I borrowed his phrase.” If she could remember more, she’d throw them out, too.
“So now you know I’m legitimate and we can stop arguing about that, right?” Holt’s gaze returned to the yard and the shuffling of dirt in the distance.
She shrugged even though the gesture was wasted. He didn’t even give her eye contact. “For now.”
Without seeming to move, he angled his body. Stood partway in front of her, blocking her body from the quiet night beyond them. “I’m at a disadvantage here. You know about me and you’re not coughing up any details about yourself.”
“Noticed that, did you?”
He winked at her. “Don’t let the shoulders fool you. I’m not as slow as I look.”
That zapped the amusement right out of her. “You’re not going to forget I said that, are you?”
“No way.”
She rushed to fix her mess. “What I meant was—”
He pinned her in place with a quick glance. “I know what you meant.”
The guy could stop looking like that. So determined and...big. He crowded in on her on the large open porch without even moving. Something about the way he held his body and aimed that intense stare had her squirming.
“Clearly you don’t have a problem with ego.” She wished he taught a class in that, because she’d be in the front row.
“I know mutual attraction when I see and feel it.”
“Mutual?” That struck her as such a tame term for the need that had pulsed through her ever since he arrived in town.
She knew how many times a day her mind wandered and his face popped into her head. From the first time she’d seen him, picking out a muffin and ordering black coffee from the deli she helped manage, her common sense took a nosedive. One look at him and every vow she’d ever made about staying focused on her quest died a withering death.
He shook his head. “You are not going to derail this conversation.”
“I can try.”
“You might...” His head snapped back in the direction he’d been looking for the past few minutes. Far left behind the shed.
“What is it?” She dropped her voice to a whisper that barely carried over the sound of her breathing.
“Company.”
“Are you kidding?” She wanted to scream, shout...find her gun. She went with listening instead. Not her strongest skill, but at least it was something she could control while the world seemed to be bouncing around at random.
“I’ve been tracking the person for about fifteen minutes.”
The constant visual search and the thrum of awareness running through him made sense. Still, the fact that the guy could chat while conducting surveillance and not show any signs of anxiety confused her. “While we were talking?”
“Then and before.”
Well, sure. He acted as if that were normal. “You could warn a person.”
“Time to move.”
She almost didn’t hear the whispered comment, but she did see the change come over him. It was as if he switched from being on watch to back to normal again, which made no sense to her at all.
“I think we should call it a night and go inside.” His voice picked up a bit in volume. Not enough to be obvious, but a slight beat or two more than before.
She’d rather go with that gun idea. “Absolutely.”
She pitched her voice nice and strong even as her insides shook. The touch of his hand right before he wrapped an arm around her shoulders helped. He guided them through the front door and inside. She didn’t remember moving until he shut the door behind her.
He reached down to his ankle and pulled up with a gun in his hand. That was when she noticed he held two. His dark eyes flashed with fire as he morphed from the calm guy standing outside, getting some air, back to the fierce protector. She approved of the change. And she finally got it. The last part had been an act to let whoever lingered out there think he was safe.
He handed her a gun. “You know how to use it?”
“Yes.” A whole range of guns. Guns, knives, some explosives. The New Foundations leadership didn’t bother with subtleties back when she got stuck up there. You learned how to fight because weak people were useless to the cause. She just never really understood what the cause was supposed to be.
As soon as the gun hit her palm, she checked it. The magazine, the chamber. This weapon didn’t belong to her, but she’d be able to pull the trigger. She was not afraid to do what had to be done to protect herself.
Holt positioned her in the doorway between the kitchen and the family room. She had her back against a solid wall and a clear view of the door and a patch of the front yard through the window within her line of sight.
This guy was good. He knew exactly how to keep on the offensive. She didn’t think she could find him more attractive, but in that moment she did.
“Stay here.” He held out a hand as if to keep her in place even though he never touched her. “Shoot anyone who is not me. Aim for the leg to make him hobble or the hand to make him drop the gun.”
That bordered on insulting. “I’m a better shot than that.”
“It’s a risk to keep the guy breathing, but I need him alive for questioning.” Holt delivered his comment and then slipped away from her.
For a big man, he moved without making a sound. Even the floorboards that usually creaked didn’t. He shifted and stalked around her furniture and through the room until he disappeared.
She had two choices—sit and wait or track and help. She’d made a vow to step in and not remain silent years ago. She followed it now.
As she reached her kitchen, then the back door of the cottage, she visually searched for him. He’d have to be running to be gone, but she couldn’t see him.
He’d congratulated her on her security system, then set up additional sensor lights that afternoon, insisting she had blind spots he needed to fix. One of those popped on behind the shed where she kept the lawn mower and other yard equipment.
She squinted, thinking she’d see movement. She could make out one dark blob...then another. They were nearly on top of each other.
She was halfway outside with the door banging behind her before she remembered Holt’s words: stay here.
Chapter Five (#ulink_4304ba2c-3e2b-5cdc-83dd-e1f793ae5a47)
Holt heard the door slam a second before the sound of footsteps echoed around him. He focused, trying to pull the sounds apart. He had not one but two people out there with him in the dark. The only good news was that Lindsey was likely one of those people. He liked the odds of him against one attacker, but he hated the idea of her wandering into danger.
He ignored the sound of sneakers slipping against the wet grass and concentrated on what he could handle. Not her, but the man who had been lingering in the yard, hiding behind trees and leaning against the shed, while Holt watched him.
The guy had waited before moving in, but now he hid in that small building. The same one Lindsey said they used for storage. Holt would blow it up or drag him out. Whatever strategy would keep the guy from venturing near Lindsey worked for Holt.
But he had to move because even now she flew across the yard. She moved in a soundless blur. Once she got near him, whatever advantage he now held would be gone because she’d become his priority.
He signaled for her to stop but had no idea if she saw him. He didn’t wait.
Weapon up, he slunk around the outside of the building, crouching low and placing careful quiet footsteps. If the attacker shot through the wall, he should miss. Most people shot at standing height. Holt hovered well below that.
By the time he got to the door, Lindsey stood fewer than fifteen feet away. He motioned for her to stop, and this time her forward momentum slammed to a halt. She stood there, frozen.
He didn’t suffer from the same problem. He hit the watch alarm to bring Shane and Cam running. They’d come in stealth mode and assess the situation before doing anything that would derail the mission. They’d also make sure nothing happened to Lindsey if something did happen to him.
Then the silent countdown started. After one last glance at Lindsey to reassure himself she hadn’t moved, Holt took off. Rounded the corner and hit the doorway with his shoulder. A huge splintering crack ripped through the air around them. Wood shredded and what was left of the door bounced against the inside wall.
Holt caught the bounce with his hip and went in shouting. In two steps he bulldozed over the figure looming on the other side of the door. Momentum kept them moving. Holt didn’t stop until he had the man—and by the sheer size this was definitely a man—pinned against the riding lawn mower.
Holt had the guy’s back resting on the seat and his feet scraping against the ground as he tried to get his footing. But Holt didn’t give him the chance. He had wads of the guy’s shirt in his fists as he leaned in.
The guy’s fear hit Holt first. Panic and anger all wrapped up in one ball.
He flailed and called out, “Stop!”
The voice registered first. Holt recognized it as one of the attackers from last night. Holt could tie the guy back to the threats he’d overheard, then to the run on Lindsey’s house and now to her yard. The repeated shots took guts. It suggested a dangerous level of desperation.
“Grant?” Holt called up the name out of nowhere. Grant was the sidekick type. The guy who led with his fists because he lacked the intuition and skills to be at the top.
Lindsey’s foot hit the threshold. Then she rushed inside. “What’s going on?”
Time to play the role of disgruntled and concerned boyfriend. Holt didn’t have much experience with this, but he was just frustrated enough over Lindsey following him and walking straight into danger that he thought he could fake it. “Go inside.”
Grant tried to hold up one of his hands. “I can explain.”
Holt used his knee to pin one of Grant’s arms down. The steering wheel took care of the other. “Do it now.”
“I came looking for you.” The words rushed out of Grant as he stumbled to get them out.
“Why?” Holt angled his body so he stayed between Grant and Lindsey.
Grant might be shaking and stuttering now, but that all could be an act. The guy possessed one of those huge lurking frames, as if he could get into uniform and walk onto the front line of any professional football team and fit in. That didn’t mean he couldn’t fake it all.
“You’re supposed to be at the bunkhouse,” he said.
This was a new rule. Holt wondered who added it and why. “No one told me about any curfew.”
“There isn’t...” Grant exhaled as his head dropped back against the metal. “Can you let me up?”
“No.” That was just about the last thing Holt planned to do this evening.
Lindsey reached over, coming far too close, and snatched the gun out of the large pocket of Grant’s jacket. “I agree. You stay pinned down until you tell us why you’re hanging out on my property.”
Something about seeing her there, amid the chaos and fighting, snapped Holt back into perspective. He didn’t need an arrest tonight. He needed an explanation.
“One more time.” Holt eased up on the grip around Grant’s neck.
“I can’t breathe.” He coughed, nearly doubling over.
Holt waited for Grant to stop with the theatrics.
“Again.” Never one for an overabundance of words, Holt stuck with that.
“When you’re new, the expectation is you’ll stay around the bunkhouse. You’ve been going out and I was asked to make sure you were okay.” The guy managed to shrug from his awkward position.
Holt wasn’t impressed. From the way Lindsey frowned it didn’t look as if she believed the line either.
“How did you know I was here?” Holt asked.
Grant smiled. “The leader sees all.”
Now was not the time for enlightenment nonsense. “Try again.”
“There are rumors about you and Ms. Pike.”
It all sounded rational except that it wasn’t. Holt didn’t see how there could be gossip about anything, since the whole fake boyfriend thing had only come up last night. “Why not tell me today when we were up at camp?”
Lindsey snorted. “And if your visit is fact-finding and innocent, why not come to my front door?”
Yeah, Holt liked her point even better. “Answer that one.”
He eased back so Grant could sit up. When he stopped there, Holt dragged the guy to his feet. He was younger and bigger but needed hours of training to be effective. Despite the time at the campground, from what Holt could see no one had taught Grant or anyone those skills. And Holt had no intention of doing it now.
Grant shrugged. “I didn’t know if the rumors were true. I was trying to double-check.”
Lindsey made a half-strangled noise. “By looking through windows?”
Holt had known she’d hate that, but the reality check could turn out to be a good thing. She needed to understand the danger and the players. Sometimes novices in matters like this caused the most trouble. He needed her protected and ready. Though the fury pounding off her suggested she could handle herself just fine.
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