Safe by His Side

He had to get this lady warmed up fast. As cold as she was, shock and hypothermia represented definite threats. Concern overrode his usual self-preservation instincts.

She lifted her hands to her blouse and worked on a button, her movements stiff and awkward. Raine swore under his breath. At this rate, she’d never get her clothes off. If she couldn’t do it, he’d have to do it for her.

He pushed her hands away and deftly released the remaining buttons. He peeled the wet blouse down her arms and pitched it to the bathroom floor. Steam billowed around them.

“Thank you,” she murmured. She squeezed her eyes shut and swayed back against the wall.

He knew the hot water wouldn’t hold out so he pulled her against him and turned her back to the hot spray. She clung to him helplessly. He bit the inside of his jaw to stifle the groan that rose in his throat at the feel of her firm breasts pressed into his chest.

This woman was going to kill him, and she didn’t even have a weapon.

Safe by His Side

Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it bad enough. She began writing at age nine. Eventually, she met and married the man of her dreams, and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners, working in a factory, a day care center, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985, they were back in the States, and finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again, looking to mystery and movies for inspiration. In 1998, her dream of writing for Harlequin came true.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Katherine Robertson, a.k.a. Kate Roberts—Danger follows her to a mystery man’s doorstep, but she can’t remember why.

Jack Raine—He trusts no one, but can’t resist helping a woman who doesn’t know her own name.

Victoria Colby—The head of the Colby Agency is worried when her new operative doesn’t check in as scheduled.

Lucas Camp—He hired the Colby Agency to find Jack—to help Jack, or kill him?

Raymond Cuddahy—The leak in his organization means no one is safe.

Sal Ballatore—The man who killed his son will pay.

Dillon—He wants his money, and Jack dead—not necessarily in that order.

Many thanks to an outstanding guide, Lee Lewis, for his superior knowledge of Smoky Mountain trails, and to a terrific friend and expert drawer of maps, JoAnn Reynolds.

A special thanks to Natashya Wilson, a wonderful editor, for believing in my work and giving me this opportunity. This book is dedicated to the man who helped make all my dreams come true—my wonderful husband, Nonie.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Prologue

“Failure in this assignment is almost a given,” Victoria Colby told the investigator sitting on the other side of the immense oak desk that had once belonged to her late husband, James. “And should you choose to accept it, your life will be in constant danger—perhaps from more than one source,” she added cautiously.

“I understand,” Katherine Robertson replied.

Victoria eyed the young woman with more than skepticism—uncertainty…maybe.

Did she really understand?

Victoria wasn’t so sure that she understood, herself. This was the most sensitive assignment the Colby Agency had undertaken in the ten years since she had assumed the helm. She’d been reluctant to take charge at first, but the small Chicago-based private investigations firm her husband had operated for the final years of his life had been near and dear to his heart. So Victoria had worked hard to make the agency the best in the business. It was the one thing she could still hold on to and feel close to James.

She passed a thin manila folder with a red “Top Secret” cover sheet on the front to the eager investigator, who immediately opened it to review the meager contents.

“Who does Jack Raine work for?” Katherine asked, glancing up only briefly.

“He used to work solely for the CIA, but four years ago he shrugged off the brass and became a contract agent. Since that time, he’s worked for them all—NSA, DEA, CIA. He’d been under deep cover for the FBI for seventeen months when things went sour. The story is that he left the son of a prominent mob leader named Ballatore dead and an extraordinary sum of money missing.”

“He turned?” Katherine looked from Victoria to the folder and back in disbelief. “A guy with a record like this?”

Victoria nodded slowly. She could hardly believe it herself. Jack Raine’s work history might be restricted reading—which meant no significant details were available for their perusal—but his reputation was spotless, not to mention unparalleled. The man had every commendation his government could give him. Somehow, between the known and the unknown, things just didn’t add up—at least, not for Raine’s longtime friend Lucas Camp. Lucas had asked Victoria to take this assignment as a personal favor. Raymond Cuddahy, Lucas’s boss and the new director of Special Operations, didn’t like the idea of a civilian agency’s involvement. He had, however, given his consent—eventually, and off the record.

Like Raine, Lucas had worked for the government in one capacity or another for most of his adult life. He had recruited Raine into the CIA and was probably the only man alive who’d had an up-close-and-personal relationship with the elusive Jack Raine. Both men now worked, in different roles, for a highly covert special operations unit created to provide support when all else failed.

Lucas had shared a cage with Victoria’s husband as a prisoner of war during Vietnam. The two men had helped each other to survive. And Lucas had been a key factor in Victoria’s own survival in this cutthroat business after her husband’s death. Had it not been for Lucas, the Colby Agency might have gone under long ago rather than becoming the elite organization it was today.

Victoria owed the man.

“It’s your job to find out if he’s turned.” Victoria leaned forward and propped her elbows on her desk. She laced her fingers and rested her chin atop them. “And to bring him in, either way.”

Without responding, Katherine turned her attention back to the file in her hands and frowned.

Victoria noted again what a lovely young woman Katherine was. She had only been with the agency for one year. At twenty-five, she still lacked the life experience Victoria usually preferred in her investigators, but Katherine was an especially quick study. Her looks were definitely deceiving. She had a model-perfect build, with long dark hair and even darker eyes. But beneath that pretty exterior lay the wit and intelligence of an excellent tracker. Instinct and guts—that’s what had gotten Katherine noticed in recent months.

Victoria couldn’t help wondering why such a beautiful young woman didn’t seem to have much of a social life. Of course, the world was different now than it had been when Victoria was twenty-five. She studied the woman seated across from her. Perhaps Miss Robertson had the right idea, she mused. Career first and foremost—and then maybe a husband and family later. Those had been Katherine Robertson’s exact words in her interview thirteen months ago, and she’d been true to her word. She concentrated on work with a determination Victoria seldom saw in a person her age.

“How did the Colby Agency end up with an assignment like this?” Katherine asked, breaking into Victoria’s thoughts. “This case has federal jurisdiction written all over it.”

“For six months Raine’s own people have been unsuccessful in their attempts to bring him in. It’s difficult to capture a man who, for all intents and purposes, doesn’t exist. That—” Victoria gestured toward the folder Katherine held “—is all there is on Jack Raine. Each time his whereabouts have been locked on to, he’s managed to slip through their fingers.

“Unfortunately, Raine knows too much about too many things to simply write him off. If he’s turned, the government needs to know so they can defuse the situation. If he hasn’t, then he needs protection. Ballatore wants him dead.”

Katherine examined the one and only photograph the file contained of her target. “Well, if he’s a criminal, he’s certainly a handsome one,” she said without looking up.

“He is that,” Victoria agreed. With sky-blue eyes and sandy blond hair, Jack Raine was a breathtaking, lean and rugged six foot two. Victoria never doubted for one minute the other reputation Lucas had warned her followed Raine—lady-killer. But, beneath those devastatingly good looks, the man was a highly trained soldier, specializing in death and deception.

“Why me?” Katherine looked up, her surprise at being handed such an important assignment evident.

Victoria sighed. This was the part that bothered her most. “Raine is an infiltrator—the best in the business. He’s spent the past twelve years of his life living on the edge, getting in and out of places no one else could. He’s good, maybe too good. If you can find him, the extrication will be extremely risky. I have reason to believe that he’s playing some sort of game—dropping clues like bread crumbs. It’s more than possible that the few times he has been located were intentional. We might not get so lucky this time.”

Victoria paused a beat before she continued. “To answer your question as to why you were selected for this assignment, you’re a woman, and you’re young and beautiful. That will get you closer than anyone else in our agency. The fact that you don’t have a great deal of field experience will probably keep you alive.”

Katherine arched a dark eyebrow. “How do you figure that?”

“If Jack Raine suspects for one second that you’re tracking him, he won’t take the time to find out which side sent you.”

“Oh.” Katherine dropped her gaze to the folder in her lap and studied it for a moment. “I see.”

Victoria straightened and leveled a serious gaze on the Colby Agency’s newest investigator. “I’ll understand completely if you choose to decline. I’d never ask one of my people to take a job they didn’t feel comfortable with.” She drew in a heavy breath and added, “I have to admit, Katherine, this one worries me, but you’re our best shot at getting close to this guy.” And Lucas is depending on me, she didn’t add.

As Victoria had anticipated, Katherine met her gaze with a determined one of her own and, without the slightest hint of misgivings, asked, “When do I start?”

IGNORING THE DRIZZLING November rain that dampened her hair and chilled her to the bone, Katherine tossed the one duffel bag she’d allowed herself into her rented car. She checked her small shoulder bag once more to confirm that a full prescription of her heart medication was there. She shook the small bottle of pills and smiled. She was definitely ready. Her little secret would be safe as long as she took her medicine and steered clear of an in-depth physical examination until she had proven herself. Then it wouldn’t matter, the agency would keep her anyway. She had worked too hard for this opportunity to lose it because she couldn’t measure up to someone else’s perception of acceptable physical condition.

Finding Jack Raine hadn’t been as difficult as she’d imagined it would be. It had taken her only two weeks to pinpoint his location based on the latest information Lucas had given her. It seemed almost too easy. She wondered if Jack planned it that way. Did he savor the chase?

Catch me if you can?

She shook her head at the thought of the kind of man who would get his jollies that way. What purpose could it possibly serve for him to yank around the very system for which he had once worked? Something just wasn’t right. Katherine had that feeling—the one her father called cop’s instincts. Except she wasn’t a cop. She had failed the required physical. The same type required by the Colby Agency for investigators. But Katherine had already been employed by the agency as a researcher, so she had delayed the appointment after her promotion. Now all she had to do was prove herself. Then the results of the physical wouldn’t matter.

After arriving in Gatlinburg the afternoon before, Katherine had checked into a hotel. Within a few hours of her arrival she had located Raine’s residence and done a little advance scouting.

His place was the typical Smoky Mountain retreat, a rustic rental cabin that probably had a fabulous view of the surrounding mountains and valleys. The place sat a good two miles off the blacktop in a particularly remote area.

The rendezvous point and estimated time of arrival had been arranged with Nick. All was go.

Katherine slid behind the wheel of the green Ford Taurus and checked her reflection in the mirror. She swiped the raindrops from her face and immediately banished the flicker of uncertainty she caught in her eyes. This was her big chance—she wasn’t about to blow it by getting cold feet.

“You can do this, Robertson,” she whispered sternly.

Despite her dislike of the reasons she’d been chosen for the assignment, she intended to make the best of it. She might be young and she might be new, but she was a damn good investigator and tracker. And she intended to prove that her physical limitations wouldn’t hold her back.

Nick didn’t approve. And her father would likely blow a fuse when he found out. But by then it would be a done deal and they would both see.

She could do this.

She would do it.

Katherine started the engine, set the transmission to Reverse and put her plan in motion.

Thirty minutes later, the drizzle and the fog making the curvy mountain road even more treacherous, Katherine neared her destination. She quickly reviewed her strategy one last time, then took three slow deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She assured herself once more that she could do this.

Katherine spotted the sudden movement on the highway in front of her too late. She slammed on the brakes and swerved hard to the right. She felt the wheels lock. Heard the squeal of tires.

And then everything went black.

Chapter One

Jack Raine jerked his front door open and stared down at the drenched woman standing on his deck. The freezing precipitation had gone from bad to worse in the last hour, and she appeared to have gotten the worst end of it. He had lived in this remote location for over a month without a visitor and he damn sure didn’t want one now. This wasn’t the sort of place that attracted door-to-door sales-people or that a passerby merely stumbled onto.

“If you’re lucky,” he said roughly, “you’re lost.”

The woman drew back a step at his brusque tone. “I’m…I had an accident,” she stammered.

“Accident? Let’s see some ID,” he demanded. He would never understand why anyone would be out on a crappy morning like this. In the mountains, days like these weren’t fit for man or beast. And whoever his visitor was, she certainly didn’t fit either category. She didn’t even have on a coat. “Where the hell’s your coat?”

“What?” The woman stared up at him as if his question made no sense at all.

For the first time, Raine noted the dazed look in her dark eyes. Her arms were wrapped around her waist, and she swayed slightly before she caught herself. With one trembling hand she pushed long, dark strands of hair from her face. Rivulets of water slid down her pale cheeks. A blast of cold November wind whipped across the deck. She shivered. And damned if her teeth didn’t chatter as well.

Raine swore under his breath and yanked her inside. This was the last thing he needed. He slammed the door and stared down at the trembling female with complete irritation and utter distrust. She was dripping wet from head to toe.

“I—I just need to use your phone,” she said weakly. Her frail attempt to free herself from his grasp only served to send her swaying backward. When he steadied her, she almost wilted in his arms.

“Whoa,” Raine said, concerned. “You need to get out of those wet clothes and warmed up before you do anything else.”

“The phone…I just need to use the phone,” she whispered before she closed her eyes and sagged against his chest.

Instantly he felt the wet and cold invade the warmth of his dry clothes. Raine blew out a breath of frustration and did the only thing he could—he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. He had to get this lady warmed up fast. As cold as she was, shock and hypothermia represented definite threats. Concern overrode his usual self-preservation instincts.

He settled her on the closed lid of the toilet and watched for a moment to ensure that she wasn’t going to fall over. She shivered uncontrollably. He crouched in front of her and removed her hiking boots and rolled off her socks. She sat there, seemingly unaware of his movements.

Raine opened the shower door and twisted the hot-water valve to wide open. Once the water was steaming, he adjusted it to a bearable but still plenty hot temperature.

“Okay, lady, let’s see if we can’t get your body temperature headed in the right direction,” he muttered more to himself than to her. If she heard him, she didn’t react.

Raine pulled the dazed woman to a standing position and then helped her into the shower. When the hot water hit her she gasped, shuddered violently and sagged against the translucent glass wall. Before Raine could catch her, she slumped to the tile floor, the water spraying directly on her face.

“Damn,” he growled. He reached inside and tried to pull her to her feet, she only whimpered and huddled more deeply into a fetal position. Muttering expletives, Raine stepped into the cubicle and pulled her to her feet, then wished to hell he had turned off the water first. Too late now. Besides, she needed the heat a lot more than he needed comfort.

“You have to get out of these clothes,” he told her. Liquid heat pelted his skin through his flannel shirt.

She lifted her hands to her blouse and worked on a button, her movements stiff and awkward. Raine swore under his breath. At this rate, she’d never get her clothes off. Raising her body temperature was top priority. He had hoped to allow her some privacy during the process. But if she couldn’t do it, he’d just have to do it for her.

What the hell? He’d undressed plenty of women in the past. He pushed her hands away and deftly began to release the remaining buttons.

She jerked back and stared up at him. He could see that it took her a while to bring him into focus. “What are you doing?” she asked weakly and clutched at his hands. Her pupils were unevenly dilated.

He cursed through clenched teeth.

Concussion.

She had a damn concussion. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? He knew the signs. Her left temple was bruised. Gingerly he touched the discolored spot. She winced and drew away but not before he felt the size of the lump that had formed there.

“We need to take the rest of your clothes off. We have to get you warm and into something dry,” he said as he resumed the unbuttoning process. To his relief, her hands fell away and she made no further protest.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her breath whispering across his downturned face.

Raine tightened his jaw. He wouldn’t say she was welcome—because she wasn’t. He didn’t want her here…didn’t need her here. But he couldn’t just let her die out in the cold any more than he could neglect an injured animal. He looked at the woman silently watching his fingers undo the final button of her blouse and wondered if he was making a big mistake.

He peeled the wet blouse down her arms and pitched it to the bathroom floor. Steam billowed around them and sweat beaded on his forehead as he reached for the hem of her undershirt. She automatically lifted her arms and closed her eyes. When he pulled the undershirt over her shoulders and then her head, he tensed. The scrap of cotton slipped from his fingers and joined her blouse on the wet tile floor.

Raine’s gaze riveted to her naked breasts. Not particularly large breasts, but they were nicely rounded and the rosy tips tilted slightly upward. He had the sudden, insane urge to draw one into his mouth and taste it.

She shivered and he forced his gaze back to her face only to find her watching him from beneath half-closed lids. Her lips parted and for one instant Raine allowed himself to want her, but then she whispered, “I’m so cold.”

Raine turned his back and silently cursed himself for the bastard he was. “You can do the rest,” he said harshly. Surely she could get her jeans off. Hell, she probably could have gotten the blouse off if he’d given her time. Perverted SOB, he cursed himself once more.

What the hell had gotten into him? It hadn’t been that long since he’d had a woman. Ogling an injured female was about as low as a man could go. A muscle in his tense jaw jumped when he heard her small sounds of frustration and fatigue as she struggled with the wet jeans. Raine clenched his fists and ignored the urge to turn around and look at her. The spray of hot water on his chest did nothing to calm his mounting tension or the hard-on he had acquired in the last sixty seconds.

He flinched when she touched his rigid shoulder. “I can’t do it,” she said wearily.

Raine licked his lips and swallowed tightly. This was damn ridiculous. He’d seen more than his share of naked women, what the hell was the big deal with this one?

He turned around slowly and met her pleading gaze with an annoyed glare.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say weakly before collapsing against the shower wall.

Raine set his jaw so hard he thought his teeth would crack. He grasped the waistband on either side of her slender hips and tried without success to peel the material down as he’d done with the blouse, but the tight-fitting jeans wouldn’t cooperate. He sucked in a deep breath and did what he knew he had to. Raine pushed his hands inside and worked the material, panties included, down over her icy skin.

She was lucky to be alive. The last time he’d touched skin this cold, it had belonged to a dead man.

As chilled as her body was, his was getting more heated by the moment. His groin tightened painfully when his hands moved over the swell of her hips and glided down several inches of thigh. He straightened, held her firmly by the waist, placed his bare foot between her legs and pushed the jeans and skimpy panties down to her ankles. He immediately averted his gaze from the triangle of dark curls between her thighs.

He almost groaned. He’d been in these woods longer than he’d realized.

She braced both hands against his chest while she struggled to kick her feet free of the soggy material.

“Thank you,” she murmured on a frail breath when she’d finally freed herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and swayed back against the wall.