“What?” Trace asked jokingly. “No torrid affair?”

“I’m not sure I could carry that off without actually having had one.”

Julie’s honesty was touching, but her statement fell into the room almost explosively. He tried to lighten the moment when he saw her cheeks start to color. How many women still blushed? he wondered. “We could always have one now.”

He gave her a few seconds to stare at him wide-eyed, then he laughed. “Just joshing you. I mean, sure, I’d love to, but under the circumstances, it wouldn’t be wise.”

Not when someone was trying to kill him. Not when he might have to leave at the drop of a hat. He had limits, and taking advantage of a woman was a hard line for him. He had few hard lines left, and not crossing them was all that kept him from feeling he was simply scum.

Then she stunned him. “What makes you so sure it wouldn’t be wise?” she asked pertly as she slid off the bar stool. She headed for the bathroom, saying she’d be back in a minute to work on the story.

For the first time, Trace wondered if he’d wandered into a new kind of quicksand.

* * *

Be sure to check out the rest of the Conard County: The Next Generation series!

Conard County Spy
Rachel Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

MILLS & BOON

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For all my readers who help bring Conard County to life, and many thanks to Ashley Granger who volunteered the use of her name for a character. Hope you’re pleased, Ashley.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

The hotel room was opulent, befitting an important man, one on a diplomatic mission for his country. But there was not a diplomatic discussion taking place within its confines. Deadly business was on the table.

The gray-haired man sitting near the window in a very expensive tailored suit looked at the dossier in his hands. He appeared to be extremely fit and when he moved, did so with fluid ease.

The man who faced him was decades younger, dressed in much less expensive garb suitable to a government clerk. He was also a little nervous, no matter how calm he tried to be. He was the cover for the people helping the older man. They both knew it. They both also knew it could end badly for this young man if this meeting became known to the wrong people.

The gray-haired man had a lot of experience judging people, and he knew that this one knew only what he needed to in order to complete this task. “So this is the one who betrayed me? Trace Archer?”

“Yes, sir,” said the other. “We told you that several months ago.”

“Where is he now?”

“We sent him on his way to recuperate away from here. We’re tracking him.”

“So you know where he is?”

The younger man nodded. “What he did put you in great danger, General. My superiors understand.”

“My man did a poor job of taking him out in Bulgaria. It will be harder here.”

“It will be cleaner here. You know we value you highly. But if something happens to him on his trip, no explanations will be needed from anyone. That’s how we all want it.”

The general put the dossier aside and went to stand at the window. “In Ukraine, the situation is very delicate. Now it is even more delicate because of this man.”

“I know.”

The general doubted the younger man knew even that much or had any real understanding of the complexities here. He was simply doing his job. “I will not trust this to anyone else. That failed last time. So this time you will get me close to him.”

The younger man hesitated. Apparently this had not been in his brief. “General, the risk...”

“There will be no risk. I am here on a diplomatic mission, yes?”

“But that won’t protect you if...”

“There will be no if. This man has threatened my life, my family, everything I have worked for. I must know he is taken care of, see it with my own eyes.”

After a moment of hesitation, the younger man agreed. “As you wish.” Clearly he had been told not to disagree with the general.

“I would expect no less. I have worked with you for many years, first from my position in the Russian army, and now in Ukraine. You owe me.”

“Yes, sir.”

The general smiled for the first time. “Soon we will resume our mutually beneficial relationship. Once I remove the traitor.”

Chapter 1

Trace Archer hesitated on the porch. The address was correct, but he hadn’t been expecting such a large house. It rose two stories on a street that would be shady in the summertime, but on this cold March night boasted leafless branches. Probably close to a hundred years old.

In fact, he didn’t know what he had been expecting and wasn’t remotely certain what he was doing here. And even though an old friend lived here, he doubted he’d be welcomed.

As he was standing there hesitating, a woman popped out the front door. Covered by winter clothing, her figure was obscured, but in the porch light he couldn’t miss the long, shiny auburn hair, and when her gaze settled on him, he could tell her eyes were an unusual green, undimmed by the poor light.

“Well, hello,” she said, pausing.

He must be at the wrong place. John Hayes had shown him a photo of his wife once, and Ryker Tremaine had married her after John died. This woman didn’t match the photo at all.

“Sorry,” he said automatically, shifting a little to ease the everlasting pain in his arm and hand. “I must have the wrong house.”

He couldn’t mistake the appreciation in her eyes as her gaze swept over him. He wasn’t sure what she was appreciating, considering that, like her, he was wearing a heavy winter jacket.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said. “I don’t live here. Who are you looking for?”

“Ryker Tremaine.”

“Right house,” she said, then before he could respond she turned and threw the door open. “Hey, Ryker, you’ve got a friend out here.”

“Bring him in,” came a familiar but muffled voice from inside.

The choice taken out of his hands, Trace followed the woman inside, entering a warm, pleasant foyer. Gleaming dark wood surrounded him and a staircase led directly upward. It made him feel like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit the picture.

“I’m Julie, by the way,” the green-eyed woman said, stripping off her gloves and offering her hand. “Julie Ardlow.”

Trace shifted uneasily. He still wasn’t used to all the limitations of his injury and had to make a conscious decision to offer his gloved left hand to shake hers. He saw the way her eyes widened, then saw comprehension dawn. Well, it wasn’t as if he could hide it indefinitely.

Then he heard heavy footsteps from the back of the house, and Ryker appeared. Trace experienced a sense of shock. In all the years he’d known Ryker, never had he seen the man look this relaxed, and right now he had a faint smile around his mouth. As he saw Trace, that smile vanished, and he once again looked like granite.

“Well. I’ll be damned,” Ryker said.

“I can leave,” Trace replied. “I was just in the area...”

“No,” Ryker said slowly. “No. Julie, you still need to run?”

Julie looked between the two men. Trace could almost sense her calculating whether that was a dismissal or an invitation to stay.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “School tomorrow and all that. See you, Ryker. Nice meeting you, whoever you are.”

“Sorry,” he said. “The name’s Trace.”

She cocked her head a little, smiled slightly with a mouth that seemed to beg for a kiss, then headed back out the front door. Neither man moved until it closed behind her.

“I heard you were sidelined,” Ryker said. “Didn’t expect you, though.”

“No reason you should. I wasn’t expecting to show up here, either. If it’s a problem, I’ll leave.”

Ryker shook his head a little. “I’ll tell my wife you’re here and make some coffee. Just...no lies, okay? There’ve been enough of them.”

Trace didn’t have to imagine those. He lived them. But he did wonder what lies the man was expecting. Between them, there didn’t need to be any. When Ryker waved him into the living room, he unzipped his jacket partway with his good left hand, then sat on the battered burgundy gooseneck chair.

Seldom had he ever felt more out of place. What had brought him here, anyway? A desire to find out if life after the job was possible? Ryker seemed to be making it, but then it hadn’t been that long.

This whole house smelled of baby, he noted. Powder and sour milk. He almost smiled thinking of the huge transitions Ryker must be going through. Nothing about this would resemble being a field operative.

At last Ryker returned with coffee for each of them. “The baby’s been fussy the last couple of days. A cold. My wife’s going to try to catch some sleep, so it’s just us.”

That was fine by Trace. The devil of it was, he’d brought himself here and now didn’t have a damn thing to say.

“How bad is it?” Ryker finally asked.

“I won’t be working in the field anymore.” The least of it in some ways. Being crippled was harder to deal with than a change of jobs.

Ryker settled on the couch and crossed his legs loosely. “Sorry, man.”

“Not so sure I am.” This visit was pointless. He honestly didn’t know what he’d expected to find here in Conard County, Wyoming. Answers to questions about a future he was having trouble facing? He needed a shrink for that, not an old friend. Maybe he should just congratulate Ryker on his new life and get the hell out.

“You going to be staying in town for a while?” Ryker asked.

Was that a suggestion he leave? Trace couldn’t tell, but then Ryker had always been difficult to read. “I wasn’t planning to. I just wanted to drop by.”

Ryker nodded slowly, still watching him. “Where will you go next?”

“Damned if I know. Does it matter?”

A faint frown flickered over Ryker’s face. Then he sighed. “Yeah, Trace, it matters. Word I get about you isn’t good. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, you and me, but I’m hearing things. You got trouble on your tail?”

“I’m not sure. No one’s sure.”

Ryker stood up then, and now there was no mistaking his reaction. “You brought that trouble right to my door? To my wife and baby?”

“I’ve been careful. No one knows where I am right now.”

Ryker paced three steps quickly before turning and stabbing his finger at Trace. “You came here. Who told you how to find me?”

“Bill.”

“Bill. Damn it all to hell.”

Trace stood up, battling to ignore the savage pain in his right arm. “Consider me gone. No one knows I’m here.”

“I know and Bill knows. That’s one too many. Why the hell did he tell you?”

“I don’t know. I’m just rambling.”

“With a tiger on your tail?”

“Nobody knows that for certain. And frankly, I don’t believe it.”

This was a side of Ryker that Trace wasn’t used to seeing. Usually the man went into overdrive to help a buddy. Now he was in a different mode, a lion protecting his pride. This had been a huge mistake. He put his coffee down. “I’ll leave now, R.T. Gone tonight.”

“But to where?”

“Who cares?”

Ryker scowled at him. “I do, damn it. They shouldn’t be cutting you loose like this.”

“I’m a liability now. Obviously.” Nothing like facing the cold, hard truth.

Ryker shook his head. “Sit down, drink your coffee and shut up. I need to think.”

An eternity later, Ryker settled and faced him again. “You got a number of IDs? Some that they don’t know about?”

“A few. I’ve been using different ones everywhere I go.”

Ryker nodded. “Use one of them tonight. Check into the motel on the edge of town with it. Stay low.”

“And then?”

“I’m going to talk to the sheriff here.”

Everything in Trace rebelled. “You can’t tell him...”

“I can tell him enough. He’s a good man to have on your side. But one thing you are most definitely not going to do is come back to this house. Got it?”

“Yeah.” Trace practically snapped the word.

“Stay tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll leave.”

Ryker shook his head. “Trace, you’re hanging in the wind. You can’t do that until you die. So shut up and get that room. We’ll talk again tomorrow once I figure out some things.”

* * *

Julie Ardlow decided not to head straight home. Instead she went to Maude’s City Diner and ordered a latte to drink while she went over her kindergarten students’ pictures. The exercise was designed to do two things: associate a printed color name with the actual hue, and work on fine motor skills by drawing inside the lines. Each child’s first name had to be crayoned at the top. Beyond that, she didn’t care how much they added their own inventions to the simple picture, but she often enjoyed them.

The papers all said ball and purple at the top. As long as the ball was purple and was reasonably neat, she didn’t care what they colored the other items or how much they added. The kids seemed to enjoy it, and she had a stack of self-sticking stars and smiley faces to decorate each one with. At this point in the year, most were engaged in simple reading, so she measured their progress, especially in fine motor skills. A big improvement over the beginning of the year.

And they all made her smile. The boys’ drawings were often decorated with simple rocket ships or planes. The girls’ with flowers or smiling stick figures. Not always, though. Tommy Wells had added what looked like a snake or a dragon to his. Gloria Chase, defying stereotypes as usual, had drawn a big boat on hers.

When she finished with them, she pulled out another stack from her bag. Word matching this time, simple ones they had all learned to read aloud, drawing a line between the ones that matched in separate columns. Following directions, pattern recognition, reading, and...in one case, one student’s work indicated some clear dyslexia. That had been brought to the school’s attention, and Jason was getting extra help. She gave him a big smiley face and a gold star anyway. She never wanted to discourage a child.

She felt a cold blast of air behind her and heard the bell over the door ring. She looked over and saw that guy she had met at Ryker and Marisa’s house earlier. Something about him awoke her sexual radar, but she didn’t know why. Maybe because he was new to town? It had been a few years now since she had last felt the desire to even date. And over a decade since her only serious relationship.

He had the kind of face that would probably fit in anywhere, yet still had a strong appeal. Dark hair, eyes a medium brown, a good jaw. And the steel she had once seen in Ryker. Except this guy looked as if something was seriously wearing on him.

When his gaze scraped over her, she knew he recognized her, but he started for another table with his coffee anyway. Unable to resist, she waved him over. Somebody new in town. He probably wouldn’t be here long and he knew Ryker, which made him safe enough. She wouldn’t mind a little diversion.

His reluctance was obvious as he crossed to her booth. “I’m interrupting,” he said immediately, nodding at the papers spread in front of her.

“A welcome interruption,” she replied. “No point having your coffee all by yourself. Grab a seat.”

Again, that hesitation. What was with this guy? Usually men didn’t resist her invitation to coffee. Not that she asked many of them. She’d spent her entire life in Conard County, and she knew all the men. No interesting stories there. She figured she was going to end her days a spinster because she was already bored with the limited local selection of available bachelors.

He slid into the booth across from her, and she didn’t miss his wince.

“You’re in pain,” she said bluntly.

“Yeah. Injury.”

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t answer beyond, “It happens. So you teach?”

“Kindergarten.”

“Lots of smiley faces there.” Which brought a faint smile to his face. “You make them color inside the lines?”

She hated that question. “It teaches fine motor coordination. These children are all learning to print the alphabet and their numbers. It’s a good exercise, staying in the lines. But no, I don’t make them do that all the time.” She eyed him. “You play inside the lines?”

“Depends,” he answered.

Why didn’t that surprise her? Julie thought wryly. Ryker clearly hadn’t expected to see him, and since they knew each other... Well, she’d already discovered Ryker didn’t always play inside the lines. “Will you be visiting for long?”

“That remains to be seen. I may leave in the morning.”

“A rolling stone, huh?”

“At the moment.”

Julie studied him frankly. It was clear to her that this man had been through some kind of wringer, and he seemed tense, as if holding still wasn’t comfortable for him. The pain? Or something else? “I gather you know Ryker, but did you ever meet his wife, Marisa?”

Trace shook his head. “I haven’t had the pleasure. She must be something to have settled him down.”

“She’s something, all right. She’s also my lifelong best friend.”

He got the warning, she saw with satisfaction. She had no idea what Ryker had done before he arrived in this town, just as she had no idea what Marisa’s late husband, Johnny, had done. All she knew what that it had caused Johnny’s death, and she didn’t want this guy and whatever secrets he bore to put Marisa in danger.

“So who do you work for?” she asked, pulling her papers together. She could finish the word-match problem later.

“State Department.”

Ah, she’d heard that before, from Johnny and Ryker. She wasn’t half buying it, but she knew better than to say so. “A lot of traveling?”

“Quite a bit.”

“Traveling for vacation is one thing. Traveling all the time for work is another. I don’t think I’d like it.”

“Depends,” he said. “When you stay in one place long enough, you get immersed in a different culture. Lots of new perspectives.”

In that instant, she decided she liked this man. That was an intelligent outlook. “You know, I went to Jamaica a few years back, and I was on a tour bus.”

He arched a questioning brow and waited.

“There was a couple from this state, sad to say, who started badgering the tour guide about Jamaica’s drug problems and whether they were worse because of the race of most Jamaicans.”

She watched, waiting. For an instant Trace seemed to freeze, then he just shook his head.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “For the first time in my life, I wished I were from somewhere else. I stopped to apologize to the guide when we disembarked. My point is, as ugly people, they probably didn’t get any new perspectives.”

“Not everyone does,” he agreed. “Some people never leave their comfort zones.”

“I imagine you do.”

His brown eyes narrowed slightly. “Often. Why?”

“Just a casual response to your comment about different perspectives.” She summoned a smile and decided to back off. This guy was what Marisa had once called a box of secrets. Just like Johnny and then Ryker. Since he wouldn’t be around long, it didn’t matter, and it sure wasn’t courteous to try to discuss things that might make him uneasy.

Secrets. She almost sighed. She’d grown up in a town where almost nothing was a secret for long, but she’d seen the toll Johnny’s secrets had taken on Marisa. Now there was Ryker, and she sometimes wondered but never asked how he and Marisa had crossed that bridge. All she knew for certain was that they had somehow.

Still, the idea of a guy with secrets was out of the ordinary, something new and shiny in a town she loved but sometimes felt was apt to bore her to extinction.

Except for her students. She looked down at the papers in front of her and reminded herself that they were all the newness and shininess she needed. With them, nearly every day brought wonderful surprises.

“I love teaching kindergarten,” she remarked, swimming out of the shoals into safer water. “Kids that age are so fresh, and everything is new and wonderful to them. They often astonish me and remind me that life can be magical.”

“No bad stuff?”

She looked at him again. Was this guy jaded, or was something else going on? She couldn’t imagine. “Well, occasionally I have a child who knows things far beyond his or her years. Things no child should have to deal with.”

“But you can help?”

“Sometimes.”

Then he smiled, a genuine smile, the first he had given her. It made her feel a sexual tug all the way to her core. “That must be a great feeling.” He edged out of the booth. “It’s been a pleasure, Ms. Ardlow. Can you point me in the direction of the motel?”

She hesitated, then thought, Why the heck not? “I can lead you there if you want to follow. It’s on my way. Just let me gather up my papers.”

“You want another coffee?”

She glanced up and found him still smiling. “Sure, latte with two sweeteners. Thanks.”

“I’m getting some to take with me. No problem.”

She watched him walk back toward the counter where Maude, the diner’s owner, glowered as usual. The man had an easy stride, as if he were in great shape except for that arm of his. Curious.

Then she gathered her papers into her folders and slid them into her backpack and wondered if she’d ever learn any more about Trace. Ryker probably wouldn’t tell her a thing. That man was a serious clam. Not that it mattered. Trace would probably be gone with the morning sun.

She collected her coffee from Maude, who gave her an extra frown, probably because she was associating with a stranger. Julie replied with a broad smile. Annoying Maude was the easiest thing in the world. Sometimes Julie even enjoyed doing it.

Trace pushed the door open with his back, his good left hand holding a tray with three coffees of his own. She guessed he wasn’t planning to sleep tonight. She bit back an offer to help, sensing it wouldn’t be welcome, then stepped out into a night that ought to be hinting at the approaching spring but instead seemed to be warning that more winter waited around the corner.

She pointed out her car, then went to climb into it. Trace needed a couple of extra steps, putting the coffee on top of his car while he opened the door, then reaching in to settle the tray on the passenger seat. He’d had some practice at the juggling act, she thought as she wished her car would hurry and warm up.

She pulled out of the parking space and waited for him. Soon he was behind her, and she led him down the main street to the edge of town, where a truck stop brightened one side of the road and the La-Z-Rest Motel sagged on the other side. She tapped her brake lights a couple of times and saw him flash his headlights once in response before he turned into the motel.

She continued her way along an unnecessarily circuitous route to her apartment. It had been out of her way to lead him to the motel, but she was glad to do it. He struck her as an interesting man.

Too bad he wasn’t staying. She could use a little adventure.

* * *

At the motel, Trace checked in under the ID of Tom LaCrosse and soon had a room, paid for in cash. Once he’d dragged his duffel inside, he popped two of the pain pills the doctor had prescribed. He took them only when he didn’t need to drive and felt it was safe to doze a bit. Tonight was safe. Tomorrow, who knew?

Regardless, the three coffees he’d just bought would keep him from getting too drowsy to wake up.

He ditched the winter jacket, thinking that he had to find a coat easier for a man with only one working hand. He was adept enough at buttons now and could zip up his pants, but that damn jacket was a pain. Getting the zipper to work with only one hand after he’d opened it all the way defied him, but pulling it off over his head didn’t work, either. That procedure left him sweating and too close to passing out.

The pain of the gunshot wound would ease with time, he’d been told, although he’d never get the function back in his hand. Not all of it. He’d reached the point where he didn’t care if it ever worked right again if it would just shower him with the mercy of not hurting as if it were caught in a meat grinder.

Shed of his clothes, he climbed into the sweat suit he preferred for sleeping and turned on the TV at low volume. He guzzled coffee and waited for the meds to start their work. A few hours of milder pain would be welcome, but nothing completely erased it.

Ryker hadn’t exactly surprised him, now that he thought about it. The man was out of the business, he had a wife and child to worry about, and he could hardly want someone like Trace showing up.

But the thing was—and this bugged the devil out of Trace—nobody at the agency was sure that he might be in trouble. All the intelligence networks, all the people gathering every little tidbit, could come up with only one thing: someone had tried to find him under his real name. Something only a few people should know. The secrecy around him had somehow been pierced.

So who and why? It might be nothing. But it left him, as Ryker had so succinctly put it, blowing in the wind. The agency wanted him to keep moving until they learned more, so he’d been doing exactly that, until he was utterly tired of it.

He shouldn’t have come here. Ryker was right about that. Whether someone was after him didn’t matter. If there was even the slightest chance, he should never have risked exposing Ryker’s family. Maybe the pain was affecting his decision-making, because this was a dumb one.

But as the buzz from the meds began to hit him and he stretched out on the bed, another part of him was glad he’d come. He’d enjoyed his eyeful of Teacher Julie. He wondered if she had any idea how that claret sweater brought out the red in her hair and the green in her eyes. Or if she even guessed how it had revealed her breasts as she’d leaned forward against the table.

Maybe not, but he’d appreciated every single minute of the view. Still, she was not for him. How much sweeter could you get than a kindergarten teacher who lived in a world of smiley faces and foil stars? She deserved the kind of man who would stay for the long haul, and he was no stayer.

Even if they found out no one was after him, he still wouldn’t be right for that woman. He didn’t want to cast his shadows over her bright little faces and shiny stars. Everywhere he went, he cast shadows. He knew that.

He just hoped he hadn’t cast one over Ryker.

As the pills set him free enough to doze, they also set his imagination free. Images of Julie Ardlow swam in his mind’s eye, images of undressing her, sensations of touching her, exploring her. The unparalleled moments of entering her hot, wet depths and claiming her.

Just dreams. Sometimes dreams were all a man had left. Sometimes they were the last safe place he could go.

Chapter 2

Ryker yanked him out of sleep in the morning with a phone call. Groaning as he awoke to searing pain yet again, Trace reached for the phone beside the bed and answered it.

“Yeah.”

“It’s me,” Ryker said. “Meet me in thirty at the sheriff’s office. It’s just up the street from the diner.”

“I need coffee.” He needed more than coffee, but these days caffeine was the only thing that kicked his brain into something resembling a normal gear.

“Okay, then, I’ll bring it to you. How much and how do you like it?”

“Three or four, black, strong.”

“In ten, then. What’s your room?”

Trace struggled for a moment to recall. “Four.”

“Ten minutes.”

Then Ryker was gone. Slowly Trace pushed himself upright, biting back groans and facing the nearly impossible task of getting dressed. Well, Ryker was bringing more coffee. So he popped another pill and started the laborious job. Shorts. Jeans. Shirt. He simply stared at the god-awful jacket. Not even enough time to shower. That was Ryker. That was the job.

Socks. Boots with Velcro closures. Damn, sometimes he felt old.

Ten minutes later he heard the knock. Rising, he opened the door, wide-awake and hating it. Ryker stepped in, carrying a cardboard tray with four tall coffees.

“Trying to hurry me out of town?” Trace asked bluntly as he plopped on the bed and reached for one of the cups.

Ryker spoke very quietly. “Cell phone?”

Without question, Trace rose and got the phone from the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t say a word as Ryker pulled the back off of it and removed the battery and SIM card.

“Later,” Ryker said, “get a new phone. A burner. That one is about to head out of town on the next truck that leaves the lot across the street.”

Trace understood, and he didn’t like what he understood. If the right person had that number, they could have been listening to what was going on in this room at that very moment, at least until Ryker pulled the phone apart. “I’ve been getting fresh burners all along.” Because he wasn’t a total idiot, although he had to admit every time he’d gotten one, he’d had to use his debit card, even if only at an ATM. Hell, if the worst case proved true, he might as well have kept his original phone. “What about yours?”

“My cell is still at home. We’re going to send this one out of town this morning. Just in case. Anyway, everybody else may be kicking you to the curb, but I’m not.”

That jolted Trace, and he looked over as Ryker took the only chair and reached for a coffee. “Why not?”

“I talked to Bill. Are you on meds?”

“I’m still waiting for it to hit.”

“Okay. Does it help?”

He met Ryker’s dark gaze and saw something very like the sympathy that had been missing last night. “Yeah, when I take enough of it.”

“Probably not often, knowing you.”

“Not when I can avoid it. What’s going on?”

Trace could feel the buzz coming, so he finished his coffee and reached for another before sitting on the edge of the bed again.

Ryker sighed and sipped more coffee, then leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankle. “I told you I talked with Bill. I was going to rake him over the coals for giving you my address, but it turns out he gave it to you for a reason.”

Trace sat up a little straighter, suppressing a wince. “What reason?”

“Apparently he thinks there’s more going on than you’ve been told and that you desperately need an ally.”

Trace felt his heart accelerate. “That’s news to me.” Important news. Something to give his full attention to. “Did he say what’s happening?”

“No. He doesn’t know.” Ryker blew a long breath and glanced at his watch. “A few more and then we go. No, he doesn’t know, but he was unhappy about it. He thinks they’ve cut you loose and don’t give a damn.”

“I was right. I’m a liability.” Instead of just wondering, now he knew, but he was damned if he knew why. So much was becoming clear, and he didn’t like it.

“My guess is you’ve passed your expiration date because of your injury, and they’re more interested in catching the tiger that’s on your tail than whether you survive it.”

“Or alternatively, they have a reason not to stop the tiger. I’ve heard of it.”

“So have I, but I’ve never known it to happen.”

“Me, neither, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. You know how much butt-covering goes on.” And secrets. Secrets that only a handful might ever know. Those secrets could be good for the country, essential even, but they could also cover up more nefarious activities.

A sense of betrayal began burning in him, but this wasn’t the time to let it take over. Trace forced it down, trying to clear his head, suddenly wishing he hadn’t taken the pain pill. It wouldn’t help at all, not right now. What good would it do him to ease his hand when his brain would be in low gear?

“We’ve got some time. Bill never told anyone he directed you to me, and I talked to him on a scrambled line this morning.”

“You have one?” Trace hadn’t expected that, given that Ryker had hung up his spurs. That technology was doled out very carefully.

“Better believe it. When I resigned, I still had a lot of useful stuff in my brain. They want to pick it occasionally. Think they’re going to trust the phone company with that? Or that I would? Hell, we don’t even let the NSA eavesdrop on our lines.”

But another thought had occurred to Trace and it made him sick. “I got your address on an unsecure line. I’d better leave now. I don’t want your family at risk.”

“Well...” Ryker’s eyes twinkled unexpectedly. “The conversation I had with Bill this morning wasn’t exactly as straightforward as I reported. We talked sideways on purpose. I gave Bill a helluva lecture about revealing my whereabouts, and I told him I’d sent you on your way this morning. So if anybody was listening, I sounded p.o.’d, Bill sounded apologetic and loosely explanatory, and in theory you’re already on the road. We’re gonna need to get your car out of town along with the phone, though. You okay to drive?”

“Yeah.” Trace started smiling. His head was getting into the game again. He guessed he’d been missing a sense of purpose. And it felt good not to be alone for the first time in a few weeks. “You wouldn’t happen to know of a junkyard a few hundred miles from here?”

“Well, I do happen to know just the right guy to get a car towed a long, long way.”

* * *

An unreasonable curiosity dragged Julie off her usual path to the elementary school and past the motel. Trace’s car was still there, but probably wouldn’t be for long. Then she got a jolt as she saw Ryker exit the room with the guy. What was going on?

Down the street a way, she pulled over to the curb and watched her rearview mirror. For some reason Ryker dashed across the state highway into the truck stop parking lot. A few minutes later he dashed back. She saw him wave toward the center of the town, then jog up the street to where his car was parked.

What the heck? It was like a scene out of some spy movie, she thought, almost laughing at herself. Why in the world would Ryker park up the street instead of in the motel lot? Shaking her head as questions percolated in her mind, she started to put her car in gear. As she looked to the side she found Ryker pulling up beside her. He was lowering his window, so she touched the button to lower hers.

“Julie,” he said.

“Ryker. What...”

He interrupted her. “Whatever you just saw, forget it. Completely. Curiosity and the cat. You read me?”

Astonished, she gaped at him, feeling her head bob agreement. “I never saw a thing,” she said when she could find her voice.

He smiled. “Good. Just keep Marisa in mind.”

Then he pulled away, leaving her with more questions than ever. Eventually she pulled out, remembering that twenty-two children would be piling into her classroom very soon. But she didn’t want to think about those kids.

She wanted to think about what had just happened and what it might mean, and why he was concerned about Marisa.

No matter how many times she told herself to just forget it, as Ryker had warned her, the questions kept percolating in her mind. Somehow she had to find out what was going on.

Determined that she would, she entered her classroom smiling.

* * *

Ryker had told Trace just last night to lie low. Walking into a busy sheriff’s office hardly struck Trace as staying low. It actually seemed quite high-profile. His nerves began to crawl.

No names were exchanged. The wizened woman at the dispatcher’s desk, who squinted at them through a cloud of smoke that issued from the illicit cigarette dangling from one corner of her mouth, merely jerked her head toward the back.

Trace followed Ryker down a hallway to an open door that had the word Sheriff stenciled on the frosted glass top. Inside a man with a burn-scarred face sat behind the desk, his khaki uniform neatly pressed. He spoke without rising.

“Hey, Ryker. Close the door.” Then his gaze settled on Trace, taking him in. “Sit down,” he said to both of them, “and tell me what all the cloak-and-dagger stuff is about.”

Trace tensed. Some things were not to be revealed under any circumstances, and certainly nothing about the situation he was in. Operational security could be compromised inadvertently. “Maybe I should just go,” he said.

Ryker clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Maybe you should, but we’re going to discuss other options here. Sheriff Dalton worked undercover for years with the DEA. I think he might have some understanding of what we could be dealing with here, and I’m sure he doesn’t expect either of us to reveal anything we’re not allowed to.” Then Ryker returned his attention to the sheriff. “Gage, you know I worked for the State Department. So did my friend here.”

Trace watched in amazement as understanding dawned in the sheriff’s gaze. “Yeah, I know all about that,” the man said, and somehow Trace believed he did. Reading between the lines.

“Well,” Ryker continued, “Trace was badly hurt, and he’s been cut loose. Our main concern is that he may have a tiger on his tail.”

Gage’s sharp gaze flashed back to Trace. “Well, and here I was starting to get bored with domestic disputes and traffic accidents. Winter’s a bad time for accidents.”

Trace said nothing, but his nerves stopped crawling. The sheriff had figured it out and knew not to say too much. Ryker had been right. And was that a possible solution Gage had just mentioned?

Trace decided to take over. After what Ryker had told him, there was no longer any doubt in his mind. “I need to get out of town. I need to be gone. I don’t want to put Ryker and his family at risk. Then there’s this Julie Ardlow. She asked me to sit with her at the diner last night for coffee, after I met her at Ryker’s house.”

“And she knows something is going on,” Ryker said heavily. “I warned her off.”

“You’re new around here, Ryker,” Dalton said. “Let me assure you that Julie takes no as a challenge. She’s not going to leave it alone.”

“Unless I leave,” said Trace, standing. The buzz of the drugs made him a little light-headed. “My phone’s on its way to...where?” he said to Ryker.

“A semi that was going to Denver.”

“Okay. Then I’ll ditch my car somewhere between here and there, get another and take a different direction.”

“You can’t keep running,” Ryker argued.

Trace simply shook his head. “I’ll get what’s coming to me, whatever it is, but it’s not going to land on someone else’s head. I never should have come here.”

“Sit a moment,” Dalton said mildly. “While I do admire your scruples, fact is, you’re in my town and that makes you my headache, at least briefly. So what do you know about this tiger?”

Trace sat slowly, ignoring the pounding in his arm, taking care not to let the meds make him clumsy. “Until this morning, I wasn’t even sure there was one. Vague...gossip, if you will. Ryker made a call and it appears trouble is stalking me, but that’s all either of us knows. Not who, why or anything. Which makes this a nearly unsolvable problem.”

Gage nodded slowly, rocking back in his desk chair. It squealed a protest. The only sound in the room. “Many years ago,” he said slowly, “I had a problem like that and I didn’t know it. A car bomb intended for me killed my entire family. I survived. Only one itch saved me from cutting my own throat. I wanted to find the SOB who’d ratted me out.”

Trace nodded. Gage’s experience didn’t shock him, because he’d seen it in his own unsavory world. “I get it. But for me it’s not too late to protect everyone else.”

“Maybe not. No way to know, but I was driving at something else. You need to start thinking real hard. You’d be surprised how different some things can look in light of new information.”

Trace knew he was right. It could. It might. Something might reveal itself. But he wasn’t about to sit here while the guy closed in on him and his friend. He needed to clear out. “I can think on the road.”

“Or maybe we can make it seem you’re on the road.”

Trace shook his head. “I appreciate it, but I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time in situations like this. I can take care of myself now, without endangering anyone else.” That was the most important thing. It always had been.

“You can’t possibly know that,” Ryker said. “You’re assuming a sniper’s bullet at fifteen hundred yards. What if it’s a bomb? What if other people get unavoidably involved?”

“Like what happened to my family,” Gage remarked. “Best you stay around people who know what’s going on. Who might be able to help. Like I said, I admire your scruples, but they don’t necessarily protect anyone. And not everyone has them.”

Trace sat in silence, staring down at his still-gloved, destroyed hand. They were right. He didn’t want to admit it—he wished he’d never set foot in this town—but they were right.

He’d been a damned fool to ever come here, but he hadn’t really believed he was in trouble. Not when he arrived here, simply because a colleague he knew lived here. The threat had been so vague that it seemed improbable that anything would happen. Someone looking for him under his real name? Could have been anyone and probably meaningless. He figured the suggestion of a threat had been used to shunt him aside until his medical retirement came through. He’d become useless, mainly because of the pain and the meds, and frankly no one wanted to see him hanging around like a reminder of what could happen to any of them. He’d known he made his coworkers uneasy.

But this? The burn of betrayal was returning, lighting a fire deep in his belly. The sheriff was right about one thing: he wanted to know who’d put him in this position and who was after him. He wanted those answers more than he wanted to preserve his own messed-up life.

He sighed. “I took my pain meds this morning. I’m not at my best. I need more coffee.”

“Three didn’t do it?” Ryker asked.

“This is strong stuff. That’s why I hate to take it.”

Dalton surprised him by rising and limping over to the door. He opened it and leaned out. “Hal!”

“Yo?”

“Get me six tall and strongs, black, from Maude’s. Double time.”

Then he limped back to his seat, and with every one of his careful movements, Trace felt a twinge of sympathy for the sheriff. Evidently he hadn’t escaped all the effects of the bomb that had killed his family.

“That’ll tick Velma off good,” the sheriff remarked when he’d settled again.

“Velma?” Trace asked.

“The smoking volcano at the front desk. She makes us coffee every morning. We all pretend to drink it so as not to offend her. Might as well swallow thickened battery acid.” Gage waved a hand. “Her coffee is infamous. Enough about that. We’ll pump some more caffeine into you, and when you feel ready, we’ll get into some detail about what, if anything, Conard County can do for you, if you’ll let us.”

Trace shook his head, trying to absorb this. “Why should you help me? You don’t know me from Adam.”

“I have some inkling about the service you’ve been providing to this country,” Gage said quietly. “I get freaking frosted when people like you get cut loose. I don’t like the stench, and I want to clean it up. Besides, you’re Ryker’s friend, and his wife means a whole lot to folks around here.”

That was when Trace realized he’d walked onto a different planet.

* * *

The coffee arrived within ten minutes. Trace drank the first as fast as he could without burning his mouth and throat, then started on another. The two other men took their time chatting about how another storm was about to blow in and how everyone hoped it would be the last of the winter.

Trace listened with only half an ear. Ryker had given him enough information to fly with this morning, and as the coffee drove away the fuzziness the meds caused in his mind, it slipped into high gear. He’d hated the last weeks of running from an invisible threat that might not even exist. Well, now he was pretty certain it was real. Not knowing who or what made it pretty hard to take evasive action, but at least there was a reason for what he needed to do.

As a field operative, he’d seen enough of the underside to know that sometimes assets were more important than operatives, that his employer would protect some of them at any cost. He’d never known personally of a case where an operative had been hung out to dry, but it didn’t exceed his ability to imagine. It became even easier to imagine when the operative, namely him, had become useless. Yeah, they’d do it all right. If an important asset demanded Trace’s blood, nobody would intervene.

He looked up, interrupting the conversation without apology. “My phone’s on the road. The car needs to be, too.”

Ryker checked his watch. “Very soon. The driver of the truck I put your phone on was just walking inside to order breakfast when I spoke to him. He’s probably just finishing up. Or maybe just pulled out of the lot. But you’re right.”

“I’d better get to it, then.”

“Hold it,” said Dalton. “Give it five.”

“Why?”

“Because Ryker told me earlier we might need to get rid of your car. I’ve got a couple of guys who should be here any minute. So you think they’ve got a tracking device on your auto?”

“I don’t know. It’s unlikely, but I never looked for one. Besides, phones are easy to track. But if they’re tracking both, then we don’t want them to get too far apart.”

“Why in the devil would they want to track you when they’ve cut you loose?” Gage nearly growled.

“Because,” Trace said, “I might be a peace offering.” Dead silence answered him.

The burn was growing. He’d spent a long time preoccupied by his recovery and rehab, and hadn’t been paying much attention to a lot of things. When they suggested it might be best for him to hit the road until they figured out if he was at risk, it had made perfect sense in the morphine-induced haze.

He’d gotten off the morphine to milder stuff, meds he could mostly control with coffee, but he hadn’t really thought about the entire setup. He was a field operative, for heaven’s sake. Living at risk didn’t seem strange or unusual to him. Being on the run had sometimes been part of his job. It had never occurred to him that the agency might just want him to be far away when fate overtook him. Plausible deniability was stamped all over this.

He looked up again as a tall man entered the office without knocking. His bearing, his gaze... Trace would have bet the guy had a special ops background. To the casual eye, it wouldn’t show. To the experienced eye, it was unmistakable.

“Hi, Seth,” Gage said. “I’m not going to introduce you.”

Seth half smiled. “I wouldn’t expect it. What do you need?”

“I need you and Wade to wreck a vehicle for me. Make it bad but nonfatal.”

“Easy enough.”

“Well, I’m not done yet,” Gage said. “We need to do this fast. There’s a cell phone on a commercial truck headed for Denver. I need the crash to occur about one hundred and fifty miles from here, close to that phone. Maybe twenty or so miles ahead of the truck.” He looked at Ryker. “Whose truck?”

Ryker rattled off a license number and a description.

Seth nodded. “Got it.”

“Leave the vehicle, leave the plates on it. One of you can drive an official car so neither of you get stopped for speeding on your way out, okay?” He pointed to the wall. “Grab the keys for number sixteen. She’s gassed and ready to go.” Then he turned his attention toward Trace. “Your keys?”

Trace stood, shoving his good hand into his jacket pocket and pulling them out, handing them over. “Might be smart to lose these in the snow, too.”

Seth smiled faintly. “Will do. Which car?”

“Virginia plates, dark blue.”

“See you in a few hours,” Seth said and departed.

Trace began to see a little humor in all this, out of place though it was. “Who was that masked man?”

Gage chuckled. “Hang around here for a while and you’ll find out.” Then he leaned forward, reaching for his coffee. “We’ve got one more immediate problem. Julie Ardlow.”

Julie Ardlow. Trace thought about her, of course, but what really chapped him was that he’d lost control of everything. Oh, he knew he wasn’t at his best with pain pills in his system, and he seriously considered throwing them away. But each time he started to, he was forced to admit that he couldn’t yet. The pain could keep him from thinking clearly even more than the meds. At least those he could fight with coffee.

But he was usually the manager of operations like this. The one who laid out the plan and directed it. Instead, he was along for the ride, and he didn’t like it. He approved of the sheriff’s actions. They were the same thing he would have ordered himself in a similar circumstance. But instead he’d been forced into the position of passenger.

What good would it do in the long run? Maybe he should have gone on his way with a sharp eye out and hoped to run into the tiger. Problem was, from the instant Ryker had reminded him there could be collateral damage, he’d been trapped.

But trapped in what? He couldn’t spend the rest of his life in this small town waiting for the guy to find him. Yeah, he’d been blowing in the wind, and Dalton and Ryker had helped to give him a landing spot, but for how long? How long could he stand it? What if others in this town might now be at risk? Ryker had worried about it, justifiably.

All he knew was he had to find a way to get on top of this, take charge again. Or get the hell out very soon.

* * *

After school and a meeting, Julie drove by the motel and saw that Trace’s car was gone. So he had taken off. That kind of saddened her. Someone new would have been nice to get to know.

So she swung by Ryker’s place as the early winter night began to fall, saw that his car was gone but Marisa’s was there, and she decided to pop in. Maybe she could satisfy her curiosity about Trace a little more, then put it away.

Marisa was awash in crying baby and dirty diapers and looking worn out. Julie stepped in immediately, taking the three-month-old into her arms. “Sit. Let me deal for a few, Marisa. What did the doc say?”

“Just a cold.” Marisa smiled weakly, her lavender eyes showing little sparkle. “Why isn’t this in all the congratulatory cards?”

“Because no one would ever have a kid if they knew,” Julie retorted. “Anything special you have to do?”

“Suction out Jonni’s nose from time to time so she can keep nursing. Something for the fever. Believe it or not, she does sleep sometimes.”

“Hah.” Julie’s laugh was mildly sarcastic. “Not enough from the looks of you. Where’s Ryker?”

“He ran to the store. We’re about to burn through the last of the diapers.”

Julie paced with the baby against her shoulder, hating to hear the little snuffles between cries. At least there was no coughing. “So what did you think of that friend of his?”

“Friend?” Marisa’s brow creased. “Oh, he said someone stopped by last night. Did you meet him?”

“Briefly. What was your impression?”

“I didn’t even see him,” Marisa admitted. “Jonni fell asleep, so I did, too.”

Well, so much for curiosity, Julie thought. “I guess he didn’t say much about the man?”

“Just that he used to know him. Apparently he was in town for only one night.”

Julie didn’t know whether Ryker had been withholding or if Marisa just wasn’t interested enough to be curious herself. Probably Marisa was just too dang tired. It didn’t matter anyway, since Trace had moved on.

Disappointment filled her again, but even as it did she told herself not to be silly. What was disappointing? That a guy who’d barely left a footprint in town had already departed?

Sheesh, was she getting desperate or something?

But no, there’d been something in his brown eyes that had reached out to her. Those eyes had stuck with her. Then that crazy scene at the motel this morning.

Was Ryker keeping secrets again? God, for Marisa’s sake, she hoped not. “Why don’t you grab a nap? Unless this kid is going to starve in the next hour, I can walk her and change her.”

“She won’t starve. We just finished a feeding.”

Julie eyed her. “And she’s still awake? Good heavens!”

“Poor baby is miserable,” said her miserable mother. Marisa rose and touched Jonni’s forehead. “She’s a little cooler. An hour, no more, okay?”

“An hour,” Julie agreed, although if she could get the baby to sleep longer she’d give Marisa more than that.

Marisa disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door, a great sign, Julie thought. She was going to try to get some sleep, although how anyone could sleep with this racket escaped her. Babies seemed to have a volume out of all proportion to their small size.

But as she paced from kitchen, through foyer to living room and back, eventually Jonni did fall asleep. Little twitches and occasional snuffles replaced the heart-rending cries.

Eventually she heard the side door in the kitchen open. Probably Ryker. She stayed in the living room so that inadvertent sounds wouldn’t wake the baby. A minute later, Ryker appeared, his jacket unzipped.

He smiled at her and the child. “Marisa?” he whispered.

“Asleep, I hope.”

“Think you can come into the kitchen and pace? I want to make some coffee.”

“I’ll wait until you’ve started it. I gather peace is hard to come by right now.”

He laughed silently. “Understatement.” He stepped closer. “You’re going to have to keep some secrets, though. Will you?”

“Not from Marisa.”

“Not from Marisa. Just from everyone else in town.”

“That I can do. I’ve been practicing my skills almost since I learned to talk.”

Rocking side to side to provide a soothing motion, she waited and enjoyed how good it felt to hold a sleeping infant. Baby smells, warmth, soft little noises and cute little movements. Heavenly.

Ten minutes later, the baby still slept. Ryker returned with two mugs of coffee, followed by Trace.

“My, my,” Julie murmured, her heart quickening. “Somebody’s got some explaining to do.”

Chapter 3

Trace left his jacket hanging open, set his coffee on a table, then eased into the gooseneck chair again. He stared at Julie and the infant and felt guilty as hell. This wasn’t right; nothing about this was right. Now they were dragging an innocent woman into the middle of this and he decided that the smartest move might be to catch a bus for Seattle in the morning.

Then he remembered, yet again, Ryker’s warning about collateral damage. He wanted to pound his fist on something to express his frustration with the way this was going. Maybe he ought to just shoot himself before this went any further.

But Gage’s words surfaced. The only thing that had kept Gage from cutting his own throat was a desire to catch the rat. Oh, he could so identify with that. Plus, he had a feeling that if he gave himself over to this guy, some people who had set him up might not learn a lesson: not to cut an operative loose and leave him to his fate. There were other people, people he worked with, respected and liked, who might suffer the same fate. Assuming, of course, that all of this was about an asset being after him, and he had no idea who that might be.

Galled by it all, he sucked down more coffee and waited for Ryker. His hand burned like fire in a forge and felt as if a blacksmith were hammering it. Just a little longer, he promised himself. Then he could take a couple more of those pills. Right now he needed his wits, every last one of them.

It was Julie who broke the silence, her voice quiet. Her question surprised him and made him wonder how much she had already been told and how much she had guessed.

“So,” said Julie, “did Fiona see Trace arrive?”

“Fiona?” Trace asked immediately.

“Nosy neighbor,” Ryker answered. “No. It’s dark out there and that’s why I came by the side door. Trace had his head covered and ducked. If Fiona saw anything at all it was me pulling a week’s worth of diapers out of the SUV, and that pretty much occluded her view of the kitchen door.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll be the first one she asks if she’s curious. What do I tell her?”

“Nothing,” Ryker said flatly.

“Nothing isn’t a good answer for some people. Relax, if necessary, I’ll deal with that woman.” Julie smiled. “This is fun.”

“No,” Trace said. “It’s dangerous and I shouldn’t be here.”

Ryker shook his head once. “You’re sounding like a one-note fiddle. Wherever you go, others will be at risk, so it might as well be willing participants who know what’s going on.”

Trace scowled at him. Damn, he hated being boxed in.

Julie spoke again. “So let me guess. The so-called State Department doesn’t only have jobs that lead to an exciting life of world travel and fancy parties.”

Neither Trace nor Ryker answered her.

“Oh, come off it,” Julie said. “Johnny died. What kind of fool do you take me for? No, don’t answer that. Don’t answer anything. Just tell me why you’re cutting me in. Then tell me how you’re going to keep Marisa and Jonni out of it. Because frankly, that’s all I really care about now.”

Trace admired Julie’s spunk. Right now she looked like the epitome of womanhood, an infant rocking on her shoulder, her long hair flowing down her back, a delightful body encased in a green sweater and black slacks. And all she was worried about was the safety of her friend and the baby. Not herself. He wondered if he needed to be more emphatic. “We’re talking deadly danger here. I am not exaggerating. You should want to be as far from me as possible.”

“Kinda hard when you’re in my best friend’s house,” she retorted. She looked at Ryker. “Start talking and then tell me what we’re going to do to protect your family. I am not leaving here until I know.”

Ryker smiled faintly. “Gage was right about you. He said you take no as a challenge.”

“Is that why you’re talking to me? Because right now, I need some filling in. So Trace here is in danger and is worried about everyone around him. For some reason he’s not leaving town. I assume the reason is a good one. So...what can I do to help?”

“We need to disguise him and stash him somewhere.”

Julie shook her head a little. “Stashing someone in this county isn’t easy. He needs to hide in plain sight.” She looked at Trace. “Tell me you don’t know how to do that.”

Astonishment grew in Trace. This woman was talking like an experienced operative. Where was this coming from? “Yeah, I know how to do that.”

“Cool,” said Julie. “Change of hair color would be good unless you can grow a beard fast.” She ran her gaze over his face. “Glasses can fool facial recognition software, too.”

Ryker started laughing quietly. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I studied a bit of theater in college. The biggest problem we have is Trace’s arm. That’ll be hard to conceal when he can’t use it. Can you wear a sling? I can wrap it up so it looks like an ordinary injury.”

“I don’t know if I could stand it,” he answered frankly. “But it’s worth a try.” He decided to let go for just a few minutes and let this woman take the lead. He was beginning to enjoy the way she was just diving in, dealing with the problem presented to her, without demanding explanations. She’d assessed the situation amazingly well and was working with it. No faint heart, this one.

Still rocking the sleeping baby gently, she continued. “He can’t stay here. Period.”

“Right,” Ryker agreed.

“But he can stay at my place. All we need is a cover story. So, Trace, you’re an old college friend of mine, you got hurt in a skiing accident, and you’re visiting me for a few weeks. You can use my spare bedroom.”

That was the instant when he came dangerously near an eruption. All that kept him from giving in to the sudden blast of anger was the sleeping baby. Keeping his voice low and level, he said, “I will not put you in that kind of danger.”

“You’re the one in danger,” she answered. “And if you were so all-fired worried about the rest of us, why didn’t you just keep moving?”

“Now, wait...” Ryker began.

He shut up when Trace interrupted, “I tried to. When I arrived here, I had no reasonable belief I might have someone after me. Now that I know, of course I’m worrying about everyone else. But Ryker and your friend the sheriff pinned me here, at least temporarily.”

Julie glanced at Ryker. “Really? This is a story I want to hear someday, but first we have to get Trace out of this house. As soon as the baby wakes, I’m going to the store for what I need. Ryker, you bring Trace over to my place in the wee hours when all sane people will be asleep. He’s going to be my old flame until you two figure out something that works better. And that’s my final word. I don’t want him within a mile of Marisa and this baby.”

Jonni woke abruptly, and her crying resumed. Ryker took her immediately, rocking her and talking to her. Trace was amazed. Never in all the time he’d known Ryker had he thought such soft, soothing sounds could issue from that man’s throat.

“I’m off,” said Julie. “Bring Trace around three a.m.”

Ryker nodded. “Thanks, Julie. See you then.” He headed toward the back of the house with the unhappy baby.

But Trace couldn’t leave it alone. He stood and faced Julie. “You don’t want to get involved in this, Julie. I’m not kidding about the danger. You could get killed.”

She looked at him, her smile completely fading. “Some things are worth risking your life for, Trace.”

“Not me. Least of all me.”

She frowned. “Is that how you feel? God, that’s screwed up. See you at three.”

He stood without another word to say as she donned her jacket and left. His arm reminded him he was still very much alive, but he wasn’t sure that was a good thing. Why should Julie think so?

He had no answers. All he knew was that the people who should have been protecting him had thrown him to the wolves, and a man who could have justifiably kicked him to the curb to protect his family had decided to stand with him.

But the biggest mystery of all was Julie Ardlow. Something in her gaze had told him she didn’t think this was a lark, that she grasped how dangerous it might be.

Why should she do this for a stranger?

* * *

Just before 3:00 a.m. Ryker pushed his car out of the driveway and onto the street. Helping as much as he could, Trace sat in the passenger seat at an angle with one foot over the brake and steered the car as Ryker pushed it down the street a few hundred yards. When it rolled to a stop, Trace manipulated the lever into the park position. Then Ryker climbed in beside him, started the car and headed away.

“Fiona?” Trace asked, remembering the nosy neighbor. That would explain pushing the car this far before starting it.

“I suppose there are all sorts of valid excuses I could use, having a sick daughter and all, to explain what I’m doing at this hour, but actually I’d rather not explain squat. Less explaining is better, as I’m sure you know.”

“Absolutely. Anyway, I’m more concerned about Julie. That woman has the instincts of a field operative.” Just enough of them to create additional problems, anyway. Worse, with every step he seemed to be drawing a new person into his hell.

Ryker snorted. “Thinking about recruiting her?”

“After this? Never. Just commenting. She sure took charge and her ideas were good. But she’s unstoppable.”

“Pretty much,” Ryker agreed. “I thought Gage was exaggerating when he said she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I was almost positive that when she learned this was dangerous, she’d back off.”

“I didn’t get the impression she’s deluded.”

“How could she be?” Ryker asked. “She knows Johnny Hayes died on the job. She’s hardly likely to dismiss what we told her.” He turned a corner and soon a moderately sized building appeared. “I’m going to drop you on the street, assuming you can manage that duffel.”

“I can manage. I don’t want to draw attention to the woman. Which unit is hers?”

“Apartment fourteen, ground floor, this end of the building. I don’t think she has any immediate neighbors right now.”

“Good.” Trace paused. “You know I’m getting out of here as soon as I can.”

“I get it. But first we need to figure out what you’re up against. Know your enemy, and all that. In the meantime, you can’t just keep moving without knowing what’s after you. So let’s not argue this all over again.”

Trace reflected for a few moments as the car slowed. “The thing is, I can’t stop wanting to clear out. You know why. So at least give me the space to figure out how and when.”

“Of course,” said Ryker, stopping the car. “No buses before tomorrow afternoon, so don’t get any cockeyed ideas about cutting out tonight. You’d freeze to death. Need any help?”

“I’ve got it.”

Trace climbed out, grabbed his duffel from the backseat and stood beside the road watching Ryker drive away. The pavement was clear, but there were snow banks between him and the parking lot. He spied a place that had been shoveled open and walked toward it.

He wished he thought this would work out well, that he’d get cleanly away and leave everyone behind him safe, but for some reason that wish was growing dimmer by the moment.

He had to figure out who wanted him. Only then would he know how to react. And figuring that out wasn’t going to be easy, because he had zero information.

Sighing, he slogged toward Julie’s apartment, hoping like hell that death wasn’t right on his heels.

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