“You want action,” Lance answered simply.

“I get it. Well, I could take you to bed and make you forget it all for a while.”

Everything inside Erin lurched sharply, as if from an earthquake. She’d been trying to bury it, but with those simple words he opened wide her growing hunger for him.

Irritated with herself, she snapped, “Think you’re that good, huh?”

He amazed her by laughing. “I suspect we’re both that desperate. You think I haven’t noticed you eyeballing me?”

Oh, God. But she refused to be embarrassed. Far better to go on the attack. “You are a hunk,” she said bluntly. “So? Does a swelled head go with that?”

“No, but another kind of swelling …”

“Stop it,” she said sharply. “You can’t jump my bones yet, and I don’t want to jump yours.”

Damn him, he caught the one word that gave her away. Arching a brow, he repeated, “Yet?”

* * *

Don’t miss the next story in Rachel Lee’s Conard County: The Next Generation series, coming to you Summer 2016.

A Secret in Conard County

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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Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

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

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Two days had passed, but the bomber was still shaking. He hid out in the abandoned warehouse, in one tiny corner, and had built up an extra wall of empty crates to hide behind. He had plenty to fear.

Someone knew who he was. Someone had put him on a job that had caused him to shoot an FBI agent. Shooting people sickened him. Bombs were so much cleaner, and while he enjoyed reading about the aftermath, he didn’t want to see it. One bomb, poof, the person was gone, turned into a red mist that left little enough behind. Shooting...not so clean. It was close, it was personal and he’d never forget that agent’s face.

Plus, it was bad enough having the Feds after him even before he’d hurt one of their own.

Inevitably, his cell phone rang. Nobody should have his number, but someone had got it, and he knew what he’d hear on the other end: the mechanical voice that had given him this last job. Ordered him to complete it under threat of exposing him.

But he’d never dreamed he’d have to shoot that woman. Her face haunted him as no face ever had before. He needed to erase her, but was terrified of it. He needed to turn her into a red haze, and he didn’t want to see it happen. What if she remembered his face?

His hand was still shaking as he answered the phone. As expected, it was the mechanical voice, calling from a number he couldn’t locate or identify. Once the number had even changed.

“You fool,” said the mechanically distorted voice. “You shot her, you blew up her house and she’s still alive. I told you she was close to getting you.”

“I know.” His voice sounded thin to his own ears.

“You should never have called her to taunt her. You put her on guard. You made a mess of it. Now you’re going to have to clean up your mess.”

“I can’t do anything in a hospital. Too many people.” He never wanted to hurt a lot of people. Only his carefully chosen victims, women who had treated him badly. Not little kids. Not nurses and doctors. Not even FBI agents.

“Not now. She looks like she’s going to survive. Later, when she’s on leave, you’re going to blow her up.”

He could do that if he knew where to look. Some of his tremors faded. “Yes.”

“I’ll tell you when and where. And this time you’d better not screw it up, or I’ll turn you in. You’ll spend the rest of your life confined to a tiny cell. Maybe they’ll even kill you.”

Dealing death was one thing. Being killed was another. He said nothing.

“Do you understand me? You take her out and I won’t turn you in.”

“Yes,” he said. A new mission, a new target. His heart rate steadied. He could do this.

“For now lay low. I’ll tell you when it’s time.”

He looked at the bomb he’d been building, a pastime that soothed him, and felt a pang of disappointment. It would be ready soon, but now he couldn’t use it.

“Harry,” the voice said, reminding him it knew his name. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then wait for my call tomorrow, ten in the morning.”

With a click, the line went dead, leaving only a hum. Slowly he turned off his own phone, removed the battery and turned back to the bomb. In some odd way the call had calmed him. He felt better now.

He went back to building his bomb.

Chapter 1

Erin Sanders opened her eyes. The flashing lights reflected from her rearview mirror straight into them. A cop was pulling up behind her in a tan SUV. She sighed, kissing off the hope of a brief nap, wondering why he was stopping. She’d pulled off the highway onto a dirt turnout just to take a little rest. Road hypnosis had begun to get to her, as well as fatigue, hardly surprising since she was still healing.

The day was bright and sunny, and being parked on the side of the road was hardly suspicious. As far as she could see, for miles around there wasn’t another soul. Drying summer grasses, punctuated by brush, fences and mountains. Practically the middle of nowhere.

Then again, her job had taught her to be suspicious of even the apparently ordinary, like a cop pulling up behind her on a nearly deserted highway. In the fifteen minutes she’d been parked here, she’d watched several trucks tear by at top speed, and a few pickups and cars. Now there was nothing in sight except the vehicle pulling up behind her.

Instinctively she slipped her hand into her suit jacket and gripped the butt of her service pistol, thumb on the safety. A few minutes passed and she knew what he was doing: checking her out-of-state plates. At last she saw the door open and its occupant climb out. Watching in her side-view mirror she took in the khaki uniform, the tan cowboy hat, the gun belt. As he walked closer, she noted that he was tall and strongly built. He had an easy stride, a comfortable bearing. Okay, he wasn’t looking for trouble.

She waited, not yet ready to remove her hand from her pistol. It was too soon to trust anyone, most especially someone in a uniform. The guy who had nearly killed her had been wearing a police uniform.

He reached the side of her car and bent down, giving her a full view of his rugged face. Late thirties, maybe? Sun and wind had taken a bit of toll. He looked at her from aquamarine eyes that reminded her of the waters around the Florida Keys. The punch of instant attraction she felt was unwelcome and unwanted.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asked through the three-inch opening she’d left in her window. His voice was pleasantly deep.

“Fine, just resting,” she answered.

“Lonely place for a break,” he remarked.

“Better than running off the road because I’m tired.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “True. You wanna tell me what you’re holding under your jacket?”

Smart, too, she thought. And a stupid rookie mistake on her part to telegraph that she was holding something. Another sigh escaped her as she realized he wasn’t just going to walk away. Now she’d have to explain and get out of the car despite the pain and deal with an alert county mountie. She could have stood on her rights, but he also had a court-granted right to protect himself. Time to cooperate.

“Deputy,” she said, “I’m holding my sidearm. If you want to back up, I’ll pull it out where you can see it and show you my ID.”

He scanned her face quickly, nodded once and backed up to the rear of her vehicle. At the same time he released the snap on his own holster and drew his pistol.

He was good, Erin thought sourly. She hoped this didn’t drag on for too long. On the other hand, at this point she was fairly certain he was exactly what he appeared to be. Now it was her turn to reassure him.

She pulled her pistol out of the holster, rolled down the window all the way and placed the pistol on the top of the car, grimacing as her ribs screamed. Dang, she felt naked now. And he was still watching from the back, his gun at the ready.

She pushed the door open, wincing with every movement. Getting away for a while had been a great idea. Sitting still for so long in a car hadn’t been. Every single injury that had brought her to this point protested. Torn muscle and scarred skin cried out. She wondered if she’d be able to stand.

Moving cautiously, as much because of her body as anything, she climbed out, keeping her hands in plain view. Then, facing him, her hands up, she called, “FBI. I’m going to pull my ID out of my pocket, okay?”

“Go for it,” he answered, keeping a bead on her.

She’d stuffed it in the pocket of her jacket. Now she jabbed her aching fingers in and fished it out. It took both her hands to flip it open and show it.

He scanned it, then holstered his pistol and walked up to her. She let him take the badge case and study it.

“Mind if I call this in?”

“Be my guest, as long as I can sit down again.”

Those amazing eyes of his leaped from the case to her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Two weeks out of the hospital. Not everything is up to par.”

“Wanna sit in my car?”

“That’s more moving than I want to do right now, Deputy.” She scanned his name badge. Deputy Conroe. “I’ll just perch here while you check me out.”

She hated it when he took her pistol off the roof of her car and carried it with him. She understood, but hated it anyway. These days she couldn’t stand having the thing out of her sight.

Five minutes passed while she sat with her feet on the dirt and her bottom on the edge of the driver’s seat. Warm, dry prairie winds blew over her, and at last another burst of traffic arrived, sweeping past them and leaving even more heat in its wake. She watched them go by in both directions, hoping they were all feeling better than she was. On their way to exciting destinations. Not just on the run from themselves.

She heard crunching and looked over her left shoulder to see Deputy Conroe coming back. He carried her badge case and her gun, apparently satisfied.

She managed a faint smile as he passed them back to her. “Sorry for the hassle, Agent Sanders.”

“No hassle,” she admitted. “Once you knew I was armed we were going down this road, weren’t we? Some things you have to do.”

He surprised her then by squatting so their faces were nearly level. “You’re not all right. Even I can see it. You want a ride into town? We can pick up your car later.”

She looked into that rugged face and read more than a professional concern. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do in town. I’m just rambling.”

“I heard. So let’s get you and your gear to someplace where you can rest. If you’re worried about your car, I can get it towed before we leave here.”

She wondered what else he’d heard in those five minutes. She had the worst urge to tell him she didn’t need any help, but a glance to the west warned her there wasn’t much time left before the sun sank behind those mountains. Weariness had caught up with her and seemed to be deepening by the minute. What was she going to do? Sleep out here in her car? Messed up though she was, she retained a vestige or two of common sense.

“Thanks,” she said finally.

“Give me your keys. Suitcases in the trunk, right? I’ll help you get into my car, we’ll wait for the tow and then I’ll take you into town. You can sleep if you want.”

For the first time in months, Erin felt peace wash over her, as if the universe had just sent a blessing her way. Maybe there was still some good left after all.

* * *

Lance Conroe figured Agent Erin Sanders had no idea how bad she appeared right now. Framed by short dark hair, her face displayed smooth, classic lines, but just then she looked as pale as white muslin, and awfully fragile. Her sherry-brown eyes were a bit sunken. Given what she did for a living, he didn’t figure this was the former version of herself. Sure must have been some kind of hell that put her in a hospital and left her dragged out like this.

He had to walk slowly to stay beside her, but he didn’t offer to steady her, suspecting that might offend her. When it came time for her to climb in the passenger seat of his SUV, however, she didn’t even try to argue against his assistance. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, his other beneath her knees and put her in the seat. Too easily. Light as a feather. Too light.

“Nap,” he suggested. “I’ll get a tow here in about twenty minutes.”

She closed her eyes and didn’t stir at all as he radioed for the tow truck and told them to step on it. While they waited, he unloaded two suitcases from the trunk of her vehicle. It must be her personal vehicle because he didn’t find additional weapons but he did find a Kevlar vest and dark blue FBI operations jacket. He brought those, too, placing everything in the back end of his car, squeezing it in among his own collection of job tools, from shotguns and ammunition, to protective clothing and rain gear. A cop’s trunk was his home away from home.

Then he checked her glove box, but all it contained were the owner’s manual and her registration. Sure that everything was safe, he stood by, waiting for the truck.

He wondered if she’d be gone by tomorrow or if he’d get a chance to learn her story. Whatever it was, it was bad.

Thirty minutes later he was following the tow truck toward town. In all that time, Erin Sanders hadn’t stirred. His radio crackled, he’d reported what he was doing, and as he drove he passed another deputy headed out to take over his section of the state highway.

Then he heard a cell phone ring. He half expected Erin to sleep right through it, but maybe some things ran deeper than sleep for a law enforcement officer. She popped her eyes open and felt around in her pocket, pulling out her cell. She lifted it to the side of her face and said, “Sanders.”

He kept his gaze fixed on the truck and her car just ahead. He’d told them to put her car at the garage. Larry would keep it in his lot until she wanted it back.

“Fran, I’m fine,” he heard Erin say. “I was dozing beside the road and a deputy picked me up. Of course he checked me out when he found out I was armed.”

A long silence.

“I don’t know exactly where I am. Somewhere in Wyoming. We’re headed to some town where I can find a bed.”

“Conard City,” Lance interjected helpfully.

“Conard City,” Erin repeated with a slight nod to him. “And if you’re worried about it, you can check him out. Deputy Conroe.”

“Lance Conroe, Conard County Sheriff’s Office.”

“Did you catch that, Fran? Okay. I’m fine, just tired.”

Another long silence, then Erin spoke impatiently. “Why would I want to do that? I’ve got the whole kit and caboodle, all the wounds and scars, an ex who pesters me, a killer who got away, a body taking forever to heal and nightmares that won’t quit. What more do I need? Another man? No, I will not call Tom, and I won’t be returning his calls. I need this break.”

Whoa, thought Lance, that was an entire mess in one succinct passage. He felt a bit of sympathy for her as he heard her wind up the call and put her phone away.

“Sorry,” she said. “You didn’t need to hear that.”

“Too much information?” he asked lightly. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. I sounded whiny.”

“You sounded fed up. Big difference.”

She stirred at last, turning slowly in her seat, her cautious movements betraying her. Something still hurt, something was still healing and moving wasn’t her favorite activity. At once his mind slipped into another gear. He’d planned to leave her at the La-Z-Rest Motel, which for all it was decrepit was at least clean, but right across the state highway was a truck stop. No silence, even at night.

“You’re a nice man, Deputy,” she said.

“Lance. Not doing anything special.”

“I beg to differ.” She fell silent for a few seconds. “I saw signs for a big resort on my way here. Is it open?”

“Not yet.” Biggest joke around. Finally they were pulling everything together for the long-promised resort and it all had come to a huge halt last spring because of a landslide. It was as if the Fates conspired against the town. Not that everyone wanted the place, but it would have offered some jobs and put a little extra cash in the local economy. “All we have to offer these days is a fleabag motel across the highway from a truck stop.”

“It’ll do. I’ve slept all kinds of places.”

He imagined she had. He wished he could put her someplace better, but the few rooming houses rented by the week or month, not by the day. And asking a family to take her in would probably be miserable for her and everyone else. He thought briefly of his aunt but knew he couldn’t make the offer without checking with Maria first. So the motel it was. She’d probably be there only one night anyway.

“You need to eat?” he asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I can take you to a diner in town before I leave you at the motel. Considering you don’t seem to be moving too well, that might be better than trying to cross the highway to the truck stop.”

Silence. For some reason he expected her to get vocally annoyed by his interference. It really was none of his business. Yet the thought of dropping her off like that seemed hardly better than having left her in her car by the roadside.

“Knight-errant?” she asked.

“Who, me?” That surprised a laugh out of him. “Just a cop trying to help a fellow cop. The way you’re moving, I’m not sure they should have let you out of the hospital.”

“Apparently you don’t have much experience with insurance. Anyway, I wouldn’t have let them keep me.”

He could well believe that. “Listen,” he said presently. “The speed limit by the motel is supposed to be thirty. Well, we get all types coming along the state highway, and some don’t read too well. The thought of you trying to cross that piece of road when some knucklehead comes barreling along at sixty...”

“Got you,” she answered. “Thanks. The diner sounds good.”

He reached for his radio, and called Larry who was driving just ahead of him. “Larry, change of plans. Take the lady’s car to the La-Z-Rest. Thanks.”

The woman beside him spoke. “That’s the name of the motel?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, God,” she said. It was all he could do not to laugh again. Instead he just said, “Yup,” once more.

Then she utterly astonished him by laughing quietly herself. “The La-Z-Rest,” she said. “I can hardly wait.”

* * *

She really had arrived at the ends of the earth, Erin thought as she eased into a booth at the nearly empty diner. Lance Conroe took a minute to let the dispatcher know where he was, then followed her inside.

Just as he settled across from her, a Gorgon of a woman slapped menus down in front of them. “Coffee or the fancy stuff?” she asked.

“Coffee,” Lance replied, then looked at Erin. “Latte if you want it.”

“I’d love a latte.” She tried smiling at the Gorgon, who apparently went by the name of Maude, but after a flickering look, the woman dismissed her and walked away.

“Nice,” she murmured.

“Just Maude.” Lance smiled. “The food makes up for it unless you’re a vegetarian.”

“Not a chance,” she replied, picking up the plastic-covered menu with a hand that trembled ever so slightly.

“You’re not okay,” Lance said bluntly.

“Just tired. Too many hours driving, too much sitting still. I shouldn’t have pushed it so far today.”

“I thought medical leave meant resting and relaxing.”

She bridled. “So they told you about that, huh? Blabbermouths.”

For the first time, he sighed. “It’s written all over you. What happened?”

She’d learned long ago not to be open about much, certainly not about her job. Not with anyone except another agent. Something in his expression made her want to dump the whole story, but she resisted. “Bad outcome to a bad confrontation.”

He compressed his lips a bit, simply nodding, then leaned back as the coffee was slammed down in front of them. The clatter seemed pointed.

“Give us a couple, Maude?” Lance said, looking up. “My guest hasn’t had a chance to read the menu yet.”

“I know what you’re having,” Maude grumped, then glared at Erin as if she were a clogged drain line before stomping away.

“What a piece of work,” Erin whispered.

“Everyone’s used to it. And like I said, the food more than makes up for it.”

Erin reached for the coffee first, however. She needed the caffeine in hopes that it would stave off the fatigue that seemed to be overwhelming her, at least until she reached a bed. Not only did she hurt all over, but she had begun to feel light-headed. Food would probably help that, as would the milk in the latte. She drained half of it before she even picked up the menu again.

The words seemed to dance in front of her eyes. “Damn,” she said. “I can’t even focus. You pick for me.”

“Carnivore?”

“Definitely.”

“Hungry?”

“Famished.” She seemed to remember having eaten last night. Oh, man, this was bad. She’d been warned not to push it too hard, but had she listened? Tom’s voice came back to her, Hardheaded, stubborn, idiotic... Maybe he was right about her.

She put her chin in her hand and closed her eyes as she listened to Lance Conroe order two steak sandwiches. Tired though she was, the sound of it made her mouth water.

This deputy was being incredibly nice to her, she thought. Maybe it was just cop-to-cop courtesy, as he’d said, but it felt like more than that. Like he was genuinely concerned about her. More than willing to go out of his way to make sure she was looked after. Pretty special. From a friend she might expect it, but from a total stranger?

He let her be, too, as she sat there with her eyes closed, hovering at the edge of much-needed sleep. She couldn’t believe how much her injuries had taken out of her. Surely she ought to be coming back faster. Nor did it feel good to know that the man who had done this to her was still out there somewhere. Oh, he was being hunted, but after the past months, she didn’t have much faith that they’d find him. Anyone who stayed off the grid and kept moving was pretty much out of reach, even these days. Disposable cell phones, working under the table for cash, just enough to get by, skipping town every few days...yeah, you could hide forever until you slipped up. Her personal Moriarty didn’t slip up often.

Their meals arrived with a pointed clatter and slam. Erin jumped, her eyes popping open, her hand instinctively sliding beneath her jacket again.

“Easy,” said Lance Conroe. “That was the local version of the dinner bell.”

Despite the surge of adrenaline that had just coursed through her, she had to smile faintly. The local dinner bell? Cute. But the adrenaline proved salutary, and she felt wide-awake. It wouldn’t last, but it might get her through a meal.

In front of her sat a huge sandwich on thick slabs of bread with steak poking out all around. Juice ran from it onto her plate, sneaking up on the French fries. The aromas were heavenly, causing her mouth to water, and fatigue seemed to slip away as she reached for half the sandwich.

Lance let her eat without interruption as he ate his own sandwich. Her eyes wandered out the window, watching people strolling by, noting the age of the town with hints of the Wild West and hints of the Victorian and hints of the twenties and thirties. A mix that managed to be charming.

“Small town,” she half asked.

“Five thousand in town, another four thousand or so scattered all over the county. There are smaller towns in Wyoming, but bigger ones, too. We’re big enough to be on the map.”

That description brought another faint smile to her face. “But small enough for some good gossip?”

“It fills a lot of hours,” he admitted.

“It won’t cause you any trouble to be seen having a meal here with a strange woman?”

He shrugged. “What are they going to say? This couldn’t be any more public.”

“True.”

“And it’s not as if I’m married.”

Her smile widened a shade as the calories began to hit her system. “Well, that takes all the juice out of the gossip.”

“Maybe. Or it could rev it up.” He shrugged again and took another bite of his sandwich. “So, do you have any idea where you’re going?”

“No,” she admitted. “I just wanted to get away from Chicago, and figured I could wander through the West, take in the sights. What I didn’t count on was the pull of the mountains. I wanted to reach them, once I started seeing them, and...I drove too long today.”

“Well, you’ve reached them now. Hang around a few days and I’ll be glad to take you for a drive to some really spectacular views.”

Quite a nice offer, but it made her feel uneasy. Was she leaving one mess behind, however temporarily, to make another one? She didn’t want to. Instead of answering, she looked out the window again and noticed how flattened everything looked. Apparently the sun had slipped behind the mountains, and while the sky remained bright overhead, the shadows that added dimension were gone. Curious. She liked it. It seemed to suit her rather unpleasant mood.

But then, weary or not, she realized she was being rude to a man who was only trying to help her out. He didn’t deserve it, and while he might put it down to her being unwell, it still wasn’t right.

She turned to him again. “It’s a pretty little town,” she offered.

“A bit worn about the edges. When the resort was getting ready to open, they started sprucing us up a bit. New sidewalks, new streetlights, maybe some paint...but it hardly got started before the landslide shut them down.”

She managed another bite of the sandwich, knowing she needed the energy. “Are they going to try again?”

“I don’t know. They were almost ready to open, but there was a lot of destruction. Nobody knows if they’ll write it off now. Thing is, one of their people lives in town now. He said that landslide was a freak of some bad weather. The company hired him on again to recheck the geology up there. That landslide may have been a onetime thing, and if so...” He shrugged.

“So everything’s on hold.”

“It’s been on hold more years than I can count. We’ve had at least five companies interested. This last one came closer than anyone has. They even finished building a new runway to handle more air traffic.” He shrugged. “Still, who can say when a project becomes more trouble than it’s worth?”

“Not being in the business, I couldn’t venture a guess.”

He nodded and pushed his plate aside. His sandwich was gone and he’d ignored the fries. Erin took another bite of hers, finally feeling the restorative effects of the food. “If you’re in a hurry,” she said tentatively.

That drew a broad smile from him. “We’re rarely in a hurry around here. Oh, we get our share of problems, everything from toxic dumping to a serial killer, but it’s not constant. Small-town policing is pretty laid-back usually.”

“You like it?”

“After ten years in Denver, I love it.”

“Did you grow up here?”

“I sure did. My dad was a schoolteacher.”

“So you still have family here?”

“My aunt Maria, bless her heart.” He leaned back as his coffee cup was refilled by the inimitable Maude, who then glared at Erin to ask, “Another latte?”

“Please.”

The woman stomped off.

Erin pushed her own plate aside. “I guess I’m going to need a doggie bag.”

Lance leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “No problem. You know what you said about a bad confrontation with a bad guy?”

She stiffened, barely nodding.

“I had something similar happen to me. Hence the small-town policing. Some things you never want to experience twice.”

Wow, she thought. Instantly she liked him even more. He’d walked in her shoes and there was probably very little she had to tell him, because he understood.

Except maybe he didn’t understand this running part. Well, it wasn’t exactly running. She wasn’t fit for duty yet, and the Bureau had wanted to put her in protection. Instead she’d chosen to clear out for a while, since the bad guy was still on the loose. No, not exactly running, she assured herself. Merely taking a wise evasive maneuver.

The fresh latte arrived along with a foam box for her leftovers. Apart from being a Gorgon, Maude seemed to read minds. Not a word passed, not a query about whether she wanted to take that half sandwich with her. Of course, maybe it never occurred to the woman that anyone would leave her cooking behind.

“You’re looking tired again,” Lance said suddenly. “Let’s go. I’ll help you move into the motel and get you registered.”

“I need to pay.”

“I run a tab with Maude, so forget it. As for the motel, no payment required until you leave.”

Erin felt her brows rise. “That’s a great way to get ripped off.”

He smiled again. “It would be if they let everyone do that. FBI? I think they’ll give you the same courtesy they’d give me.”

She was beginning to feel as if she’d gone down the rabbit hole to a very different universe.

Chapter 2

Erin awoke early in the morning, and for a blessed few minutes nothing hurt. The TV ran quietly, creating background noise to mask the engine roars from the truck stop. The half-finished latte stood on the nightstand. The clock told her she’d slept fourteen hours. Fourteen. And without a pain pill.

She didn’t want to move. As soon as she stirred, the pain would return, at least some of it. She needed to get on the road again. The guy who’d nearly killed her was off the grid, and she had to stay off it, too, as much as possible. Keep moving, use cash wherever possible and wait for the phone call to tell her he was caught, or until she felt well enough to resume duty. She’d chosen this over protective custody, and every single day asked herself why. But she knew why. She felt safer in the middle of nowhere, and she knew she couldn’t stand being in protection, virtually locked up in a safe house under constant guard.

They were sure he still wanted to get her. After all, he’d apparently come for her after someone had leaked her identity and that she was getting close to finding him. A serial bomber. Great thing to have on her tail. A great reason not to feel safe in a safe house, even if cabin fever wouldn’t have driven her crazy.

She should get up and get going again. No matter how much it hurt. But she could see no harm whatsoever in enjoying these few minutes of peace, where no threat hovered, where no pain touched her.

She’d left the lights on, and she dared to turn her head a little. For a supposed fleabag, the La-Z-Rest wasn’t that bad. The decor was badly outdated Western, the kind that shrieked cheap and old, but everything she’d used so far had been spotlessly clean. It would never get five stars, or even two, but all she cared was that it was clean.

Finally, the time to move had come. Her damaged body began to ache again, to throb in a few places. Sleep was losing its grip on her brain.

Sighing, moving slowly, she sat up and swung her feet to the floor. No carpeting, just linoleum that had been scrubbed almost bare of its pattern. Somehow that was reassuring. Next, a hot shower, as hot as she could stand. That would loosen her up for dressing.

Then she had to decide. Move on again? Or stay put for a few days? Staying put and walking the streets of this town lost in time seemed amazingly appealing after all the driving. And walking would help keep her loosened up, keep the pain from reaching shrieking intensity as it did if she held still for too long. The way it probably would when she stood up after such a lengthy sleep.

Agony struck her the minute she rose. It froze her in place while she sucked air from the shock of it, then it eased enough for her to move. It would get better. The docs had promised. It was just that she had suffered so much injury.

Which was putting it mildly, she thought with a kind of bitter amusement as she eased her way into the bathroom and turned on the shower. One of them had even tried to joke about it. “Pain is your friend. It means you’re still alive.”

Well, that was debatable, she thought as she stood under the hot spray. There were times when surviving being shot and being blown up didn’t seem like such a good thing. Ironic, though, that the gunshot that had brought her down just as she stumbled on the bomber had helped protect her when the bomb blew up her house. Very ironic. Maybe someday she could even tell the story with humor. Not yet, however. Definitely not yet.

A half hour later, she was dressed in a light beige slack suit—probably not the style for this place—and comfortable walking flats. She still hadn’t made up her mind about moving on, but she figured she’d stick out on the streets dressed this way. So what? Only Fran knew where she was, and she couldn’t face the restrictive waistband on jeans today. This slack suit had elastic gores in the waist, reducing the pressure on some of her scars.

Moving with care, she managed to get her shoulder holster on over the royal blue shell and put her pistol into it. Once she pulled on the lightweight matching jacket, only an experienced eye would be able to tell she was armed.

She put her credentials and her wallet in the slacks pockets and felt as ready as she would ever be to face this day.

Breakfast first, she decided. But when she stepped outside, she saw what Lance had meant about this stretch of highway. Crossing it on foot might be suicidal unless a person could move swiftly, and that was beyond her now.

Car keys in her hand, she debated whether to try to find that diner. And she still had to pay for the room.

As she was standing there in an unusual state of indecision, a sheriff’s vehicle rolled up right in front of her. Lance sat in the driver’s seat and he leaned his elbow on the open window as he smiled at her.

“Saw your car still here. You staying for a while?”

“Thinking about it,” she admitted. “Mostly thinking about breakfast. I see what you mean about the highway.”

“Like I said, some fools can’t read and others don’t care. Hop in and I’ll take you to the diner.”

She liked the way he suggested she hop in, especially since he’d practically had to pour her into his vehicle when he picked her up yesterday. “Don’t you have to work?”

“You’re my work now.”

Thunderstruck, she narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Well, after I checked you out yesterday, my boss got a call from the Bureau. Asked us to keep an eye on you as long as you wanted to stay. So here I am, your protection detail. Wanna tell me to go to hell?”

The way he asked the question and arched one eyebrow drew a reluctant laugh from her. “No, but I do want breakfast.”

“And the sheriff wants to meet you. So if you want to climb in, we’ll do the diner first.”

So much for a low profile, she thought, scanning the highway as her nerves started to jump. Why had the sheriff been dragged in on this? Why did they feel she needed protection?

All of a sudden a lot of questions hammered at her. “Sheriff first,” she said decisively.

“You got it.”

* * *

Appearing more rested, and dressed in that quietly elegant pantsuit, Erin looked as if she ought to be strolling the streets of a much bigger, classier burg than this one, Lance thought as he drove them toward the sheriff’s offices. Kinda pretty, too, now that her brown eyes didn’t appear quite as sunken. But no one would mistake her yet for being in perfect health. She did resemble a Fed now, though.

“You’re looking a whole lot better this morning,” he said.

“Fourteen hours of sleep will do that.”

“Fourteen?” He whistled. “My dogs wouldn’t let me get away with that.”

A quiet laugh reached him. “How many do you have?”

“Two. One’s an English mastiff, the other a short-haired Saint Bernard. When they jump on the bed, I don’t have much of a choice.”

“I guess not. There wouldn’t be any room left.”

“And to think I considered getting an Irish wolfhound once upon a time.”

“Uh... I’ve only seen one in my life but they’re huge, aren’t they?”

“Practically need a stable for one. My guys are good dogs, by the way, so if you ever come by my place, you don’t need to be nervous. They’d give away the store, not guard it. Of course, the mastiff might not let you leave after you robbed me blind.”

That drew a genuine laugh from her, a nice sound that he was glad to hear. “I think I’d like to meet them,” she said.

“That can be arranged.”

At least she was no longer looking haunted and indecisive as she had been while standing outside her room. There was an instant change, though, when they pulled up at the sheriff’s offices, across the street from the courthouse square. Maybe she was expecting memories to be brought up, things she didn’t want to talk about.

Well, he couldn’t do anything about that. The sheriff was a good man, but she’d have to find that out on her own.

It hurt to watch her get out of his car, but he didn’t try to help. He sensed a huge independence in this woman and figured he wouldn’t be wise to offend it any more than he already had. She had clearly not been thrilled to find out the Bureau had requested protection.

When she walked into the front office, he watched heads turn. A woman dressed like this would get attention anywhere in this town, but everything about her suggested that she was federal. Even so, as lovely as she was, she’d draw male attention anywhere.

Elderly Velma, at the dispatcher’s desk, quickly stubbed out her illicit cigarette. A first. Lance could have laughed.

“Agent Sanders for the sheriff,” Lance announced.

“He’s waiting,” Velma answered in her smoke-roughened voice. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks,” Lance said swiftly. Velma’s coffee was legendarily bad. He gestured to the hallway leading to the back offices and let Erin precede him. He could almost feel the air going out of the front office as deputies relaxed.

Interesting effect, he thought as he rapped two knuckles on Gage’s closed door.

“Come,” Gage called.

Gage Dalton, a dark-eyed man with dark hair dashed with gray and a face marred by a burn scar on one side, rose with a wince. As Lance made the introductions, he shook Erin’s hand. “Have a seat, Agent. Thanks for stopping by.”

“I had a choice?” she asked wryly as she eased herself into a wooden chair. Once certain she was settled, Lance sat nearby. “Did Tom bother to tell you why he’s so all-fired worried about me?”

“Actually yes. You got a call just before you were attacked. The guy knows who you are. He may be afraid that you could identify him. Your ASAC said he knows the risk is small, but it’s not one he wants to take.” Then he changed direction, surprising Lance. “A bomb got me, too,” he said, touching the scar on his face.

Erin had survived a bombing? Lance looked at her, shocked. Her face seemed to have frozen.

“I was DEA,” Gage continued. “It was a car bomb. Unfortunately my family was in the vehicle and I had run back into the house to get a diaper bag. I survived, they didn’t.”

Erin paled and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“A long time ago. We can make peace with almost anything, it seems. But I want you to understand why this department isn’t going to take the Bureau’s request lightly. I once ignored an instinct that my family was in danger, to my everlasting sorrow. Your office has a feeling and I’m not going to ignore it. Lance has volunteered for protection duty, and we can get another few on board before the day is out. Good ones. Men with the kind of experience that often took them to undisclosed locations overseas. That protection will continue until you decide to leave. All I ask is that you put up with it. We’ll be as unobtrusive as possible.”

“Isn’t this overkill?” Erin asked after a moment. “No one knows where I am.”

“Supposedly no one knew where I lived either. But the Bureau knows, and apparently someone had loose enough lips to let it be known you were working the case against the bomber.”

She drew an audible breath. “They told you that? They believe it was someone on the inside?”

“Yes. Which gives me cause for concern. How many people at your field office now know where you are?”

Lance felt his gut tighten. He’d never imagined this. Never.

“I’ll leave right away, then,” Erin said immediately.

“If you want, you can. But I suggest you hang around here for at least a few days. Take a breather and know we’ll be watching out for you. Looks to me like you need rest more than anything else right now.”

She looked down at her hands, resting on her lap. “I don’t get why they told you all this.”

“I do,” Gage answered. “They apparently feel that if anyone knows where you are, the wrong person might know. And moving on won’t necessarily help.”

At that she raised her head. “Why not?”

“Because from here there are only a few directions to go. Because your whereabouts have been known to the Bureau since midafternoon yesterday. That’s a long time if someone is hunting you.”

“You’re telling me I drove myself into a kill box.”

Lance drew a sharp breath. When he’d helped Erin, he’d never anticipated the possibility that he could be causing her bigger problems. Nor, apparently, had she.

“Well...” Gage drawled the word slowly. “Truth is, Agent, that there are a whole lot of little bottlenecks in these mountains. Any one of them could have been a bad place to stop if you let someone know where you were. Lance here verified your ID, normal precaution. Then I guess from what he said that you talked to a friend and told her exactly where you are.”

Erin didn’t respond for several long seconds. “In short, I was an idiot.”

“Didn’t say that,” Gage answered. “Sooner or later, your ID would have been checked simply because you’re carrying a concealed weapon. Sooner or later you’d have told a concerned friend where you were. Just a matter of time. Going off the grid isn’t easy for someone with a lot of connections. It would have been easier to slip away if you’d reached Seattle or some other big city, but it happened here, a place the state highway runs through and very little else. You can head east, you can head west out of here. If you have time you could get to a bigger city. We don’t know how much time there is, so we’ll just keep a friendly eye out.”

Erin slowly shook her head, and finally Lance spoke. “Maybe it’s better it happened here.”

She turned those brown eyes on him. “Why?”

“Because strangers stick out around here. Easy for us to keep an eye out for you.”

“And we have a fairly good department,” Gage added. “You could have wound up someplace where they couldn’t have provided the coverage we can.”

Lance felt his heart tug a bit as he watched Erin lower her head. From what little he knew, she’d been through a hell of a lot, and now she’d been sandbagged. But what she finally said surprised him.

“This isn’t fair to you guys. I should just hit the road as fast as I can and disappear again. Besides, he’s a bomber. That type usually hunkers down. Him following me across the country is so unlikely.”

Gage looked at Lance. No doubt, the sheriff was leaving it to him since he’d volunteered to be on this woman’s protection detail.

“No,” he heard himself say. “Maybe he won’t follow you. We can’t know that with any certainty. It’s enough for me that your boss is worried about it. Regardless, you need more rest, and we can make sure you get it. Providing protection is part of what we do.”

“But to a single individual? That’s expensive. Man, I should have just let them lock me in the safe house.”

“We provide as much protection as any individual needs,” Lance replied. “Sometimes that’s a whole lot. As for the safe house...”

“As for the safe house,” Gage said, “apart from going nuts, which I know I would have, I can tell you this. I was undercover DEA. Nobody was supposed to know who I was or where my family lived. We got found anyway. I personally don’t have a whole lot of faith in safe houses.”

Erin looked at the two of them, one after another, and he watched something change in her face. He tensed and waited, expecting to hear her announce she was hitting the road anyway. But then she knocked the wind from him.

“To hell with it,” she said bluntly. “I’m sick of this creep. If he’s crazy enough to follow me, if he wants a showdown at high noon, this is as good a place as any.”

* * *

Outside, she stood on the sidewalk, breathing in the warm summer air, taking in her surroundings. Lance stood beside her but said nothing. He seemed to know when not to say anything—a rare quality.

“That’s the diner?” she asked, gesturing at the sign she saw half a block away.

“Yup. City Diner, aka Maude’s diner. Wanna walk or drive?”

“I need to walk. Otherwise everything tightens up and I’ll never get my strength back.”

One stoplight. The end of the earth. Only two ways out. A kill box. But a charming one. If she had to take a stand, this was indeed as good a place as any. She just hoped there would be no collateral damage.

She stepped into the street when it was clear and began crossing. With every step, some part of her protested but she ignored it. Nor was she unaware that the man beside her measured his pace to her much slower one. No comment, he just did it.

When they reached the diner, pain had caused a little perspiration to break out on her forehead. Not bad. Better than it had been. She just wished there was some way to speed her recovery.

He opened the diner door for her and let her choose where to sit. She preferred booths and headed for one, hoping she could ease into it without too much trouble. With her back to a wall and the street visible through the big plate glass window, she felt safer.

She winced a few times and had to bite back a groan, but she slid into the booth without too much ado. Lance sat across from her.

“Don’t they give you something for that pain?” he asked.

“I’ve got enough prescription painkillers in my suitcase to raise eyebrows. I don’t want to take them.”

He nodded. “Latte?”

“Please.”

So when the Gorgon’s daughter, who looked like a younger clone of Maude, arrived to slap down the menus, he promptly ordered their coffee and asked for a few minutes. Erin barely glanced at her, just long enough to take in the name Mavis. “A whole family,” she whispered.

Lance laughed quietly. “The parts I’ve seen anyway.”

She tried to smile as she squirmed a bit, seeking that elusive position that would be more comfortable.

“Maybe,” he suggested quietly, “you could trust me just a bit and take a little pain medicine. Not enough to make you loopy, but maybe enough to give you some ease.”

She answered with the bald truth. “I’m afraid of it. When I was in the hospital they kept me pretty well doped. If I need a brain, I don’t want it stuffed with cotton and rainbows.”

He nodded understanding. “But maybe you could let us be your brains for a few hours. I doubt the guy could be here already. You can’t get much farther from anywhere than here. You could give yourself a few hours to rest some more. You need rest as much as activity, you know.”

“Speaking from experience?” she asked dubiously.

“Four gunshot wounds of experience,” he answered flatly.

She felt small. He’d already alluded to a bad confrontation and hinted that he’d been wounded, too. She had just assumed...well, what had she assumed? That nobody had ever really walked in her shoes? No, she definitely was nowhere near par. “Sorry.”

“For what? I get your worries. I also understand that part of what we’re trying to do here is take some of this off your shoulders. Gage understood why you didn’t like the idea of a safe house. I understand how much you must resent needing all this recovery time. Of course, I didn’t have to wonder if I was being stalked by a killer either.”

She met his amazing blue-green eyes just as the lattes dropped in front of them. A pulse of pure, hot desire hit her core—probably the only place that didn’t hurt, and he was making it ache.

“You look at them menus yet?” Mavis demanded.

“Still trying to decide between breakfast and lunch,” Lance answered, giving her a friendly smile. “Hey, Mavis, you’re not that busy right now. You can spare the booth.”

“Yeah, right,” the woman grumped, but she moved on.

Lance turned back to Erin. “We’d better hurry or she’ll order for us.”

“Would she?” An honest laugh trickled out of Erin and she relaxed internally as she reached for the menu.

“She would,” Lance answered. “Years ago, when the former sheriff was trying to lose some weight, it turned into an epic battle. He liked to come over here for coffee. Well, Maude was always slamming a piece of pie down in front of him. Got to be quite a thing.”

“Did the old sheriff lose the weight?”

“Twenty pounds. But I think he must have been cutting out stuff elsewhere.”

“He didn’t have to eat it.”

“He did if he wanted to keep coming in here. Never insult Maude’s pie.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She was also really starting to like this place. In a very short time, Lance had made her feel like she was an insider, not an outsider, an unusual way for her to feel. Generally speaking, Feds were about as well-loved as a fungus infection, even among law enforcement.

She finally settled on an omelet and some toast. Heavy food didn’t sit well on her stomach. Maybe it never would again. She brushed the thought aside and sipped her latte. Time to be friendly. It seemed the least she could do. “I appreciate all you and your department are doing for me.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, but his eyes twinkled a bit. “You hate it.”

When had she become an open book? But she knew. She hadn’t been concealing her thoughts and feelings too well since the incident. It seemed to require more energy than she wanted to invest. “Okay, I wish it wasn’t necessary.”

“That’ll do.” He smiled at her over his own coffee. “How much can you tell me about what happened? I got a little from what the sheriff said, but I don’t imagine they told him a whole lot either. I don’t have to tell you it would help to know what we’re up against.”

“A raving madman,” she answered. Moving carefully, she leaned back against the stiff but padded cushion, felt scars twinge.

“Professional assessment?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted. “Purely personal. You get any training at Quantico?”

“Some,” he acknowledged.

“Then you’ve had a look into the minds of people who do this kind of thing. We’d like to think they’re insane. They’re usually not.”

“No, they aren’t.” He waited, regarding her steadily. She sorted through her head, trying to decide what he really needed to know, and how much she could safely share. The Bureau liked to play close to the vest, revealing nothing until a case went to trial or a grand jury. But then, cops couldn’t freely discuss any open investigation. He was right, though. They needed to know something about this guy.

She sighed. “Without getting into details...”

“I know. Just what you think you can.”

“Okay. Serial bomber. Not a man who just likes to see things go boom. He likes to kill women. Individual women.”

Lance drew an audible breath. “Okay,” he said after a moment.

She hesitated, then plunged in. “This is not for distribution. We can’t find a link between his victims except for gender and approximate age. All his bombs are different. So for a while we weren’t sure we didn’t have some copycatting going on. Then I found...a piece of evidence that linked all the bombs. We knew we were after one guy.”

“So you’ve got this guy who has it in for women.”

“Apparently. Little did we guess I’d be his next target.”

Lance swore quietly. “But why? Any ideas? I mean...” He paused. “I guess if you can’t profile his victims, you can’t know why he picked you.”

“Yes, we can. Because his victims were all much younger than me. Early twenties. I’m outside the box. Then I got a phone call. I can’t say much about it, but at that point we were pretty sure he’d somehow learned I was on the task force working the case, and that I’d found an important piece of evidence.”

He gave a low whistle, a frown settling over his face. He didn’t even give Mavis a halfhearted smile when she slammed the food down between them. “That should never have gotten out,” he said when they were alone again.

“No.” She looked down at her plate, appetite nearly gone, reminding herself that eating was as important as breathing. She forced herself to pick up a fork. “Long story short. Before we’d even begun to really work the angle, I was at home alone that night, uneasy as all get-out, thinking about just going back to the office, when I heard something outside. Just a little sound, but I was jumpy. I went out, walked around to the side of my house and there he was. I lowered my gun because I saw a cop.”

“Oh, hell,” he murmured.

“He turned when I called out and shot me. I fell. The house blew up. And here we are.”

She stared at her plate, at the fork in her hand, and tried to shove the shadows of memory away. For a long time Lance didn’t make a sound. Absorbing what she had told him, she guessed. Purely out of willpower, she cut off a piece of omelet and put it in her mouth. It might have been sawdust.

“I’m surprised you didn’t shoot me,” he said finally.

“Well, my hand was on my sidearm,” she reminded him.

“True.”

She cut some more egg. “I didn’t get a look at his face. It was dark, and frankly I don’t remember anything except the muzzle flash as he fired at me. The irony is that I survived the bomb because I was lying flat on my face in the grass beside a tree and bleeding out when it went off. Bet he didn’t expect that.”

He finally cut into his own pancakes. “I’m surprised they didn’t put it out that you were dead.”

At that she lifted her head. “How did he know who I was, where I lived and how to reach me? Until we figure that out, no cover story would work, because someone on the inside might have loose lips.”

“You’re right, that’s what Gage said your ASAC is worried about.”

She went back to eating and to compartmentalizing what had happened to her. These were memories she kept safely locked away, memories that bubbled up usually only in her nightmares. She was having plenty of them these days.

“A safe house wouldn’t work either, if you’ve got a leak,” he remarked.

“That’s why they didn’t argue very hard when I said I wanted to hit the road,” she agreed. She began to eat a little faster, trying to put a distasteful chore behind her. At some level she realized she was eating a great omelet, but most of her didn’t want to eat at all. Just get it done. Like everything else. One foot in front of the other until she could take the guy on again. Or until someone else caught him. At this point she didn’t much care who took him down.

“You know,” she said slowly, “before this happened there was an ugly part of me that wanted to be the one who nailed this guy. Me personally. Now I don’t care who gets him as long as he’s caught.”

“You’re competitive, right?”

She looked up. “Yes.”

“And it must be harder for a woman in the Bureau than a man. Oh, I know all about equal opportunity, but then there’s reality.”

“Maybe,” she said cautiously.

“Of course you wanted to be the one to bring him down. That’s not ugly unless it hinders your performance. Just human nature.”

She already liked this guy, but she realized she could start to really like him. “Who made you so wise?”

He laughed, the sound instantly lightening the mood. It rolled out of him easily. “Street smarts,” he finally said.

Her curiosity about him was growing fast. “So what’s your story?” she asked.

“My wounding, you mean? I didn’t duck fast enough.”

In spite of everything, she felt her lips starting to curl into a smile. “That simple?”

“Especially when you’re facing an AR-15 on full auto, yes.”

Shock rippled through her. “Full auto? It’s a wonder you weren’t cut in half.”

“You can thank body armor and the economy for that.”

That surprised a small laugh out of her. “The economy?”

“Guy was unemployed. He couldn’t afford armor-piercing bullets. Still, he got me four times, arms and legs.”

She nodded and scooped up more egg. “You’ve recovered well.”

“It was years ago. I’ve had longer than you. Take it easy on yourself, Erin. We’re here, we’re not half-bad even by the Bureau’s standards and we’ll look after you. Just work on healing. When the time comes, we’ll need you in the best shape possible.”

When the time comes. She thought about that as she finished her breakfast. He seemed awfully sure that they were going to face the guy here. Well, she’d said they might as well have the showdown in this small town. But he also seemed to think they might have time.

But time enough for her to get her strength back? The Fates should be so kind.

Chapter 3

“You can’t stay at the motel,” he told her as they walked back to his car.

She had to agree with that. If she was at risk, then a lot of other people would be at risk. “Where, then?”

“I was going to suggest you stay with my aunt Maria, but much as she’d love the company, no way am I exposing her to you.”

She liked his honesty and answered with her own. “I seem to be deadly.”

“Exactly. So... My place.”

“Your place?”

“I’ve got plenty of room, and it’s away from other houses, so if this guy gets a wild hair to bomb it, nobody else will get hurt. It’ll also give us some nice clear sight lines.”

She could appreciate the sight lines but had other concerns. She kept them to herself until she had climbed slowly back into his vehicle.

“Well?” he asked as he turned over the ignition.

“Your house would be at risk.”

“I know. It’s insured.”

“Not against criminal acts, I bet. Most policies have an exception for that.”

“Not mine. I’m a cop and I can read. Look, Erin, you can’t hit the road. Frankly, you’re in poor condition to protect yourself, and like the sheriff pointed out earlier, whichever way you go, it’d be easy to follow you. Not a whole lot else between here and there, is all. You don’t want to be crossing the mountains by yourself in your condition. Do I need to keep on?”

She knew she was tired of running. She’d as much as said so in the sheriff’s office. Besides, she was beginning to wonder why she should have to be the one hiding or running. It made her blood boil just thinking about it. Trying to keep one step ahead of a criminal hardly suited her nature.

But she didn’t want to cost Lance Conroe a whole lot. Like his house. Like his life. It seemed so wrong.

“Can I get a flight out of here?”

“Only two commercial flights a week—a puddle jumper in and out of Denver on Friday and Sunday night,” he answered. “There used to be a daily flight while they were building the resort, but that’s all on hold. We have some folks who own small light planes, and one guy runs an executive jet service out of here, which is usually more out of here than here, if you get me. I think he’s in Mexico right now. Anyway, none of those little twin-engine jobs could get you safely across the mountains and I’m not sure their owners would even want to try. They’re ranchers, Erin, not pilots, if you get my drift.”

She got it. Definitely this was a kill box. She might persuade the Bureau to send a flight for her, if she begged hard enough, but she might as well put another neon sign on her back.

“I’ve been stupid,” she said finally.

“Why?”

“I should have just elected the safe house or caught a plane to the coast, rather than thinking I could drive myself there. And I surely shouldn’t have told Fran exactly where I was. Of course she’d tell my boss.”

“I kinda think that’s my fault. I must have lit up the boards when I checked your ID.”

It was true. Apparently her field office knew her whereabouts and was concerned about how many might know. Maybe Fran hadn’t passed it along. If anyone understood Erin’s position it was Fran.

“I don’t know,” she said slowly.

“I do. If you’re not afraid of me, I’ve got enough room to tuck you into. Let’s go back to the motel and get your car and other things. If you decide you want to take off, I won’t stop you.”

She gave in. What else could she do? Reviewing the decisions that had led her to this small town, she had an uneasy feeling that she wasn’t thinking with as clear a head as she might imagine, even without taking the pain meds. She was better than this.

With that gloomy thought, she let Lance take over.

* * *

Lance made it easy for her, and she was past arguing. She put the remaining few items in her cases and didn’t object when he took them out to her vehicle. She walked slowly to the motel office, and paid the bill in cash, but by the time she was hobbling back to her car, she was limping noticeably.

A burst of frustration and rage socked her. She was used to being able to do a lot more than walk, and now even walking could defeat her.

But, she reminded herself, she was walking. She might be limping but she’d walked a goodly distance this morning, to and from the diner, and now the length of the motel and back. She was getting her strength back. A week ago she’d have been ready to collapse.

Lifting her chin, she limped the rest of the way to her car. Lance was sitting in his vehicle nearby, engine thrumming, waiting patiently. She was so glad he hadn’t attempted to go pay the bill himself. Carrying her cases was one thing; pampering her to the extreme would be another.

He smiled and touched a finger to the brim of his hat as she reached the vehicles. She hated to think what she must have looked like, attempting to bend herself into her vehicle so cautiously. But she did it, and felt pretty good when she leaned forward, stuck the key in the ignition and started it up. The tow truck had left her nose-out, which meant she didn’t have to twist a whole lot to back out.

She pulled up beside Lance’s car. “Which way?”

“Toward the mountains,” he said, pointing. “I got me a little piece of heaven just a few miles down the road.”

A piece of heaven, and she might draw a bomber his way. Oh, great. For an instant she felt a wild urge to just leave town, but then reality slammed her hard. Her decision-making hadn’t been the best, obviously, nowhere near the top of her form. And the sheriff had been blunt about traveling through the mountains and about being followed. How could she trust her own thinking right now?

They traveled west on the state highway for a little over a mile, then turned onto a county road that needed some fresh paving. It was crumbling around the edges, but at least dozens of potholes had been filled in. And the mountains seemed to loom larger in her windshield.

She wished she had a map. It seemed this county was tucked into a wide mountain valley. Well, more than a valley. The eastern mountains were far enough away to make this feel like a plain. But the western ones loomed close, purple dashed with green in the midday light. Probably farther away than they looked, she decided. She had no perspective for judging that, but when she considered how long she’d driven while watching them slowly grow bigger in front of her, she imagined she was still far from reaching them.

But she was in the foothills for sure. The land here rolled, the road snaked around some curves, an occasional narrow bridge crossed a tumbling stream.

Another turn took them onto gravel and a small house appeared as if it had been dropped in the middle of nowhere. Some trees dotted the brushy, grassy landscape, and little else until woods appeared like a distant ring of tall sentinels.

Lance pulled a wide circle in front of the house and she followed suit, stopping behind him. When he climbed out, she turned off her ignition and sat waiting as he approached, moving only to roll her power window down.

He squatted by the car. “Home sweet home. Future plans not yet accomplished, but right now it’s just what we need. We’re not as far from town as it may seem but you don’t have to worry about anyone getting caught in any cross fire.”

“Thank you,” she said, really meaning it. “I’ll certainly be harder to find out here.”

“Counting on it. But not entirely. The other guys should stop by this evening so you can meet them and know who they are. Then the waiting game begins.”

He opened her door, and she twisted gingerly on the seat, finally putting her feet on the ground and pausing a minute. “You won’t count too much on not being found?”

“Of course not. Everyone can be found if they have an address. What we’re hoping is that this might stall him a while if he shows up. Nobody knows you’re staying with me except the sheriff and the other guys who’ll be watching over you, okay? Your ASAC was clear about not revealing your whereabouts.”

As the inevitable pain eased, she pushed out and stood. “So I’m in a safe house anyway.”

“Kinda,” he admitted. “But not exactly. I called in your ID, you told your friend about me. If this guy is halfway smart and actually comes here, sooner or later it’s going to occur to him where you might be.”

She couldn’t deny that. “We have to be ready.” Always plan for any eventuality. That had been drilled into her. The most remote possibility sometimes happened.

“We’ll be as ready as we can.”

She turned a little, looking from the snug little house to him. “Lance? Are you sure you want to take this risk?”

His blue-green eyes met hers steadily. “Isn’t this what we do, Agent?”

Hesitantly she nodded, acknowledging the truth of it.

“One cop to another, I’d do this. But oddly...” He rubbed his chin, staring past her over the prairie to the mountains. “Oddly enough, I’m developing a real need to catch this SOB. So buckle your seat belt, Erin. You’re not alone in this.”

“I never was,” she argued.

“Until you left home. But now you’re with people who have just one ax to grind. Catching this guy.”

What an odd way to phrase it, she thought. Ax to grind? Did he think someone at her field office had it in for her? That revealing her identity hadn’t just been a slipup?

But as he carried her bags inside, leaving it to her to decide when she’d follow, she ran through everyone she knew back home, and couldn’t think of a single one who might want to put her in harm’s way.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t anyone, just that she couldn’t imagine who.

Sighing, gathering herself, she headed for the porch. Two steps. She laid her hand on the rail and was relieved that she could climb without clinging to it. Getting better indeed.

* * *

Lance watched her ease into the house after he put her bags atop the dresser in his spare room. He felt an urge to wince for her, her caution and slowness giving away her discomfort even if she managed to avoid letting a grimace reach her face. He knew what a bullet could do, but clearly she had been injured by the bomb that destroyed her house, tree or no tree. Falling debris, maybe? The blast wave? He had no idea what kind of injuries she had survived and didn’t know how to ask. Seeing her move was a painful experience unto itself.

He watched her step through the door straight into his small living room, and glance around. Hardly something out of an interior design magazine, but comfortable and marked by long years. A battered chintz-covered couch, a wooden rocker with pillows, a braided rug.

“Have a seat if you want,” he suggested, “or explore. Single story, so your bedroom is in the back on the left. Kitchen is through there,” he said, pointing. “And you get your own bathroom.”

She glanced at him. “In a house this size?”

He flashed a smile. “I shared this house with my mother until she died. Two bathrooms were essential. Coffee? I can’t make you a latte, I’m afraid.”

“Coffee would be great. I need to stay awake.”

She needed more than that, he thought, and was relieved to see her at last settle into a padded rocker. It was almost like watching someone who was just learning how to use a body. “How about a pain pill to go with it?”

“You a pusher?” she asked, and he was relieved to hear the teasing note in her voice.

“Hey, if there’s any time it would be safe to stuff your brain with cotton, the next few hours are probably it.”

She just shook her head. “I’ll get some ibuprofen in a minute.”

Well, he could provide that as well as the coffee. In his kitchen—a comfortable room because his mother had made it so over the years—he started the drip coffeemaker and got a glass of water and the bottle of ibuprofen. He carried both back to her immediately, and she accepted them with thanks.

“I’m gonna step outside for a few minutes. Give me your keys and I’ll put your car in the garage. I’ll be back by the time the coffee’s ready.”

She simply nodded as she tipped two pills into her hand.

He walked out the front door and stood without moving for a while, feeling a bit like an old goat. Not that he was all that old, but that woman was raising his flagpole, as it were. He felt guilty as sin for even having such feelings when she was so clearly in recovery, but she appealed to him on the most basic level. He’d have bet the homestead that she wouldn’t like that either.

Regardless, he needed a few minutes to clear his head and get back on the real purpose of her being here. They had work to do, and no time for dalliances, even presuming she’d tolerate it.

The air held the musty, dusty, not-quite-green scent of midsummer. The world still hadn’t completely dried out from winter and spring, but it was on the way. They badly needed some rain, but he knew better than to wish for it. At this time of year, ponds were starting to dry up and only the toughest, hardiest of plants could make it. In a few weeks, dang near everything would be brown. That the mountains were still somehow managing to dump water into the creeks was amazing, but most of them wouldn’t be running for long.

But thinking about rain wasn’t helping him either. He stepped off the porch, sank into her small car and put it in his aging detached garage. Then he walked around the outside of his house, trying to make a professional judgment about what needed doing to keep Erin as safe as possible. The guys coming tonight would probably have more ideas than he, because they had more experience at this kind of thing.

But for now he looked at the windows, which no longer seemed like such a good thing to have, and the three doors, which was two doors too many right now.

He needed more information about the kind of man who was coming after her, more than that he liked to blow up women. They must have been piecing together some kind of profile, and Lance needed to know what was in it. Impossible to guard against the complete unknown.

And he was just wasting time and he knew it. Whatever demons this woman unleashed in him, he needed to bury them.

Finally giving up his search for a way to ignore his response to her, he went back inside. She was still awake, sitting in the rocker, and from the way she jerked when he came in she hadn’t quite left fear behind her. She covered quickly, however. He had to give her that.

But what kind of person wouldn’t be afraid after what she’d been through?

“I’ll get the coffee,” he said. “You want anything in it?”

“Just enough milk to lighten it a bit, if that’s okay.”

“Not a problem.” He hung his hat on the coat tree by the door, then hesitated only a moment before removing his gun belt. He doubted the guy could find the place this quickly unless he was a psychic, and Erin was armed anyway. She could probably draw fast enough if necessary, despite her wounds. He did lock the door, though, something he rarely did out here.

He filled two large mugs with coffee and carried them back to the living room. He found her sitting bolt upright in the rocker.

“Erin? What’s wrong?”

She drew a shaky breath. “Just some twinges.”

More than twinges, he suspected. Frustration nearly goaded him into going through her suitcases to find some of those pain meds. Instead he set the coffee on the side table, then took up position on the couch facing her. He thought he’d settled down until the words escaped him.

“What are you punishing yourself for?”

She drew a sharp breath and her gaze landed on him with almost physical force. The woman she had been before all this. Powerful. In control. And right now angry with him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Staying alert is just an excuse right now. You know why they give you pain meds? Not just to make you more comfortable. No, they give them to you because pain is exhausting and can delay your recovery. Plus if you can’t move around easily enough you won’t limber up. So take a dang pill, give yourself some rest and start using some of those parts that hurt too much to want to move.”

Those sherry-brown eyes glared at him, but he kept his mouth shut and waited it out. Finally her expression relaxed.

“I shouldn’t be doing this to you,” she said.

“Doing what?”

“Moving in on you, taking over your life. And now there seems to be no way out.”

“I know I’m irritating, but that bad?”

Her face relaxed the rest of the way. “You’re not irritating. What’s irritating is how long it’s taking me to get back to normal. What’s irritating is how poorly thought-out this whole trip of mine was. I figured that if I just got in a car and roamed aimlessly, I’d be as safe as any safe house. Maybe safer. But now I’m pinned down.”

“In a kill box,” he said, using her earlier description.

“Yeah, and I should have thought that through, shouldn’t I? But I didn’t. I’m angry with myself.”

He reckoned he could understand that, but didn’t see how it would help anything. “What’s done is done, Erin. You’ve been through a lot. Some poor decision-making is to be expected and if that’s the worst of it, you’re doing good. None of us thinks well when we’ve been through a trauma. Besides, I don’t think your decisions were all that bad. How were you to know you wouldn’t just sail to wherever without being discovered?”

Her jaw tightened. “I should have thought. After all, somehow this guy found out about me to begin with. Somehow that didn’t seem to enter my calculations.”

Why would it? he wondered. Not very many serial bombers chased a target across country. The Unabomber had, but he’d done it by mail. “It could have been a slipup. Yes, your bosses are concerned there might be another one, but truth is, they don’t know that. Nobody knows that yet. So they’re being hypercautious. So are we. Just in case.”

At last she leaned back in the chair, wincing a bit. “Just in case,” she repeated. “Yeah. And it’s causing a whole bunch of trouble.”

“Not really. Hey, you’re giving me a break from prowling the roads, writing tickets and trying to convince couples I know that they really don’t want to kill each other.”

At last he drew a small laugh from her. Relief filled him. “It’s still not fair to you,” she said. “Me invading your house, possibly with a whole lot of trouble coming.”

“I volunteered,” he said quietly. “Nobody made me.”

She let go of it at last, and edged herself forward in the chair. “Half a pain pill,” she said.

He bit back an offer to get it for her. “Your bags are in your room.”

“Thanks.”

She grimaced a bit as she rose, then stood still as if mentally testing herself. He had some idea how maddening this had to be for her. He’d felt that way after his own wounding.

He had left the door to her bedroom wide open and figured she could find it without him hovering. She didn’t want to be hovered over, he could tell. Events had taken her independence from her, and she was struggling to take back every bit she could. He listened to her slowly walk down the hall, and when she didn’t call out, he guessed she’d found her room.

He picked up his coffee, found it had gone cold and headed out with both their mugs to get fresh. Along the way he opened a couple of windows to let the breeze in. He returned just in time to see her settling into the rocker again. She’d dispensed with her jacket, revealing a sleeveless top that bared her arms...and some scars. A few small burns, a few cuts that had been stitched. Still angry looking.

But she hadn’t ditched her shoulder holster. Interesting. He set the fresh coffee beside her and saw her take the pill with the glass of water he’d brought her earlier.

“Okay, rainbows and unicorns,” she said.

He laughed. “Maybe you should ditch the gun, then.”

She shook her head slightly. “Half a pill doesn’t make me woozy.”

But it was what she didn’t say that hit him. She didn’t feel safe anymore without her weapon. Not even here. Not even now. And maybe she was right that half a pill wouldn’t affect her too much. In which case it wouldn’t do too much for her pain.

“God, you’re a pain,” he said finally, keeping his tone mild.

“Really?” she asked acidly. “Okay, I’ll leave.”

He stood. “Just looking for an excuse, aren’t you? But where will you go? You really want to be out there alone with this guy?”

“He probably isn’t anywhere near here yet. I don’t have to go over the mountains. I can head north...”

“More mountains.”

“Back to Denver, then.”

“Some mountains.” He felt a smile trying to be born, but stomped down on it. “Look, Erin, if you take so little pain medication that it doesn’t help, why bother? If you have so little trust in my department...well, I guess we can’t just make that happen, can we? So do you trust anyone?”

“Not really,” she said baldly. “Not right now.”

“Fair enough.” And it was fair. She didn’t know him from Adam. They’d met less than twenty-four hours ago. What else did she have to judge them by?

“Oh, to heck with it,” she said abruptly and reached for the pill bottle she’d brought out from her bedroom. It was surprisingly large for pain meds. “One more won’t kill me. Is that trust enough for you?”

Shocked, he fell silent. What was she trying to prove? That she trusted a man she hardly knew? Why? “I can’t figure you out,” he said finally.

She smiled sourly. “Few can.” After popping another pill—a half? He didn’t know—she reached for her pistol and removed it from the holster, placing it on the table. “All better now?”

“Not if you don’t feel safe,” he admitted frankly.

“I haven’t felt safe since the incident. Nothing new in that. Might as well get used to it. You’re in charge now, Deputy.”

That, he thought, might be the crux of all of this. A sense of control was important to cops. All cops. He’d just badgered her into giving it up. Smart move, he thought irritably. What now?

Fifteen minutes later the pills started hitting. He could see it in her softening posture, in the way her breathing grew more relaxed. That much was good.

“So you lived here with your mother?” she asked.

“Yeah. When I quit the force in Denver and came up here, she was living all alone. It made sense to move in with her. She needed some looking after since my dad died. Things were pretty generally going to hell, and she wasn’t all that well. Diabetes was catching up with her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. It was impossible to convince her that insulin shots and oral meds didn’t make it possible to continue eating down-home cooking. Stubborn woman.”

“Seems to run in the family.”

At that he smiled. “Good experience for dealing with you.”

She smiled, really smiled. Oh, yeah, those pills were kicking in. “I’m a handful, or so I’ve been reliably informed. My bosses keep telling me to color inside the lines.”

“A bit of a rogue?”

“Not exactly. I don’t do anything illegal. I just don’t fit too well in the box.”

A short sound of amusement escaped him. “The FBI seems like a strange place for someone who doesn’t fit in the box.”

And at last a laugh from her. “It’s interesting, all right. They give me my head sometimes, because I’m good. Was good?” The verb seemed to perplex her for a moment. “Oh, man, the fog and unicorns are here.”

“Try to rustle up a rainbow.”

Giving another laugh, she settled into the chair as if it felt more comfortable now. The sight relieved him. She picked up her coffee and drained half of it, probably trying to keep her head clear. “The pain seems a long way away right now.”

“Good.”

She dragged her gaze back to him. “So no wife?”

“An ex. Years ago.”

“Same here,” she admitted.

“But you said something about him stalking you.”

She lifted both eyebrows. “I did? When?”

“Your call from Fran,” he reminded her.

“Ah. Well, he calls from time to time. Wants to put it back together. But he’s not the kind of stalker I’d be worried about. Just a minor nuisance.”

“And this Tom guy?”

“My ASAC. Trying to mix business with pleasure. Never a good thing.”

“I suppose not.”

“Definitely not. One bad marriage was enough. Mixing it up with a career would be stupid. I’m not always stupid.”

He hid a smile. “Rarely, I would imagine. Maybe just since you were wounded.”

“Oh, I’ve been stupid before, like when I got married the first time. I still can’t remember why I thought that would ever work.”

“Love overrode reason?” he suggested. He was beginning to enjoy this softer side of Erin.

“I can’t even remember that. I just know I don’t punch a time clock—I’m a bit obsessive when I get on a case and he couldn’t handle the hours. So the complaining started, and the more he tried to squeeze me into his box of expectations, the more I rebelled.”

“A lot of boxes out there,” he remarked.

“Do you fit in any?”

He thought about it, deciding she deserved an honest answer. “I was happy with my marriage. She wasn’t. So whether that box fit, I can’t tell you. But I enjoy my work a whole lot, and piddling around this place taking care of things. So yeah, I guess I found a happy box.”

“Good for you.” Her eyelids had just started to look heavy when she snapped them open again. “Can I get some more coffee?”

“Sure. Want me to show you where?”

She got out of the rocker more easily, and walked with a more comfortable pace into the kitchen.

“Okay,” she said, “you were right about the pills. But I can’t keep taking them.”

“Got it. Just remember, you’re not alone. You’ve got a team again.”

“When are those guys coming by?”

“Tonight. You’ll like them. They have a very individual box of their own.”

Back to the living room with the coffee, but this time she didn’t settle. Now that she could move, she wanted to. He just hoped she didn’t overdo it. He watched her pace the small room and figured she’d probably love to get out for a walk. He wouldn’t trust her on the uneven ground out there, however. Not on those meds.

“I had a little house,” she remarked. “About the size of this. I planted all kinds of flowers around it. All gone now.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head a little. “That’s the least of it.” All of a sudden she faced him, feet planted firmly. “Do you know what it does to you when a guy in a police uniform shoots you?”

He nodded slowly, waiting for her to continue.

“He isn’t really a cop, of course, but the fact that he could get a uniform and fool me for as long as it took? That’s probably how he was getting these other women. Officer Friendly.”

“Ugly,” he answered.

“I’ve worked on cases where cops used excessive force. I’ve seen the attempts to cover it up, and seen the results when we get called in. So you’ll excuse me if I don’t trust the uniform easily. But I wasn’t prepared for that, distrustful or not.”

Those pills were sure making her chatty, not that he minded. He was actually enjoying it. “I’ve known some dirty cops. Cops who push the line. I don’t like it.”

She nodded. “I hate it. Just a few bad apples make it harder for everyone. When you can’t trust the uniform...” She gave a little shrug. “How did I get off on this?”

“The guy who shot you.”

“Oh. Yeah. So we’ve got a really minimal profile. Useless profile, actually. How much of a profile is it that the guy likes to blow up women? But now we know he probably poses as a cop, which gets him places he couldn’t go otherwise, makes him fairly invisible and makes it easy for him to get women to cooperate.”

This was creating wrinkles. Already he could see the potential for disaster here. “I’m going to introduce you to four guys tonight. Those four will be utterly trustworthy. Don’t trust anyone else. Fair enough?”

“I didn’t really trust you at first when you pulled me over.”

His answer was dry. “I gathered.”

“Now you know why. Anybody could get a deputy’s uniform, and I don’t know your department.”

“But my whole department knows everyone. That’s important, Erin. I’m going to call Gage.” In fact, it was the first real useful information they’d got.

* * *

Erin settled back on the rocker and enjoyed the relative freedom from agony. The pills didn’t kill it all, but they made it duller, less inhibiting, further away. Which meant her mind wasn’t working at top speed, but evidently she’d just offered some useful information. Good. Leaning her head back, she let her eyes close. Lance was making the call from his kitchen, but she heard bits and pieces of it. Apparently he was telling the sheriff about the uniform thing, and she gathered all the deputies would now be on the lookout for a guy in uniform that they didn’t recognize.

That might be helpful, or it might not. Would the UNSUB even try that out here? Who knew. This wasn’t the kind of place where a uniform would provide sufficient protective coloration. But it was still good to know the deputies would be alert for someone trying to pass as one of them.

The pill not only softened the pain, it made her drowsy. Right now she feared drowsiness. It felt odd to her to be placing so much trust in a man she’d just met, and she wasn’t yet prepared to trust him by sleeping. Not that she had any reason to be suspicious of him at this point.

In fact, maybe she was being unreasonably suspicious. Maybe there was no reason to be fearful at all. If the bomber wanted her out of the picture, he’d already succeeded. She might still be breathing, but she was no longer involved with the task force.

When Lance returned to the room carrying the coffeepot to freshen her mug, she floated the idea by him.

He stopped, tilting his head, looking at her from slightly narrowed eyes. “They were worried enough they wanted to put you in a safe house. Instead you left town. Where did this idea come from?”

“I’m no longer part of the task force. No threat to him. People like him tend to want to work in familiar geographical areas anyway.”

He nodded slowly and poured more coffee into her cup. “I’ll get the milk. And I want you to think that through again. Carefully.”

She guessed she wasn’t making sense—hardly surprising—but he wanted her to think about it again. Her thoughts had turned into wisps that floated away before she could grab them. She was no longer a threat to this guy. His type preferred to work in familiar geographical areas. So...

All of a sudden she sat bolt upright, then wished she hadn’t as the pain broke through the fuzz and drew an unusual groan from her.

“What?” Lance asked as he returned with the milk jug.

“I had a thought...” She leaned back and closed her eyes.

“What did you think?”

“That there’s something I don’t know. Something my field office evidently does know, because now that I’m out of the area, I’d be taking this perp out of his comfort zone, and profiling says he wouldn’t do that. So what do they know? What did I miss? Why are they worried at all about me?”

As the pain began to ease, she opened her eyes and saw that her coffee was again milky. Lance stood there screwing the top back on the gallon container.

“Let me think about that,” he said. “Be right back.”

She watched him return to the kitchen and felt her hand itch to pull out the phone and call Fran. Fran would know everything about the case, about whether there was new information. But something stayed her. God, she was getting paranoid. Now she didn’t even want to call her best friend?

When Lance returned, he sat on the couch across from her. “Seems to me,” he said, “that this guy stopped fitting a profile when he came after you. First, you weren’t his victim type. Second, he shot you, so he’s not afraid to kill that way. Most bombers are cowards, aren’t they?”

She nodded. “Well away from the death and destruction they cause. Murder at long distance.”

“This guy tried one up close and personal. So maybe they’re thinking he’s a wild card and don’t want to inadvertently leave you hanging in the breeze.”

“Maybe.”

“And shooting a Fed? That’s far from risk-averse. Much as you all wanted this guy before, I bet your colleagues want him even more now.”

She had no doubt of that. She’d lost count of the times her fellow agents had visited her in the hospital and made solemn promises to bring this guy down for her. Oh, they’d always wanted him, but now it was personal in a new way.

“So okay,” Lance said. “Maybe this guy won’t come this far for you. Like you said, out of his comfort zone. But nobody wants to bet your life on it now.”

It made sense, as much sense as anything could when her brain seemed foggy. She was nowhere near 100 percent, mentally or physically, and that irritated her beyond words. She should never have taken the pain medicine. But even as she scolded herself for it, she was glad of this respite. For a little while, pain was far away, at the distant edges of her awareness.

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Who are these guys who are coming by tonight?”

“I can’t say exactly.”

The fog instantly receded. “How can you not know? You’re going to let strangers in?”

“Not strangers. I know all the guys Gage will contact. They’ve been around awhile.”

“Men who’ve been sent on classified missions to undisclosed locations.”

“Exactly.”

“And you have more than four of them in this county?” The thought boggled her mind. Men like that didn’t exactly grow on trees, and this county was far from overpopulated. Coming up with four shouldn’t be a lottery.

Lance smiled. “It started decades ago with our former sheriff. He was a Green Beret in Vietnam. He brought a friend a few years later, and for some reason more followed over the years. One of them is his son, a retired navy SEAL. Somehow we’ve gathered them.”

“I guess so. Aren’t they rusty?”

“They don’t let themselves get rusty.”

That was a comment she would have liked to pursue, but it seemed like too much trouble at that moment. Instead she put her mind to finishing her coffee in the hopes it would help keep her brain in gear.

“Let me go make another pot,” Lance said as he watched her drain her cup. “I hope you don’t mind roast chicken for dinner.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

Watching Lance walk away, her unguarded thoughts insisted on reminding her that he was one attractive man. Too bad she hurt so much. Too bad she would be returning to the road as soon as she could.

Because she sure would have liked to get him in the sack for just one night.

* * *

The bomber answered the phone, hearing the long anticipated mechanical voice.

“I know where she might be,” the voice said.

The bomber had been growing antsy. Two weeks of sitting on his hands until the agent got out of the hospital, followed by two weeks when the voice didn’t know where she’d gone. He had two bombs waiting to be used, and he was itching to get out and look for another woman who needed a lesson.

“You stay where you are,” the voice said. “Don’t go after another woman. Not yet. It’s still too dangerous.”

That caused him to settle, like it or not. He’d been so close to going out hunting tonight.

“I have to verify the information,” the voice said. “And you need to get ready to travel.”

“Travel?” The bomber didn’t like the idea. Leave the only safety he had?

“You heard me. She saw you. She’s out of the area right now. When the time comes, you either go after her, or you’re going to be sitting in court with her pointing a finger at you. Understand?”

He understood. “When?”

“I don’t know yet. You’re not the only one who needs to be careful.”

So the voice had some worries, too? He liked that. He eyed the bombs, and figured he could build another while he waited. After he took out the agent, maybe he could use them on his way back from wherever he had to go. Yeah, he liked that idea.

“Wait for my call.” The voice disconnected.

Anger began to sizzle in him. How the voice had found him, he didn’t know. But he didn’t like having his strings pulled like this. Didn’t like the idea of traveling. Didn’t like that he couldn’t set another bomb.

He hated the voice. But he feared its threats even more.

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