Surprised to see the sun, Tara blinked a few times and stared up at treetops dusted with the golden glow of morning sunlight. She’d slept deeply and had a nightmare-free night for the first time since she’d discovered Oren’s bomb-making supplies.
She closed her eyes again and savored the sun’s warmth, the soft breeze drifting through the window, and the melodic birds singing from surrounding pines. Peace. Heaven-sent peace.
Movement sounded from the far end of the room, and her eyes flew open, her heart racing like a Thoroughbred. Agent Riggins stood looking out the far window, his back to her.
Right. It’s him. He’s still here. Waiting for an answer.
She stifled a sigh to keep from drawing his attention. She’d forgotten that this superagent, this man who infuriated her one minute and sent her pulse tripping faster the next, was in her little home away from the world.
She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but around two a.m., when the air turned too cool to stay outside, she’d dragged her chair inside, dropped into it to rest her eyes for a moment, and apparently nodded off. At some time, he’d covered her with a blanket. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t felt it.
If it had been Oren…
A shiver raked down her spine, and she forced her attention back to the man who seemed to take up all the space in the room. He’d shed his jacket, revealing a custom-tailored white shirt, wide at the shoulders and narrowing to a trim waist, and he’d rolled up the sleeves. His body looked like it was sculpted from marble, and his heart likely was, too, though he’d shown enough emotions last night to prove that he had a physical attraction to her, one he didn’t want to have.
And here she was letting him get to her, too, even when his actions resembled Nolan’s. If that wasn’t enough reason to guard her heart, Agent Riggins had a singular purpose. Find Oren, and if he had to use people like her or her aunt along the way, then it seemed as if he had no qualms in doing so.
Putting up a solid wall on her emotions, she removed the blanket and folded it. He glanced at her. She waited for his first question of the day—for him to ask if she would voluntarily go back with him or if he’d need to take her into custody as he’d threatened.
He held up a steaming mug. “Hope you don’t mind, but I made coffee.”
She gaped at him. How had she missed the coffeemaker’s ready beep? She really had zonked out if she hadn’t heard the shrill alarm, not to mention feeling the blanket settling over her.
“You needed the rest,” he said, as if reading her mind, before he resumed looking out the window. “Oh, and you should know. I’ve arranged for someone to take your place in the tower. She’ll be here in a few hours.”
Tara eyed him. “You had no right to call anyone, let alone put the wheels in motion without my input.”
“Something you need to know about me.” He turned and faced her full-on, the look of a hunter in his eyes. “I’m relentless in my pursuit of Keeler. I might step on your toes along the way, but I mean no harm in my actions.”
She crossed her arms. “You think a blanket apology in advance will excuse all of your future actions?”
He shrugged.
“Do most people let you get away with taking over like this, Agent Riggins?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure what you mean by ‘most people,’ but if you’re asking if I behave like this in my personal life, I don’t have a life outside of work, so there’s no one to offend.”
“But would you?” she asked, though she had no business going down this path.
He shook his head. “Relationships require mutual respect. Nothing respectful about not including you in plans that impact your life.”
“And yet you know it bothers me, and you’d do it again?”
“If it moved us closer to Keeler at a faster pace and helped us stop another woman from losing her life?” His breath came in hard fast bursts, his emotions churning in a melee on his face. “You better believe I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.”
She stood watching his chest rise and fall with the passion he exuded for his work. His continued overbearing and controlling attitude should be putting her off. Instead, all she could think was that if he really meant what he’d said about mutual respect between a man and woman, he wasn’t as superficial as she’d first thought, and he would be worth getting to know as a man and not this relentless agent.
Their gazes met and held for a moment, the air seeming to heat up in the space, but she ignored it, he ignored it, and a silent message of understanding passed between them. Though they were attracted to each other, neither would act upon it.
Never had she communicated so much in a single look.
He lazily drew his focus away to glance at his watch. “Now that the sun is up, if Keeler has tracked you, we can’t risk him seeing my car at the gate. I’ll stash it in the woods and grab a change of clothes while I’m out there.”
“Or you could get in the car and drive back to the airport.” Or I could take off while you’re gone.
“I’m not leaving town without you. You can be certain of that.” He grabbed his jacket from the chair and crossed over to her, each step reminding her of a panther stalking his prey. His piercing gaze pinned her in place.
“Don’t even think about leaving,” he said.
“You’re a mind reader now?” she asked, hating that he was right.
He didn’t speak but held her gaze for a moment before heading for the door. “I should be back in ten minutes or less.”
He stepped onto the landing, and she let out a pent-up breath of frustration. She heard the outside padlock snick into place.
“Really,” she called out. “You’re locking me in?”
“You give me no choice.”
Just like him to assume she’d take off. She supposed since she’d been thinking that very thing he was justified in his interpretation, but still. “Maybe you should have thought about it first. I have the key, and you won’t be getting back inside until my replacement shows up.”
“Are you sure?”
Keys jingled on the other side of the door, and she ran to her hiding place to jerk open the drawer. She found it empty. Great. He’d taken her keys while she’d slept, too. She wanted to stomp her foot in frustration, but she resisted displaying her anger for him to gloat over.
Not anger. Not really. She had no real intention of leaving before her replacement arrived. Still, she wouldn’t let anyone bark orders at her.
She glanced out the window and caught sight of him as he skirted the edge of the clearing. A big, powerful guy, a real man’s man, he also possessed the grace of a dancer and the tenacity of a bull.
He disappeared into the woods near her hunting blind. He was doing everything in his power to catch Oren, and for that she should be thankful and help him track Oren down.
So what if Agent Riggins was bossy and controlling? She knew how to handle that behavior. She’d learned the hard way when Nolan did an about-face after he’d put the engagement ring on her finger. He’d gone from a kind man to a guy who thought of her as his property and demanded she comply with his wishes. She didn’t put up with his need to control her every step for long, but broke off their engagement and had only recently gotten her life back on track. There was no way she would ever enter into a relationship with a man like that again.
But what about staying alive and getting her old life back? How did that work with going to D.C. and putting herself in Oren’s path?
It didn’t, but could she live with herself if Oren killed another person when she could have helped Agent Riggins stop him?
The answer was simple. No. She’d go to D.C. to help locate Oren, but she wouldn’t let anything personal develop with Agent Riggins. And she wouldn’t let down her guard and count on him for her protection. She might accompany him, but she would live as she had for the last three months, relying on herself alone to stay safe, as she still couldn’t trust him to be there for her while he was so focused on capturing Oren.
“So you’re going to D.C.,” she whispered to the empty room, as if it could talk back and reinforce her decision, and she hoped—no, she prayed—she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.
* * *
Cal stepped through knee-high grass, seeds clinging to his dress slacks. He should have worn tactical clothes instead of the suit, but he thought Tara would respond better to the professional agent look he reluctantly took on when his job required it. He’d planned to march up to her tower last night, make a proper entrance, and offer a professional plea for her help.
“That went according to plan,” he muttered as he slipped under the limb of a tall maple.
When she’d run again, he’d had no choice but to come after her. Then emotions had flown high between them in this ridiculous undercurrent that seemed to swirl round them. He made sure his presence kept people from crossing him or arguing, but Tara? She didn’t care. She stood up to him. Impressed the heck out of him as much as it frustrated him.
He’d always been able to control his emotions, but, man. With her it was like she had antiaircraft ready to shoot down his defenses. That made him mad at himself. He got grumpy and fired back.
And if his behavior wasn’t enough to make her run screaming, he’d come here to ask for her help, and what had he done in return? Nothing. Well, he’d locked her in the tower. That was less than nothing. He would never have done so if she didn’t have a rifle and could handle it if needed.
His behavior was going to change starting the moment he returned to the tower. He’d control the way he responded to her and point out that she couldn’t run on her own forever. That despite Agent Fields’s failure to keep Keeler away from her at the hospital, the Knights would protect her—he would protect her. He’d remind her that she was needed to help catch Oren, and once he was caught, she’d be safe and could go back to a normal life. Then maybe she’d agree to accompany him back to D.C., and he could do right by her.
A twig snapped ahead, and he swung around to see a rabbit hop into the undergrowth. It could have been Keeler, and Cal’s head was all wrapped up in Tara.
“Not good, man,” he whispered to himself. “Focus.”
One second of underestimating the enemy and people died.
God had given Cal the ability to save people, but He allowed them to die anyway. What point was there in women losing their lives in these bombs? In allowing a stray bullet to take Willy’s life?
What a disaster that had been. Cal carried the boy as they fled from the drug cartel who had taken Willy and his missionary family hostage. Shocked, Cal had stood frozen in place, the boy cradled close, his heart no longer beating. Cal’s second in command basically dragged him out of the compound so they could get to their exfil location in time. They boarded the aircraft, and for the whole flight to Dallas, he listened to the mother’s keening wails and the father’s mumbled prayers. It was the longest flight of Cal’s life, and his palms sweat just thinking about it.
Where were you, God? Didn’t these parents deserve their precious son?
He waited for an answer, but why? He’d been asking the same question for too long. Never finding answers. Never finding peace, and nothing he’d done or could do would erase the pain of losing a child. Sure, everyone’s life was precious—these women Keeler had taken and others Cal had lost during his SEAL career—but the death of an innocent child was far harder to bear, and as a result Cal had left the SEALs behind and had tried to make sense of the loss.
Anger rose up and tried to suffocate him, but he swallowed it down and refocused before another tragedy occurred. He moved from tree to tree, scanning the area until he came upon his car. He took a few minutes to look deeper into the woods, and after he was convinced that no one lurked nearby, he slipped into his car and drove down the road, moving slowly and keeping his head on a swivel.
On his initial scouting of the area last night, he’d spotted a rusty old pickup in the brush up ahead. He’d jimmied the lock and found a tote bag filled with items Tara would use for a quick getaway, which was why he’d had to lock her inside the tower. He’d also pulled the distributor cap on the truck just in case. Even if she decided to run again, he could find her at the truck, so he bumped his vehicle off the road next to it.
Once parked, he slipped out of his suit and into tactical pants and a team logo shirt. He resettled his holster and Glock before grabbing his comms unit. He clipped the radio on his belt and wove under his shirt the cord with a mic that sat at chest level and terminated in earbuds.
He inserted the buds in his ears, then pressed the talk switch. “Alpha Two. You in range?”
“Roger that.” Brynn’s voice came through his earbud. “We’re ten minutes out.”
“Report,” he demanded without any pleasantries.
“We’ve reviewed satellite images and the op is set. County deputies are still in formation in a wide perimeter, and they’ll remain in place until we move our package. I’ll set up our command post at their rear and the rest of the team will set an interior line of defense. I’ll also intercept the fire lookout when she arrives and deliver her safely to the tower. Then you and I will move the package to the command station. If things go according to plan, we’ll have a county escort to the airport and have the package onboard our Cessna winging her way to D.C. by noon.”
“According to plan,” he muttered. “Let’s make sure that happens, and we keep the package safe.”
Calling Tara a package felt odd, but on the off chance that someone intercepted their communication, they couldn’t risk mentioning her name. He signed off with the team and shrugged his go pack over his shoulders before heading toward the tower to share the plan with Tara.
He didn’t have to give her reaction to the team’s assistance much thought. She was already mad about him obtaining a warrant for her arrest, calling in a replacement, and then locking her in the tower. When she learned that he’d enlisted the team and the sheriff to ensure that she got on that plane whether she wanted to or not, she’d fire that heated gaze his way. He’d take any guff she threw at him and continue with his plan.
With a longer hike now, he picked up his speed, glad to be wearing tactical boots and less restrictive clothes that allowed him to move with ease. He jogged over rough terrain, pausing to listen at intervals.
A rifle boomed in the distance, the sound coming through the external hear-thru microphones on his earbuds. The report reverberated through the air and sent birds squawking into the sky.
A hunter? Not likely with deer season occurring in the fall.
The tower? Had Keeler arrived after Cal had departed and fired on Tara in the tower?
Another shot ripped through the air, sounding from the gate.
He jerked out his gun and froze to evaluate. The driveway was about six hundred yards long and a basic hunting rifle could easily fire that distance.
Tara!
“Shooter at the gate,” he said into his comms unit, though the team wouldn’t be able to help for another few minutes. “I’m going for the package. You take the gate when you arrive.”
“Roger that,” Brynn replied.
Cal took off running, his heart thumping hard against his chest. He hadn’t prepared for sniper fire, as Keeler was a bomber not a shooter. Without a rifle, Cal was defenseless against a long gun in the hands of a skilled shooter.
What had he been thinking leaving Tara in the tower like a sitting duck?
It didn’t matter. It was too late to rethink his decision. He had to hope she hadn’t exaggerated her ability to use a rifle, or this could end as disastrously as the horrific vision racing through his mind.