Hidden Betrayal, page 9
“Yep, doing fine.”
He turned to study her profile. Last night after the attack she hadn’t reacted like he’d expected her to. No crying or hysterics for Mikayla O’Kane then, and there weren’t any now.
Everyone needed to yell or cry at some point. Punching something was his go-to, if for nothing else than to vent some of the emotion. But she looked like she had her feelings locked tight.
Before the news about the ex there’d been a spark, an irresistible vitality about her he found incredibly appealing. Now that spark was gone. He had the urge to gather her up in his arms to comfort her, to hold her until she understood she was safe, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Christ, he had it bad.
Same as the day before, the rain pounded on the roof of the Jeep, but this time he felt more content with the Celtic goddess in the car with him. She stared out the window as the storm raged across the sky. Lightning streaked in an arc followed almost immediately by booming thunder that echoed down the canyon. As a nature show this one was spectacular, but he sure wasn’t looking forward to crawling into his tent to spend the night in the mud. Once the storm passed, they might be more comfortable if they packed up and drove until they found a motel. And he’d feel safer with Mikayla under lock and key in a room he could defend.
“How were you shot?”
He looked over, startled. The furrow was back between her brows and she was staring at him with fierce concentration. How had she known? Then he remembered. That morning he’d come out of his tent without a shirt. Or pants.
After he’d all but grilled her over the past twenty-four hours, this was the first personal question she’d asked. She was probably looking for a distraction. He didn’t want to talk about getting shot, but he thought he owed her something.
“My partner. He shot me.”
“By accident?”
“No, he was definitely trying to kill me.”
The furrow deepened. “That’s really, really horrible.”
“And yet that’s an understatement. But I’m alive. The nurses kept saying I was lucky.”
“Getting shot isn’t lucky.”
“That’s what I told them. But I guess surviving is.”
She nodded. After a long moment, she spoke again. “Why did he shoot you?”
“I’m still working that out.” But after his conversation with Seth, he had more information. “My brother gave me an update. There was a woman involved, and Donny was always stupid about women.”
“He shot you over a woman?”
“Not like you mean. The woman was apparently the catalyst and managed to lure him into a deal with some bad actors. He had gambling debts and they paid them. But that put Donny into a different kind of debt, a debt he thought he could pay by killing a witness we were protecting. Kill me and he could get away clean.”
“But he didn’t kill you.”
“No, but only due to good timing from the Marshals Service.”
“How bad was it?”
“Bad enough.”
She studied him quietly. “I’ll bet you’re supposed to be taking it easy. Recuperating. And instead you ended up in a fight against a guy armed with a knife.”
In the half-light of the storm, her eyes looked impossibly dark. He looked away before he did something stupid, something like pulling her into his arms. Finding out if kissing her would be as good as he thought it would be.
“Linc.” His name said in that husky tone made him think she also felt the attraction.
“I’m recovered. Don’t worry about me.”
He couldn’t deny that something had shifted. That somehow in twenty-four short hours she’d come uncomfortably close to becoming the focus of his world. Even arresting Donny had retreated in importance behind the need to protect the woman sitting next to him.
When she’d first arrived at the campground, she’d captivated him on all sorts of levels. The Celtic goddess looks were a hook, no doubt about that. Then he’d found the competence with which she’d set up her camp somehow sexy. Go figure on that one. But there had been something more elemental that had snagged his attention, and had sent him out on that trail looking for her when his gut told him she could be in trouble. He reminded himself she’d had a shitty day, and didn’t need him adding to the upset, but he couldn’t ignore the attraction, even if he couldn’t act on it.
“Right now, my primary goal is keeping you safe.” And he wouldn’t compromise that goal by letting his emotions tangle him up.
She was quiet for a long moment, staring out the window. When she finally spoke, her voice gave nothing away. “The rain is letting up.”
Like a faucet turning off, the rain stopped. A gusty wind scattered droplets of water from the tree branches and even as he watched, clouds scuttled across the sky to reveal patches of blue.
“Was your partner caught? Was he arrested?”
It was like that moment that had passed between them had never existed. He tried to convince himself it was for the best. “No. He’s on the run.”
“I can’t see you not going after him.”
“Got that right, but my boss said he’d kick my ass if I didn’t give myself time to recuperate.” He shrugged. “Got some thinking to do so I came out here to do it.”
“And ended up neck deep in my mess.”
He sighed, deciding she had the right to the information. “Our messes are connected. The witness I was protecting? He was in WITSEC because the Zecena cartel was after him.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not kidding. Your friend Paco? Joey was there when Paco Zecena ordered a rival tortured. When he ordered certain body parts men are very sensitive about carved up.”
“Okay, that’s disturbing. What about the other guy at Peter’s house that night?”
“Haven’t identified him, but likely one of his lieutenants.”
They should get out of the Jeep before they lost all the daylight, but he sat there beside her, looking out through windows beginning to fog up. He gave himself a mental shake. “Look, if I’m right, this campground is the last location the cartel can tie you to. I want to pack up our gear and get out of here. We’ll find a motel where we can spend the night and get an early start first thing in the morning. We’ll head to the Marshals office in Salt Lake City. I’d feel safer if you were under Marshals’ protection, and keeping you out of Southern California seems prudent right now.”
He wondered what it said about his awareness of her that he sensed her opposition before she spoke.
“I don’t want to go to Salt Lake City. What about Peter? His parents are dead. He only had a brother who lives in New Jersey and they weren’t close. Who’s going to make the arrangements to bury him? And my family is in California. They might have heard about Peter’s death and they’ll be worried about me.” She clenched her fists tightly in her lap. “God, my mom. I hadn’t even thought about what Peter being murdered will do to her. She’s got…issues. This will be upsetting to her.”
He’d reached for her hands, enfolding them in his, and found her fingers chilled. “Mikayla, your safety is more important than dealing with Wellington’s burial arrangements. And your mother won’t want you to risk going back to California if you could be in danger. You can call her using my cell when we get someplace where there’s service and let her know you’re safe.” He brought her hands to his mouth, blowing softly to warm them. He paused when he realized what he was doing, his lips resting on her knuckles, his eyes looking straight into hers. Awareness zinged between them.
She hitched a breath. “Linc, I can’t—”
“—do this. I know.” He held onto her hands a moment longer before brushing a kiss over her knuckles and releasing her.
Chapter Ten
Her hands were erogenous zones. Erogenous zones she’d only now discovered because they were only sensitive to one man’s touch. Lincoln Jameson. The tingling sensations zipped all the way up her arms, bringing a tide of warmth with them. She no longer felt cold, that was for sure. Her cheeks felt flushed, and with the liquid warmth low in her belly she thought she’d better get out of the Jeep and away from him before she leaned over the center console to see how his lips would feel against hers. If the reaction to him brushing her knuckles with those lips was any indication, most likely she’d end up in an orgasmic puddle on the seat.
With a jerky motion she pulled open the door latch, breathing damp air deep into her lungs to help cool herself. The whir of a motor caught her attention and she saw Bob Weingartner pulling his electric golf cart to the side of the road. “Hey there, Mikayla.”
The sun was beginning its descent over the western wall of the canyon, lighting up the remaining clouds in brilliant vermillion. Linc came around the Jeep to join her as the older man approached and dipped his head as a hello.
“Bob.”
“Marshal. Hope you two are good to stay another night. Had a rockslide out on the highway about twenty minutes ago that blocked all lanes.”
Linc shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Must have happened after we passed through. Any idea when it’ll be cleared?”
“County crew is coming out, but it may be a while before they get here. This here’s not the only place the storm caused some trouble, but I expect it’ll be clear by morning. As it’s the only road in or out, we’re all staying put tonight.”
Mikayla glanced at Linc then nodded to Mr. Weingartner. “We’re fine, Bob. Thanks for the news.”
They stood in silence as he drove off in his cart, making his rounds to the other remaining campers. Mikayla wondered what Linc was thinking. Whether that moment in the Jeep had affected him as much as it had her.
Odd that after only a day with him she felt connected to Linc in a way she never had with Peter. She and Peter had been engaged for nine months and they’d never had a conversation that got to who they really were. And that had been okay with her. She wondered if that was one of the things that had attracted Peter. While he hadn’t pressed for any great understanding of her, she hadn’t looked for that in him either. If she had, perhaps she would have known he was involved in something criminal.
With Linc she felt laid bare, as if he intuitively looked below the surface to really see her. There was something seductive about that intrinsic awareness. But reading people, assessing them, was probably part of his marshal training and there was nothing personal about it.
Then she remembered those warm lips on her fingers. She’d bet her last dollar that wasn’t a technique found in the Marshals’ handbook. She gave herself an internal shake. Being careful was second nature to her, and being careful meant she couldn’t allow herself to tumble into an emotional entanglement when she’d just gotten herself out of one.
Regardless, the practicalities of camping demanded attention. Ignoring any feelings of awkwardness, she turned to Linc. “Look, I overpacked on food if you want to eat together.”
“I’m going to owe you more than apples.”
“Ha. You’ve been pulled into my mess, remember? You wouldn’t have had to go into Concord today if you hadn’t come to my rescue. I think the balance of debt is in your favor.”
“You are not responsible for any of this. You don’t owe me a thing.”
She shrugged and moved toward the bear locker. Opening the latch, she swung open the door. Linc followed and at her direction pulled out the heavy ice chest to set on the end of the bench at the picnic table. While she set up the camp stove, he took a sponge and wiped rainwater off the plastic tablecloth and the benches, and set the lantern on the table. “What are you cooking?”
“Pasta with sliced sausage and vegetables. Sound good?”
“Sounds amazing, and a hell of a lot better than the freeze-dried mac and cheese packets I packed.”
They worked side by side chopping mushrooms, zucchini, and onions. Mikayla tried not to let the intimacy of working together to prepare a meal affect her. Not that it was easy to ignore a guy with such an imposing physical presence. Or that she felt safe with him.
She’d prepared to protect herself by taking self-defense classes and keeping fit, and thought she’d passed the test when Lopez had attacked her. But a Mexican drug cartel brought the threat to a whole new level. Taking precautions to protect herself from someone breaking into her home in the middle of the night was a hell of a lot different from keeping safe from a highly organized, incredibly vicious, criminal organization.
Lincoln Jameson had the training and the disposition to handle that. And she hadn’t missed that after Bob Weingartner had left, Linc had opened the rear door of the Jeep and a few minutes later was threading his belt through a holster, the black butt of a gun visible. He didn’t make a big deal about it, but Marshal Jameson wasn’t leaving their safety to chance.
Once the vegetables and sausage were sizzling and the pasta cooking, Linc went over to his campsite. Minutes later he returned, hands full. He set two bottles of beer on the table and a couple of candy bars next to them. Mikayla glanced at the bounty. “You brought Snickers? God bless you.”
He flashed that lethal smile and Mikayla forced back a moan of appreciation. Having that smile directed at her felt like striking gold, a rare but heady experience. Reminding herself why she shouldn’t dive in with Linc to see where things went, she turned back to the stove.
While Linc lit the lantern, she drained the pasta and drizzled on herbed olive oil. Giving Linc a heftier portion, she loaded their plates. Picking up a small grater, she topped the steaming meal with Romano cheese. Linc used the bottle opener on the beer and they sat across from each other at the picnic table.
“I like your way of camping better than mine.”
“Camping doesn’t have to mean freeze-dried food or sleeping on the ground.”
“I guess not, though my brother would say that’s not camping then.”
“He’d be wrong.” She paused. “Tell me about your family.”
He hesitated, tapping a finger on the side of his bottle, and she wondered if he’d respond. But he did, his voice a low rumble. “We’re solid. Seth’s older than me by three years, and Ellie is younger by two. My stepdad is a stand-up guy. He flat out adores my mom and he’s been a good dad to us. Mom, she’s the center of it all. She keeps us grounded. Not counting her, we’re all with the Marshals Service.”
“All of you? Your stepdad, sister, and brother? You’re all marshals?”
“Yeah.”
“How did that happen?”
He was quiet for a long moment, took a sip of beer, and then spoke. “Influence of our stepdad. Arch Bollinger was in the Marshals Service and got assigned to my biological father’s case. He’d gotten into some illegal shit and disappeared. The marshals have been tracking him ever since. Arch is as steady as they come and turned out to be a damn good role model for three shell-shocked kids.”
“He fell for your mother while on the case?”
“Like a dozen loads of bricks. Even my highly stupid fourteen-year-old self could tell that he had it bad for her. Mom didn’t pay attention. Dad’s betrayal cut deep, but she wasn’t as blindsided by what my dad had done as us kids were. She’d had suspicions he was up to something. I learned that later. But after what Dad did, she never wanted to be with anyone ever again. Didn’t think she could trust a man.”
“Your stepdad must have been persistent to end up married to her.”
“The guy doesn’t know the meaning of no. Arch would show up on a Sunday afternoon on some pretense about the case and end up playing football with us kids, or help one of us on whatever homework project we were working on. He’d stick around until he got himself invited to Sunday dinner. Then he started calling a couple of evenings a week, then every evening. He’d talk to whoever answered, ask about school or whatever sport we were playing at the time. But he’d always manage to end up talking to Mom. Sometimes for only a minute, but I could tell, we all could tell, Mom started looking forward to those calls. Took long enough, but eventually he wore her down and now they’ve been married over a dozen years.”
“That’s sweet. It’s quite a testament to him that you and your siblings all joined the Marshals Service.”
Plate cleared, Linc handed her a Snickers bar and unwrapped his own. “Yeah. There’s also the issue with my dad. Marshals hunt fugitives and Dad is a fugitive. Any one of us would love to nail his ass.”
“You’re looking for him?” She bit in, savoring the chocolate and peanuts.
“His case is cold, but when we can, each one of us digs into whatever might give us a lead. We’ll get him eventually.” His gaze rested on her. “Thanks for the amazing meal, Mikayla.”
“Quick and easy, but you’re welcome.”
She rose and filled a pan with water, setting it on the stove to heat for washing dishes. The storm had passed and most of the clouds had cleared away. The western sky glowed lavender against the encroaching night.
Linc found the basin and shot in a squirt of dish soap, and when she picked up a sponge, he took it from her, handing her a towel instead. “I’ll wash.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“You fed me so the least I can do is help with the cleanup. You can dry.”
She watched him scrub the pan, his sleeves pushed up past his elbows, muscles rippling along strong forearms dusted with black hair. The glow of the lantern showed his profile, the high forehead, the ridge of his nose, dark brows lowered as he concentrated on his task. The memory of his lips, warm against her knuckles, had her sucking in a careful breath. She wondered if she was the only one feeling off balance.
“Mikayla—”
Afraid he was reading her mind, she kept her head bent as she dried their plates.
“—you’re still in danger, even if there is a rockslide.”
Her breath left in a whoosh. Okay, right. She was in danger. “Ah, Bob said no one could get in or out. Seems like a bit of a reprieve.”
He dunked the utensils in the sudsy water. “True, but someone could have come in before the slide, or hiked from Upper Falls like Lopez did. Zecena knows you’re at this campground and that Lopez failed. He’s going to try again, and this time he won’t mess around sending a punk like Lopez.”
