High Meadow, page 18
Jonas widens his eyes in surprise.
“That training is no picnic.”
I help him to his feet, so he can pull up the pants, and try not to get distracted by the way his attributes are clearly outlined against the soft material.
“I know. Is it bad I have this little niggle of hope he won’t make it through?”
“No. I don’t blame you. I think if I had a son I’d feel the same way,” he agrees.
His comment shocks me. “Really? I would’ve thought you’d be in support.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I am. And I commend him for choosing that path, but it’s not for the faint of heart.”
He bends down so I can slip the T-shirt over his head.
“It’s funny, six months ago when I sent off my boy, I would’ve been convinced he wasn’t built for it. Not physically or emotionally. But from what I’ve seen these past not-quite-twenty-four hours I’m not so sure anymore. Doesn’t mean I like it.”
Jonas lifts a hand to my cheek. “I can have a word with him, if you like.”
I turn my head and press a kiss in his palm.
“That’s sweet of you, but I think you’ve got other, more pressing, things to worry about.”
As if to underscore my point, Bo walks into the bathroom.
“Oops. Didn’t mean to interrupt, your boy said—”
“It’s fine,” I tell him quickly. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”
I slip past Bo and out the door, but I can just catch his muted words.
“You’re a lucky bastard.”
It’s followed by Jonas’s deep chuckle.
Twenty-Two
Jonas
* * *
“So you’re telling me you didn’t catch a glimpse of them?”
I take in a deep breath.
What I’d really like to do is plant my fist in Limpkin’s smug face, but I doubt that’s going to further my case. Best thing I can do is keep my cool, answer the man’s questions, and other than that, keep my mouth shut. He’s clearly looking for something to pin on me, although for the life of me I can’t figure why. I don’t even know the guy.
“I did not. As I mentioned the past four times you asked me, I had my back turned when I heard a footstep and didn’t even have a chance to turn around. No, I don’t know what they hit me with. And when I woke up in the cave, I heard them but never saw them. The only time they could’ve been visible, I had a flashlight aimed at me.”
I’ve been over this a few times and can’t quite keep the irritation out of my voice.
He’s already talked to my men and gotten their account. James showed him exactly where the cave he pulled me from was on a satellite image. Yet he keeps returning to this.
“You know what I’m struggling with?” he starts, that superior smirk on his face. “If you’ve never met either Mr. Adams or Mr. Wright before, and you were never able to see either of their faces, how can you be so sure it was them? Unless of course, you know more than you’re willing to admit.”
“Because, like I mentioned, the one who got pissed off called the other guy Terry. Would be a tremendous coincidence for two guys named Terry to be hiding out in these mountains.”
He shrugs. “It’s a fairly common name, if that’s even the one you heard. You admitted yourself, you were out like a light and had just woken up with a pounding head. Could be you misheard it? Maybe you were confused or hallucinating.”
I bite my tongue, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting under my skin.
He flips through his small notebook before he focuses on me.
“You were Special Forces—any chance you suffer from PTSD, Mr. Harvey?”
I’m halfway out of my chair when Wolff—who has sat by quietly this whole time—suddenly speaks up, checking something on his phone.
“Helicopter is en route.”
“About bloody time,” Limpkin mutters as he gets up and walks out without so much as a glance my way.
“Don’t mind him,” the young FBI agent tries to reassure me. “He’s in charge of the task force and therefore in the hot seat. The brass isn’t happy this is taking so long, so he’s getting it from all sides. I’m sure he was hoping for a quick resolution.”
Right. At whose expense?
“He’s barking up the wrong tree,” I tell him. “And I’m worried in his eagerness to discredit me, he’s dismissing a potentially important lead.”
“The general,” Wolff concludes correctly.
Thank God. At least one of them has been paying attention.
“Sounds like he could be local. At least very familiar with the area and close enough to drop off supplies without people noticing.”
“I’ll look into it,” he says. “I’ll get in touch with my office.”
It’s better than nothing, I guess.
I don’t like the uneasy feeling I get not knowing all the players. It makes me suspicious of everyone.
After Wolff leaves, I hobble to the window and glance outside. Alex’s farm looks to have been turned into a staging area for a battle.
I catch sight of her outside, trying to calm down the mare in the front paddock, spooked by the sudden flurry of activity.
Moving out of the small office and down the hall, I join Bo and Alex’s boy in the kitchen, where Lucy appears to be holding court.
“They done with you?” Bo asks.
“For now. The others gone back to the ranch?”
“Yeah, about fifteen minutes ago. Took the horses, including Sugar.”
“Good. I’m gonna need your phone. The assholes took mine.”
I know Sully already spoke with him when they found me, but I want to give Dad a quick call myself.
Bo hands it over and I’m about to dial the ranch.
“We haven’t officially met.”
I turn to look at Alex’s son getting up from the table and offering his hand. He pulls it back at the last second.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
I look down and notice the bandages Bo reapplied after my shower. I feel my head and my ankle, but I barely feel the injuries to my wrist.
“It’s just a scrape,” I assure him, tucking the phone in my pocket. Then I hold out my own hand, which he grabs tentatively. “Jonas Harvey. I understand I owe you gratitude.”
The kid looks a little taken aback. “Jackson Hart, sir. I…uh…didn’t really do anything.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I disagree. “You took your mom’s back, pointed my guys in the right direction, but most importantly…you didn’t shoot down my drone,” I tease.
The guys told me how the kid faced off with three of my men—and they’re not choirboys—but right now he’s looking like he’s about to shit his pants. I suspect Bo may have had something to do with that.
Bo confirms it by chuckling in the background, and I swear I hear Lucy snort as I clap Jackson on the shoulder.
“Yanking your chain, my man. I’m not sure what Bo has been feeding you, but I suggest you take it all with a grain of salt. We’re not in the military here, at ease.”
“You’re bad.” Lucy wags her finger at Bo, who unsurprisingly takes it as a compliment. “But you—” She turns to Jackson, snickering. “—you should’ve seen your face. Damn, I should’ve thought to take a video. I will never let you live that down.”
Jackson, who seems to have recovered somewhat, grins back sportingly.
“Bring it on,” he retorts. “I’ve waited a long time to use that juicy little clip I’ve been sitting on for three years now.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Lucy warns him.
“This is getting interesting,” Bo mumbles, rubbing his hands together.
“Are you guys at it again?” Alex comes walking into the kitchen with a sharp look at Lucy and then her son. She turns to me and shakes her head. “Let me apologize on their behalf. I swear they’re both of legal age, but sometimes it’s hard to tell.”
“Hey, I take offense to that.”
“Me too,” Jackson says as he moves over to Lucy and drapes an arm around her shoulders.
“Are the agents done with you?” Alex asks, ignoring those two.
“For now they’re distracted with a helicopter that’s apparently coming in.”
Her eyes grow large. “What? Here? They can’t bring it here.”
She bolts out of the kitchen, Lucy right behind her. The rest of us follow at a more modest pace
“Some of the horses will go apeshit,” Jackson clarifies as he slows down to let me catch up with him on the porch.
Alex is standing next to the van, gesticulating wildly as she faces off with Limpkin, while Lucy is already heading for the paddock housing the mare and the donkey. Bo is right behind her.
Jackson stays beside me as I approach the van, an idea forming in mind.
Alex
* * *
My head feels like it’ll explode, the man is insufferable.
“Ms. Hart, this is a matter of national security. There are strong indications to suggest you are harboring suspected domestic terrorists, along with a stolen cache of weaponry, on your land. I’m shocked you wouldn’t think that deserves priority over a handful of horses.”
Harboring? Is he seriously suggesting I have anything to do with this?
“Excuse me, Agent Limpkin? A word?”
I turn around to find Jonas standing a few feet away, my son by his side. Both are wearing expressions of steel as they stare down the agent.
“I have no time for this,” the idiot says, threatening to walk away.
“I suggest you make time,” Jonas says harshly. “Or you’ll leave me no choice but to put in a call to my friend, Bob Dickson.”
I have no idea who he’s talking about, but it’s clear Limpkin does. The man blanches at the mention of the name.
“You have one minute,” he says, straightening his spine in an attempt to look unaffected, but it’s clear he is.
“That’s all I’ll need,” Jonas replies, already walking to the front of the van.
The agent follows and Jackson comes to stand next to me.
“You okay, Momma?”
“That man is a boil on the ass of society,” I mutter.
It really takes no longer than a minute of Jonas towering over the agent and speaking to him in a low voice. Whatever he’s saying seems to make an impact because Limpkin—whose tight mouth only becomes tighter during the course of the one-sided conversation—ends up giving Jonas a tight nod before he disappears around the other side of the van.
“We have two hours,” Jonas announces when he joins us.
“What am I supposed to do in two hours?” I ask, exasperated.
“We’re moving the animals to High Meadow.”
That takes me by surprise so I react from the gut.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Mom…”
My eyes snap to my son. “No, Jackson. Some of these horses are so traumatized, it’s taken them months to settle in here. Now he’s suggesting I disrupt them again? No. This is their home.”
“Sweets…” Jonas starts in a reconciliatory tone that feels more like a pat on the head.
“And how do you propose I do that? I have a trailer that carries only two. Do you know how long it took me to get Flint and Ladybug in the trailer last time? Three-and-a-half hours, Jonas! Besides, why should I—”
His hands land on my shoulders and he bends low, his blue eyes boring in mine.
“Because the agent may be an ass, but he’s right; this is a matter of national security. These guys are out there, potentially plotting their next attack, Alex. It sucks that the rescue seems to be at the center of all this, but that’s not Limpkin’s fault.”
He’s right, of course, but I don’t have to like it.
“Two hours, though?”
He gives my shoulders a light shake before continuing.
“We can do it. Sully and James can drive over the large rig and my double. Between those two and your trailer we can take all of your animals in one run.”
“Provided we can get them in the trailers,” I grumble stubbornly.
Jonas slides his hands to my neck and before I can stop him, drops a firm kiss on my mouth.
Right in front of my boy.
I can’t bring myself to look his way and stare at the toes of my boots instead.
“We now have an hour and fifty-seven minutes left,” Jackson announces. “You may wanna save that mushy stuff for later.”
Lucy and Bo already have Daisy and Hope in the barn by the time I get there. In a few words I explain what we hope to accomplish.
Jackson followed me, but Jonas stayed behind talking on the phone. Presumably organizing the transportation.
I look around the barn. We have four stalls, three of which are occupied—Lucy stuck Daisy and Hope together—only one stall left and five horses to go. The idea is to get them all in the barn first, back the trailer up to the entrance using the doors as a barrier and herd them in as best we can.
But first we’ve got to get the other five in here.
“Let’s try and round up the others. We can put Flint in the empty stall—he doesn’t always play nice with others—but the others we’ll have to tie in the aisle until the big trailer gets here.”
“It’s gonna be tight,” Lucy observes.
“Mmm,” Bo mumbles in agreement and turns to me. “If you don’t mind me making a suggestion; if I can borrow your buckskin over there.” He points at Sarge. “I can round up those five in the back field real quick. Block ‘em in by the gate and someone can lead them to the barn’s back door one by one.”
“Got any experience, cowboy?” Lucy taunts.
It’s like a shutter comes down over the man’s face as he glances at her, suddenly without any emotion whatsoever.
“Grew up on a ranch with three-hundred head of beef cattle. I’ve done my bit in the saddle.”
“I stand corrected,” Lucy mumbles, her hands up defensively, but Bo has already dismissed her as he continues to outline his plan.
“In the meantime, we’ve got your trailer already out there. You can start loading these guys up, make room for the others coming in.”
“Works for me,” I agree. “Lucy, if you wanna go with him?” I ignore her wide-eyed look. “Jackson, keys are on the hook by the front door. If you get the trailer, I’ll start getting supplies and tack together.”
When Lucy leads the first horse in the back door, we already have Ellie in the trailer. She’d better be nice to Hope, because she’s up next.
“Why don’t you get Daisy in there?” Lucy suggests. “It’s not a long trip and she’s small, she’ll fit up front.”
Good idea, because once the donkey is in the trailer, Hope follows easily.
With my trailer parked off to the side, I stand in the open doors and watch as Jonas directs his big rig backing up to the barn. Then he hobbles over to me.
“Why don’t you and Lucy go pack a bag? We’ve got it from here.”
“Pack? For what?”
“You wanna stay here while this place is overrun by law enforcement? Makes more sense to camp out at the ranch where you can be close to your animals, and you can still work.”
Dammit. He makes it sound so reasonable.
“What about Jackson?” I want to know.
If I only have him home for two weeks—minus a couple of days already—I want him close.
“Him too,” Jonas agrees easily.
“You have the room?”
“Sure. There’s a one-room cabin sitting empty Lucy can have, and a pullout couch in my office for Jackson.”
“What about me?”
The curved eyebrow and faint smirk on his lips sends a little shiver down my spine.
“You’ll be bunking with me.”
I’m still tingling from my head down to my toes as I dart into my bathroom to grab some toiletries. I packed enough clothes to last me a couple of days and try to focus on what else I might need. Maybe I should bring a sweater or two, the nights can still get chilly.
“Are you done?”
Lucy sticks her head around the door.
“Almost.”
“I’m gonna quickly pack up a few things from the fridge that are gonna spoil otherwise.”
“I’ll be down in a few,” I tell her.
When I turn back to my closet to grab a sweater, I knock my shampoo off the mattress and watch it roll under the bed. I get down on all fours and reach under to retrieve it when I catch sight of something I’d almost forgotten about.
Might as well bring those too.
Twenty-Three
Jonas
* * *
I crashed early last night.
It had been a long couple of days and I was zapped of energy.
We had to clear the paddock behind the barn to make room for Alex’s horses for the time being. All but the mare and the donkey, they’re sharing one of the bigger stalls in the barn.
I’d talked to Ama earlier, who already had the bed in the cottage and the pullout couch in my office made by the time we got to the house.
Dad looked like he’d aged years in one day and, despite talking to him on the phone earlier, he was clearly relieved to see me in one piece. He’s never been particularly demonstrative, so it threw me when he wrapped me in a hug. I can’t remember the last time that happened. I’m starting to wonder if he’s as healthy as he claims to be.
After a rowdy dinner—Ama made enough stew to feed our unexpected guests as well—and I popped a few Tylenol for the pain, I started dozing off on the couch.
Not how I’d envisioned the night to end.
I roll over in bed and take in Alex’s sleeping form. She’s curled up in a tight ball and almost falling off the edge of the mattress. Her hair is a tangled mass, evidence of a restless night.
I never even noticed her getting into bed last night, I was dead to the world. But I’m well aware of her now. She must’ve had a shower before coming to bed, I can smell her shampoo.
