Most Eligible Spy Page 15

  “Thanks. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.” She hung up, confused and worried. She glanced at the phone. Mo had called. She was about to call him back and beg for his help when another call came in: Kenny.

  “Why did you take Logan?”

  “I haven’t been completely honest with you, honey.” A pause followed the words, then, “Your brother and I were kind of business partners. He took delivery of a considerable amount of merchandise. Then he died before we could have passed on the goods. Well, I thought he had, but as it turns out he hadn’t. The people on the other side of the border want their money.”

  A sense of betrayal washed over her, sending a chill down her spine. She couldn’t have cared less about money or merchandise or any of that stupid business. “Where is Logan?”

  “Logan will be safe as long as you cooperate. I’ve been given an ultimatum over here, you understand. I would have rather done this the nice way. I had plans for you and me. But time is running out.”

  Her heart gave a long, hard squeeze. “What do you want?”

  “The drugs. Looks like Dylan only used the storage locker as a temporary place. Or maybe he ran his distribution from there. There was nothing in it. I have twenty-four hours to come up with the full shipment. I’d rather not find out what will happen if I can’t produce the goods. So it’s the boy for the drugs. That’s how simple it is. Nothing to worry about. You give me what I want, and the boy comes home.”

  Was he nuts? Cold fear spread through her, desperation constricting her throat. “I have no idea where any drugs are.”

  “You probably just don’t know that you know. Nobody knew Dylan half as well as you did. I’m sure there’s some clue in that house or in that pretty little head of yours that will lead us to the rest. You just have to want to find it. Twenty-four hours.”

  She was so upset, she couldn’t talk.

  “I’ll be calling. And, in the meanwhile, I wouldn’t tell anyone about this, especially your devoted friend, Moses Mann, and his team, if you know what’s good for your kid,” Kenny added. “If you tell anyone, I’ll know it. If you want the kid back, the most important thing you can do is to keep this between us, honey.”

  * * *

  SHE WASN’T AT THE HOTEL.

  The dogs were happy to see him, though, jumping all over Mo as he strode in.

  “Where is everybody?”

  Max and Cocoa licked his face, but that was it. No information was forthcoming.

  He looked through the apartment carefully, checking for any signs of forced entry or struggle. Everything seemed in its place.

  Maybe Molly took Logan shopping. Although, it looked as if she’d already shopped. He noted the soft blanket folded over the back of the couch and the throw pillow that would make taking a nap there actually comfortable. He went for a drink and saw the sweet tea in a brand-new pitcher.

  Okay, his place did lack the niceties. He mostly came here to sleep. She was making herself more comfortable, he thought, then noticed the coffee mug. MO COFFEE. And a dog-shaped cookie jar on the counter. He opened it and smiled. Cookies.

  Warmth spread through him as he realized that she was trying to make life nicer for him.

  And she had. Just her presence in his apartment had somehow transformed it. Molly and Logan made the place a home instead of a hotel suite.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed her again. He’d tried several times already, but she wasn’t picking up. This time the robot voice said the number was unavailable. Her phone was either turned off or her battery was dead.

  Was she avoiding him again?

  Too bad. He had to talk to her. He needed to know who else she told about the storage locker.

  He called Jamie. “Was everything okay with Molly when you were out at the ranch with her this morning?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  “She’s not at the hotel, and I can’t reach her on the phone.”

  “I had to run off to follow up on a lead, but we were done by then, leaving. The Pebble Creek sheriff was coming to see his horse.”

  “Okay. I’ll go out there. Maybe she went out early for the evening feeding.” She really shouldn’t have done that. She knew it wasn’t safe.

  He hung up then checked his weapons and hurried down to his car, pretty much ignoring the speed limit as he drove through town. He didn’t relax until he was turning down her road and could see her pickup sitting in the driveway.

  When he walked into the house, she was just coming down the stairs, her chestnut hair tied up in a haphazard bun. A dust streak stretched across her face. Looked as if she’d been cleaning.

  “You shouldn’t be here alone.” Relief and frustration shot through him in a tangled mix. “You’re going to risk your life for dust bunnies?”

  “I’ve really been neglecting the place,” she said apologetically without meeting his eyes.

  “You still should have waited for me.” He drew a slow breath. He hadn’t come here to yell at her.

  She gave a strained smile, the house silent around them.

  Too silent.

  He looked around. “Where’s Logan?”

  She turned from him, her hands fidgeting over things as she tidied up the kitchen, her movements stiff and jerky. “He’s at a friend’s house.”

  “Everything okay?”

  She nodded without turning around. “Just tired. I never sleep well in a strange place.”

  She wanted to come home. Of course. Thing was, he’d gotten used to her and Logan being there when he popped in for this and that. He liked it.

  “Thanks for the mug,” he said. “And all the rest, too.” For the first time, the apartment actually looked lived-in. There were books and toys lying about. He wished he had the right words to tell her how he felt about that, how he felt about having her and Logan in his life. Instead, he turned to business. “I called you earlier.”

  “My battery is probably dead. I’ll charge it when we get back to the hotel.” She stood at the sink with her back to him.

  “I need to ask you something. Have you told anyone else about the storage locker?”

  Her shoulders tensed even more. “No.” She didn’t turn to face him. “I should go take care of the animals. After I finish up outside, I’ll need to come back in here and gather up some things. You can leave if you have to go back to work. I should be okay.”

  Was she mad at him? It was as if she couldn’t even stand to look at him. But if she were mad, then what were the cookies and the mug and all the other stuff about?

  God, women were confusing.

  Maybe all those things were her way of paying him back for their stay. She didn’t want to be beholden to him or some such nonsense. Completely unnecessary. He would have given her whatever she asked, everything he had.

  Or maybe the cookies and all were Logan’s idea. He loved the apartment and the game console.

  “I’ll walk around the outbuildings, see if I can find any tire tracks or some sign that people have been out here lately.”

  She nodded as she put something in the fridge.

  It was plain that she wanted him gone.

  So he obliged her by walking away.

  * * *

  MOLLY RUSHED BACK upstairs to Dylan’s room as soon as Mo went outside. She needed to stay away from him. She’d almost told him about Logan a half-dozen times. But if Kenny found out she told... Kenny was a sheriff. He was listening to all the law-enforcement channels. He would know the second Mo passed the news on to his team.

  Kenny... Oh, God. She searched through Dylan’s dresser frantically, looking at every piece of paper in the bottom drawer. Most turned out to be old receipts for farm equipment, warranties and catalogs. She shoved the drawer shut, desperation washing over her as she stood.

  There
had been nothing in Dylan’s desk, nothing under his mattress, either. Where else would he hide something? Of course, she had no idea what she was looking for. Receipts for another storage unit?

  She went downstairs for the largest knife she had, then back up to test the floorboards to see if there might be some hidden nook where her brother had kept information. One board did come up, and as it did, a spring shot off a rubber band that smacked her in the nose. One of Dylan’s early booby traps. She looked at the empty vodka bottle in the hole as she rubbed her nose. Probably left over from Dylan’s teenage years.

  Where were the damn drugs?

  How could Dylan get involved in something like this? How could Kenny? Kenny was a sheriff, for heaven’s sake. He should have been on the side of good, steering her brother right, not dragging him into dirty business.

  She couldn’t trust anyone.

  Her brother hadn’t been who she thought he was. Kenny, a sheriff, had his own share of secrets. She wanted to trust Mo, she really did. But her judgment was so obviously terrible.

  What if Mo, too, had his own secret agenda?

  Maybe he’d only offered her the apartment to keep a closer eye on her. Maybe he didn’t care about her one bit, only cared about his mission. He’d said as much before.

  If she told him about Logan, would he and his team charge ahead to catch Kenny, not caring what happened to her son? Would they think one little kid was an acceptable casualty when they had border security at risk?

  She desperately needed a friend in all this, but there was too much at stake. She couldn’t talk to anyone, not even Grace. Grace could tell Ryder.

  She gave up on Dylan’s room and went through all the others, feeling more desperate and more alone than she’d ever felt in her life. She knew only one thing: she would do anything to save her son. She would sacrifice anything. If she found any drugs, or any indication of where they were hidden, she would hand them over to Kenny in the blink of an eye. Even if it meant she had to go to prison afterward.

  But she found nothing.

  She went back down to the kitchen and happened to glance at the answering machine. The light was blinking. She hadn’t seen that earlier. She had four messages, three from telemarketers, one from the agent for Brandsom Mining. She deleted them all.

  Even if she eventually got desperate enough to call Brandsom, she had the agent’s card. He’d sent it in the mail, along with various offers. Several times.

  The thought that things might come to that further twisted her heart. Dylan had always been very adamant about not letting anyone near the old mine shafts.

  She froze where she stood.

  The old mine shafts.

  Some had collapsed, while others had been blown in on purpose to make sure local teens didn’t go in there to do whatever teens did when they were hiding from their parents. The shafts were way too dangerous. All the openings had been boarded up. But what if...

  If there was a spot on the ranch where multiple crates of something could be hidden, those old mine shafts would be it.

  She looked outside, into the approaching darkness. She had only a vague idea where the openings were. She would never find them in the dark. She’d be lucky to find them in the daylight.

  The thought that she would have to wait brought tears of frustration into her eyes. She wanted her son back and she wanted him now. She blinked away the tears. She couldn’t afford to break down. Best thing was to keep busy.

  She went outside and hurried through her chores, trying her best to avoid Mo as much as possible. She didn’t want him to realize that she was upset. She didn’t want to chance him guessing that something was wrong.

  He was cleaning off his boots when she finished up and came out of the barn, closing it up behind her for the night.

  “Thank you.” She did her best to put on a smile. “You probably have to go back to work. I’m going to head over to Grace’s place for a little while.”

  But he said, “I don’t think Grace is home. She was going to help Ryder with something tonight.”

  “Oh. Well.” She tried not to look as frustrated as she felt. “I suppose I’ll go to the feed store, then.” She waited for him to leave.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Great. “I shouldn’t take up all your time.”

  “I don’t mind. I have the night off.”

  And true to his word, he stuck by her. So she was forced to go to the feed store, pick up things she didn’t really need, drop them off at the barn, then head back to Hullett with him.

  All the while worrying about her son, petrified that she wouldn’t be able to save him.

  * * *

  “WHEN IS LOGAN coming home?” Mo asked over dinner. He was glad he’d taken the night off. Something was wrong with Molly. He needed to figure out what.

  “Tomorrow,” she said ashen-faced without looking up from her plate.

  The dogs lay at her feet. They didn’t beg for food. They were pretty well behaved.

  “It’s good that he has close friends. He’s a pretty special little kid. You raised him well.”

  She ate, but without true appreciation. Were her eyes glistening?

  Looked as if all the stress was really getting to her. He felt guilty as hell. She’d lost her brother, her only support, had some financial issues at the ranch, was accused of being involved in smuggling and had been interrogated. And then he’d taken her to that damn cabin.

  Which might not have been the best decision he’d ever made. She clearly needed something to hang on to, and some false ideal of Dylan had been it. Now that he’d taken that away from her, she had nothing.

  He was wired differently. He needed the truth. He would take any truth, no matter how harsh, and then he could deal with it. He liked to know where he stood. He didn’t believe in clinging to fantasies.

  “You’re a strong woman. You will work through this,” he told her, reaching for her hand across the table.

  She pulled away. “I’m not strong. Not like you are,” she said miserably.

  “You might not be jumping in front of bullets on a daily basis, but what you do day after day, running the ranch, raising your son, takes strength.”

  The sight of a tear rolling down her face twisted his gut.

  “Hey.” He reached across the table again and brushed away the tear with his thumb.

  She pushed her seat back so fast she nearly knocked it over. “Better get started on the dishes.”

  He stood. “I’ll do that.”

  But she was already standing by the sink.

  “How about you wash, I dry,” he said, offering a compromise. She accepted.

  They worked in silence for a while, their movements strangely harmonized as if they’d done this often. She looked at him a couple of times, as if on the verge of saying something, but each time she changed her mind and turned away.

  “How about some TV?” he suggested when they were done. She looked as if she could use some distraction.

  She looked toward her bedroom, then nodded. “Sure.”

  He flipped through the channels, found a sappy romantic comedy. Supposedly women liked that kind of thing. He tried to think what else he could do to cheer her up. Flowers. Women usually found flowers comforting. He glanced around the apartment. She’d brought him some sort of potted herb. The pot stood behind them on the sofa table. He put his arm over the back of the sofa as unobtrusively as he could and pushed the plant closer to her.

  She looked up at him, a moment of confusion on her face.

  Right. Because it looked as if he had his arm up there to kind of drop it over her shoulders. As if he was making a move.

  He acted as though he was just stretching, then pulled back and stared straight ahead at the TV, where a pair of rambunctious dogs were wrapping the
ir owners together with their leashes.

  Max padded in, barked at the screen, then, after Molly patted him, he went back out to the kitchen. He liked lying on the tile floor. It was probably colder.

  The movie went on. Minutes ticked by.

  She looked straight ahead, but he wasn’t sure she was really watching. Her shoulders were still tight, the look on her face still unhappy.

  He hated that he couldn’t help her, watched the movie without registering much of it, thinking mostly about Molly beside him. Truth was, he wanted to pull her into his arms and distract her from her troubles in the most ancient way. By making love to her.

  He wasn’t proud of himself for the thought. What kind of man would use a woman’s temporary distress to seduce her?

  In the movie, the heroine was going through her troubles alone, consoling herself with copious amounts of ice cream. He wished he had some of that in the freezer. Or chocolate. He tried to think what he had in his half-empty cabinets. Then cheered up a little when he thought of something.

  “How about some beef jerky?”

  She drew her eyebrows together. “Are you hungry? We just ate.”

  “I meant for...” He almost said female upset but finished lamely with “dessert.”

  A dubious look flashed across her face. “We have cookies,” she reminded him. “Maybe later. But thank you,” she said politely, then went back to watching the movie.

  He tried to think of something that might work to relax her. Maybe a bubble bath. Women liked that, didn’t they?

  The image of her naked in his tub resulted in a predictable response from his body. He shifted in his seat. But his condition only worsened when the star-crossed couple on the screen finally made up and had their hot-and-heavy love scene.

  Molly didn’t seem to enjoy it. Her eyes glistened, in fact, almost as if she were close to tears. Definitely not the same response that the scene was getting from him.

  Women were complicated.

  Men were simple. They saw a woman they liked, they wanted sex. They watched sex, they wanted sex.

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye again.