Flirting With Disaster (17 page)

Tom was frowning harder now. “How so?”

She shook her head. “Some men can make it hard to feel good about it afterward, no matter how much you liked it. Men say things like ‘I got some’ or ‘She put out,’ or whatever that dialogue is. Girls are stupid cows giving the milk away for free. And suddenly you feel like you were conquered.”

“Oh.” Tom had never heard anything like that before.

“It takes a lot of self-possession to know that a man’s attitude doesn’t change what you wanted. It doesn’t change what you got out of it.”

He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. Hadn’t he had those thoughts when he was younger? That sex was a game, and he was the winner if he could get some?

And just tonight, he’d been wanting her to give in. He’d wanted to take. The difference being that she’d taken, too.

“How did it end with him?” he asked, thinking he knew but wanting her to say it.

She didn’t, of course, but she didn’t go rigid in his arms, either. “We broke up over something else. A few weeks later, I got drunk and slept with a stranger. And it was great.”

Tom smiled at her laughter. “And a new you was born?”

“You know what? It kind of was. I’d spent my whole life doing what I was told, and it took waking up in a stranger’s bed to realize I could do whatever I wanted. I could be who I wanted to be, instead of—” She cut herself off. “Anyway, it all worked out. And here we are.”

“Yes,” he said, “I’m glad.” He was glad. He wanted her to know that. He was glad she’d run, and he could help her. “Was your mom strong like you?” he asked.

She let out a long breath but didn’t push away. Didn’t get up. Eventually, she answered. “No. My mom was timid and quiet. She deferred to my dad. I loved her, but I wish she’d been stronger.”

“And your dad?”

She shrugged. “He left one day. That’s all.”

“Isabelle—” he started, but she interrupted him by stroking a hand over his chest.

“You’re pretty great, you know,” she said. “You make me comfortable. It’s easy to trust you.”

The pleasure that had melted through his body turned cool. She trusted him. Obviously. She’d let him into her home and her body. Hell, he’d encouraged her to trust him so she’d open up.

She must’ve felt him stiffen. “Hey, don’t freak out. A girl in every port, right?”

“No,” he said. His phone buzzed, and he was embarrassed to feel relieved, because it wasn’t that he wanted an excuse to leave; he just couldn’t stay and lie to her anymore.

She kissed his cheek and moved off him, letting him sit up. “I’m glad you came by again.”

“Not as glad as I am.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“After what you said tonight, no. Were you using me?”

“Absolutely.” She was giving him an out. Keeping it light so he could retreat with grace. The worst part was that he was about to take full advantage of that and get the hell out of her house as if he really wanted away from her.

He cleared his throat and headed back to her kitchen for the rest of his clothes. She followed and started doing dishes as if she were totally comfortable wearing nothing but a sweater that fell just short of covering her bare ass.

Fuck, she was cute.

He strapped on his gun and shrugged on his jacket, feeling guilty as hell. “When I’m done with all this, I’d love to do this right.”

“If what we just did was wrong...”

Right. Keep it light. “I meant we could go out. Dinner or a movie or skiing.”

She stopped washing dishes and turned to look at him. He tried to keep his eyes above her waist, but failed several times. “I’m not much of a skier,” she said. “I love the part where you get to the top of the mountain, and it’s so quiet and solitary. But all the lift lines and the crowds at the bottom... That’s not for me.”

“Rock climbing is more my thing,” he admitted.

“Oh! I’d love to try that! Would you teach me?” She shook her head before he could speak. “Not in the winter, I guess.”

“No, but in the summer, I’d love to.” He ignored the awkward pause. “Anyway, I wish I had more time right now.”

“It’s okay. That was fun.”

It had been fun, but he wanted to stay. Wanted to wake up in the morning and slide his hand over her naked body, and find out if she was a morning person. He was pretty sure she wasn’t, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be horny.

“Keep your curtains drawn,” he said. “And be careful. Things are getting tense.”

She nodded, and even as he wondered if he should, Tom walked over and gave her a kiss goodbye. She kissed him back, stroking a hand down his jaw with a murmur of pleasure. When she kissed him again, Tom cupped her ass in his hands and pulled her tightly against him, surprised to realize he was getting hard again already.

“Damn, you’re sexy,” he whispered.

She dropped back to flat feet and smiled. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Good.”

She smiled so sweetly up at him that he couldn’t resist one more kiss, because it might be the only time she looked so sweet for him. It might even be the last kiss. Every lie they told each other made it more likely.

He pulled reluctantly away, lingering over the taste, but once he got to the front door, he put it from his mind completely.

He had to do his job, whether he wanted to or not. And then the call came through.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I
SABELLE
WAS
GLAD
she’d had trouble sleeping that morning when she saw the black sedan climb up her driveway. Glad, because she’d decided to get out of bed early and go for a snowshoe hike through the trees, and she wasn’t inside to answer the door when the man knocked.

She’d ducked behind a tree when she saw the unfamiliar vehicle, thanks to instincts honed from years of avoiding strangers. But as soon as the man stepped out, she knew he was one of Tom’s guys. There was no mistaking the dark suit and the flash of a shoulder holster when he reached up to shield his eyes from the sun.

Isabelle watched as he knocked on her door. He was impatient and obviously on a long shift. This wasn’t the first time he’d run his hand through his short hair. It stuck up in odd angles. But whatever assignment Tom had given the guy, she wasn’t going to help out. He could keep on canvassing the area without her input. She didn’t want to interact with more law enforcement than she needed to. She was being stupid enough with Tom as it was.

She frowned when the man cupped his hands around his eyes and tried to look into her window. She considered shouting at him and telling him to get the fuck off her porch, but he gave up quickly and headed back to his car.

“Dick,” she muttered, before turning to trudge into the fresh snow. She might let Mary into her house and Tom into her bed, but that was the end of her cooperation with the feds. If that Stevenson guy had been spotted in the area, Tom would’ve called her himself.

She stopped for a moment when her heart tripped over itself, wondering if she was actually in danger. She held her breath and listened to the forest around her. It was as still as ever. But not quiet. Not if you really listened.

Birds called to each other. Pine boughs shushed in the wind. Branches creaked. Water trickled into tiny streams beneath the snow. Everything was normal.

And the guy hadn’t looked worried about her or even alarmed. He’d just looked irritated.

Still, when her phone rang, Isabelle jumped. The fronts of her snowshoes sank into the snow, and she pinwheeled her arms, desperately trying to keep upright. She’d done this before, and she didn’t relish falling face-first in the deep snow; it always took a remarkably long time to get upright again.

She finally shifted her weight backward and breathed a sigh of relief before digging her phone out of the pocket of her jacket.

“Hey,” she said when she saw it was Lauren.

“Oh, my God, your new boyfriend is so sexy!”

“Yes,” she agreed immediately, before realizing she shouldn’t. “I mean, what?”

Lauren laughed. “I knew it. Anyway, congratulations on boning a hero.”

“What?”
she asked with genuine surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“You are so disconnected,” Lauren groaned. “Have you seriously not heard?”

“Tell me!” Isabelle shrieked, suddenly alarmed about what that guy in the suit might have wanted. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. But he raided a motel in Jackson this morning and caught one of those survivalist guys.”

Isabelle almost fell over again and had to sit down on her butt to stop from teetering. “Really?”

“Yes, really!”

“God,” she breathed, “that is sexy.” She imagined him kicking down a door with his gun drawn and actually sighed with lust. An awfully sick reaction considering her own ambiguous legal status and hatred of cops. But some things soaked into you from birth.

“Is he really your boyfriend?” Lauren asked in a lower tone.

“No.” She heard the note of regret in her voice and shook it off. “Definitely not my boyfriend.”

“Uh-huh. So just a boy toy? God, you get the best deliveries.”

Isabelle laughed and tried to push up to her feet. “So he caught the guy?”

“Not
the
guy. Someone from their group, I guess. But Ephraim’s brother is still out there.”

That must have been what that marshal was spreading the word about earlier.

“Be careful,” Lauren said. “Really. Maybe you should come stay with me.”

“And leave Jill alone up here? No way. Anyway, he’s after the judge, not me. And I have Bear.”

“Are you locking your doors?”

“Tom insists.”

“Oh,
Tom
,” Lauren said with a laugh.

Isabelle finally pushed to her feet and smiled at the way her stomach fluttered. It was nice to feel that after so many years. “You’re sure he’s okay, right?”

“You can read it yourself on the paper’s website. The story is only three paragraphs long at this point, but it specifically says that no shots were fired, and the guy was taken into custody.”

“I guess he’s going to have a busy day,” Isabelle said, already thinking selfishly of the night to come and whether he’d have time to stop by. Probably not.

“Why don’t you come down and have lunch with me and Sophie? You can tell us more about Marshal Tom.”

Isabelle snorted. “You’ve both met him. What is there to tell?”

“You know what we want to hear.”

“Pervert,” she said on a laugh. “But I can’t. Too much work.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Lauren probably understood that Isabelle had reached her limit of socializing for the week. She needed time to not speak to anyone for a while. Except Tom. That she could handle, but only because it led to other forms of relaxation.

They said goodbye, and Isabelle tucked her phone away.

If he’d raided a motel at 6:00 a.m., he’d probably been up nearly all night getting ready for it. And he had a full day at the courthouse. There was no way he’d come by tonight.

“That’s fine,” she said aloud. It was casual. He’d be gone in a few days. Better not to get used to seeing him every day. What if she was lonely when he left?

A strange thought.

Not that she’d never been lonely in her little cabin, but it had only been isolation, never actually missing a specific man. Normally, she was relieved to get back to her routine and forget about the whole world once a fling was done. But her day felt a little emptier now that she knew she wouldn’t see Tom at the end of it. Even this snowshoe hike through the forest felt muted now, but she trudged on.

The sound of a car carried through the trees from the east. The car wasn’t visible, but the distant sound of the engine meant that young deputy had headed farther down their road. Clearly a guy assigned a mindless task, because there were only summer cabins up that way. Maybe he’d get stuck.

Nothing she could do about that. He could hike out just as easily as she could get to him. Plus, she didn’t give a damn. Isabelle took a path heading a little farther west and walked on, trying to recapture her earlier excitement and wishing she could have last night all over again.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“I’
VE
GOT
A
stack of paperwork to catch up on,” Tom said, rubbing a hand over his eyes to try to clear the exhaustion from them. “You get some sleep.”

“It’s 6:00 p.m.,” Mary said, even as her jaw cracked with a yawn.

“Yeah, and neither of us slept last night.” He tipped his head toward the window that looked out on the courthouse grass. “Your room is only two blocks away. Go crash. I won’t be in bed until midnight, but I’ll call then if I need you up and alert. If not, hopefully we can both get a whole night’s sleep.”

She nodded. “All right. Shit, it was a good day, at least.”

“It was a good day,” he said. Not great. Great would have meant getting Saul Stevenson off the streets. But that shithead hiding in the motel room had clearly been here in a supporting role. He’d had three assault rifles, one sniper rifle and boxes of ammunition for additional firearms he wasn’t carrying. With a felony conviction under his belt, Butch Abrams wasn’t allowed to have any of it.

The tip had come from a motel employee who claimed not to have seen anyone else with Abrams when he’d checked in or anytime since. Abrams himself claimed he’d come to town only to check out the trial and offer Stevenson his support, though he hadn’t actually gone to the courthouse once.

Saul Stevenson was out there. He was close. The tactics team had taken the judge home, and the entire prosecution team was under guard by the state police. Now that Stevenson had lost whatever support Abrams had meant to provide, Tom hoped he was on his own and less of a danger.

Still. Half the tactics team had gone ahead to survey the area around the judge’s home.

An hour later, Tom had wrapped up the urgent work and was hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion. Or hunger. He couldn’t tell anymore, but he had hours more work to do.

Stupidly, he wished he could see Isabelle. It wouldn’t make any difference. He’d still be exhausted and starving and stressed. And he still hadn’t come up with a plan.

“Damn it,” he muttered, scrubbing his hands hard over his face. Any decision would have to wait until the trial was over. He couldn’t concentrate on Isabelle’s problem long enough to sort it out and come up with an idea.

He’d managed to read a few newspaper articles about her father’s case in the past twenty-four hours. Beth Pozniak had disappeared three months after her father had skipped town. There’d been weeks of speculation. Assertions that she had joined her dad in some hidey-hole overseas. Theories that she’d been killed by the people her father had betrayed.

After a few weeks, the stories had slipped away. The whole thing had slipped away. A few cops had been charged with conspiracy and bribery, and they’d served a few months. But no one had ever been convicted of the murder, and only six other low-level officers had been kicked off the force.

But there was more to it. There had to be. There was a reason the FBI had flagged the file and warned against sharing any information with the Chicago Police Department. Something was very wrong with that case. He suspected Isabelle knew exactly what that was. There hadn’t been another reason to run, as far as he could tell.

He’d ask her as soon as the trial was over. And he’d try to avoid her until then. Easier said than done, when all he wanted was to fall into bed with her and sleep for twelve hours. After fucking her until neither of them could walk.

Shit, he needed food and more coffee.

Tom was just closing his laptop when his phone rang, and Hannity’s name popped up on the screen. “Everything secure?” Tom asked.

“The judge is tucked in safe and sound, but my guys found some tire tracks that we’re checking out now.”

“Where?”

“On White Ridge Road.”

Tom froze. “That’s a public road. People live there.”

“Yes, but the tracks go all the way up to an unoccupied cabin a mile past the last house.”

A mile past Isabelle’s place.

“We’re checking it out now,” Hannity said. “Figured you wouldn’t want to wait until morning.”

“No. I’ll be there in thirty.” Tom hung up and immediately called Isabelle. His racing pulse slowed a little when she answered.

“I heard about all the excitement,” she said. “You’re okay?”

“I’m good, just dead on my feet.”

“I’m truly sorry to hear that,” she said, and despite everything, Tom smiled.

“It’s worse than that,” he said. “I’m still working.”

“All right. I guess I’ll have to get off without you tonight. Desperate times and all.”

He chuckled as he grabbed his bag and left the office, drawing the attention of one of the guards, but the guy just tipped his chin in greeting as Tom passed. “Listen,” he said once he was out of earshot. “Have you seen anyone around today?”

“Just one of your men. Why?”

“We’re on pretty high alert here after that arrest. Be careful, all right?”

“It’s supposed to start snowing soon. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. You’re all locked up?”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a little purr that nearly made him groan.

“All right. I’m sorry I can’t keep you company.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll make good use of you in my imagination. If you feel your ears burning, that’s me sucking your cock.”

Thank God Tom had made it out of the courthouse, because he burst into laughter, though it was slightly edged with pain. “You’re out of control.”

“I know. That’s my appeal.”

“It might be a little of it,” he conceded, still smiling, even as he scanned the area around his car before getting in. “But definitely not all of it.”

“You’re sweet,” she said, her voice going a little more quiet.

“No, I’m—” He’d been about to say “honest,” but his throat choked off the word. He wasn’t honest. He couldn’t say that to her. “It’s the truth,” he said instead.

“I’ll miss you tonight.” After a pause, she added, “I hope that’s not weird to say.”

“I feel the same way, weird or not.”

“I guess we both needed this.”

“Yeah,” he said, sitting in the quiet of the car for a moment. “I guess we did.”

“Be safe tonight, Tom. And get some sleep.”

“I will. And try to ignore our guys driving around. We’re doing extra patrols. Will you let Jill know?”

He hung up and headed out, relieved about Isabelle’s safety and knowing that his primary reaction should have been continued stress for the judge. But shit, the judge had nearly a whole US Marshals office watching his ass. Isabelle had only Tom and one weird cat. And a gun. And a kick-ass ballsiness that was sexy as hell.

Plus, she’d implied that she was going to masturbate tonight while fantasizing about going down on him. That was a woman worth protecting through hell or high water.

She’d been right about the weather. Snow began hitting his windshield just as he turned off the main freeway onto the winding road that led up into the trees. He hit the gas, needing to get to those tracks before they were covered by new snow. Not that he was some expert tracker, but he wanted to see them for himself.

He drove past Isabelle’s place ten minutes later, slowing to take a look at her softly glowing windows. She’d pulled all the shades and curtains, he was happy to see. She was taking the threat more seriously than she had in the past. Or she was simply annoyed by the cop cars that had been going by in the darkness.

The road past her drive was usually untouched aside from deer tracks, but today his headlights caught the straight slashes of crisscrossing tire marks.

This was exactly why he’d walked this road on his first day here. It was almost a straight shot through the woods from Isabelle’s house to the judge’s. From her place, the road curved around ridges and dropped down hills until it reached a few seasonal cabins. The first cabin was quite a drive on this rutted road, but no farther from the judge’s place on foot than Isabelle’s was. He’d worried it could be used as a hideout by someone who needed cover for a night or two.

Two SUVs were parked about fifty yards from the first cabin. Tom pulled behind them and cut the engine then tugged up the hood of his parka and jumped out to meet Hannity in the middle of the road.

“One set of tire tracks,” Hannity said. “Wes followed them out here and drove on past to check the other cabins, but the tracks in the driveway of this one aren’t his.”

The snow started coming down harder, so Tom hurried to take a look. There were more than tire tracks here. “So someone parked here and went inside?”

“I don’t think so. Looks like someone just went up the steps and knocked. The tracks end there, aside from a few steps over to the front window. Then the prints head back to the vehicle. That’s it.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t one of our guys?”

“Definitely not. I took a look around back, and I found an old trail of bootprints leading up to the cabin, but I’m hoping they’re yours.”

“I was up here a few days ago, but I’ll check them out to be sure.” Tom shone his flashlight on the steps. “Place is still locked tight?”

“Yep. And no sign of any tracks at the other cabins.”

“Have you been able to reach the owner of this one? Any chance they were up here checking on their place?”

“We’re looking at property records now.”

The south side of the cabin was visible from the road, so Tom hiked through the deeper snow on the north side, just to be sure the cabin was still secure. He found the old tracks and was reasonably certain they were his, judging by the wear from melt and wind. Even if someone else had come through, Tom’s prints would’ve still been visible. They had to be his.

If there was no one in the cabin, there wasn’t much to be done. “I don’t like it,” he said to Hannity when he rejoined him in the front, “but it could’ve been anyone. The homeowner. A lost tourist. Hell, it could’ve even been a reporter looking for a good vantage for a photo of the judge’s house.”

Hannity agreed and promised to get back to Tom once the owners had been tracked down.

Tom held back a yawn. “I’ll take another hike around early tomorrow. With this snow moving in, I’ll know if anyone else has been out and about. Have the team keep careful track of their movements tonight so I can eliminate them.”

“Got it.”

Tom drove on a ways, but there was only the one set of tracks leading in and out, and there were no bootprints anywhere that he could see. He’d check again in daylight, but the snow was coming in a steady, gentle drift now. It looked like nothing, but he knew from experience it could end up being two feet of powder by sunrise.

At least adrenaline had kept him going for a while. The exhaustion didn’t return until he slowed in front of Isabelle’s house again. Her driveway was already smoothing out, the new snow hiding the jagged ridges of the evidence of her girls’ night.

He slowed at Jill’s, too, happy to see that even she had pulled her blinds. Isabelle must have called her, because normally her windows were a riot of light and glass sculptures and hanging plants. He wistfully considered knocking to beg for another frozen packet of food, but he drove on to the judge’s and all the work that waited there. He had an early morning tomorrow that would start well before he needed to leave for the courthouse. And if Hannity found anything else, Tom would be up all night again.

For once, he hoped that Stevenson would stay hidden for a little while longer. Tom wanted to be lying in bed waiting for his ears to burn.

* * *

I
SABELLE
TIPTOED
UP
the front steps of Jill’s house and tapped softly on her door. She didn’t know why she was being quiet. No one on the road would be able to see or hear her past the shifting sheets of snow. But she felt guilty after promising Tom she’d stay in.

She’d meant it when she’d said it, but then she’d decided to call Jill and talk to her about Tom, and Jill wasn’t answering her phone.

Isabelle tapped on the door again, telling herself it was really the responsible thing to do, coming over to check on Jill. After all, there was a bad guy on the loose. But really, she just wanted to talk to someone else who knew Tom.

The blinds of the front window finally parted, and Isabelle sighed with relief, but that response was short-lived. Jill opened her door only a few inches.

“What are you doing out here?” Jill demanded in a low voice. “You left me a message saying Tom was worried!”

“Oh, please. If there’s a weird survivalist out here, he’s hiding out from the snow like everyone else.” Isabelle stomped the snow from her boots. “Come on. Let me in.”

“You’re supposed to be at home!” Jill grouched, but she opened the door anyway.

“I was bored.”

“You’re never bored. And since when do you want company? Just put on a bad movie and do a puzzle like you always do.”

“God, you’re grumpy.” Isabelle toed off her boots, but then she stopped and narrowed her eyes at Jill. “What’s going on with you? Why’s your hair all squashed?”

“I was already in bed.”

Isabelle looked suspiciously around. “And why are we speaking so softly?”

Jill didn’t answer that, and a spike of fear suddenly pierced Isabelle’s self-absorption. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Isabelle lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned close. “Is there someone here? Give me a signal and I’ll make an excuse to leave. Tom is—”

“No, it’s fine.” Jill’s shoulders slumped. “Everything is fine.”

A distinctive creak sounded from the other side of the house. Isabelle felt her eyes widen until they hurt. “Then why did I just hear your bedroom door open?” she whispered, reaching for Jill’s hand to tug her toward the door, bare feet or not.

But before she could get Jill to move, a woman stepped into the living room. A very young woman. Wearing a T-shirt and tiny black underwear.

“Oh, hi,” the woman said, pushing her long brown hair off her face. “Jill, do you have a charger I can borrow? I need it for my phone if I’m going to stay the night.”

“Sure,” Jill said, her voice slightly strained at the edges. “It’s on the kitchen counter. See if it’s the right kind.”

“Thanks.” She walked by, her perky ass half exposed by the panties. A moment later, she retraced her route. The door to the bedroom closed. The pipes whooshed as the shower started.