Lone Rider (24 page)

             
“Grey. Grey Thomas,” Barry corrected gently. “I know you only knew him by his undercover name.”

             
And only by his undercover persona, Tess recalled. Her chest tightened. Did the man she knew -- or thought she knew -- even exist?

“Grey will probably be busy most of the night,” Barry continued. “Would you like
Franklin
to stay with you?”

             
Franklin
was the female agent who’d been with her most of the day. Tess shook her head. “No, thanks.”

             
“I’ll po
st a guard outside your door, in case
you need anything.”  Barry removed his glasses, his own exhaustion evident by the circles beneath his eyes. “Look, if it’s any consolation
,
I’ve known Grey Thomas for years. He’s a great guy. A great cop. Anything he did, he did for your protection or for t
he well-
being of the other women involved. Now...well, now it’s probably best if he stays away.”

             
Tess didn’t miss the subtle note of censure. Was Barry discouraging her against seeing Dallas...Grey? Or simply trying to reinforce that Grey had been doing his job?

She slipped into her room, shut and locked the door, alone for the first time all day.

Alone and free.

She’d been a captive for
over
three weeks, had thought of this moment thousands of times. So why didn’t it feel better than this?

In retrospect, she realized she’d thought in terms of her life picking up where it had left off. As if her kidnapping, Matt Michaels’ murder, had never happened. But it had
,
and there was no going back.

She looked around the small room, at the bed made up with a faded turquoise spread that matched the faded turquoise drapes and knew she’d have a hard time sleeping tonight.
Without
Dallas
.

She’d grown accustomed to sleeping in his arms. To making love with him before she slept. In the night, if she had bad dreams, he’d awaken her, comfort her. Then he’d make love to her, pushing in very, very, slowly as if she were more precious than life, until she thought she’d die from too much pleasure, too much sensation.
Too much hot, hard, flesh.

Sometimes that was all he did. Enter her. The joining itself so phenomenal, so special, it required nothing else. Going so deep he touched her soul. When he was inside her there was room for little else. Only him. It was a total possession of body and mind.

She closed her eyes recalling his touch, his heat, his strength. God, how could she miss him?

The phone rang, the shrill, unfamiliar, ring startling her. She hesitated a moment, uncertain if she should answer it, worried that if by answering it she would only find herself subjected to more questions, more mental poking and prodding.

She stood there for several more rings before realizing that for the first time in weeks she needed to make a decision. That she had a choice.

She crossed the room.

“Hello?”

“It’s Grey.”  The connection crackled, indicating he was on a cellular phone.

Tess sank down on the bed, the sound of his voice softening her knees. “Where are you?”

The melancholy note in her voice tore at him. “I’m on my way to
Billings
.”  Matt’s autopsy was scheduled for late that evening
,
and Grey couldn’t let his friend suffer that final indignity alone. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Okay? She looked around the austere room. She’d be better if he were there with her.

Then she recalled Barry’s words.
It’s best if Grey stays away.

“Tess? Is something wrong?”

“I’m tired,” she hedged. “It’s...been a long day.” 

Grey frowned, trying to imagine what it had been like for her, cursing the state of affairs that kept them apart.

He’d spent most of the morning at the compound with
a small army of crime-
scene technicians, helping tag and ID evidence. Then he’d started the tedious debriefing process. Though most of the criminal acts he’d witnessed had already been meticulously documented through another field agent, Grey had over eighteen months to cover.

             
He did
n’t want to think about what lay
ahead. The mountains of paperwork, the interviews, the depositions. There would be multiple charges. A case of this size, with international scope, would take months to build. The trials could stretch interminably. Then there’d be appeals. It was far from over. For him. Or for Tess.

             
While part of him knew he had to leave her alone, bow out of the picture -- he couldn’t. She’d become an integral part of his existence these past weeks. She’d come into his world and breathed life back into what little humanity he’d had left.

Leading a double life, going that deep undercover for so long extracted a heavy toll. She’d saved him even before he’d realized he’d needed saving. And she reminded him of why he’d taken on this assignment in the first place. To uphold justice. To serve.
    
To protect the innocent
.

He winced, recalling Tess’ innocence. Even now he wanted her, missed her presence. He’d been questioned extensively over the issue of whether their physical relationship had been truly consensual. Tess had, after all, been held against her will. Whether he could have been stronger, resisted a little bit longer was a moot point.

He also knew it wouldn’t be the last he heard on the matter, knew he was expected to keep a professional distance from her. But he couldn’t simply forget and walk away.

She had affected him deeply. Was different from anyone he'd ever met. And it bothered him that the
why
was so illusive. Had it truly just been the heat of
the moment? The life-or-
death intensity of their circumstances? Would he feel different if they hadn’t made love?

He thought back to his prior relationships. He’d managed okay with casual affairs -- the ones where sex was the glue. But the most important ones he’d screwed up.

So where did Tess fit in?

He didn’t know. And right now, he didn’t have time to give it more thought. Right now he needed to put her mind at rest about another matter.

“I spoke with Barry earlier. He said you’d seen a doctor. I know that wasn’t pleasant. I know the questions they asked weren’t easy.”  Hell, none of this was easy, so he waded right in. “I wanted to assure you I’m in perfect health, Tess.”

She knew immediately what he was referring to.
Sexually transmitted diseases
. She flushed, glad now for her solitude.

“Thanks,” she stammered, her mind fumbling for a different topic.

But Grey wasn’t finished. “And if you’re pregnant--”

“No!”  The word escaped unbidden, the denial too sharp. “I mean, I can’t be.”

Her tone told him two things:
S
he wasn’t certain, and the subject upset her. Hell, the subject unsettled him, but it didn’t relieve him of responsibility. He tried to pick his next words carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was cause this woman more anguish.

“I just want you to know I’m here for you if you are pregnant and--”  The hiss of static cut him off.

The next word she heard was “shit.”  More static. “I’m losing my signal,” he said. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

The last thing she wanted to think about or discuss was a possible pregnancy. However
,
she did want to see him. Talk about other things.

“Tomorrow,” she confirmed.

But the line had already gone dead.

*    *    *

Tess didn’t see Grey again.

By morning, the story of her kidnapping and rescue
had
hit the wire services. Reporters, eager to capitalize on the Marsh name and the sensational aspects of the story, descended on the motel. With so many different agencies involved in the arrests, it was impossible to determine who leaked the information of where Tess was staying. Under Barry Neilson’s watchful eye, she was hustled out under heavy security and flown back to
New York
on a private jet.

The reunion with her family was not without some tension. Their initial relief at Tess’ safe return soon gave way to a more predictable course of action. Her father and brother alternated between heated debates of whether the FBI should have co
ntacted them sooner, and re
crimination
s
over their own failure to keep closer tabs on Tess.

Her mother, who was still in
France
, lamented that the story, with all its lurid conjecture, had made headlines overseas. Tess was grateful when her brother suggested their mother remain in
Europe
until the publicity died down in the
S
tates. Though she knew her mother cared, there were certain things Madeline Marsh did not deal
with well
.

At her father’s urging, Tess took up temporary residence at the Marsh mansion in the
Hamptons
, a walled estate that now had twenty-four
-
hour, private, security.

             
Tess’ first weeks home passed quickly as she was interviewed several more times by the FBI. None of the agents she met were familiar. And while part of her longed to inquire about Grey, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. She longed for him to the point it hurt, which she didn’t quite understand. How could she have fallen so hard, so fast for him?

The question of whether the person she had fallen for even existed weighed heav
il
y
on
her
,
and the fact that he didn’t make contact with her added to the confusion.

Dallas Haynes was a myth.

             
Grey Thomas was a stranger.

She started seeing a counselor. While part of her resented the fact that she needed help to readjust, part of her rejoiced at being able to un
burden herself to someone non
judgmental. She learned about Stockholm Syndrome and how to
deal
effectively with the nightmares of Matt Michaels’ murder. She was also working through the shock, denial, and anger associated with traumatic events.

Only one subject remained taboo: the malingering, wavering feelings she had for Grey. They seemed too personal...too private...and she wasn’t ready to have them wiped away with a term like
white-knight complex
.

Not when she suspected she was pregnant with his child.

Tess looked out the bedroom window at the neat expanse of lawn. It was the end of August
,
and she was still in the
Hamptons
.

She should have been in
Boston
, getting her store ready for its fall opening. Instead she’d been forced to
close her shop
temporarily
after it and her town
house were vandalized.
The break-ins occurred shortly after her return from
Montana
.  While the police had no leads, they felt both acts were random, crimes of opportunity
,
fueled by newspaper reports that she was staying out of town. 

As much as she’d hated closing
her shop,
it was one less thing to deal with. And right now she had all she could possibly handle.

She stared at the box in her hand. A pregnancy test kit. In mere minutes, she might know the answer to a question that had been bothering her since the first day she’d been freed.

Was she pregnant?

She sighed. She couldn’t put off knowing any longer. According to her calculations she should have had her period in early August. In the beginning she’d tried to convince herself she was late due to stress, kept thinking she felt the onset of cramps, but denial wore thin after the first week, replaced by a single, burning, question:

What would she do if she were pregnant
?

She dismissed the idea of abortion immediately, knowing she’d keep the child in spite of the rep
ercussions. There would be fall
out. She’d be ostracized. Her family would oppose her decision, as would her friends. They would view pregnancy as an unwanted, unwelcome side effect of her captivity. Because none of them knew the truth of her relationship with Grey.

A lump formed in her throat. She didn’t even know the truth of it. In reality Grey was probably no more prepared to deal
with an unplanned pregnancy tha
n she was. She thought back to their last night together. She’d already been carrying his child then--

A knock sounded at her door.