Scorched (13 page)

The lack of privacy took some getting used to, but it was simply reality. A guy was having money problems, word got around. Someone’s wife was having an affair, everyone knew. It was one reason his breakup with Kelsey had sucked. Everyone on his team—including Joe—had known about it almost the instant it happened.

“My grandmother said Joe went there to get away.”

He looked at her. “I didn’t say we bothered him there—just that we all knew about it. Fact, I’m pretty sure he had a woman there.”

Her jaw dropped. “
Joe
did?”

“It’s not like he was a monk.” Gage smiled. “SEALs are chick magnets—even older ones.”

The comment pissed her off, as he’d intended. It was easier to see her mad than sad.

“You know, I can read your mind.” He stepped closer and gazed down at her in the dimness. “You’re thinking about that girl back at O’Malley’s. I didn’t take her home with me, in case you were wondering.”

She scowled and looked away. “I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you were. Admit it.”

“I couldn’t care less what you do.”

He eased closer. She wouldn’t look at him. He touched his finger to her chin and lifted it. “Liar.”

She tried to pull away, but he leaned down and kissed her.

CHAPTER 7

She felt an instant of pure shock, followed by a rush of heat. His tongue swept into her mouth and his strong arms wrapped around her. Without even thinking, she slid her hands around his neck and pressed against him. She tasted the hot inside of his mouth as his hands dropped down and molded her body to his. God, she’d
missed
him. Missed
this.
She felt his hair between her fingers, felt his stubble scraping against her chin as he changed the angle of the kiss. His mouth was strong and eager and she could tell he wanted to pull her to the dirt and take her clothes off right there.

And she wanted him to. All he had to do was touch her and she was ready to go for it. She dug her nails into his scalp. She pressed her breasts against him and kissed him with that heat, that
urgency
they’d always had together.

Through the lustful haze, she felt a twinge of pain as a barely healed wound started to tear open. For months she’d resolved never to let this happen again, never to put herself back in this position. And even as she kissed him and absorbed his intoxicating taste and
moved against him, she was thinking of all the phone calls she’d resisted making, all the e-mails she’d written and deleted. She thought of all the impossible steps she’d forced herself to take to get
over
him. And now with one hot kiss, her willpower evaporated.

Panic bubbled up at the thought of going through that pain again.

She jerked away. She blinked up at him in the moonlight and they were both breathing heavily.

He bent his head down again, and she stepped back.

“Let’s not . . . complicate things.”

“Kelsey, come on.” He reached for her and she stepped away.

“I’m not doing this.” She walked back to the truck and climbed in, then pulled the door shut with maybe a bit too much force. She needed to calm down. She needed to be objective, not emotional. After eight months of agonizing self-discipline, she couldn’t afford to let him know how much one kiss had shaken her resolve.

Gage slid behind the wheel. He turned to look at her in the dimness and his face was a hard mask.

“I appreciate what you did, back at the cabin.” She was amazed how composed she sounded. “I didn’t realize I’d made myself vulnerable by staying there. I think the best thing now would be for you to take me someplace where I can rent a car, and I’ll go from there.”

He started the engine and thrust the truck into gear. “Not happening.”

“Gage . . . you’ve done enough. And I appreciate it.”

The truck shot backward. He shoved it into drive and sped out of the gravel lot and onto the road.

“You don’t need to involve yourself anymore, though.”

“Too late.” He pulled onto the highway. “I’ve been
involved
since Trent and his dickweed friend decided to frame me for Blake’s murder.”

She looked at him. “How did they frame you?”

“The combat knife. The broken neck. I’m surprised they didn’t stick a SEAL pin on him just to make sure everyone got the message.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“The rumor mill.” He sped down the curvy highway and passed a road sign.
FRESNO, 94 MILES; WOODLAND SPRINGS, 2.
“But the FBI agents who came to visit me this morning make me think this particular rumor’s got some truth to it.”

Kelsey stared at him. He was completely serious.

“So you’re a suspect?”

“Looks that way.”

“Then shouldn’t you be back in San Diego, in case they need to talk to you again?”

He didn’t comment, and her stomach tensed. For days she’d thought she was being paranoid, that her conspiracy theories were far-fetched. But now those theories seemed all too real.

An FBI agent had killed Blake and tried to make it look as though Gage had done it. It seemed so outlandish, she could hardly get her mind around it.

And yet it had happened.

“I need to know something,” Gage said now. He glanced at her, and she knew from his tone what he was going to ask. “What happened with you and Blake? Who broke things off?”

She looked away. “I did.”

“Why?”

Because he wasn’t you.

“Turns out we weren’t suited for each other.”

She gazed out the window at the trees rushing by, hoping he’d drop the subject. She didn’t want to talk about this with him. It seemed . . . disrespectful somehow, now that Blake was dead.

She glanced at Gage behind the wheel, taking the dark curves in the highway with so much confidence. She could hardly believe he was here. She could hardly believe
she
was here, speeding through the forest in the middle of the night, on the run from some gunman.

“Do you have any idea why another agent would want Blake dead?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I keep thinking it must have something to do with work.”

“What was he working on?”

“Counterterrorism cases. I don’t know the specifics. I’m checking into it, though. That’s what I’ve been doing the last few days, with help from someone I trust at the Delphi Center.”

“Maybe Blake was shopping information.”

She turned to look at him. It was an ugly prospect, and she’d already considered it. Clearly, Trent Lohman was crooked. Maybe Blake had been, too.

“I don’t have any reason to believe that,” she said. “Maybe Trent is up to something and Blake found out about it. He might have threatened to blow the whistle on something.”

“Maybe,” Gage said, but she could tell he believed there was more to it. He’d never liked Blake.

Kelsey glanced out the window as they raced through
an intersection. They passed a gas station, a grocery store, all shut down for the night.

Conflicting emotions filled her. Part of her felt intensely relieved Gage had found her, because clearly her life was in danger, and Gage equaled safety—from a physical standpoint, at least. Her heart was another matter.

“The other man at Blake’s condo,” Gage said. “You recognize him from anywhere?”

“I’d never seen him before. And I never forget a face.”

“You say he flashed a badge?”

“Yes, but not an FBI shield. It was silver. I only got a glimpse, but it looked to me like a police badge.” She looked at him. “See why I don’t trust anyone?”

He didn’t answer as he veered off the highway and pulled into a small parking lot. Kelsey glanced around as he looped to the back of a long one-story building made of logs. The sign in the parking lot said
TWO PINES LODGE.

“What are we doing?”

He rolled to a stop beside an alcove with a glowing red Coke machine. “I was up at 0300. I’m dead on my feet. We’ll get some sleep, then tackle this tomorrow.”

“I’m not sharing a room with you.”

He cut the engine and looked at her. Kelsey reached into her purse for her wallet.

“Get two rooms.” She held out some bills.

“Also not happening.” He pushed open the door, and she felt a surge of alarm.

“I’m
not
sharing a motel room with you.”

“And I’m
not
letting you out of my sight.” He leaned
an arm on the door and peered in at her. “One room, two beds, babe. That’s the best I can do.”

“But—”

“Live with it,” he said and slammed the door.

•   •   •

The conference room smelled like stale coffee and B.O. as Elizabeth took an empty seat between two men she didn’t know.

“Frost with you?” Gordon asked from the other end of the table. His suit jacket was draped over the back of the chair, but he hadn’t loosened his tie or rolled his sleeves up, even though it was nearly one in the morning.

“I saw him at ten,” she said. “He told me he was headed home for the night.”

Gordon checked his watch. “Okay, let’s get started. We have new information on the whereabouts of Lieutenant Brewer.” He folded his arms over his chest and nodded at the agent seated to Elizabeth’s right. “Coffman, you want to fill us in?”

Elizabeth looked at Coffman. She hadn’t met him, but then again, she had. He looked like so many other agents she knew: tall, good-looking, athletic. Maybe he’d been the quarterback in high school, then later decided to study law. When the novelty of working for some big firm wore off, he applied to the Academy. Of the six agents gathered here tonight, Elizabeth was the only female. Between this and the trip to the naval base, she was starting to get testosterone overload.

Coffman cleared his throat. “Prior to Lieutenant Brewer leaving his apartment, Agent Kimball and I installed a tracking device on his vehicle.”

Elizabeth’s gaze snapped to Gordon, but his focus was on the man speaking.

“After he eluded agents Frost and LeBlanc at Disneyland, he returned to his pickup truck and left the park. We allowed him to put some distance between us and followed him using the GPS.”

As the words came out, Elizabeth felt sick to her stomach. She’d been a decoy. Gordon had known she’d botch this assignment from the very beginning. He’d planned on it. She glanced around the room, suddenly aware that no one was making eye contact.

“Unfortunately,” Coffman continued, “it appears that Brewer discovered the tracking device when he stopped for gas.”

“How’d he manage to do that?” one of the agents asked.

Coffman and his partner exchanged glances.

“We viewed the footage from the surveillance cam at the gas station,” Kimball said. “He took a mirror out of his vehicle and used it to check the undercarriage. Then he slid under the truck and removed the device.”

The room fell silent.

The agent sitting across from her leaned forward. “He checked under his truck with a
mirror
? Who the hell does that?”

“An explosives expert who’s served in Iraq,” Gordon said, then turned back to Kimball. “What’d he do with the GPS?”

“We don’t have this on film, but it appears that he attached it to a motorcycle.” He paused. “After tracking it for ninety minutes—not knowing about the switch—we recovered the device at a biker bar in Wasco.”

Elizabeth giggled. Kimball shot her a glare.

“What’s funny? We nearly got our asses handed to us in the parking lot.”

She bit her tongue and looked down at the table.

“Fortunately, we have another lead on Brewer’s destination.” Gordon watched her as he spoke, and Elizabeth refocused her attention. “Turns out Kelsey Quinn’s uncle—Lieutenant Brewer’s former CO—has a fishing cabin up in Piney Creek. That’s southeast of Fresno. We believe he was headed there. I spoke with the sheriff just a few minutes ago, and coincidentally, they just had an incident. Several shots fired on the property where this cabin is located.”

Elizabeth sat up straight. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No injuries reported,” Gordon said. “Just a few broken windows. But Kelsey Quinn is nowhere to be found, and the car she was using is still parked there.”

Elizabeth sat back in her chair, digesting the news.

“We think Brewer is the shooter?” Coffman asked.

“We don’t know,” Gordon said. “We’ve got crime-scene techs headed up there first thing in the morning. They’ll be combing the area for ballistic evidence.”

“Sir?”

All gazes swung toward Elizabeth.

“I spoke with one of Brewer’s teammates this evening. He tells me Gage was the one to end the relationship, not Kelsey. I think we should explore the idea that he’s being set up here.”

“We’re looking into that.”

“Just because Brewer dumped her doesn’t mean he’d let go,” Kimball pointed out. “Maybe he was jealous she was seeing someone else. We’ve got a combat knife, a
broken neck. Now shots fired at her cabin. Sounds like a Rambo type to me.”

“Maybe that’s the idea,” Elizabeth said, but no one seemed to be listening.

Gordon stood up. “Okay, that’s it for now. Everyone report back here in exactly five hours. We’ll renew the search. Remember, think aliases. Kelsey Quinn could be using one, and we know that Brewer habitually uses fake identities while doing covert ops.”