Truth and Consequences (20 page)

The truck swerved. “What?”

“You had your back turned. Mitchell could have emptied that gun into you before you ever turned around. Face it,
cousin
, I saved your life.”

“Took you nine bullets to do it, too.”

“I suppose you’d have shot him once.”

“Damn straight. Right between the eyes.”

“You fire until the threat is eliminated.”

Silence descended, broken only by the hum of tires on pavement.

Oh, hell.
Where had that come from? Straight from his Quantico instructor’s mouth, that’s where. Sixteen weeks of hearing the statement over and over, delivered with stinging authority. He’d even heard it in his sleep.

His stomach cramped. He might as well don his FBI T-shirt. Or one that read, “Hello, I’m an undercover Fed.”

The silence unnerved him, made him wonder what was going through his cousin’s head. Would Jim Ed recognize the dictate for the Bureau training mantra it was? No. He couldn’t. If he had, Jason would just as likely be staring down the barrel of a gun right now.

Instead, he stared at his own mailbox. The truck slowed, turned into the drive, bounced over a couple of ruts. Jim Ed braked and let the engine idle. “Get some rest. You look like hell.”

Relief skittered over him, but the fear returned instantly. He saw himself getting out of the truck and Jim Ed taking a shot at the back of his head. His muscles taut with singing tension, he reached for the handle. “Night.”

With every step across the yard, he waited for the bullet to slam into him. He didn’t relax until he was on the other side of his front door and Jim Ed’s truck rumbled out of the yard. Tremors attacking his limbs, he slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. His forehead rested against his knees, and his body thrummed with a familiar dread.

Waiting for morning, to storm an Iraqi Republican Guard stronghold.

Not sure if one of them would come for him first.

Wondering if he’d live to see home again.

He rolled his head, shoring up his flagging reserves. Forever lay between now and morning.

And he didn’t have a clue what morning would hold.

Dale and Tick went way back and no one would question the dusty white 4x4 sitting next to Dale’s battered Jeep in front of the dairy office. And Dale, bless his heart, had merely nodded when she’d told him she’d be on his property for a while. No questions.

Navigating the half mile from the dairy to Jason’s trailer took longer than it would have during the day. With every animal that skittered away in the underbrush, her heart thudded harder.
Scared of the dark, Palmer?

No. Scared witless by what might be lurking in the dark.

Her steps slowed when she neared the trailer. The interior lights were off, the mercury security light bathing the white aluminum siding in a weird blue glow. Jason’s beat-up Chevy sat empty in the backyard.

She made a stealthy half-circle of the trailer, making sure no other vehicles waited in front of the tiny building. Listening hard, she crept to the back door. No sounds from inside the trailer. Was he even here?

She eased up the steps and rapped at the rear door. Within seconds, the door swung inward. Hands shot out, fastened on her arms and dragged her inside. Her stomach lurched. The door slammed. Her back hit the hallway wall, hard enough to take her breath for a moment. Jason pressed her closer to the paneling, his chest against hers, his mouth near her ear.

“What the hell are you
doing
here?” Fury vibrated in his harsh whisper. His hands roamed her body, from shoulders to waist to hips, as if he wanted to be sure she was real, safe.

“Making sure you’re all right.” She breathed the words into his ear, her body reveling in his proximity. His heat permeated her, desire tingling to life deep in her abdomen while her mind whispered reminders of how close she’d come to losing him.

“Are you crazy?” The words hovered on a hoarse groan, his hands under her shirt, molding, caressing the flesh beneath.

She traced his face, pulling his mouth to hers. She was hungry for him, to feel the reality of him, to know he was warm and alive and
hers
.

He seemed as starved for her, invading her mouth with a desperate gentleness, fumbling with her button fly before delving inside to find her wet and aching for him. He moaned into her mouth and shoved jeans and panties down. She stepped out of them, his warm hands wandering over her thighs.

Desire burned, licking at her stomach, her skin, her core. She cupped his erection through his jeans, and he bucked against her, another moan rumbling through him. She popped loose the button and slid the zipper down, desperate to have him inside her. He lifted her higher against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, wanting no further preliminaries. Wanting him, only him, forever.

When he entered her, he pulled his mouth from hers, his breath coming in hoarse rasps. “Kathleen. God, baby.”

His lips fastened on her neck, sucking, the scrape of his teeth an exquisite torture. Thrilled by the ease with which he supported her, she closed her eyes and held on harder. His strength and masculinity made her more aware of her femininity, and she swallowed against a rush of tears. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pushing harder against him, never wanting to let him go.

“I love you, Jason.” She whispered the words, her lips moving against his temple. The admission brought her a peace and completion she’d missed for years.

The wild tumult was over all too soon, leaving him gasping, his face against her neck. She clung to his shoulders, trying to catch her own breath.

His arms tightened and he brushed his mouth against her skin. She felt the smile curving his lips. “Ah, sugar, how do you
do
that to me?”

Her head jerked up. She told him she loved him and he commented on their lovemaking? She loosened her arms, creating a mental distance as well, and he sighed, still holding on to her.

He nuzzled her neck, but she felt the gulf slipping in between them. He was here, hers, but not. A part of him remained somewhere else.

“Who’s Everett?” He murmured the question against her skin.

She fought the urge to stiffen in his arms, forced herself to remain soft and molded against him. “My son.”

He lifted his head and in the dim light from outside, she could read the surprise on his face. “You have a son?”

“Had.” Glad her face was in the shadows, she swallowed against the lump blocking her throat. “He died.”

He pressed a soft kiss, a whispery caress, to her temple. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” Her eyes drifted closed and she lost herself in the feel of him against her. Only him against her. Her eyes snapped open. The firestorm had been on them so quickly they’d not stopped for precautions. “Jason, we forgot to—”

“You’ve got to get out of here.” He pulled back, letting her slide along his body. She felt the shudder that traveled through him with the action.

He bent down to pick up her jeans and she leaned against the wall, her thighs trembling, and tried to pull her mind back into focus. Sharing Everett with him hadn’t been nearly as painful as she’d expected, the twinge of loss, but not the crushing agony she normally experienced. She touched her stomach, imagining carrying another baby. Jason’s baby. One she could be conceiving even now. The hope flushed through her, bringing a simultaneous fear with it.

“Here.” He handed her the jeans. His tight grin, visible even in the dimness, drove the fear away, replacing it with a dull, achy worry.

She stepped into underwear and pants all at once, still watching him, wishing for better light so she could read his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He jerked both hands through his hair. “Damn it, Kathleen. You need to go.”

“In a minute. Something’s happened, hasn’t it? Something other than the shooting.” She planted her hands on her hips. “What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s dangerous for you to be here. You shouldn’t have come at all.”

She ignored the pang his words created and reached for him, fisting handfuls of his T-shirt to pull him close, his weight and heat a reassurance against her. “This is me, Harding.
Talk
to me.”

He sagged against her, the awful tension she felt in him easing with a long sigh. He lifted his hands, framing her face, stroking her hair. “I think I screwed up.”

Fear shot through her veins. “What? Why?”

“Jim Ed and I were fussing,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper. He wiped a hand over his face before resting his arm against the wall. “He made a crack about the number of shots I took with Mitchell and I said…I said…”

“
What?
”

“That I fired until the threat was eliminated.”

“Oh, God.” The reality of his words slammed into her chest. How many times had she been on the range and heard Tick beating the phrase into the Chandler County deputies? Words that marked him as a Quantico-trained Fed. Would Jim Ed have recognized them, too? She curled her hands around Jason’s rib cage. “What did Jim Ed say?”

“Nothing. Not a damn word. Dropped me off and left.”

Hope trembled at the edge of the overriding fear. “Maybe it didn’t mean anything to him.”

“Maybe.” Doubt hovered in his voice.

“I mean, how many Feds does he hang out with?”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” He fingered her hair. “But I’d feel better if you weren’t here. And don’t go home, either.”

She forced a smile to trembling lips. “We already covered that. I’ll take Tick back his truck and either camp out on his couch or go to Altee’s.”

He blew out a long breath. “I can’t believe I’m sending you off to spend the night with Calvert. I must be crazy.”

The urge to repeat her words of love lingered, but his failure to respond to her earlier declaration kept them unsaid. She feathered her fingers over his jaw. “No worries there, Harding.”

He stepped back and reached for the doorknob. “C’mon. Let’s get you out of here. I’m going to try for a couple hours’ sleep.”

Cicadas and crickets hummed in the night. At the bottom of the steps, her feet sank into grass already dampened with dew. The reluctance to leave him alone sat in her chest, a physical ache. She turned back, the shadows hiding his face. “Jason.”

“Go on, sugar. It’ll be fine.”

Fine? Leaving him, not knowing what was going to happen? That was fine? Surely the two of them together stood a better chance if Jim Ed tried anything than if she left him alone. “Let me stay.”

“No. I need you to go to Calvert, tell him what I said. He’ll know what to do from there.”

He was right, and as badly as the woman in her wanted to remain by his side, this time, the cop won out. Blinking back hot tears, she jogged up the steps and took his face in her hands, kissing him once more. He crushed her to him, desperation in his touch.

She pulled back, still touching him. “Tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.” He turned his mouth into her hand. “Now get going.”

Heading into the woods, she felt his gaze on her until the trees and the dark swallowed her again.

“Yeah, Falconetti, I know what time it is. And I know it’s Sunday morning. I’m sorry I woke you.” Tick leaned forward in the armchair, phone pressed to his ear, the fingers of his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is important. I think Harding’s in trouble.”

Knees drawn up to her chin, Kathleen sat on his red couch with Altee and watched him. His eyes closed briefly, listening. A cold lump of fear sat in her belly. With every step through those dark woods and every mile she’d driven away from Jason, that fear had increased.

“Falconetti, I’ve got Agents Price and Palmer with the GBI here. I’m going to put you on speakerphone.” He pushed a button and returned the receiver to its place.

“All right, Calvert, what’s going on?” The agent’s husky voice filled the room. Tick steepled his fingers together under his chin and stared at the phone, his expression intent.

“Harding killed a suspect last night during a drug raid.”

“A clean shooting?”

“Yeah. He didn’t have a choice. He’ll be exonerated.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“We think Reese is getting suspicious.”

“Why?” The sound of rustling paper filtered across the line.

“He ordered Harding away from Palmer.”

“Did he threaten Palmer?”

Tick’s chocolate gaze darted to Kathleen. “I don’t know. Harding staged a public breakup.”

“That’s good.” A note of relief crept into Falconetti’s voice. “Reese expects obedience and loyalty from those around him.”

“Cait.” Tick paused, and a distant part of Kathleen’s mind noted the way his voice tightened around her name. “Harding got into a fuss with Jim Ed Reese afterward. Reese said something about the number of shots Jason made. Harding replied he fired until the threat was eliminated.”

“Oh, hell.” Stress returned to the husky tone. “Has Reese heard you say it?”

“I don’t think so. Harding’s a smart guy. He could explain it away if Reese asks. He told Palmer Reese didn’t say anything at the time.”

“If he asks.” A pause hummed over the long distance connection. “So let’s assume Reese’s suspicions have been aroused. He’s a thinker, though. The whole action of forcing Harding to give up Palmer…he’s reeling Harding in, keeping him close so he can watch him. He’s controlling him.”

“Think we need to pull Harding out?”

“I don’t know. Reese wants to believe in Harding. He’s family. It would be hard for him to believe Harding could betray him. But if he realizes Harding is doing just that…”

The unfinished sentence tightened the icy dread holding Kathleen in its tentacles.

Tick rubbed a hand over his forehead. “You think he’d kill him. Family or not.”

“Calvert, the man reads like a textbook example of an antisocial personality. He killed those boys because he could, because they dared to challenge his authority by not stopping once they entered his county. I wouldn’t be surprised if there aren’t other bodies floating around out there that go beyond the political killings you think he committed. And he’s going to spare Harding because he’s a relative? No. If anything, the retribution would be more severe.”

“So what do we do? Pull him out and blow the operation? Or leave him in and take the risk?”

“Has anyone asked Harding what he wants?” Despite her obvious frustration, Falconetti’s tone remained cool and steady.

Tick’s gaze darted to Kathleen’s. She didn’t have to ask, had felt the resolution overriding the fear in him the night before. She clenched her hands, fingernails biting into her palms. “He won’t want us to pull him out.”

Falconetti’s voice crackled over the speakerphone again. “It’s a moot point until we can get in touch with the agent in charge anyway. We can’t pull him without going through channels. Tick, want me to make that contact for you?”

“That would be great. We’ll wait for you to call.”

“I’ll make it as fast as I can.” The line went dead. Tick reached over, lifted the receiver and let it fall again.

Kathleen jumped to her feet and paced the length of the living area, rubbing at her arms. Chills raced over her skin, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. “We can’t just leave him alone, Tick.”

“We’re not.”

“We’re sitting here waiting for a damn phone call! He’s out there alone!”

“He’s not helpless, Kathleen,” Tick said, an edge creeping into his voice. “Give the boy some credit.”

“Your father wasn’t helpless, either, was he?” she asked, hating herself when his face paled, his dark eyes burning bright. “And they got to him, too.”

“That’s not fair.” He growled the words. “Damn it, Kath. We don’t even know for sure that Reese is on to him.”

“But you’re willing to take that chance, aren’t you?” Bitterness crawled in her throat. “You’re willing to risk him to get at Thatcher and Reese.”

“What do you want me to do?” He exploded to his feet, his frustrated shout bouncing off the freshly painted walls. “Thatcher had my father killed and Jim Ed’s daddy was in on it. I know it, but I can’t prove it. Jim Ed… Lord, Kathleen, that body we found in the woods. We don’t even know who he was. No dental records because his teeth had been bashed out. Broken bones because they’d beaten him before they killed him. You saw those boys in that truck. We can’t let him keep on getting away with this.”

“But, Jason… God, Tick.” Didn’t he see that the same thing could happen to Jason?

“Have some faith in him, Kathleen.”

“What if it were Falconetti?” Altee’s quiet question jerked Tick’s head around. Kathleen stared at her partner.

Tick glared at Altee. “What does she have to do with this?”

Altee shrugged, a graceful movement of her shoulders. “Just answer the question. If your girl Falconetti was in Harding’s place, what would you do?”

His mouth thinned. “The same thing I’m doing now. I’d wait for the damned call and hope like hell Reese didn’t have a clue.”

Altee’s perfect eyebrows lifted. “You wouldn’t go after her.”

“No.” A sigh shook his body with a visible tremor. “She wouldn’t expect me to. She wouldn’t want me playing knight in shining armor, trying to rescue her, putting everything at risk.”

“And you could live with that?”

“I wouldn’t have a choice. I know she can take care of herself.”

Altee turned to Kathleen. “Kath? We can blow off the Feds and all our training, kill our careers and go get him. I’m with you if that’s what you want.”

Kathleen closed her eyes, trying to make her head overrule her heart. What would Jason want? She blew out a long sigh and looked at her partner’s serene face. “No. We’ll wait.”