Reckless Endangerment (16 page)

“The first time you sneaked into my room, you were there to chew me out for something...I don’t remember what specifically, I tended to tune out reprimands.”  Tap, tap went her finger on the lid of the box.  “But as you were on fire with your lecture, I thought, hmm...he just broke the rules by sneaking in here.  He must be into me.  I wasn’t the only reporter who hated you, but I was the only one who got under your skin enough for you to break into my room.”

“I don’t remember the door being locked.”  He smiled.  Yeah, she’d definitely been the only one to get under his skin. “And you didn’t hate me...you resented me but I never got the hate vibe from you.”

She replaced the box onto the table before moving around the room again, her gait stiff and awkward in the dark. 

“What’s going on?  It’s the middle of the night and you’re obviously not here to chew me out or jump my bones.”

“You seem very mellow,” she whispered, arms crossed and profile to him as she paced.  “Are you medicated?  Heavily?  How are your reflexes?” 

“My what?”  He adjusted the pillow behind him before folding his arms across his chest.  Although she’d never fit any kind of mold, her behavior was definitely bordering on crazy.

“Your reflexes.  It took you a long time to realize someone was in your room.”

“I’m used to people being in my room...usually nurses poking me.”

“That’s not good, is it?  You need to be more alert.”

“Why on earth do I need to be more alert?” He laughed before realizing that she was seriously concerned about how long it had taken him to wake up.  “What happened with your source earlier?  Why won’t you come close to me or let me turn on the light?”

“Do you love me?”

Again with that question, asked more matter-of-fact then challenging, though. 

“Why are you wearing those clothes?  Why are you here in the middle of the night asking me ridiculous questions?”  His heart twisted in his chest at how alone she looked in those baggy scrubs with her hair down and hiding in the darkness.  “What’s going on?”

“That’s not an answer.” Her laugh lacked humor.  “Then again, maybe it is an answer but I’m just unwilling to hear it.”

  “I love you,” he admitted on a sigh.  “I’m just not certain that we’re good for each other now.”

“Good for each other, huh?  Yeah, I suppose I can see that.”  She returned to the side of the bed and linked her fingers through his.  “Someone knows about us...a bad guy.  How is that possible?  I haven’t told anyone and know you haven’t.  But this guy who knows...he’s dangerous.”

“What happened tonight, babe?  What have you gotten yourself into?” Once again he reached for the lamp only to have her grab his wrist. 

“I know this breaks all the rules imaginable, but you need to keep this by your bedside table.”  She reached into her messenger bag and pulled out a gun.  She held it up for him to see before handing it to him.  “You of all people know how to use it.”

He held the revolver in his hand and frowned.  It had been months since he’d held one, but, yeah, he definitely knew how to use it.  “What the hell is going on, Shane?”

“You only use my last name when you’re about to lecture me so...before that happens...let me tell you that it’s for your own good.”  Again her fingers traced the tattoo on his chest.  “I love you. Know that.  Maybe this is proof to you that I’m not good for you anymore, but I do love you.”

He grabbed her forearm and held her when she moved to stand.  “Was I threatened?  Is that what this middle of the night rendezvous is about?”

When she tilted her head toward the ceiling, the moonlight illuminated her face enough for him to see a bandage on her forehead, a cut lip and a wicked bruise on her cheekbone.

“Damn it, babe, what happened?”  His grip held firm when she tried to yank her arm away.  “You can’t just show up in the middle of the night, ask me about my reflexes, hand me a gun and then not explain what happened to your face.”

“The less you know the better.” 

“Start talking.  Now.”

“It’s complicated.”

“That’s obvious.  You wouldn’t be involved if it weren’t complicated.”  Despite the circumstances, he smiled.  This was familiar--whispering with her in the dark about plots, danger, and possibilities.  He’d missed it. 

Her shoulders hunched, a sign he recognized as surrender. 

“Who else would know about us?”  She scooted closer to him.  “Becky said you were moved here before you were ready because of a custody battle, yet from what you told me Dalton’s mom has been out of the picture.  Why now?  Why does she suddenly want him enough to force you back to Colorado?  Are you sure she does?  Could someone have gotten to her so that they could use you as leverage against me?”

Man, he’d always been impressed with how quick her mind worked.  Happy to have something else to think about than his own life, he leaned over and slipped the gun into the top drawer of his bedside table.  What the hell? Whatever was going on was definitely more interesting than talking about his feelings with the therapist and learning how to do basic life bullshit in this transitional facility. 

“You think someone knew about us, wanted to force my family’s hand in transferring me here so they could use me as leverage against you so you’d stop snooping in whatever story you’re working on?  Pretty elaborate theory, Shane.”  He couldn’t stop smiling, but for the life of him he didn’t know why.  “I thought you arranged for me to come here, thought you were the puppet master manipulating my strings.”

Her hand moved over his abdomen in a lazy pattern.  “I started working on this story about a month ago—little tidbits of information started arriving almost as soon as I moved here.  Then suddenly you’re here...my secret and my weakness, the note said.”

“Your secret and your weakness, huh?  That’s not good for a variety of reasons. So this story is big, that’s what you’re saying?  Are powerful people involved?”  He snagged her hand and yanked her close.  He hated being referred to as her weakness but knew it was true.  “You trust me with a gun after my mental break on Tuesday?  That’s not very smart.”


“Just don’t use it on my sister. I’d never live with the guilt.”  She grinned, cracking open the torn lip.  “Yes, I believe very powerful people are involved, but the real question here that’s driving me crazy is how does anyone know we’re married when we’ve both been so good at hiding it.”

“I don’t know.  I think you’re over-thinking it, though.  I don’t think my custody battle or Callie has anything to do with your story.  You said you filed the marriage papers in New York, which means our marriage is public record.  Maybe you’re not the only one who’s good at research.  There’s not always a conspiracy.”

“Yes, there is.  Neither of us believes in coincidence.  If you weren’t so medicated, your Marine instincts would tell you the same thing.”

“You’re obsessed with my medication, yet you bring me a gun.  You make no sense, babe.” 

“I have more faith in you medicated than I have in most people who are totally sober.”  She smiled again, her lip looking painful as hell.

He brushed away the trickle of blood on her chin with his thumb, his heart exploding with the knowledge that she trusted him despite all the evidence that he wasn’t a safe bet any longer. 

With a sigh, she curled against his side, her head on his shoulder and her hand roaming over his chest again, fingers tracing his death before dishonor tattoo over and over again. 

“Are you going to tell me how you got those injuries?” he asked after her lengthy silence.

“I’d rather just lay here for awhile, if that’s okay with you.  When Becky came to the hospital, I stole her key card to get in the employee’s entrance.  I need to get out of here, stash it back in her car, and disappear before the world wakes up.” 

He grinned against the top of her head, his fingers toying with the long strands of hair that covered his arm.  Strange how this of all things—her sneaking around, giving him a gun, working out story questions—made him feel normal. 

“I love you, Hope, just as much today as the day I married you.  Never doubt that.  I’m just not sure what’s best.”  He held her a bit tighter.

“We’re gonna be okay,” she whispered against his shoulder.  “Trust me.  It’s all going to be okay.”

He squeezed his eyes closed and breathed in the scent of her.  She always had so much faith in him...he only hoped he’d live up to it.

Chapter Ten

“I think we’ve finally lost our minds,” Devon said from behind dark glasses.  She wore a baseball cap low over her forehead. “I don’t think this is what Marion envisioned when he told us to lay low for a few weeks or what my doctor meant when he told me to take it easy.”

Both women had hiked four miles to the top of Saint Mary’s Glacier.  Hope held binoculars to her eyes as she propped her hip against a large boulder with snow at her feet.  Late spring in Colorado meant snow mixed with blinding sunlight.  Maybe that’s why she’d missed the state during all of her travels.  Its contradictions suited her, mountains and plains, snow under a brilliant blue sky, warm one minute, chilly the next.  She sighed away her thoughts and forced herself to focus.  The key to certain construction trailer burned a hole in pocket and she wanted this story wrapped sooner rather than later.   

“What’s wrong with getting some fresh air?” she asked without lowering the binoculars. 

“I’d rather have done a trip to Cabo to recuperate with some Latin hot bodies instead of lurking around on top of a glacier.”  Devon grinned, her swollen lip twisting demonically with the effort.  “Please don’t tell Marshall what I say about picking up men.  He won’t get it that I’m all talk with zero follow-thru.”

“Let’s go down.  I haven’t seen any activity for the past hour.  No one’s there.”  She winced when she jumped from her perch on the boulder.  Although nothing had been broken Tuesday night, her bruised body protested every movement and breath.   

“I’m soaking in your hot tub tonight when we get back from this adventure. Life has gotten more interesting since you came home.” Devon moaned as she stood and stretched her hands behind her back.

“I won’t even ask if that’s a good or a bad thing.  Protein bar?” 

“Where did that come from?”  Devon eyed the bar suspiciously.

“My bag.”  She peeled the label from hers and started to hike toward the deserted construction trailer. 

If their guess was right, there would be documents inside to link Gannon Construction with undocumented workers…or smugglers…at least she hoped they would find something incriminating.  Money had to be involved and a lot of it for a construction company of this magnitude to risk dirtying their hands.

She inhaled the rich pine air, observed the mountain peaks soaring around her, the falling aspen leaves and listened to the crush of her feet on glacial snow.  For a moment—just a fleeting second—she relaxed.

Hands on hips, she surveyed the fence.  Devon filmed the fence for background footage if they needed it.  Surveillance cameras scanned the perimeter.  Seeing them, she stepped back into the shadows.  Devon mirrored her actions. 

“How are we going to get in?” Devon asked, shoving the video camera into her backpack. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s what the key’s for, but I know what you mean. There are cameras everywhere.”  She squinted at the cameras, wondering if they were manned or just taped.  It would be easy to destroy the tapes if they gained access.  If they were manned, there would be trouble.  Frowning, she pulled her hat lower and double-checked that her hair was safely concealed.  “Let’s walk.”

“I’m serious about Cabo. How long has it been since you’ve taken a vacation?” Devon stepped around a fallen log, her gaze skimming the fence line.  “Think about it.  You and me, lots of tequila, sun and no drama.  Paradise.”

“I should have checked on Michael,” she said as an afterthought.  “I hope Becky isn’t pushing him too hard.”

“Ah, yes, the Colonel.” Devon chuckled.  “Isn’t it Becky’s job to push him hard?”

Hard.
Her mind flashed to the image of Michael, the taste of his mouth… A shiver rippled through her body. She tripped on a tree root and almost lost her balance.

“Peter used to email me that you’d met some man over there.”  Devon flashed her a smile.  “Said you made a good pair.  A naughty, often obnoxious pair, but definitely a match.”

She grinned.  “He said we were obnoxious?”

“Only you would take that as a compliment.” Devon rolled her eyes.

Any thought of her former cameraman and friend made her smile.  “I miss Peter.”

“I know you do.”  Devon nodded. 

“I thought Michael and I were a secret.”  Once again, she wondered who’d ratted them out, or even if it’d been that difficult to discover.  Maybe not. 

Devon laughed.  “In that small hotel locked together with a bunch of journalists?  Please.  I’m sure the walls were thin, too.”

“Okay, I get it.” 

“Want to talk about it?”