Reckless Endangerment (25 page)

“I think you see the wildness in her and wonder if you can handle it with your new challenges.  I think you watched that news report and wondered if you can truly count on her in the here and now.”  She handed him the picture, sadness softening her face.  “She’s unpredictable.”

“What’s your problem with her?  She’s amazing.  Do you know how strong she is, what she sacrifices for what she sees as justice?”  A surge of protectiveness straightened his spine. 

“Justice...right.  At what cost?  Her friends, family...you?  What is she willing to risk for the sake of a story and the spotlight?”

“That’s not fair.”  He wanted to tell her everything he knew about Hope, but kept his mouth shut.  Revealing secrets wasn’t his style, but neither was letting someone belittle the bravest woman he’d ever known.  “She’s one of a kind.” 

Arms crossed as if unwilling to open herself up to another view of her sister, she studied him for what seemed like minutes before straightening her spine.  “I have other patients, Michael, so I’ll check in with you later.”

She left without further comment. And that’s when he heard the whining from the bedroom.  Dude watched the door expectantly, speckled ears raised, head tilted to the side. 

A week ago he’d been putting up a fight about being shipped off to Denver and now here he was with a dog, a wife and sister-in-law with a bad attitude.  He grinned at the twists and turns his life had taken to this point. 

He’d not only stood today, he’d taken a step without falling on his ass.  Tonight his wife was taking him home. Tomorrow his parents were bringing Dalton up for a visit. That counted for a helluva lot. 

“So you’re my dog, huh?  I’m not too sure how I feel about that.  My son’s gonna love finding out there’s a new member of the family, though. ” He leaned over to unhook the leash from the chair.  “I suppose you need to go outside, right?”

The dog stood, eyes alert, tail wagging. 

“Yep, I thought so.”  As an afterthought, he grabbed a Frisbee from the top of the pile of dog toys.  “I suppose we should bond, get to know each other, have some fun.”

He couldn’t believe he was talking to a dog.  More than that, he couldn’t believe it when the dog acted like he understood his every word. 

What a beautiful day. Sun kissed his skin.  Cool breeze tossed hair into his eyes.  After maneuvering down the ramp to the walking trail, he released Dude from his leash and watched him sniff around the trees. 

He thought of Hope when he looked to the mountains towering along the edge of the city.  With a grin, he tossed the Frisbee toward her dog as he galloped toward him. 

He began considering all the what-ifs he had denied himself since waking up in the hospital so many months ago. 

Dude dumped the Frisbee in his lap, speckled paws resting on his knees, and waited for the next toss. 

“She didn’t forget about us,” he whispered to the beast.  “She saved my life. More than once.  She’s on her way here now.  I guarantee it.” Dude tilted his head to the side, eyes alive with interest. “I’m kind of a hardass when it comes to training, Dude, so I’m going to let you know that I expect you to be the best Frisbee catcher this side of the Mississippi.  You work hard, I’ll work hard.  Deal?”

Dude spun around in a circle, tail wagging as if agreeing to every word.  

With a laugh, he threw the Frisbee as hard as he could and watched as the dog jumped at least five feet in the air to catch the thing.  He applauded when Dude strutted back with an I-told-you-so kind of look in his oddly colored eyes.  Yep, he was definitely Hope Shane’s dog. 

Chapter Fifteen

“Why didn’t you call us when you knew who you were following and what they were up to?  Hell, why didn’t you call us before you headed out last night, Shane?”  Agent Wulf ranted and paced in the news director’s office.  “Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you’ve unleashed?  Were you even thinking?”  He thumped his fingers against his forehead.  “I should lock you up.”

She tapped her foot in mid-air and gritted her teeth together.  Saying nothing, she watched the agent pace a path in the carpet.  Marion, the news director, shoved his hands through his already unruly white hair.  Devon sat next to her, also silent. 

It had been a helluva day. 

“How’d you lose the tail we had on you?” Agent Wulf asked again.  He slipped off his suit jacket as if preparing for a fight. 

“I’ve instructed Ms. Shane not to answer any questions until we’ve all had some time to talk about this morning’s events.”  The station lawyer commented on her behalf. 

“The other day you were ready to cooperate with us, now what?  You smell another Emmy in your future so you’re holding out?” Agent Wulf’s dark eyes bored into her skull.  “You’re dangerous.  You’re putting everyone around you at risk.”

She flinched at the accusation that always hit too close to home.  She focused on the windows behind him, concentrated on the mid-day traffic going by and the Denver Performing Arts’ Center’s statue of dancing people across the street.  She thought of Michael--thought of her promise to bring him home--and knew she needed to postpone that until she could wrap up this story.  She’d have to disappoint yet another person today. 

“I should arrest you,” Agent Wulf said before turning his focus on Devon.  “Do you have anything at all to add?  How’d you lose the tail?”

Devon shrugged.  “We didn’t.  They left to take Becky Shane McGill home. Don’t you talk to your own people?”

“The station is cooperating,” the lawyer continued.  “If you have questions about the agents who were supposed to be protecting Ms. Shane, then that sounds like an internal FBI matter.  Unless you plan on arresting anyone here today, we have nothing more to say.” 

“You’re in danger, Ms. Shane,” the agent continued as if the lawyer hadn’t spoken.  “You’ve made yourself a target here.  Don’t you have an injured Marine husband to focus your attention on?”

“Leave Michael out of this,” she said after minutes of staying silent.

“He’s in it, though, isn’t he?”  The agent’s eyes perked up as if sensing her weakness.  “We’ll need to protect him, too, if you keep going with this on your own.”

“You’re already following him so aren’t you protecting him, too?” She met his gaze. “I’m leaving now.  You do what you need to do...I’ll do the same.”

She stood without waiting for permission and exited without a backward glance.  The source had called, asked to meet with proof that top law enforcement officials were in on the human trafficking.  The last thing she needed to do was waste more time being lectured by a suit who—if he’d be truthful about it—wanted her to break the rules and kick down the doors he couldn’t. 

As she walked through the busy newsroom, her mind clicked away with the story and what she’d witnessed that morning.  Women were being enslaved, used up to repay a so-called debt to those who got them across the border and Denver had become a hub of the worst kind.  They’d been burned alive like sacks of trash.  There was still a manhunt for the men thought to be hiding in the forest.  She gritted her teeth.  Bastards.  She wished she could hunt them down herself. 

“So now what are we going to do?”  Devon fell into pace beside her.  “You look like you’re about to drop over from exhaustion.  Is Michael still moving in with you tonight?”

She stopped by her desk long enough to grab her things.  Unaccustomed to talking about him as her husband after months of keeping him secret, she stopped in mid-stride and took a deep breath.  “I don’t know what to do about Michael.  We’re supposed to meet Angel tonight in Commerce City.”

“He’ll be safe at your place.  Have McGee stay with him if you’re worried.”  Devon didn’t look too sharp herself.  Dark shadows outlined her eyes, hair tied back with a scarf, and shoulders slumped as if exhaustion pushed down on her.  “I guarantee that we all have feds shadowing our every move so how dangerous can it get from here on out?”

“Dangerous enough.”  Legs felt heavy as she moved toward the door. 

If Michael knew how worried she was about what to do with him, he’d probably go into one of his rants about being a problem, burden or whatever word he could find to justify why they shouldn’t be together.  She needed to tread carefully there until he had his confidence back, until he trusted her fully again.  So, yeah, what to do with Michael was
the
question. 

* * * *

His doctor droned on and on about the limited sensations he was experiencing.  He’d stood on his own and, although he couldn’t take a step and had only stood for about thirty seconds before falling on his ass, everyone was positive that they were moving in the right direction.  He thought they were insane.  Their optimism exhausted him. 

Body aching from the physical therapy in the swimming pool this afternoon, his only thought was being done for the day.  Two hours later he exited his psychiatrist’s office, sick to death of everyone in the New Horizons Institute. 

Mood darkened even more at the sight of Byron Gannon, Callie’s husband, walking through the lobby. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Byron Gannon stopped and looked surprised to see him.  Guilt flashed over his face before the smile slipped into place.  He held up a sheath of papers.

“I’m delivering this to your doctor.  We want your medical records entered into evidence in the custody hearing.”

“You want my what?” 
Oh my God, this is real.
 

“I really didn’t plan on running into you,” Byron said with a dismissive shake of his head.  “Have a good day, Colonel.”

“Get the hell out of here,” he said.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow your orders, Colonel Cedars.” The smile slipped from Byron’s face.  “Have you gotten an attorney yet?  You’re going to need one if you plan on fighting us.”

“I said to get the hell out of here.”  He grabbed Byron’s forearm when the man would have walked past him.  “Now.”

“There is nothing you can do, Cedars.” Byron narrowed his brown eyes before yanking his arm away.  “From what I see and hear, you’ve already given up on your recovery so now is the time to give up this fight, too. Surrender is obviously in your nature.”

“Go to hell.”

“Admit it…you know what’s best for Dalton in the long run and it’s not you. Oh, and the secret is out about your wife.  I know you’re married and I know who she is.  She’s quite the celebrity.  Reckless, though, always in some kind of danger.  Didn’t she get attacked the other night?  Wasn’t she pretty close to some kind of explosion this morning?  Not exactly material for mom of the year.  If you want us to back off, tell her to find a less dangerous profession.  I mean it...make sure she gets the message.”  Byron shook his head before walking toward the doctor’s office. 

He turned the chair around and wheeled toward his room. Fury fueled him. Once inside, he slammed the door shut.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it…” He smacked his fists on the arms of his chair. 

“Bad day, I see,” Hope whispered from across the room. 

He turned and saw her sitting in the corner chair, her dog curled at her feet.  Red hair hung straight and partially over her face.  Dark glasses covered her eyes.  She wore a long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans and boots.  Must be hiding the bruises, he thought.

“About damn time you decide to show up.”  He turned away from her and moved toward the kitchen. His entire being shook with the force of frustration.  He slammed a Coke onto the counter and poured it into a glass filled with ice.

“You look sexy when you’re all fired up,” she said after a prolonged silence. 

“You look like hell.”  He had missed her like crazy.

“Low blow.” 

“I have real life challenges happening here. This is not some game, some easy problem you can fix.”  He glared at her bruised face. “You’re reckless.  One day that’s going to get you killed. Reckless, never thinking of the consequences.  Look at yourself.  Have you even slept in the past forty-eight hours?  I saw you on the news this morning with that van.  How close were you to the explosion anyway?  Too close, right?  What were you thinking?  Not everything in life is about you and your damn job.”

She stood, grabbed the liquor bottle from behind the cactus, opened it and took a shot directly from the bottle. Without meeting his gaze, she added a shot to his glass of soda before stepping around him. 

“I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to drink that, catch your breath, and we’ll begin again.”  She took another swig from the bottle.  “I am not reckless, by the way.  I’m so tired of hearing that listed as one of my characteristics.”


He watched her walk away, wishing he could go up behind her, rip her jeans down and screw her against the wall.  That’s what he needed...a good release for all this frustration. 

Closing his eyes, he remembered doing that exact thing to the exact woman no so long ago, remembered her body moving against his, remembered her leg curving over the back of his thigh, remembered biting her shoulder. Remembered last night.  Her surrender.  The taste of her.