Attracted to Fire (24 page)

“Scottard Burnette called earlier,” Ash said. “He's grieving Ethan's death. Plans to be here for the funeral on Thursday. Chip will attend too. The Dancin' Dust will be a busy place.”

“I don't imagine I'll be going to the funeral.” Lindsay's voice had suddenly taken a cold turn. “No point in sending whoever's after me an invitation.”

“I understand. You can visit with Mr. Burnette afterward. He said he was looking forward to seeing you.”

Lindsay stiffened. “He can look all he wants. I'll be in my room with the door locked.”

Thursday at 1300, Meghan stood on the front porch and watched the extended-cab pickup drive through the gate of the Dancin' Dust with Scottard Burnette, Ash, and Victor. The three had attended Ethan's funeral and were returning for lunch.

Pepper had been scurrying about making sure she had Mr. Burnette's favorite shrimp diablo. She'd even persuaded the new ranch hand, Luke Skinner, to help her pick and shuck corn. Luke worked hard with little to say and lived in the area. He'd been employed by Mr. Burnette in the past.

Meghan's attention rested on the helicopter pad. The moment Burnette landed this morning, Lindsay had headed to her room.

“Tell him I'm sick.” Her statement seemed skewed with her remarks earlier in the week. Instead of refusing to see him, she voiced an excuse.

One day Meghan intended to find out why Lindsay rejected the love of those who cared for her the most.

Mr. Burnette entered the house and greeted each person, giving Pepper a hug. He turned to Dave and shook his hand. “Is my Lindsay-girl still feeling bad?”

“I'm afraid so, sir.”

“Surely she's not so ill that she can't see her Uncle Scottard?”

“Unfortunately, she's in bed, sir. Some days are good, and some are more traumatic. Withdrawals can be devastating, and she's grieving Ethan's death.”

Dave was stretching the truth for Lindsay's sake. She must have given him a good reason not to see the press secretary.

“Does she still have hallucinations? The president is deeply concerned about those.”

Dave nodded. “They're not as recurring.”

Mr. Burnette stared at the staircase. “I think I'll just go on upstairs and knock on her door. If she's awake, I'm sure she'll see me.”

Meghan started to protest, but Dave seemed to have the matter under control.

“I doubt it, sir.”

Mr. Burnette snapped his attention to Dave. “Why's that?”

The tension could have been cut with a machete.

“She feels that it would be unfair to see you before she has an opportunity to have reconciliation with her parents.”

“This is my ranch.”

“And the president said I was in charge of her rehabilitation.”

Good going, Dave. Stand up for your principles.

Mr. Burnette's eyes widened, and he poked his glasses onto his nose. His face reddened. “That's a step in the right direction for Lindsay. Not sure when the last time was that she thought about someone other than herself. So she must be making progress.”

“Definitely. The treatment has made great strides.”

“I've read your last report to the president, but I had difficulty believing you were getting through to her. Riding horses. Reading. Watching old movies. Taking an interest in news. It's a miracle.” He reached out to shake Dave's hand again. “Congratulations. I just wish I'd heard the good news directly from her. More of a celebration instead of Ethan's funeral.”

“We all wish that, sir.”

“Ethan will be sorely missed. Knew every square inch of this land. I'd like to get Chip back here as soon as possible. He isn't any more involved with the drug dealer out to get Lindsay or the one who murdered Wade than I am. Until I can get Chip back on the Dancin' Dust, Luke will do an excellent job. Ethan introduced him to me a couple of years ago. Still, it's not the same. Never will be.” He took a deep breath and smiled at Meghan. “I hope your role has been pleasant.”

“It has, sir.”

He chuckled. “How many times has she slapped you?”

Meghan didn't find his comment appropriate, but she kept her sentiments to herself. “None, sir.”
He shook his head. “Maybe I need some of those vitamins and fresh country air. You know, Agent Connors, I asked Ash on the way back from the funeral if he was keeping his hands to himself. Being stuck out here day after day with a pretty woman like you would drive me crazy. The nights here can be long and lonely.” He laughed again.

Heat rose up Meghan's neck and face. The Dancin' Dust may be Burnette's ranch, and he might feel relaxed in his own home, but he needed a few manners. Beginning now. Not that she hadn't heard those types of remarks before, but she expected more professionalism from a high government official.

“Excuse me, sir. I need to relieve Bob so he has an opportunity to say hello to you.” She forced a smile and walked past him to the stairway. Meghan caught Ash's attention, and he lifted his chin. For a moment, fury swept across his features.

Thank you, Ash.

Was Scottard Burnette's rude behavior typical when he wasn't with the president?

“I need to talk to my Pepper. Best cook this side of the Mason-Dixon Line.”

As if on cue, she stepped into the living area. “I have lunch ready, but if you'd like to have a word with me first, I'm available.”

Burnette walked across the room and embraced her again. “Do you have my favorite peach pudding pie for dessert?”

“I do.”

“Shall we break into the liquor cabinet and give Ethan the send-off he deserves?”

Pepper's laughter rang throughout the room. “Sounds like a great idea.”

Meghan clenched her jaw to keep from expressing how she felt about Burnette going against the president's orders by consuming alcohol while Lindsay was at the ranch. At least she was upstairs. She glanced at Ash, whose face held the same disgust as her own.

For that matter, Ethan Leonard didn't drink.

Chapter 38

Ash stood near the helipad and waved at Burnette. Once the helicopter took flight, he walked back to the house.

His first mission was to apologize to Meghan. Burnette's derogatory remark about her had angered him while driving back from the funeral, but he never thought the president's press secretary would repeat it. Ash should have said something then. In the past, Burnette had been in the presence of the president, and his impeccable manners were one of the things Ash had admired. Until today.

Pepper lingered with them, her spiked, white hair glistening in the sun. “Wonderful man. I'm proud to be working for him. Plus he likes my cooking.”

“I still think he has a cast-iron stomach.”

“You're just not a good ol' boy from the South. Now, I have a mess to clean up.” She hurried on ahead.

Ash glanced at his watch. He turned his attention to Victor, Rick, and Trey. “I need to talk to Meghan before I meet with you in the operation room. Victor, would you check on the latest in DC? I won't be long.”

Once inside, Ash made his way up the stairs. He'd realized something this afternoon that had emotionally toppled him. Not sure if he knew what to do about it, but the awareness, the understanding, scared him. He needed time to think about what this meant to his well-oiled, detailed life and his career.

When he didn't find Meghan outside Lindsay's room, he knocked on the door. “Meghan, this is Ash. Do you have a minute?”

The lock clicked from behind the door. Lindsay had been serious about avoiding Burnette. In Ash's opinion, her absence from lunch was a good thing, considering the patronizing attitude Burnette had toward their protectee—and the alcohol. He and Pepper were the only ones who indulged. The door opened, and the female agent who had upset his world smiled.

“Yes?”

“Can I talk to you for a few minutes?” He saw the hallway was empty. “Out here is fine.”

She closed the door behind her and faced him. She'd changed from business dress to jeans and a light green top that looked really great with her red hair. Everything about her looked exceptional.

“I want to apologize for what Burnette said to you.”

She pressed her lips—lips he remembered kissing. “It's not the first time a comment like that has been made about a female agent.”

“Well, I don't approve.”

She tilted her head as though trying to figure him out. “But you don't believe in women agents.”

Now how did he get out of this one? “I basically don't. But you're a part of my team, and therein lies the difference. You're a good agent, professional 100 percent.”

“Thank you, and I appreciate the apology. Although it wasn't needed.”

He swallowed, wishing his feelings would find a comfortable place to light. “I don't think you or Lindsay got any lunch.”

“We didn't, and we're both starved.”

“The coast is clear, so you'd better grab some food before Pepper puts it all away.”

With her head still tilted, she laughed softly. “You know, Ash, you're a decent guy, despite all the stories about you.”

“Don't repeat that. I like the tough-guy reputation.”

She touched his arm, and Lindsay's bedroom door opened. Meghan whipped back her hand.

“Watch it, you two. I saw that. Want to hear my predictions?”

“Absolutely not,” Meghan said. “Hey, Lindsay, let's go get something to eat.”

Lindsay giggled, but neither Ash nor Meghan joined in.

Downstairs, Ash entered the operation room, shaking off his response to Meghan's touch. He needed to focus on updating himself with the happenings in DC. He slid into a chair and typed in his password. He turned to Victor.

“Note anything out of the ordinary?”

“Media are questioning how the new president will be able to handle domestic affairs and continue his work with foreign policy, especially with the October Middle East Peace Summit.”

“Good question. He was committed to bringing Arab countries and the Western world to the peace table. Any word from the White House?”

“Not yet. But with Burnette here for the funeral, kinda hard to make a statement.”

Ash clicked into Lindsay's personal e-mail, a daily habit. Nothing suspicious had been sent to her account for days—that is, nothing he couldn't trace for legitimacy.

But today was different.

Hey, Lindsay,

I've missed you at the parties, and you're not keeping in touch with your friends. Just in case you've forgotten, I know your location. Did you think I was kidding before? Too bad about the murdered agent. But I wanted you to see that I'm serious. I need to talk to you before something else happens to another one of those prized Secret Service agents assigned to you. You know how to contact me.

Ash studied the message. This one, like the others, didn't have the typical twenties-crowd lingo. An attempt here and there, but the sender probably wasn't her age, or English was a second language. The drug cartel had decided to come out of their hole again. He sent a tracer and waited. Another e-mail came in for her.

Hey, Lindsay,

The Secret Service and all of their buds can look all they want, but they won't find me.

Give in and let's get together. We could have as much fun as in the old days. Glad to hear you're not saddled with Ash, the ass, like in DC. So a woman has taken his spot. She's a looker. Could go for her myself, but I like your body curled up next to mine. When can I see you? You don't need e-mail to get in touch.

Ash noted neither e-mail could be traced. “Looks like our stalker is on the loose again.”

Victor frowned. “Another e-mail?”

“Two, and he's getting bolder. Take a look at this. What do you think?” Ash slowly rose to his feet and stared out at the pool while Victor evaluated the message.

The writer said Lindsay didn't need e-mail to contact him. Did she have a phone stashed away? If not, that meant someone at the Dancin' Dust had direct contact with the stalker.

When Ash sent a response, the message came back undeliverable.

Chapter 39

Lindsay used the many hours of the next week to read, watch her treasured classic movies, horseback ride, walk, and write the songs of her heart. No longer did she worry about someone criticizing her words or the melody, because those around her supported her. Some of the agents did so out of duty, but others like Meghan, Victor, Bob, and Ash were genuine. She could see it in their eyes. Almost like family—the family she'd always wanted.

Cravings for alcohol and cocaine haunted her, but she found the longer she stayed with Dave's treatment plan, the easier it became. She desperately wanted to stay clean, but the demon might have other plans. For certain, the last few years had her dangling from marionette strings.

Just when she felt courageous enough to escape the nightmare, the memories emerged along with the threats. What she knew trapped her more than the four walls that supposedly kept her predators away.