Attracted to Fire (28 page)

The muddy political waters seemed to dredge up opposition against President Hall on a daily basis. The more he worked at unifying the country, the more the media criticized him.

Ash's radio buzzed. “We have four TV networks at the front gate. Looks like the sharks have arrived. An RV for each alphabet station.”

“Let 'em get a taste of dirt in this heat. They won't get near Lindsay.”

By the time Meghan arrived at the gate of the Dancin' Dust on Tuesday night, the area was lit up like a camp revival. So the media had found Lindsay. Who'd leaked the information? Since the ranch belonged to the vice president, that may have been a logical place to search. For nearly five weeks, Lindsay had been tucked away without anyone taking notice. Now, not only were the media leeches looking for a pic or an interview, but the ones who'd been stalking her were alert. Meghan scanned the crowd, searching for signs of someone who might have a bullet with Lindsay's name on it.

As Meghan pulled up to the gate, reporters pushed their way toward her car like flies on cow patties. She ignored the heckles and questions and lowered her window for the agent who manned the gate.

“When did the uninvited guests arrive?”

“This afternoon.”

“If I'd known we were having a party, I'd have brought sweet tea.”

His grin spread from one cheekbone to the other. “I hear the temps will be around 105 tomorrow. That should be interesting, especially from those who're used to air-conditioned offices.”

The agent's remark sounded like something Ash would say. She'd missed him, and after the chat with her mother earlier today, she'd allowed her feelings to sink into her heart. He'd changed so much in his attitude toward her, but a softening and an appreciation for women agents didn't mean their relationship would work. The fear of searing her heart again made her wary.

Ash Zinders, A2Z, the most unlikely man she could ever fall for. Stubborn. Opinionated. A stickler for detail. But that was only the surface. Beneath his rule-book facade was a man capable of great compassion. After he'd confessed his guilt in the death of his friend and how he'd blamed a female agent, his gruffness and prejudice made sense. She hoped someday he was able to deal with the truth.

What had he wanted to ask her? The last time they were together, she sensed he wanted to talk about the two of them. The thought had petrified her. But not now. Logic told her the assignment on the Dancin' Dust needed to be completed before either of them considered the future.

Meghan parked the rental, pulled out her small carry-on, and walked to the back porch. Ash sat on a rocker, his rugged features illuminated by the porch light.

“Are you waiting for me?” She poured lightness into her voice. No doubt he was fuming over the reporters at the front gate.

“Maybe. Not exactly. But it's good to see you.” He joined her at the bottom step, then lifted her carry-on to the porch. “Want to sit and talk for a few minutes?”

Unusual request. “Sure. I saw the party. Do you have any idea who tipped them off?”

“I've speculated on that since they showed up. Maybe Chip found a way to alert the media before he was returned. Or the reporters got smart, considering the ranch is owned by the VP. Anyway, Bob's filling in for me until I get a call.”

While the creak of the rockers matched the mood of the southern skies, she also heard the weariness in his voice. “What else is going on?”

“Another untraceable e-mail.”

She'd hoped Vargas had been behind all the calls or could have told the SS who was paying him off. “Every time they find one player, another turns up.”

“Looks that way. Hey, I'm unloading on you after a funeral. How's your mother?”

“Okay. Mom's tough. She has a strong support system through her church. They won't abandon her.”

“What about you?”

She smiled. “I'm all right. Guess I'm more determined to help Lindsay.”

“I figured so. She's been asking for you.”

“I've been wondering about her. Has she been behaving herself with reporters ready to snap her picture?”

“Oddly enough, she's been withdrawn.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to tell you something. Especially since you heard my . . . confession. So I was waiting for you.”

She studied his face—the face she'd longed to see since leaving her mother. “I'm listening.”

“I took care of things. Even called Annette and apologized.”

The stress of the funeral and Ash's news caused her to swallow hard. “Wonderful. How do you feel?”

“Relieved.” He chuckled. “Do you suppose Warrington will believe I've eased up on my attitude toward women agents?”

“Probably not.”

He sobered, and she wondered what else was on his mind. “The days were lonely while you were gone.”

Meghan's heart did a flip. Had she heard correctly? “That's sweet of you.”

He leaned closer. “I don't have a sweet bone in me. But I can try to be a decent guy.”

“The other agents will appreciate the change.” She gripped the sides of the rocker. “Is this a confession or a promise?”

“How about both? And I'm referring to you.” His whisper blended with the insects' chorus.

“Ash, do you know what you're saying?”

He stiffened. Maybe she had heard wrong. Her emotions had been worn thin today.

“I do. Been thinking about it since you left.” He caught her gaze and refused to let go. “Some things about me—my analytical nature, my concern for those on my team, Lindsay—won't ever change. It's who I am. I'm dripping in responsibility and perfectionism. Can you handle that?”

What could she say? With the critical issues surrounding this assignment, the threats to Lindsay's life, and her struggle with drugs and alcohol, how could they discuss a relationship? Meghan wanted to see if she and Ash had a chance for happiness, but she feared it just the same. “Have you thought about how we might kill each other? I mean we're both so stubborn, independent, competitive . . .”

He touched her arm. “I like the challenge.”

“What about your rule book?”

“I rewrote a few paragraphs.”

She attempted to slow her pulse, while everything about her was conscious of his hand on her tingling flesh. “What about the promotion?”

“The Shield will choose the agent best suited for the job.”

She leaned back against the rocker and stared out into the dark pasture—black except for agents guarding the ranch. “I wish I had night goggles.”

“Why?”

“So I could see where this is going.”

“Impossible. But we can take it slow. See if it works. Pray about it.”

He was saying all the right things. She didn't want to think their remote location might be why he'd approached her. Her feelings were deep, and they'd be the same if their assignment were in the middle of DC.

“Meghan—” he cupped her chin and turned her face to his gaze—“don't you think I've turned this situation inside out? The joke's on me. A2Z is admitting he needs a woman in his life. Can you give me a chance?”

She wanted to. A lump rose in her throat. Now was not the time to cry. She felt vulnerable enough without adding tears to the mix. She needed time to think about Ash's words. Today had been filled with too much emotion for her to make a logical decision.

The door slammed behind her, and her attention flew to whoever had caught them . . . talking.

“Hey, Victor.” Ash's hand slipped from her chin, and he scooted back into his chair.

“Hi, Victor.” Meghan wanted to wipe the smirk off his cute little face.

“Thought I'd get some fresh air. But I see I'm interrupting. Must be a serious development.” Victor grinned at Meghan. “Pepper said you were back. Thought I'd check for myself.”

“I am.” She stood. “Guess I'll put my things away and say hi to Lindsay.”

“Don't let me break up a cozy conversation.”

“Very funny.” Ash's dry tone didn't miss Meghan.

How many years had it been since she'd sensed heat flooding her neck and face?

“Must be hotter out here than I thought.” Victor shrugged. “Both of you are red-faced.”

“No one's laughing.” Ash's tone lowered.

“You're right. Looks like I need to step back inside.”

Meghan reached for her carry-on. “And to think I missed you, Victor.”

He laughed, but she refused to linger and fall prey to another of his comments.

“Seriously, I'm sorry about your sister.” Victor opened the door. “Good to have you back. Lindsay's watching one of her classic movies, but I don't think she's paying attention. About an hour ago, she had a good cry. Dave couldn't get a thing out of her.”

“I'll check on her now.”

Meghan's mind and heart seemed to be filled with more than she could handle.

Chapter 45

Meghan eased onto the sofa beside Lindsay. “What are we watching tonight?”

“
Adam's Rib
, Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy.” She didn't make eye contact with Meghan. “It's one of my favorites.”

“You say that about every Hepburn and Tracy film.”

Lindsay turned to her and smiled. “I guess I do. I've never seen so many movies in my life. But it helps pass the hours.” Her shoulders slumped, and she paused the movie. “I'm sorry about your sister. Didn't know about her death until you left.”

“Thank you. How have you been?”

“Sad. Worried.”

“Can I help?”

Lindsay sighed. “I sound selfish after what you've just gone through. Dave's tried. So did Carla. But my problems go far deeper than any of you could reach.”

“Have you tried God?”

“I'm sorry. The God thing isn't for me.”

Meghan tossed around what she could say at this point. Shelley had resented mentions of faith too. “I've been praying for you.”

“Now it's my turn to thank you. What's . . . what's going to change now that the media have found us?”

“I have no idea.”

“Do you know anything more about my dad's meeting at Camp David with Uncle Scottard?”

“I'm blank there, too.”

“I heard the Middle East Peace Summit may be postponed until January. But I never believe what I hear on the news.”

Smart girl. “Once I learn something, I'll let you know.”

“I missed you.” Lindsay resumed the movie. Her face looked like a mask of emotional battle scars. And her response to the president and VP's disagreement was natural. Perhaps Lindsay simply needed more time to fight the dark cloud of depression. She'd been clean for over five weeks, and they'd all be at the Dancin' Dust for at least five more. Lots of hours for Lindsay to work through the problems tormenting her life.

If only Shelley had stayed at the rehab . . .

Today had been difficult. Memories of Shelley and all the efforts made to help her shake the drugs had stalked Meghan all the way back from Abilene. Seeing Lindsay struggle for coping skills with similar issues was tough. Then Ash's request.

Her cell phone rang. No ID registered. Probably a wrong number, but she answered it anyway.

“Shelley's death was no accident,” a man's muffled voice said.

Meghan sensed the blood draining from her face. “What do you mean?”

“Lindsay is poison to all of you.”

The call disconnected.

Still sitting on the back porch, Ash analyzed every word he'd spoken to Meghan, regretting Victor's interruption before he could get an answer. His cell rang, and he noted it was Warrington.

“We don't know who tipped off the media about your protectee's location, but we think it was simply by deduction.”

“I figured that. Only a matter of time.”

“Any problems?”

“Not any more than expected. The agents have the situation in hand.”