Attracted to Fire (5 page)

“That'll work. He's a friendly guy.”

Ash reached out to shake his hand. Ethan gripped it, his calluses rubbing against Ash's grind of paperwork and computer keys. “I hear you have a garden.”

“Got a hankerin' for a fresh tomato?”

“I do.”

“Be glad to show you, and help yourself anytime. Cucumbers and bell peppers are good this year. So are the beans and corn. Wash 'em good. I use organic gardening techniques, but I believe in giving them a good bath. We got plenty. See those flower bushes over there?” Ethan pointed toward a pink flowering bush. “Since you're a city boy, I'll give you a bit of advice. Like you said, no one's ever too old for a warning. Everything about the oleander bush is poison. Just stay away. If you want to pick flowers, choose another kind. The ones at the front end of the garden are good for impressing a lady.”

“Thanks. I'll remember that.”

“And watch for snakes.” Ethan laughed, but Ash didn't find a single word of it amusing.

Chapter 5

Once again Lindsay was at her parents' home. She lay awake and listened to the gentle sound of country music flowing from her iPod. In her private moments, she often switched from hard rock to the tunes she loved—the sounds that stirred her heart and allowed her to live out her fantasies in a world where love was the most important part of a person's life.

Fortunately, the iPod had been in her purse when Daddy had his men pick her up from her apartment. He hadn't been too happy about her appearance on
The Barry Knight Show
. She'd been high and hadn't been able to string enough thoughts together about what happened in front of the cameras and later at her apartment.

The song changed to an old George Strait tune. Not at all what her crowd expected from Lindsay Hall's music preference. While the twang of a guitar soothed the emptiness, Lindsay allowed a tear to slip from her eye. Only one—that's all she could spare. Her choices had destroyed any dreams to have the life she longed to live.

Was anyone interested in understanding who Lindsay Hall was? Certainly no one who mattered. She'd done a good job of alienating those who might call her friend . . . or sister . . . or daughter.

Sleep—if only she could sleep and forget. Instead, her head pounded like the drums from last weekend's party. Had it been that long since she'd partied with her friends?

She needed to get to an ATM machine and hoped Daddy hadn't cut her off again. She couldn't go to him for money right now. Seeing the pain in his eyes brought on the guilt and disgust for her behavior. She already knew the scenario. They'd argue, and she'd let him know how much she hated him. Then he'd give in, and she'd slip back to her apartment.

What time was it anyway?

“Honey, do you want a glass of water?”

Someone touched Lindsay's arm, and her eyes popped open to see her mother in a chair next to her bed. Lindsay pulled out her earbuds and cursed. “How long have you been here?”

“About a half hour. You were asleep, and I didn't want to wake you.” Mom picked up Lindsay's hand, but she jerked it back.

“I want to be left alone.” She closed her eyes and fought the sickness churning her stomach.

“We don't think you should be left alone right now.” Lindsay envisioned Mom's pale face and faint smile. She'd swallow to hold back the tears. Always in control. Perfectly poised for the public. Lindsay wanted to gag.

“Get a life, Mom. This is who I am.” Sweat dripped into her eyes, intensifying the pain behind them, as though someone twisted an ice pick. “Are you afraid I'll do myself in and ruin Daddy's election plans?” Lindsay wanted to spout every spiteful word she could think of. “Oh, wait a minute. I've already done a good job of lowering his ratings. I'm sure you caught
The Barry Knight Show
. How did you like the part about Daddy beating me? The tears caused the show's ratings to skyrocket.” She did remember that segment.

“You know he never touched you.”

“The alphabet stations believe he did.”

“That wasn't really you.”

“
The Barry Knight Show
wants me back.”

“Why do you do these things?”

“You know, a suicide would prove me right and end the spotlight for the vice prez and his lovely wife, Alexa.”

“You don't really want to hurt yourself.”

Lindsay licked her dry lips. “Of course I do. In case you didn't get my text, I despise both of you. If you can't give me the money I need to survive, then I have no use for either of you. I want to be taken home.”

“We'll not support your addictive behaviors.”

“What I need is a hit of coke or a pitcher of margaritas. You can choose. Maybe join me. Might loosen you up.”

Mom gasped. “I've had enough, Lindsay. Drugs have taken over your mind. Poisoned you against your family.”

Lindsay opened her eyes, hoping her glare showed her contempt. “Am I demonic? Is that what you're saying? Perhaps an exorcism would make me the obedient daughter.”

“Don't you want to stop the addiction? Get clean? Feel like a normal human?”

“Whatever.” Lindsay fought the pain now radiating to the base of her skull. “Why would I ever want to stop? You've read the books. I'm self-medicating to avoid my inner turmoil.”

“How many trips to rehab is it going to take?”

Couldn't the woman talk without asking one miserable question after another? No wonder Lindsay's head hurt. “Stop the pathetic intervention. I'll stop when I'm dead.”

“Maybe that's what it'll take. You certainly have the role models for it.”

Ah, the superior tone in her voice. “Oh, now it's reverse psychology. Are you thinking an overdose will actually help Daddy's career? I admit sympathy is a good platform. You could fake your grieving—
People
magazine,
USA Today
, even
Time
would want an exclusive. Too bad I'd miss the photo shoot.”

Mom stood. “Forcing our hand is not good. We love you, and—”

“Get out.” What did she have to live for anyway? “Don't try another rehab. I know how to answer the questions and make all the promises. I'm a master at it.”

Mom picked up Lindsay's cell phone from the nightstand.

“Hey, Alexa. You have no right to take that.” Lindsay bolted upright in the bed, the pain staggering, blinding her.

“Yes, I do when your father pays for it.” Mom headed to the door and turned on her heel. “I love you, but I will not stand by and watch you destroy yourself.”

“You forgot the part about Daddy's future.”

“We'd leave all of that behind today if we thought it would make a difference.”

“Get out.” She couldn't go on like this much longer. The money. The threats. They'd all be better off if she were dead.

Chapter 6

Since Tuesday, Meghan and the team had worked nonstop to secure the ranch. Although Lindsay Hall did not have priority status, her position had risen from a VP's rebellious daughter, needing drug intervention, to a critical situation. The security measures were in place to protect her from whoever had decided to end her life.

As dawn crept across the horizon and Meghan pushed her body into the fifth mile along the dirt road lining the Dancin' Dust, thoughts about Lindsay occupied her mind. For now, the front gate remained unlocked while she ran, but that would change once their protectee arrived.

Lindsay must be under lock and key in DC because the media were scrambling for news. Each network gave its own version of what might be happening, feeding from past reports about Lindsay's previous behavior. FOX speculated that she'd been admitted into a small rehab near Seattle. ABC reported she'd been seen at a resort in the Catskills. CBS claimed to have spotted her at a treatment center in Switzerland, and NBC still gloated over Barry Knight's interview.

Every member of the team on the Dancin' Dust had become restless. Like Meghan, they craved a change from the long, quiet days.

Rounding the path that led past the stables and to the house, she smelled ranch life—wildflowers and a downwind of manure. Ethan and Chip exited the stables, both walking quarter horses. Right on time. They must set their clocks to when her run ended. What else had they observed while the agents prepared for Lindsay?

Close to Ethan's left heel trotted their terrier, a friendly dog with a mostly brown face and ears and a healthy white coat. He answered to the name of Chesney. Meghan cast an admiring glance at the horses. Both mares were a copper color, sleek and white-faced.

“Hey, little lady.” Ethan grinned and Chip waved.

“Mornin'.” She slowed to a walk, perspiration dripping from every inch of her. She pulled the earbuds from her ears.

“Need a bottle of water?” Chip's gaze swept from her head to her running shoes, a little too admiringly. The two men had sparkling green eyes and sandy-colored hair. “Got one right here.” He held up a bottle.

“My drink of choice.” She took it. “I finished mine on the fourth mile.”

“Bet you don't have a thing on that iPod.” Chip laughed.

He'd been watching too many crime shows. “Are you kidding? Run in this heat without a beat?”

“If I had your job, every part of me would be trained to the surroundings.”

“Everyone needs a break.” She gestured around her. “This ranch is breathtaking. A great place to relax. No wonder Mr. Burnette steals away whenever he can.”

Chip nodded. “It's home. Hey, I have coffee, too. Won't take a minute to get you a cup.”

“No, thanks. I need to cool off a little first.”

“What's your Secret Service expertise?”

She laughed. “Running. And I'm the token woman.”

“They picked the best-looking agent I've ever seen.”

Poor Chip. He must be in between girlfriends. A man with those eyes and thick hair probably had the girls beating down his door. But not while the Secret Service guarded the ranch.

Lindsay would use him for sure.
Click. Store that data.

Meghan twisted off the lid of the water bottle and drank deeply. “You're great company, guys, but I have to get cleaned up.” She toasted the house with the bottle. “Coffee is about the only thing Pepper doesn't lace with jalapeños.”

Ethan shook his head. “Don't I know it.” She gave him her attention, a little safer on the eyes than his too-good-looking son. “God love her, but she gave me an ulcer one summer when Mr. Burnette's sister came with her daughters. That's why we do our own cooking.”

“I might sneak to your place when she's not paying attention.”

“But not A2Z.” Ethan cocked a brow. “Can't quite figure him out yet.”

“He has a job to do, and he's particular. Where did you hear his nickname?”

“Chip told me, but all you have to do is listen.” Ethan nodded toward the back porch. “In about two minutes, he'll stick his head out the door and check to see if you might be late for your shift.”

“Guess I shouldn't give him an opportunity to write me up.” She patted Ethan's mare. What else had the Leonards heard? “I used to barrel race with a beauty like this one.”

“Where you from? You got time to talk. You're earlier than other mornings, and he ain't looking yet.”

“Little east of Abilene.”

“I knew it.” Ethan slapped his thigh. “No gal as pretty and as friendly as you could be from anywhere but Texas. Welcome home, Meggie.”

How did he know her family nickname?
Click.

While the shadows of evening enveloped the Dancin' Dust, Ash watched Meghan interact with Wade and Victor in the living room. Pepper had popped corn and joined them for a movie. Until Lindsay arrived, their schedules were flexible, which allowed the team to form a bond and build on each other's strengths and understand their weaknesses.

Meghan kept a professional stance. Not even a glance with a sexual connotation. For three days, she'd done her job. She took his hassle and appeared unaffected, and she usually had a comeback of her own. Nailed him more than once. Not bad to look at either. Maybe a hint of admiration had seeped into his concrete heart.

When had he started referring to her as Meghan?

He startled, not visibly, but enough to shake him. Women agents didn't belong in the ranks. He knew what could happen.

“I need a full report in five minutes. All of you have done more than what is needed for a VP's daughter, but we all know the potential problems if we relax.”

“The installer will be here tomorrow to finish rewiring the alarm system.” Meghan handed him a printout of the work order. “He'll be here at eight.”

“Good. Wade, is Ethan Leonard cooperating any better?”

“He likes horses, baseball, and Jesus.”

Ash's phone rang. It was Warrington.

“We need to transport Lindsay tonight. She'll be there in about six and a half hours. Dr. Sanchez and his nurse will be accompanying her, along with the vice president and his wife.”