Attracted to Fire (9 page)

“But a murder attempt is out of her control. From what little I've seen, Lindsay must be in control of everything around her. I know that doesn't make sense when she uses drugs and alcohol to escape her problems. But again, she chooses those methods.”

Ash had heard a similar thought from Alexa Hall. “Then why isn't she helping the authorities track down this guy?”

“Maybe she doesn't think she's worth saving.”

“You're contradicting yourself.”

“Drug addicts don't make sense.”

“Sounds like firsthand information.” Ash stared at the navy-blue sky. Clouds had rolled in, casting an ominous aura across the sky along with decidedly lower temperatures.

“Maybe it is,” Meghan said. Ash looked at her, but she was watching the sky. “What if she has no idea who this guy is?”

Ash pointed to a greenish-black area to the west of them. “Then we have more trouble than the storm headed this way.”

Chapter 11

Early Sunday morning before her shift, Meghan read Chip Leonard's background check for the third time. Although those who were trained to track down killers were working nonstop to find who had threatened Lindsay, that didn't deter her from investigating every angle.

Chip had cleared the Secret Service radar, but not to her satisfaction, and she intended to find out the source of her doubts. Something didn't ring true about a man with an MA in statistics leaving a lucrative job in Dallas to help his dad breed and train horses. He was twenty-eight years old. No wife or kids. His dad was fit, and Meghan had Ethan's latest medical checkup in front of her. That ruled out responsibility to an ailing father. Chip had never been in trouble. Had no questionable ties to any of Homeland Security's blacklisted organizations, and he was extremely intelligent. The latter picked at her like a pesky mosquito. Wasn't he bored living out in the middle of nowhere with only his father and horses for company?

Ethan Leonard swore allegiance to Jesus, Texas, and the Republican Party in that order. He'd buried his wife ten years ago after a long battle with breast cancer. Chip came to live with him about the same time the VP took office. That could be a coincidence or part of strategic planning. She'd ask Ash and the team about a possible link. If her theory proved true, Chip had the advantage of keeping an eye on Scottard Burnette and any of his high-ranking political guests. The idea Chip might have overheard some of the agents' conversations surfaced again. Did he have a listening device tucked away beneath his belt buckle?

Thunder cracked across a dark sky, and she jumped. Another storm increased the likelihood of Ash threatening to send them to the storm cellar again. He knew nothing about Texas twisters. Yesterday afternoon's light and sound show was a baby kicking its feet.

“Chip a puzzle for you, too?” She hadn't heard Ash enter the room, and now he stood behind her. Dangerously close for a woman who found him attractive.

“He's no hayseed, and he's watching every move we make.”

“What do you think motivates him to live here and work so hard?”

Ash's interest in her thoughts was a rarity, but she'd play along. After all, yesterday he'd talked to her like a real human being. “Curiosity. Maybe boredom with the normal routine. But a smart man can only be stimulated for so long before he starts looking for other means to occupy his time.”

“My concern too.”

“I'd like to find out why he really gave up a prestigious career for mucking out stalls.”

“Mucking?”

“Shoveling manure.” Meghan bit back a grin. Ash needed a fast-track course in ranch life.

“According to Wade, Chip said he was finished with the fast-paced life.”

“What does Wade make of it?”

“Thinks he's the real thing.”

Meghan's skepticism remained intact, but she could be wrong. “He knows when I run in the mornings and my path, which I change every day. And he knows the moment you'll stick your head out the door to check on me, and he picks up on the agents' conversations.”

“I wasn't exactly checking on your running status.” Ash rubbed his forehead. “Give me some examples.”

“Sunshine. The Shield. The status of the front gate's camera. President Claredon's current health status. And his dad calls me by a name only my dad used. Of course, that could be nothing.” Meghan drummed her fingers against the tabletop. “It's as though he has all of us bugged. He could be simply perceptive, but I'd like to be sure.” She omitted the time Ethan referred to Ash as A2Z. No point going there.

“I'll talk to the agents, but those men are trained to keep information confidential.” He frowned. “My team doesn't step out of protocol.”

“My point.” Meghan scrutinized the lines on Ash's face that she'd quickly learned to interpret as the way he conducted his thought process. “I've heard stories about men abandoning their careers to get back to nature, but those men had families—a deep-rooted need to raise their kids away from city life. Chip's a statistician. I want to know why he gave up a hundred and fifty grand a year for room and board out in the middle of nowhere. I know our profession boasts of 70-percent accuracy in detecting lies, but I honestly can't tell with him, and it's driving me crazy. All I have to go on is his unusual background.”

“Meghan, he talks to you as much as he does to Wade. Chip's job here doesn't offer mental stimulation, unless other things are occupying his mind. Why don't you see if he'll open up?”

“I think I will. He's expressed interest, but I don't want him to think we're using him.”

“Keep on it.”

“The Leonards have invited me to dinner a few times. I'll see if the invitation is still open.”

“Take it slow. I know you grew up with people like this.”

She laughed. “Do you mean rednecks?”

“I didn't mean you.”

“They are country people—hardworking, respect traditional values, and fiercely patriotic. But back to me talking to Chip, I'll report in tonight if I learn anything.”

“Thanks. I tell you this: sticking around here with all the goings-on in DC is making me antsy.”

“What happens when Lindsay discovers Chip? My guess is it will open a can of worms.”

Ash paced the room. “You can count on it. I've seen her in action, and she could charm an Uzi from a terrorist. Wade's warned Chip about her. But she won't view him as off-limits. It'll take him telling her he's not interested and sticking to it.”

A jagged flash of lightning broke the horizon. “They need to find this stalker so we can get back to DC. Dave can treat Lindsay there, and we can get back to real living. Last night's storms were the only excitement we've seen since we got here, and it's been a week.”

Most of the time, Meghan found the ranch refreshing, a time to reconnect with her roots. But Ash acted like a caged animal. “Did you get much sleep, sir?”

He shook his head. “Between thinking about the bombing and the storms, I might have gotten three hours. By the way, I don't want Lindsay to know about her car. Dr. Sanchez actually agrees with me on that one.”

At the sound of his voice's low timbre, she was drawn to him in a peculiar sort of way. “I'm going to grab a bottle of water and visit a few minutes with the Leonards.”

“Be my guest. Considering my indigestion from Pepper's meals, I'd be tempted to join you.”

They laughed, and she sensed the walls crumbling between them. “I hope I'm not being unrealistic by hoping Lindsay will come to her senses. She'll always struggle with addictive behaviors, but I'd like to see her come out on top.”

“Hope is what keeps us alive.”

“A good topic for a sermon.”

He strode to the window as another jagged path lit the sky. “Been weeks since I've been to church. God's probably erased me from the roll.”

“Oh, He knows where you are.”

“That, Agent Connors, is what keeps me going.” He lifted a brow and grinned. “So what's your nickname?”

“Not on your life. Might be used against me.” Meghan turned her attention to the computer and lowered the laptop lid. She'd ponder Ash's spiritual life later, but she did feel better knowing he acknowledged God.

“I'll find out. Nicknames are my specialty.”

“You don't want to go there.”

“Ouch, Agent Connors. Do you mean I have one?”

She left the room before he had another comment. Nice guy when he wanted to be.

Ash worked through to midmorning, searching restricted government sites for any clue leading to who and why the chaos in DC persisted. He resented the implication that the Secret Service was inept and hadn't been able to find those responsible for bombing Lindsay's car and sending untraceable e-mails.

He stood and gazed out at the gray sky. Matched his mood. He needed a Diet Coke to help him through the next couple of hours. Hopefully, he could sneak into the kitchen and Pepper would be gone. When he opened the operation door that led to the kitchen, silence greeted him. Normally, she had country music playing. He couldn't resist a grin, as though he'd completed a successful clandestine mission. The moment he rounded the corner, he spotted her drinking a glass of red wine. The bottle rested on the counter.

Ash struggled to contain his anger. The many times he'd seen Lindsay drunk added fuel to his fury. “Why are you drinking?”

She arched a brow and huffed. “Because I want to.”

“You heard what the vice president said—no alcoholic beverages were to be consumed. I repeated the order the first morning at breakfast.”

“This is medicinal, sir.” Condescension dripped from her words. “It helps me endure the distasteful parts of my day.”

Ash picked up the bottle and poured its contents down the drain. “It's your turn. Get rid of it. Now. Per the vice president's orders.”

“I take my orders from Scottard Burnette.”

Ash wished he had the authority to fire her. He'd be content to live on peanut butter and jelly for the next six months. “Scottard Burnette takes his direction from Vice President Hall. I'm going to ask you one more time to pour out that wine.”

“And if I don't?”

“Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“Why do you have to use your authority to shove everybody around like you own the place? What I drink from my own supply in my room is my business.”

Ash stared at her. How could one woman be so self-centered? “Lindsay is an alcoholic. She's trying to get sober and clean. The drugs and alcohol will kill her if she isn't able to beat them. If she sees you drinking, she'll search the kitchen until she finds it.”

She blew out a sigh. “All right. Have it your way.” She dumped the contents of her glass down the sink.

“Could we make an effort to get along?”

“Maybe.” She grabbed her garden basket. “You remind me too much of my husband. He always had to have his nose in everything I did. I resented it then, and I do now.”

No wonder the man died of a heart attack.

Chapter 12

Meghan took a sip of her water and walked into the stables. The scent of fresh hay and horses brought back memories of a simpler time when she was living at home and her family felt normal. Those were the good days when the most traumatic event centered on taking second in a barrel race instead of first. The perfectionism still reigned.

The broken engagement bothered her, not so much for her own sake but for disappointing Mom. The dear woman had looked forward to a Christmas wedding, and she had enough grief with Shelley. Someday, Mom would have that son-in-law of her dreams and grandbabies to spoil. Probably in about a hundred years. And probably not from Meghan.

She walked across the concrete floor, swept cleaner than her mother's kitchen, and grasped the depth of the Leonards' dedication to keeping Burnette's ranch running smoothly. The thoroughbreds were exercised, trained, and groomed every day, as though the horses were on display. No matter what Ethan's and Chip's motives, their work was flawless.

“Mornin'.” Chip's voice came from the back, and he walked to meet her. Dressed in jeans and a cowboy hat, he looked better than a gift package. The shadow of a beard added to his rugged appeal. But she'd been there and done the male appreciation thing too many years ago. Good looks had a way of spoiling a man's heart. At least in her experiences.

“Did the storm keep you from running?” he said.

“I'm an exercise freak, not an idiot.”

“Yeah. Lightning doesn't attract me either. I run at 2 a.m. I mean 0200. Sometimes the weather is a little iffy then too.”

Why did he run at such an early hour? “Do you set your alarm and then go back to bed?”

“I do. A habit I started in Dallas when work stressed me out. Weird, I know.”

“Yeah, it is. I'm surprised you're here. Thought you'd have headed out for church already.” She leaned against the side of a stall like she was posing for a photo shoot, which was exactly how she'd earned her way through college.