Smoky Mountain Setup (10 page)

Landry reached across the narrow space between them, taking her hand. “It doesn’t matter what inspired him, I guess. We all have mistakes in our pasts we can’t correct. At least he’s trying to make things better around here instead of worse.”

The feel of his rough palm against hers felt right, she realized, dropping her gaze to their joined hands. She’d missed him so intensely over the past two years that having him here, touching him and hearing him speak in that deep Georgia drawl she’d always loved, seemed like a dream she’d wake from any moment.

“Are you really here?” she asked, feeling immediately foolish.

He smiled at her again, making her heart skip a beat. “Feels a little unreal, doesn’t it?”

She nodded. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth, brushing her knuckles with his lips. “I used to have dreams of you. That you were beside me again. Nothing big. Just beside me, sitting close enough that I could feel the warmth of your body by mine. Hear your breathing. And then I’d wake up.” He let go of her hand and dropped his own hands to his knees. “Doesn’t matter. Here you are. Warm and breathing.”

“Are you never going to tell me what happened to you when you were taken captive?”

“It’s not important.”

“I can tell it’s still important to
you
.”

“I’m okay.” He flashed another smile, but even the distracting dimples couldn’t make it look anything but forced.

But she didn’t want to push him. If he needed to talk about what he’d gone through, he’d do it in his own time.

She hoped.

“I don’t want to keep you up if you’re tired.” He started to get up.

She caught his hand, holding him in place. “Don’t go.”

He looked down at her hand on his. When he spoke, his voice was a low rasp. “Are you sure you want me to stay?”

She knew what he was asking.

“Yes.”

He sat in front of her again, closer this time. He turned his hand until it was palm to palm with hers, their fingers twining. “I like your hair short.”

She laughed at the non sequitur. “I like yours longer.”

He grinned again, the expression deliciously sincere. “Couldn’t find many barbershops out in the wilderness.”

“That’s where you’ve been all this time?”

“Most of it.” He took her other hand, twined his fingers with hers.

“Where did you stay?”

“Camped out a lot. Stayed at cheap roadside motels now and then, when I could spare a little cash.”

“How’d you get any cash?” She leaned closer, letting the warmth of his nearness envelop her. “Did you steal?”

“Define
steal
.” He grinned at her frown. “I might have eaten a crab apple off someone’s tree now and then. But mostly I used money I’d stashed away in case of emergency.”

She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. “You were expecting an emergency?”

“
Expecting
might be too strong a word. I just anticipated the possibility. And tried to prepare for the worst-case scenario.”

“And was what happened the worst case?” She looked up at him.

“Not the worst.”

“But bad enough.”

He gave her hands a squeeze. “Let it go for now, Livvie. Okay?”

She would have liked to argue, but she didn’t want to risk making him get up and leave. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

“For now,” she added.

He smiled again. “Yeah, I know you don’t give up. You’re like a bulldog with a chew toy.”

“Flattering.”

“A beautiful bulldog. A svelte bulldog.”

“I think that’s an oxymoron.”

“Who’re you calling an oxymoron?”

She laughed. “I missed this.”

“Talking nonsense?”

She stroked his hand again. “Talking nonsense with you.”

“Know what I missed?” His voice deepened. Roughened.

Her heartbeat sped up immediately in response. When she spoke, her own voice sounded breathless. “What?”

“This.” He leaned forward, closing the space between them, and touched his mouth to hers.

Chapter Ten

When they’d been lovers, there had been passion. Tenderness. Laughter. Even sometimes anger. But never, ever this tentative, questing sensation, like two strangers coming together for a stolen kiss.

Landry drew back and studied her face, trying to read the nuances of each expression flitting across her features as her gaze met his with the same quizzical alertness.

“You’re different, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “So are you.”

“But I still want you.” Her raw admission sent a blazing arrow of desire shooting straight to his core. “I just don’t know—”

He curled his hand around the back of her neck and gently pulled her into an undemanding embrace, struggling to dial back his body’s physical response to her touch. He wanted to reconnect to her, as the friends they’d always been, even if they couldn’t be lovers again. Rushing into something they’d regret was a bad idea.

“That feels good,” she said as he stroked his hand lightly up and down her spine.

“I don’t want to lose you again.” He brushed his cheek against her temple, starting to enjoy the exquisite tension of holding her close without any intention of taking things any further. “We were friends first, and I’d like to be friends again.”

She lifted her hands, cradling his face between her palms. “I’d like that, too, but—” Her words cut off with a little huff, and she bent toward him, covering his mouth with hers.

There was no hesitation in her kiss. No tentativeness. Just a slow, thorough taking that made his head spin and his heartbeat crank up to hyperspeed. Any thought of differences, of unfamiliarity, were swallowed up by the rising heat between them.

This. He wanted this.

He wanted
her
. Right now, just as she was.

She tugged him down to the bed, parting her thighs to let him settle on top of her. One long leg wrapped around his legs, pinning him to her.

“Don’t think,” she breathed against his lips.

Threading his fingers through her hair, he deepened the kiss, tasting the minty hint of toothpaste on her tongue. She curled her fingers in his T-shirt and tugged the fabric upward, grumbling when he pulled away from the kiss long enough to whip the shirt over his head.

As he bent to kiss her again, she splayed her fingers against his chest, running them through the coarse hair. She hadn’t forgotten how much he liked her hands on him, tracing, teasing, arousing—

A hard rap on the door sent a ripple of raw shock through his nervous system. Olivia growled a soft profanity against his throat and dropped her head back to the pillows.

“What?” she barked toward the closed door.

“Quinn wants to see Landry.” Seth’s quiet drawl held a touch of amusement, as if he knew exactly what he was interrupting.

“Tell him I’m not his employee, and I’ll talk to him in the morning.” Landry glanced at Olivia, who was watching him through slightly narrowed eyes. “What?” he added more quietly.

“It’s possible he has information you might need,” she said in an equally hushed tone.

“It’s possible I need a cold shower before I can appear anywhere outside this room,” he growled, rolling up to a sitting position and leaning forward in an attempt to get his body back under control.

“I’ll go stall Hammond, see if I can find out more about what Quinn wants.” She stood and unhurriedly straightened her clothes. Landry watched her smooth the fabric he’d held bunched in his hands mere moments earlier, his heart still pounding a steady cadence of lust.

“Maybe if we hurry—”

Smiling, she bent and kissed him, a slow, wet, deep kiss that made his blood ignite. “Stay put. I’ll be back.”

As he retrieved his discarded T-shirt, he tried to make out the muted conversation Olivia was having with Seth Hammond outside, but they’d apparently moved too far away from the door. He gave himself a quick once-over and realized she’d managed to unbutton his jeans and get the zipper halfway down without his realizing it. Talented girl!

He zipped up and finger-combed his hair, wishing the dorm rooms in the basement of The Gates had come equipped with a mirror. He didn’t need to show up at his command performance with Alexander Quinn looking as if a tall, blonde bombshell had just tried to have her way with him.

Even if she had.

The door opened suddenly and Olivia slipped inside, her expression serious.

“What is it?” he asked.

“An agent has gone missing. Grant Carver. Quinn thinks the BRI have taken him hostage.”

A chill washed over Landry, despite the cozy warmth of the room. “When?”

“Sometime this afternoon. His wife called Quinn when he didn’t come back from a quick run.”

“Couldn’t he have just gotten stranded somewhere?”

“That was the assumption. Until she followed his tracks and came upon a patch of snow that looked as if there’d been a struggle. Carver’s hat was in the snow. So was an alarming amount of blood. She called the local cops. One of the cops who took the call was Dennison’s wife, Sara. She called Dennison to let him know.”

Landry sank to the end of the bed, feeling sick. “Any reason why the BRI would go after this guy Carver? Has he had run-ins with any of them?”

Olivia sat next to him, close enough to touch. But he kept his hands on his knees, too wound up to trust himself to touch her. There was a lot about his time in BRI captivity he hadn’t told her. Things that he didn’t like to think about, things that showed up in his nightmares all too often recently.

“Quinn asked Carver’s wife that question. She said no. Some of her distant relatives are involved with the local BRI cell, and she thought that was probably why they could live where they do without too many troubles with the militia members.”

“Live where they do?”

She turned to look at him. “They live on the bottom slope of Fowler Ridge. Near that BRI enclave we hiked through today.”

* * *

“Y
OU
SAID
IT
happened this afternoon?” Landry’s tone was neutral, but his expressive eyes gave away the emotions roiling behind his mask of calm—anger, worry and guilt Olivia had expected, given the possibility that the mountain rescue The Gates agents had pulled off earlier that day might well have led to the BRI’s retaliatory attack on one of the company’s agents.

But the fear that roiled behind his green-eyed gaze caught her by surprise.

Landry was afraid. And in all the time she’d known him, she’d rarely seen him afraid of anything.

“If you’re wondering if it’s connected to you, we don’t know.” Quinn spoke in a calm tone that didn’t manage to hide the fact that he believed Landry’s presence in their midst might have precipitated Carver’s abduction.

“You know,” Landry growled, “I should get out of here. All I’m doing is making things that much harder for you.”

Quinn shook his head. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists. We certainly don’t hand over innocent people to them to get our agents back. Carver knew what he signed on for.”

“Carver has a wife. A family.” Landry glanced at Olivia.

She’d told him about Carver’s pregnant wife and two kids because he’d asked, and she wasn’t going to lie to him, even to protect his feelings.

“Nobody has come to us with any demands,” Adam Brand said from his seat next to Quinn at the conference table. Besides Landry and herself, there were nine agents seated at the long oak table—Adam Brand and Sutton Calhoun at the head with Quinn, Mark Fitzpatrick, Cain Dennison, Kyle Jackson, Nick Darcy, McKenna Rigsby and Caleb Cooper. All good men in a nasty fight—Brand and Rigsby were former FBI agents, while Calhoun, Dennison, Jackson and Fitzpatrick had all been in the military. Darcy had been with the Diplomatic Security Service for several years, Caleb Cooper had been a narcotics cop in Birmingham, Alabama, and Quinn had been in more dangerous hot spots around the globe than any of them, and he’d lived to tell.

Landry could do a lot worse for backup. But Olivia had a feeling it wasn’t the quality of people willing to watch his back that was fueling his fear.

She’d seen the same look in his eyes up on the mountain just before the guys from The Gates had shown up to run off their assailants. It had started when that man from the BRI had spoken.

Had Landry recognized the voice?

“Let’s just sit tight for now. The local law is out looking for Carver. Let’s let them do their jobs,” Quinn suggested.

“Do you have any idea what kind of things they might do to him?” Landry’s voice came out in a strangled growl. Olivia put her hand on his arm but he shrugged away her touch.

Quinn nodded. “We have some idea, yes.”

“If he’s not leverage—”

“There’s a limited amount of information Carver could share with the BRI,” Quinn said calmly. “Because of his familial connection to the group, we’ve kept him away from cases involving the militia group. I’m sure they know that.”

“So he
is
leverage.”

“Possibly. But there’s nothing we can do about it at the moment, so I’d concentrate on something else.” Quinn’s gaze settled on Landry. “Calhoun says you reacted strongly this afternoon on the mountain, when one of the men who challenged you spoke. You had your back to him, so you must have recognized the voice?”

Landry looked reluctant to speak, but after a moment he nodded. “I think I did.”

“Do you know who he was?” Quinn asked.

Olivia could tell from Quinn’s tone that he already knew exactly who had accosted them on the mountain earlier that day. He just wanted to establish whether Landry knew.

“I don’t know the man’s name,” Landry answered, looking down at his hands twisting together in his lap. He pulled them apart and gripped the arms of his chair. “I couldn’t tell you what he looked like, either. But I’d know that voice in a noisy crowd.”

“He was one of your captors?” Olivia asked quietly.

His gaze snapped up to meet hers, full of anger and no small measure of humiliation. “One of them. The worst of them.”

“I realize you probably would prefer not to remember what happened during your time in captivity—” Quinn began.

Landry cut him off. “If you’re thinking of hooking me up with a shrink or hypnotist or whatever you spook types like to use to poke around in a person’s brain, forget it. I don’t remember anything that could help you find your missing man. When I got away, I just ran as far and as fast as I could. I’m sure they’ve already moved operations somewhere else. They moved me around a lot before I got away, so I don’t think they have a permanent base for their snatch-and-grab operations.”

“Fair enough. Meeting adjourned.” Quinn stood, the look he gave the other men sitting around the table serving as a silent warning—Cade Landry was off-limits, for the time being, anyway.

Olivia could tell most of the other agents weren’t happy about their boss playing softball with Landry, but they knew better than to voice their dissent at the conference table. They could take it up with him privately later—and from the displeasure in their expressions, Olivia was pretty sure that at least two or three of them would.

But for now, she and Landry were free to go.

“I need to get out of here,” Landry murmured as he caught up with her down the hall. “I should never have tried to play this straight. Those bastards don’t know the meaning of playing it straight.”

She caught his arm as he started toward the stairs. “You’re not leaving.”

“I’m not staying.”

“You know what the conditions out there are like. It’s only going to get colder now that the sun has set.”

“How cold do you think Grant Carver is right now?” His voice lowered to a deep growl. “Do you have a clue what they might be doing to him?”

“Yes,” she answered tightly. “I do have an idea. Maybe you should go compare notes with one of our agents, Hunter Bragg. The BRI took him hostage last year. He has the scars to prove it.”

Landry looked away from her, his expression queasy. “They’re relentless. They’re not really any good at interrogations. They don’t know how to play the game, how to get any real information. They just do it because they’re sadistic bastards who get off on the feeling of power it gives them to make a grown man scream.” He tugged his arm away from her grasp and started down the stairs.

She ran down the steps after him, tripping in her hurry to keep up. He caught her before she tumbled, pulling her tightly against him. A jolt of pure animal awareness bolted through her from the point where her hips met his, and she dug her fingers into the muscles of his upper arms.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

“I can’t stay.”

“You can. At least tonight. Stay tonight.”

He looked away from her, his gaze scanning the room before it returned to lock with hers. “You know we can’t pick up where we left off.”

“You mean you don’t want to.”

For a second his expression softened, and he looked like the man she used to know, the man who had loved her and made her as happy as she could ever remember being.

“You know I do.”

“Then stay. We don’t have to pick up where we left off, but please, don’t go away again. Not yet, not while you’re in trouble. Let me help you.”

He brushed her hair back from her cheek, his touch so impossibly tender it made tears sting her eyes. She blinked them back, not willing to let them fall. “I don’t know if you can. I don’t know if it’s fixable.”

“Then you can just get some rest. Most of the guys will be up all night trying to piece together what happened to Carver and how we proceed at daylight. We should get some sleep so we can spell them in the morning.”

“We?” He tugged lightly at her hair.

“You used to be a damn good FBI agent. I don’t think you’ve forgotten everything you learned at the academy, have you?”

“Trying to bend me to your will by dangling a mystery in front of me?”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe.” He bent toward her until his forehead touched hers. “You win. I’ll stay. For now.”

She gave his arms a squeeze. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

He didn’t resist as she led him back down to the basement dormitory rooms, stopping outside the door of her room. “As tempting as it is to go back in there with you...”