Conard County Spy (19 page)

Then he heard her cry out, felt the paroxysm take her body, stiffening her. Only then did he give in to the consuming storm, finding release and peace all at once, an explosion that deafened him and blinded him, then left him feeling as if he floated in the darkness of space among an infinity of stars.

* * *

Julie didn't want to let it end. Lying beneath Trace's damp body, she had found a place she had dreamed of but had never quite reached before. After a sundering lance of pleasure so strong it almost hurt, she had found a gently throbbing peace, a complete relaxation, a sense of repletion she wished she could hang on to forever.

Trace curled beside her, lying on his good side, his painful hand across her middle. He seemed to have melted as much as she had, everything about him soft and still. He might have fallen asleep.

But soon she felt him press a light kiss to her shoulder. Then a momentary spear of guilt struck her. “Are you okay?” She had forgotten his hand and how much pain he suffered.

“Never better,” he said, sounding a bit hoarse. “You? It wasn't too raw?”

“I think,” she whispered, “I have become crazy about raw.”

A quiet, short laugh escaped him. “I think I was beyond anything else.”

“Me, too. That was...that was incredible.”

Another kiss followed the first on her shoulder, but then she felt him stir a bit, and he no longer felt quite so relaxed.

“Pain?” she asked immediately.

“Sorry. I somehow managed to forget all about it, but...”

At once she pushed the covers away. When had they pulled them up? She couldn't even remember. She remembered very little, actually, that didn't have to do with what her body had been feeling and experiencing. Wow.

“Let's get you a pill,” she said, much as she didn't want to move. “I'm not going to relax any better than you if I keep thinking of your poor hand being hammered by a blacksmith.”

Refusing to give in to her own desire to just savor the experience, she pushed herself upright and hunted up her sweats. “Coffee, too?”

“If you want me awake for a little while to tell you how fantastic you are.”

“I can always handle a bit of that,” she answered lightly. She found her sweat suit, skipped her underthings, and quickly put on her slippers. She left Trace to manage for himself because she suspected that at this point he might not like being cared for. Right now a ding to his ego could be awful.

Nor did he deserve one. In the kitchen, she gripped the edge of the counter and closed her eyes, letting lingering aftershocks roll through her. She thought she'd been well-loved before, but this had gone far beyond that. She didn't even want to think about why, just to hang on to it as long as she could. Life had just delivered her a miraculous experience. All she could do was hope that another might come her way, and feel grateful for what she had just known.

At last, reminding herself that Trace had to be hurting pretty badly and that he wouldn't take his pain meds without coffee to keep his head clear, she started the pot going. It seemed too late at night for espresso, but she'd ask him if he wanted one.

It took him a while to emerge from the bedroom, and when he did she saw that awful sheen of perspiration on his forehead again. Pain. Lots and lots of it. He gave her a faint smile as he entered the living room, then immediately picked up the bottle of meds from the coffee table where he'd left it. She watched him work the cap loose, then bit her lip as she saw him pour two into his gloved hand. Two? She hated to think what he must be suffering since he usually avoided taking more than one.

“That isn't too much?” she asked.

“It might barely be enough.”

At once her heart and stomach tumbled. “I'm sorry, Trace. I should never...”

“Don't say it,” he interrupted. “Please don't say it. No amount of pain could have made me miss that experience with you.”

Her heart lifted and she was able to smile at him. He popped the pills dry, then sipped at the hot mug of coffee she handed him.

He settled on the couch and extended his right arm in invitation. She curled up beside him and rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder. His arm lay comfortably heavy on her shoulders, but his hand didn't caress her at all. She hoped the pills worked soon.

He spoke. “I'm so glad I met you.”

That lifted her heart even more. He'd been constantly apologizing for dragging her into this, frequently suggesting he should just leave, but now, at least for now, he was simply glad to be with her. “I've been difficult,” she admitted.

“No, really you haven't. This is such a mess, and I can certainly understand your frustration with knowing so little. I haven't been much help, staring off into space and pacing, traveling mental pathways I simply can't share with anyone.”

“Are they getting you anywhere?”

“Maybe.” He shifted a little. “Right now, I'd rather talk about you. About that storm outside. About anything else.”

“I forgot about the storm,” she admitted.

“Me, too.” He gave a little laugh. “Somehow it was easy to forget what was going on outside.” He set his coffee down and reached for her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss. “You could make a man forget everything.”

She snuggled a little closer. “That might not be good.”

“At the moment, I think it's just fine.” He released her hand and reached for his coffee, downing half of it.

“Should I have made you espresso?”

“No, this is fine. I may drink the whole pot by myself, though. I hate the way these pills cloud my mind.”

“Are you sure it's your mind you need right now?”

He laughed and gave her a little squeeze. “I will, very shortly. Sorry.”

Then, in a horrifying moment that froze both of them, there was a knock on the door. Given the hour, she didn't even want to look out the peephole. Straightening, she looked at Trace. He nodded toward the door, but she noticed when he followed her, he stood right behind it where he couldn't be seen. Everything about him said he was ready for an attack.

She didn't blame him. Ryker hadn't called, so it couldn't be him. Shaking now, she peered out and saw a man standing back from the door. As he turned, she recognized him.

“Thank God,” she whispered, then wondered what was going on. Micah Parish, long a deputy in this county, had no reason to be standing at her door in the middle of the night.

She quickly worked the latch and opened it. The storm still raged outside. “Micah?”

“Sorry to scare you,” he said. “Gage sent me over.”

“Did something happen?” she asked as she let him in.

“Not yet. But Gage has been gnawing on the problem and wanted to offer some reassurance.”

Once inside, he shucked his jacket. Julie thought he still looked almost like the man who had arrived in this county more than two decades ago, except for some gray streaks in his long inky hair. His Cherokee ancestry was stamped clearly on his face, and had caused him to meet a little initial resistance when he arrived here.

He accepted an offer of coffee, then introduced himself to Trace who, she noticed, offered only his first name. Micah didn't seem troubled by it.

“So what's going on?” Julie asked as they settled in the living room, Trace on a chair, Julie at her desk, and Micah on the couch.

“I wish something was going on,” Micah answered. “It always helps to have some kind of movement to let you know where to look. Right now we're in a holding pattern partly because of the storm. Travel right now is pretty much restricted to snowplows, and even some of them are getting stuck all over this state and Colorado.”

“Well,” said Trace, “I guess it helps to know nothing is moving.”

“Air traffic pretty much ground to a halt overnight on Friday and it's still not moving. I pity all the people stuck in airports.” He smiled faintly. “But mostly I'm to let you know...you met Seth, right? Seth Hardin? One of the guys who got rid of your car?”

Trace shifted uneasily. “How many people know what's going on?”

Micah's smile broadened. “Let's just say there are a group of us in this county who've had some experience in classified missions. Highly classified missions. Seth's one of them, and so am I. We know how to keep our yaps shut. Anyway, Gage has been worrying about the problem, and in the process drew some of us in on it. We're keeping a watchful eye that's going to get even more watchful as the ability to travel returns. We've got an eye on Ryker's family, and now we've got one on you. You won't know we're around.”

Julie instinctively looked toward the window, even though she knew she couldn't see through the curtains. “How long?” she asked.

“Can't say for sure, but according to the latest forecasts the worst should be moving out late tomorrow. The airports are hoping to start moving again tomorrow afternoon. Then the roads. So not long.”

“But everyone believes Trace is in Denver.”

“But for how long?” Micah asked rhetorically. “Anyway, you're not sitting here alone, much as it may seem so. And the sheriff sent a present for you.” He stood and pulled what looked like a black brick off his belt, handing it to Trace. “I'm sure you know how to use a satellite phone.”

“I sure do,” Trace said, accepting it.

“It's working now,” Micah said, “but it'll work even better after this storm blows through. It's set up so the instant you key it, you'll be in touch with our group. If you need more help, dial two-one-one. That'll reach everyone in the department.”

“You realize I don't know my way around here.”

Micah nodded. “That radio has GPS on it. You won't even have to report your location.”

Trace studied the radio a moment, then said quietly, “I can't tell you how much it means to know I have backup.”

“I reckon I already know. Well, hell, any of us who've ever gone on a covert op has a pretty good idea of what it feels like in your shoes. No backup, no one willing to claim you if things go sour...no, we get it. And that's the reason you're not going to be alone unless you want to be.” Then he smiled at Julie. “You, either. Mind if I have some more of that coffee?”

She went to refill his mug while a strange silence settled over the apartment. Something was happening at a level she didn't fully understand, but she could almost feel the strands of an alliance forming right now.

For her part, she was glad to know friends were keeping an eye on Ryker, Marisa and the baby. From the start her biggest concern had been her best friend and her family, but Trace had risen to a position right alongside them.

“I'll be fine,” she told Micah as she gave him his coffee and refreshed Trace's cup from the pot. He smiled his gratitude to her, but his eyes seemed to say more. Once again she felt the drizzle of desire running through her. A ridiculous case of bad timing, she thought wryly.

And how unusual that a simple look from him could affect her that way. With effort, she dragged herself back to the matters at hand. Life and death were far more important. She shouldn't even need to remind herself of that.

Carrying the pot back to the kitchen to place it on the warmer, she kept her ears open, waiting to hear something. Anything.

She guessed pieces she couldn't imagine were beginning to click into place. Pieces of protection? Understanding?

“You know,” Trace said slowly, “it occurs to me that they may already be backtracking me.”

Julie stiffened. “But...” She remembered clearly that they had ditched his car, making it look like an accident, that Ryker had sent his phone on to Denver. Surely no one...

“We were wondering that,” Micah drawled. “Hence the satellite phone in the middle of the night. Ryker's been getting increasingly antsy, along with Gage, and while neither of them has likely shared that with you, they're not so sure anyone fell for the diversion. At least not for long.”

Pills or no pills, Trace was suddenly on his feet, pacing. “Yeah. It's an obvious diversion, the kind of thing I'm capable of pulling off without trouble. And after I got Ryker's address...” He stopped suddenly and faced Micah. “You make sure that man and his family are well-covered. I had no idea when I got here what was going on, but now that I know I'm not betting he's safe.”

“Neither are we,” Micah said. “Neither are we. This was your last known location. They may interpret the rest as an evasion. We can't afford to overlook the possibility.”

Then, rising, he carried his cup into the kitchen and put it beside the sink. “I'm off. Don't use the sat phone for anything except an emergency. Conversation isn't encoded. Just know a number of us are out there and we're not far away.”

* * *

The entire night changed because of Micah's visit. Adrenaline and coffee seemed to be holding Trace's pain pills at bay. He had settled at her computer desk, but hadn't turned it on.

Now it was Julie who paced, weariness a long way away, memories of their lovemaking pushed into the background because right now they, too, were a diversion.

Neither of them spoke, but soon she was starting another pot of coffee.

Then, out of the blue, Trace spoke. “It's someone here on a diplomatic mission.”

She froze. “How can you know that?”

“Because no one else would be important enough for this kind of response. No one. It has to be a high government official. And since it seems clear the agency is helping someone but not yet taking action that could be traced back to them...my guess is the tiger is in this country. It's not enough to remove me, or that would have been done already. No, this guy wants to take me out himself. And that means he has to be here with a really good cover. Being on a diplomatic mission would be the best.”

Her heart skipped several beats. “Any way to find out?”