Slow Burn (11 page)

“I know what you mean.” Her smile was brilliant. “It’s been three of the best days I ever remember having.”

He squeezed her hand tighter as he turned his attention back to the road long enough to make sure they were on course before meeting her gaze again. Her smile could have melted even the most hardened of soldiers.

The rest of the way down the winding mountain road, everything they had to say seemed to flow through their connected hands. It was as if no words were needed. It was an energy that traveled between them, a sensation that filled him with heat.

His palm was warm from hers as they slid their fingers apart when they reached the rendezvous point with Stillwater. He pulled into the parking lot behind the old motel. The morning sun was still low in the sky.

He convinced Christie to stay put in the SUV for her safety while he climbed out and walked up to Stillwater. Three other agents stood in the background and two black SUVs were parked behind them.

Agent Stillwater’s black hair appeared to be pulled even tighter away from her face than ever, stretching her dark skin over her angular features and giving her an even harsher look than normal. With the severity of her hairstyle, her cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut glass.

Stillwater had her arms crossed over her chest, and she wore a disapproving expression. “We’ll take it from here, Agent Davidson.”

Trace hooked his thumbs in his jeans as he eyed Stillwater. “I’m assisting with Christie’s protection.”

“If I have to contact your superiors, I will do that.” Stillwater snapped each word. “You risked her life taking her up that damned mountain and I’ve had enough of your interference.”

“I’ve told you before, it’s not up for discussion.” Christie’s voice came from behind them. “Agent Davidson stays with me or you can screw your protective detail.”

Trace frowned and looked over his shoulder then was relieved to see she hadn’t gotten out of the SUV and instead was speaking through the window she’d opened. The determined look on her features showed she intended to back up her demand.

“Christie, it’s not safe.” Trace gestured for her to raise the window. “You can be seen.”

“Not until Agent Stillwater accepts my condition.” Christie had a stubborn and determined look about her.

Even as he was concerned for her, Trace liked this new Christie who had found herself since leaving her ex-husband, refusing to be walked on or ordered around.

He looked back at Stillwater whose jaw was tight as she made a movement indicating Christie should buzz up the window. “All right. Now get that window up.”

Christie’s expression was half triumphant and half irritated at being given another order. She didn’t argue though, and soon disappeared behind tinted glass.

Trace studied Stillwater as she clearly regrouped. Her determination to exclude him from the protective detail was a matter of politics. She was running the show and she wanted to run it her way.

“All I’m here to do is help guard Christie.” Trace spoke slowly, his drawl more pronounced. “I’m not going to be stepping on your toes.”

“You’d better not, Davidson.” She put her hand on one hip, which pushed back her blazer and exposed her service weapon. He didn’t think it was an aggressive movement, but he looked pointedly at her holster. She moved her hand, her blazer falling back over the gun. “You will do as I say. This is my show.”

“You’ve got it, ma’am.” Trace adjusted his Stetson. “Have there been any more developments?”

Stillwater pursed her lips. “The information we have is that there is a hefty reward for Christie’s murder.”

Even though Trace had expected as much, a cold chill rolled over his skin. “We’ll keep her safe.” He heard the hard edge in his own voice as he spoke. “No way in hell is anyone getting near her.”

Stillwater gave him a long look. “We’ll get her safely to court so she can testify.”

A burn in Trace’s gut made him clench his jaws. The way the agent spoke gave him the impression that all she cared about was Christie’s testimony, not Christie herself.

He forced himself to relax. He was being overprotective. “Are we ready to hit the road?”

Stillwater turned and ordered two agents to take the lead vehicle. Trace would drive behind it and the third SUV would bring up the rear. Stillwater would be in the first SUV.

After Stillwater gave directions, Trace returned to the SUV and climbed in. He looked at Christie, trying to hold back the pride he felt for her standing up for herself, because he knew what she’d been through. At the same time he felt a twinge in his gut that perhaps she was becoming a little too stubborn.

Stubborn could get her killed.

~~*~~

Trace’s gaze swept along the entrance of the hotel that was one of the nicer ones in Phoenix. Not the most expensive, but not a cheap place. Arrangements had already been made, someone had already checked in.

Two of the FBI agents went first, taking the elevator up to the room to clear it. Trace and Christie followed at a distance, hats low. Some of her red hair slipped free of the cap as he glanced at her. He couldn’t stop to tuck it back in without being obvious, and he needed to keep them moving.

Trace constantly checked out their surroundings with his gaze, and he saw only hotel employees. Three clerks manned the registration desk, one individual sat at the concierge desk, and a bellhop pushed an empty luggage cart into a corner.

No guests loitered or reclined on the sofas and armchairs in the lobby. Frosted glass panels were between the lounge and the lobby. Through the open entrance, Trace saw a couple of men sitting at a bar crafted from rich dark wood, their backs to the lobby. The frosted glass to either side of the entrance made it impossible to tell if anyone else was inside the lounge.

To keep with their low profile, Stillwater and the fourth agent hung back just long enough for Trace and Christie to make it to the elevator.

Trace punched the up button and the elevator doors opened immediately. He and Christie stepped inside and he selected the tenth floor. The doors slid shut a few moments later. Tension radiated from her and she slipped her hand in his. He looked at her as the car started to move up and she smiled at him. Even though she’d been putting up a brave front, it was clear she was on edge. When he’d told her there was a price on her head, she had gone quiet and a little pale, the smattering of freckles across her nose appearing darker.

The doors slid open at the tenth floor. He slipped his hand into his front pocket and pulled out the key card. Their room was halfway down the hall from the bank of elevators. When they reached the room, he held the card in front of the sensor pad and the lock clicked open.

One of the FBI agents that had preceded them, Agent Tompkins, pulled the door open. Trace waited for Christie to enter before he followed her into the suite. Tompkins closed the door behind them.

It was nearing ten in the morning and sunlight spilled into the room between an open space between the blackout curtains. An agent strode across the room to close the curtains the rest of the way.

Christie moved into the center of the room and took off the ball cap. “Home sweet home,” she murmured as the rest of her red hair that hadn’t already slipped out from under the cap swung free. She looked at Trace as she combed her fingers through her hair. “Two days?”

Trace studied her, noticing the small nuances in her expression that told him she was starting to realize the danger in her situation. “It depends on how long they keep you on the witness stand.”

She nodded, twisting the cap in her hands. “What happens first?”

A knock came at the door and Tompkins peered through the peephole before opening the door and letting Stillwater and the fourth agent into the suite.

Stillwater gestured to the couch. “We have a few things to go over.”

Christie sat and Stillwater seated herself in a chair close to the couch. Trace hitched his shoulder up against a wall, his arms folded across his chest as he watched. Two of the agents stood close to the door and the other one stood on the opposite side of the couch.

Frowning, Christie looked at everyone around her. “Having all of you in here makes me feel claustrophobic.”

Stillwater leaned forward focusing intently on Christie. “The Assistant United States Attorney is going to come by tomorrow.”

“Why?” Christie asked.

“The AUSA is going to go over your testimony with you.” Stillwater crossed her legs at her knees. “Your ex-husband has one of the toughest lawyers in the state. Hell, in the country. His cross-examination is going to be brutal.”

Christie straightened. “He’s going to try to trip me up.”

Stillwater’s expression never changed. She didn’t soften, she was always hard in her expression or mannerisms. “He’ll do everything he can to discredit you as a witness. Your testimony is crucial to put Salvatore Reyes away for murder as well as the numerous other charges we’ve got him on.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to put him in prison for the rest of his life.” Christie clenched her fists in her lap. “I don’t want to see that bastard get off free.”

Stillwater gave a slow nod. “That’s what we need. When you’re testifying you’re going to be under a lot of pressure. From what I’ve seen of you over the past few months, I think you’re up to that challenge. But you are going to need to work hard and be prepared.”

Christie’s eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised at Stillwater’s admission. Christie schooled her features and said with determination in her voice, “Just tell me what I need to do.”

For some reason, Christie’s arm ached more than it had, as if the practice cross-examination was more taxing than anything else she’d done for the past few days. She felt weary, not to mention beyond hungry when Stillwater took a break from preparing her for the AUSA. The AUSA would grill her intensely to make sure she was ready for what was sure to be ruthless cross-examination by the defense attorney.

It was around noon when Trace handed something to Christie, and as she took it she saw that it was the hotel’s room service menu and it was opened to the lunch page. She looked gratefully at him as her stomach rumbled loud enough for the whole room to hear.

Even as tired as she was, she couldn’t help but appreciate the confident way he moved, the intense way he observed everything and listened. He hadn’t interjected any comments into the conversation, letting Stillwater run the show.

Christie let the menu lay open on her lap as Stillwater drew her attention once more. “We’ll have agents inside and out twenty-four/seven while you’re under our protection.”

With a frown, Christie shook her head. “I don’t care if agents are on the outside, but only Trace stays with me in the room. He doesn’t make me feel like a specimen in a glass jar.”

Truth was she mostly wanted to be alone with him again.

Stillwater’s lips twisted into a sour expression and Christie was sure the agent knew Trace and Christie were having sex. After spending days alone with him in a cabin on a mountain, maybe that was a big “duh.” Fortunately, the agent didn’t state anything of the sort out loud. Instead, she pressed her argument. “You are safer with two agents inside and someone will be able to relieve Agent Davidson when necessary.”

Trace studied Stillwater, appearing as though he was assessing the situation, but leaving it up to Christie and the FBI agent to work it out.

“I don’t need anyone else inside with me.” Christie’s gaze met Trace’s. “Do you need someone to relieve you?”

Trace looked at Stillwater. “When I do, I’ll let one of your agents know.”

Stillwater remained tightlipped and quiet for a moment. Christie’s stomach growled again. The agent looked at the menu in Christie’s lap. “I think we could all do with ordering lunch.”

Christie scanned the menu and knew what she wanted the moment she saw it—the bleu cheese and mushroom burger. Trace selected a traditional cheeseburger.

Stillwater passed around the menu and one of the agents took notes before calling room service and putting in the order for all six of them.

Christie flopped back on the couch, feeling exhausted. Her arm hadn’t been bothering her too much until now. She wouldn’t mind some ibuprofen, but she was too drained to get up and grab her purse.

Soon this nightmare would end, and then she could go back to Indiana and the quiet life she’d begun there.

Her thoughts turned to Trace and she looked at him. Heat flooded her as memories warmed her, memories from the past few days she’d spent with him and the many times they’d been in bed together. She didn’t want to leave now that she’d experienced what it was like to be with him. As their eyes met and held, she could swear she saw the same emotion in his expression for one moment before it became unreadable.

A wave of disappointment went through her, but then she realized that if he did feel the same way, it wouldn’t do for Stillwater to see that. Although the agent was sure to have come up with her own conclusions. She was a sharp woman, even if she was an uptight pain in the ass.

Christie straightened and faced Stillwater. “How are the agents who were shot at the airport?” Everything had been so hectic since Trace and Christie had met up with Stillwater this morning that Christie hadn’t had the opportunity to ask until now.

“You already know that Agent Allen will be fine, and he has gone home,” Stillwater said and Christie nodded. “Agent Cox was out of the hospital two days after you were, and Agent Stark is no longer in critical condition. She’s going to pull through.”

Christie sagged against the back of the couch. “Thank God.”

Trace sat on the arm of the couch and folded his arms across his chest. He observed everyone in the room, always on guard. He found it difficult to relax with the amount of danger Christie was in. He was reasonably confident they were safe here. It was the “reasonably” that he didn’t like. He wanted to be absolutely certain, and yet his gut felt uneasy.

Stillwater opened the door just as the room service cart arrived. A man wearing a white jacket with the hotel logo and black slacks wheeled the cart up to the agents at the door.