Chapter Seventeen

As the crackling fire in the huge lodge fireplace exuded welcome heat, Lindsey curled against the couch arm and listened to Simon and Dixon talk. She couldn’t seem to come up with the energy to join in. Ever since yesterday when she’d confessed her past, time had moved like a drunken armadillo.

Last night, the hours had flown by as she’d teased Zander until he cursed and took control. Completely. After they both got off, he’d exacted his revenge, bringing her to the brink of orgasm over and over, until she was begging mindlessly. When he’d finally taken her to their mutual satisfaction, he’d stayed inside her, watching over her as she fell asleep. She’d never felt so close to anyone. So protected.

But today had dragged interminably. After breakfast, Zander had taken the memory drives and disappeared into Logan’s office to try to break the code. Simon had been on the phone all morning. Rona had slept late. Logan had been doing lodge-keeper duties. An elderly couple had needed to be checked in, a single lodger later.

Lindsey had wanted to run errands with Becca or go with Kallie to help with chores at the Masterson place. However, with Zander’s overprotectiveness in full flood, he demanded she stay close, and she hadn’t had the willpower to say no. Not after yesterday. She sighed. Another week and she’d be back to her normal stubborn self.

Thank goodness, Dixon had shown up, and the women had returned. Between him, the women, and the baby, conversation had been lively. Distracting.

After lunch, she’d started worrying again and had retreated into the main lodge to think. To stew, her daddy would have said. A few minutes ago, Dixon and Simon had joined her, talking around her, keeping her company.

How had she won such wonderful friends?

With a mild squeak of hinges, the door of the lodge swung open, and Lindsey opened her eyes to look.

A tall, absolutely stunning man in a sheepskin coat, jeans, and boots stepped in, paused, and crossed the room directly to their small group.

“Simon.” The man held out his hand as Simon rose. “Good to see you again.”

Simon shook his hand. “Stanfeld. It’s been a while.” He turned. “Lindsey, Dixon, this is Homeland Security Investigations, Special Agent Jameson Stanfeld.” He smiled at Lindsey. “He’s a recent transfer to California from Texas.”

Keen gray eyes in a tanned face surveyed Lindsey. “It’s good to meet you, Ms. Parnell.”

Parnell. He knew her real name. Sheer terror impacted her chest, stealing her breath. He stood between her and the door…too close.

The man took a step forward. “Lindsey—”

Instinctively, she cringed.

“Uh-uh.” Dixon jumped up and blocked his path. “Back off, sweet cheeks.”

“No, Dixon,” Lindsey hissed. The big man could crush him with one hand. Shoot him. “No, don’t. He’ll hurt you.” Her legs shook as she stood. Seizing Dixon’s wiry arm, she tried to jerk him back. Tried to step in front of him.

He stubbornly stayed put.

“Christ Jesus,” the agent muttered to Simon. “They’re both cute enough to die for and braver than many a soldier I’ve known.”

“That they are,” Simon said. “Dixon, listen. You don’t—”

“Stand down, buddy.” Stanfeld held his hands up. “I have no intention of hurting or arresting your friend. Simon asked me to come.”

All the strength drained out of Lindsey’s legs, and she sank back onto the couch, pulling Dixon down with her.

“What the fuck?” From nowhere, Zander appeared—and stepped right into Dixon’s place between her and the agent. His hand was under his jacket, on the pistol he wore in a shoulder harness.

“Zander, this is a good guy,” Simon said, his voice relaxed and calming as he went through the introductions again. “Lindsey was a bit…”

“Lindsey overreacted.” She managed to stand up. Leaning slightly on Zander, she held her hand out. “I’m pleased to meet you, Special Agent Stanfeld.”

“Likewise—and make it Stan.” He took her hand gently and undoubtedly felt the way her fingers trembled.

The minute Stan released her, Zander tucked her against his side. And she’d never been so happy to be under an overprotective Dom’s care.

Simon resumed his seat. “I met Stan when Demakis Security provided protection to a model threatened by a serial killer. We’ve been friends for years now.” He leaned forward. “I called him yesterday. Having come from Texas recently, he has contacts we need. This morning, he and I had a conference call with one of his Texas friends, a special agent in charge—name of Bonner. Bonner has quite an interest in you, Lindsey.”

Riiight. I’m the woman who murdered her husband and a police officer. Bitterness filled her mouth. “I’m sure.”

Zander gently pushed Lindsey down on the couch beside Dixon and set his hip on the armrest beside her. Staying close and staying mobile, she knew.

Stan took an empty chair directly across from Lindsey and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You sent Bonner an e-mail attachment of Victor Parnell raping a boy.”

The thought was enough to make her sick, but she nodded.

“Bonner had already been looking into your husband’s and the young officer’s murders. He’d noticed the investigation was somewhat…irregular, and after talking with Simon, he’s very interested in knowing more. Since I’m stationed in San Francisco, I volunteered to drive here this morning and talk to you.”

And arrest me too. Her hands closed into fists as despair started to weigh her down.

His gray eyes met hers. “Lindsey, did you kill the police officer?”

“What? No.”

“Didn’t think so.” He leaned back.

Wait. Wait. “You believe me?”

“I’m good at detecting liars.” His smile transformed his face from stern to gorgeous, and she heard Dixon give a small sigh.

To her surprise, Stan’s gaze shifted to Dixon with sufficient appreciation to send her gaydar dinging. The agent liked her Dixon? Hold on one cotton-picking minute. Dix had been through enough. Lindsey put her hand on top of Dixon’s and gave the man a narrow-eyed stare as a warning.

He tilted his head in acknowledgment, and she had to give him props for picking up on her unspoken threat. He continued, “Bonner plans to interview your sisters, by the way.”

Oh God, would he arrest Melissa and Mandy for aiding and abetting or something? “They don’t know anything. They don’t.”

He gave Simon an amused glance. “Like I said…”

When Zander chuckled, she looked up at him in surprise.

“You really are a lousy liar,” Zander said.

She frowned. Should she take his comment as an insult or a compliment? “Well. Now what?”

“Simon told me the encryption on the jump drives from your husband’s safe has been broken. I’d like permission to go through the information. Do I have it?”

Her heart skipped a beat. The last time an agent wanted those drives, she’d almost died. If he confiscated them… They were her only proof Victor had been a criminal. “I—”

He studied her for a minute before rubbing his forehead wearily. “Let’s take a step back. Simon says you talked with a border patrol agent who worked for Parnell. Tell me about it.”

She pulled her legs up onto the couch, huddling into herself. “I—”I don’t know you.

“Lindsey, I can’t reassure you unless I hear everything,” he said quietly. His eyes were level.

Simon nodded at her.

Zander set his hand on her shoulder, holding her to the course and steadying her at the same time. She wasn’t alone. “In San Antonio, I called the border patrol and got Agent Orrin Ricks.”

Stan took out a pad and started making notes.

“He sounded like he believed me. And he was worried I’d get ambushed if I came to his office, so he told me to meet him at a safe house. The place was in a nice neighborhood, but I was so paranoid, I parked a few houses down. Agent Ricks let me into the house.”

Stan frowned. “You didn’t give him the drives?”

“I didn’t have them. When I got out of my car, there were a bunch of men on the sidewalk—all in suits and ties and stuff.” She attempted a smile. “I was so nervous, I left my purse in the car and ran to the house before I realized they were Mormons or Jehovah’s Witnesses or something.”

“Got it. So Agent Ricks talked to you?”

“He seemed nice at first. Professional.” Tall, bullishly muscular like a weight lifter. He had narrow eyes, straight red-brown hair in a conservative style. Polite. Her mother would have considered him adequate son-in-law material. “He asked me about everything. Then he pulled his gun.”

“Jesus,” Zander muttered. His hand tightened on her shoulder.

She swallowed, remembering how the pistol had seemed so huge. How her skin had flinched away. “He called Travis to report he had me and that Victor had probably put incriminating recordings on the flash drives. During their arguing, he said he’d collect the drives from me, but it was Travis’s job to dispose of me.” She halted, unable to face the next part. So she wouldn’t. “When I got away, I—”

“No, pet.” Zander shook her shoulder lightly. “Yesterday, you refused to talk about this. Today we need to hear it.”

“But…”

His expression held the frightening combination of a Dom’s sympathy…and determination. “All of it, Lindsey.”

Even as she pushed at his hand, his command helped. She wanted to tell someone—needed to—if only it hadn’t been so difficult. Staring at her fingers, she forced the words out. “Agent Ricks said since Travis would kill me, he might as well have fun first. He knocked me down. Kicked me so I couldn’t breathe.” Couldn’t scream.

She had to stop and swallow back the sickness. “I fought.” But he hit me and hit me. “He unzipped my jeans and…” The words wouldn’t come.

“Go on, pet,” Simon said softly. Yet when she managed to look up at him, she saw his expression was filled with rage.

“Before he could—the doorbell rang, and I could hear voices. It was the people who’d been in the van.” She realized she was rubbing the scar on the back of her right hand. The big one. “When he put his hand over my mouth, I poked my fingers at his eyes, and he let me go, and I dove through the front window and ran.”

Zander took her arm and pushed her sweater sleeve up, showing the scars. “Did glass cause these?”

“Uh-huh. When I covered my face, the glass ripped my arms instead.” She paused. “I terrified the religious people. They were calling and running toward me. Probably to help, but I panicked. I ran and didn’t realize till I got to the car that I was all bloody.”

The sound Zander made was sheer fury. “Did you go to a hospital?”

She shook her head. “I was too scared. I used socks to stop the bleeding and went to a drugstore. Got a ton of butterfly strips and gauze and antibiotic ointment.” She frowned at the scars. Did they bother him?

He ruffled her hair. “Smart girl. He’d have found you otherwise.”

“Did Ricks give chase at all?” Stan asked.

“Uh-uh. He didn’t even open the door. The religious guys didn’t even know he was there. Heck, they probably figured I was some druggie burglarizing the house.”

“You’ve provided a pretty damning statement of Ricks’s involvement with smuggling.” Stan sighed. “I’ll tell Bonner. And I can see why you’re wary about agents.” He stared at the fire for a moment before looking at her. “How about this—Simon will stay with me while I go through the evidence. Once I know what’s there, we’ll talk some more.”

“I want to see what these guys look like.” Zander stroked her hair. “Will you be comfortable if Dixon stays with you?”

“I’ll let you beat me at pool if you make me a margarita afterward.” Dixon bumped his shoulder into hers.

Dix was a terrible pool player. She gave a tiny laugh. “You’re on.”

***

After beating Dixon at pool and mixing him a couple of drinks—and having some herself—Lindsey pushed all her worries into a corner of her mind. This might be her last chance to hang out with friends; damned if she’d spend it huddled in her cabin.

In the kitchen, Rona was sitting with Jake’s wife, Kallie, at the long center table. Standing at the counter, mixing something, Becca said, “I heard an awful lot of moaning. Did Dixon lose the game?”

“He is one whiny loser.” And he’d gone out of his way to keep her spirits up, bless his heart. A ton of alcohol was bubbling in her bloodstream. “What can I help with?”