Page 12

Twelve

Jackson

We found the teens holed up in an old hunting shack near Independence Peak.

Two starry-eyed kids trying to live out a Romeo and Juliet fantasy, almost getting themselves killed in the process.

From what I could piece together, the girl’s parents weren’t too keen on their fourteen-year-old daughter hooking up with a seventeen-year-old boy. The two had devised a plan to hike across the Canadian border to start a life together. Unfortunately, they got caught up in a rare May snowstorm in the mountains for which they weren’t equipped.

The kids were lucky they found that shack, or the outcome could’ve been a lot worse than the trouble they met when they found their parents waiting for them at the hospital in Eureka. I’m sure they’ll recover quickly from their adventures and the mild hypothermia they suffered, but I imagine other consequences will be longer lasting.

“Where have you been? Missed you around, kid.”

Thomas is sitting in his regular spot on the porch when I walk past from the barn to my cabin.

My plan had been a shower and then to Stephanie’s to pick up my dog…at least that’s the excuse I’m sticking with. It wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact I can’t seem to get the woman from my mind, especially after hearing her soft sighs of pleasure while making her come on my fingers. But I can’t walk past the old man after hearing the plea in his voice.

“Sorry, Gramps. Things have been busy; I know I haven’t been around much.”

What starts as a hoarse chuckle from him quickly turns into a rattling cough. Concern has me climb the porch steps, but when I get close to him, I see the sparkle of humor in his eyes.

“The FBI agent got your attention?” he manages after clearing his throat.

As I’ve heard from the other guys, there is no escaping Thomas when he’s ready to dole out his romantic advice. Besides, he’s right, I haven’t been around much. Being the only two single guys left on the ranch, the two of us would often spend time chatting after dinner. Not long, since Thomas generally starts getting ready for bed by eight. Still, having become more of a spectator than a participant in life, even just those ten or twenty minutes of human interaction would be a big deal to him.

Resigned, I climb up the porch steps. There’s no way to know how many more of these chats the old man has left in him.

“You could say that,” I confess, taking a seat in the other wooden rocker.

“Pretty girl. Didn’t know she was from around here.”

“She’s not, but she’s staying at JD’s trailer while she’s on break.”

“Break?”

I shouldn’t be surprised the old man won’t let that one slide.

“She’s had a health scare she’s recovering from, but she’ll be fine.”

That’s about as much as I’m willing to give him.

“I bet she will, kid. I know you’ll make sure of it.”

I glance over to find Thomas’s rheumy eyes looking at me sternly.

“Don’t make more of it than it is,” I caution him.

My words are easily dismissed with an impatient wave of his hand and a pointed, “Harrumph.”

“Been waiting long enough, Jackson. Thought I’d never see the damn day, so don’t go denying me the peace of mind my only grandson is finally settling down with a good woman. You’re sweet on the filly, and that’s all there’s to it.”

I bark out a laugh.

“If only things were that simple.”

“They are,” he insists. “You young’uns just like to complicate things when love is all that matters.”

Love .

That’s a big-ass word, and something I’m not sure I’m cut out for. At the very least, it’s premature.

“Don’t give me that look,” he adds, narrowing his eyes. “Trust me when I say, there will come a time you’ll regret wasting even one single day. I’d give anything to have just one more day with your grandma Mary. The love of my life, that woman, and I took way too long opening myself up to the possibility I might be the one for her too.”

Even though I never knew his wife, Mary—who died long before I first met Thomas—I’ve become very familiar with her through his stories over the years. From what I understand, she was a force to be reckoned with, which isn’t all that surprising, considering the two of them produced someone like Jonas.

Of course Thomas had been a catch in his own right back then, as he’s told me before; he already owned his own ranch outside Amarillo, Texas.

I, on the other hand, work for my stepfather, live on his ranch rent-free, and have nothing more than my truck and my prosthesis to my name.

“It’s not the same,” I point out. “Not like I have much to offer.”

“Why the hell not?”

As old and frail as he’s getting, there is nothing wrong with Thomas’s volume, which has my mother sticking her head out the front door.

“Is everything okay? Oh hey, honey. Didn’t realize you were out here,” she directs at me. “Ama left enough food in the slow cooker for everyone.”

“I’ll take a pass,” I announce, taking the opportunity to get to my feet.

I need a shower and could use a long hard think about what the hell I’m doing, putting the moves on Stephanie. Because the old man is right about one thing; I am sweet on her, but that in itself is not enough.

She’s here only temporarily and as soon as she finds her feet will be back to the career she lives and breathes for. This thing with me has been a distraction—a little break from reality, like a vacation fling—but it has no future. Unfortunately, I’m afraid it wouldn’t stay a fling for me. Already I find myself more invested.

I should never have let down my guard.

* * *

Stephanie

“Come on, Ash. Let’s go.”

Jackson’s dog has been sniffing furiously around the base of that tree and won’t leave it alone. From the fresh scratches in the bark at least six feet off the ground and the clumps of fur sticking to the trunk, I’m guessing a bear was here recently.

I’m less worried about myself—I have my bear spray with me, and even slipped my gun in my pocket this time before heading back out on the trail—but I’m concerned about the rambunctious dog getting it in his head to face off with wildlife ten times his size. I wouldn’t put it past him.

Dammit, I wish dogs came with leashes like they do in the city. Here, most dogs are trained to follow and listen without one, except Ash isn’t listening much now.

“Ash, here!” I try again, this time my tone gets his attention.

I slap a hand on my thigh in encouragement. The dog takes one more longing look up in the tree, before finally turning toward me reluctantly.

I immediately turn on my heel and start walking back in the direction of the trailer. I need a bathroom and am not about to crouch down behind a tree. Not with bears around, thank you very much.

Also, I’ve seen what I’m pretty sure is poison oak or poison ivy, with the three leaves I was told to avoid. I’d rather not risk exposing my nether regions to that stuff. The memory of a particularly embarrassing episode at the summer camp my father sent me to when I was fourteen, and had the misfortune of innocently squatting in a patch of the stuff behind the girl’s lodge because I was too afraid to walk to the outhouse, is burned in my mind.

Glancing over my shoulder, I’m relieved to see Ash is following. Pretty soon he’s back out in front, sniffing blades of grass and low-hanging branches. He seems oblivious of the risks of squatting to do his business, and I’m glad we’re out here where I don’t have to pick up his poops.

The walk has helped to clear my head, which has been a little scrambled since Jackson left here last night. I had an amazing time with him and was on cloud nine as I was getting ready for bed, but the moment my head hit the pillow, doubts started creeping in, leaving me feeling vulnerable and a little raw, causing a minor panic attack. Emotions have been on a bit of a rollercoaster since then, making me feel unsettled.

I don’t have my shit together yet, I have no idea what my future is going to look like, I don’t have a clear path or a solid base, and I’m not sure how wise it is to start something new when I don’t even know where I stand on my own.

My feelings are already involved, but I need to be cautious letting things move ahead between Jackson and me. It’s so tempting to lean on him with all my weight, but he is a man who already has enough to carry on his shoulders. I need to find some solid footing of my own.

By the time I see glimpses of the trailer through the trees, the dog is trotting well ahead, like a horse smelling the stable. Then right in the bend, where the trail veers off to the house, Ash abruptly stops. He lifts up one of his front legs and perks his ears at something he sees up ahead. Next thing I know, he’s off running, his sharp bark echoing through the trees.

I don’t recognize the dark SUV parked next to my CR-V. Ash is barking furiously, jumping up against the vehicle, and I can just make out a figure behind the wheel. Shifting the bear spray to my left hand, I shove the right one in my pocket where it curls securely around the grip of my weapon.

The passenger side window on the SUV slowly slides down as I approach.

“Can you get your damn dog away from my door? He’s scratching up the rental.”

Fucking Ben Vallard .

Not that it’s a surprise he shows up in town—he told me as much—but how the hell did he find me? It’s not like I left a forwarding address with the Kalispell office, and I definitely never volunteered the specifics of where I’m staying to Ben. That wasn’t part of the plan. At least not mine.

“You wait there,” I snap at him, pulling Ash away from the vehicle.

I feel Vallard’s eyes on my back as I struggle to keep the dog under control while unlocking the front door. Hustling Ash inside, I slam the door shut behind us and hurry for the bathroom where I take care of my bursting bladder first.

“How did you find me?” I ask him a few minutes later when I open the door and find him standing right outside.

But when he makes a move to come in, I quickly step out and pull the door closed behind me. He lifts a sarcastic eyebrow in response.

“Local law enforcement was quite helpful. A Sheriff Hughes or something?”

“Ewing,” I correct him.

I’m annoyed. Not at Junior Ewing, who I bumped into at the grocery store the other day, but at Ben, for being intrusive.

“If you wanted to talk to me, you could’ve just called.”

“I could’ve, but I wanted to see you. It’s been so long.”

He casually leans a hip against the rental SUV’s fender, tilting his head with that faint, cocky smirk on his lips.

The charm and the easy familiarity I once fell for—hook, line, and sinker—now just gives me an ick-feeling. There isn’t a thing about Ben Vallard that is easy or casual; everything is carefully calculated to bring about a desired effect.

“Cut the bull, Ben. I stopped buying a long time ago. I told you all I know over the phone and the rest is up to you. You don’t need to see me; you can take it from here.”

“I could, but you would save me a lot of time showing me around, introducing me to Tracy.”

“You’re FBI, how much more introduction do you need?” I point out.

“I didn’t know you had a dog?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

He’s trying to keep me off-balance. I know his games.

“And why would you?” I fire back. “Aside from the fact we share an employer, you’re nothing but a faded smudge on a distant past. Now, what is it you’re hoping to gain by coming here?”

I plant a fist on my hip and glare him down.

“Aww, come on, don’t be that way,” he cajoles with a broad smirk, but when he realizes I’m not going to play, his face morphs into an impassive mask. “Fine. I need help on the ground here. Because there have been no reported sightings of Laine, my boss gave me only a couple of days to poke around. If I can’t come up with confirmation the guy is in this area, he wants me in South Dakota to chase down new leads. You’re familiar with the area.”

I shake my head, conveying my response.

“I told you, I’m on leave. The only reason I agreed to get the information you wanted was because a policeman is dead—for that and more Laine belongs behind bars—and I was able to get it without the need for any credentials. But I’m otherwise useless to you, I currently don’t have access to FBI resources. Hell, I don’t even have my badge. Talk to Sheriff Ewing, maybe he can offer some assistance, I don’t know, but don’t look at me; I don’t have any standing at the moment.”

“Were you suspended?” he asks, his eyes narrowed on me. “Is that why you’re hiding out in this little Podunk hole in Montana? I thought that shooting in Thompson Falls was ruled a good one.”

I don’t know what is more disturbing; the thought he may have been keeping tabs on me, or the fact he knows about the most pivotal moment in my career.

“No,” I respond curtly, not wanting to get into the real reason, but I also don’t want the story going around I was suspended from my job.

That kind of gossip has a tendency to get around, and the last thing I want is for it to reach my father’s ears. Even after being retired for about fifteen years, he still has connections within the FBI, one of them standing in front of me now.

Ben Vallard was my father’s last partner, and Dad was Ben’s first. I’ve come to realize part of my attraction to Ben had been my father held him in high regard. Maybe I’d hoped hooking up with Ben would meet my dad’s approval. Another pathetic attempt at gaining Dad’s favor that blew up in my face.

Not that Dad ever found out about it, Ben had insisted on keeping things under wraps while they lasted, which wasn’t long. Of course he’d never intended for our relationship to be anything long term and played me, something he wouldn’t have wanted my father to know.

To be honest, I don’t think it mattered, Dad probably would’ve found some reason to put the blame on me. Nothing I’ve done in my solid career for the FBI so far has been able to make him proud of me. I’ve long given up trying to impress him, and we barely even speak, but I still don’t want word getting back to him I’ve been sidelined.

It would confirm what he’s been trying to tell me all these years; I don’t measure up. The last time he told me that to my face was at my brother’s funeral years ago. He battled cancer and lost. Another dark mark on our family. I know it was grief talking that day, but it hadn’t been the first time my father made it clear to me I wasn’t worth the dirt on his shoes. That was the last time I actually saw him face-to-face.

“I’m recovering from a health issue that landed me in the hospital a while ago,” I opt to share. “I’m on medical leave.”

He draws his eyebrows together as he studies me. “What kind of health issue?”

I straighten my back and lift my chin a fraction higher.

“The kind that is none of your damn business. Now, like I said, I can’t?—”

I abruptly stop talking when I catch sight of Jackson’s truck coming up the driveway.

Oh fuck.

I have a feeling I’m about to witness a pissing contest.