Reckless Endangerment Read online

  “Good for each other, huh? Yeah, I suppose I can see that.” She returned to the side of the bed and linked her fingers through his. “Someone knows about us...a bad guy. How is that possible? I haven’t told anyone and know you haven’t. But this guy who knows...he’s dangerous.”

  “What happened tonight, babe? What have you gotten yourself into?” Once again he reached for the lamp only to have her grab his wrist.

  “I know this breaks all the rules imaginable, but you need to keep this by your bedside table.” She reached into her messenger bag and pulled out a gun. She held it up for him to see before handing it to him. “You of all people know how to use it.”

  He held the revolver in his hand and frowned. It had been months since he’d held one, but, yeah, he definitely knew how to use it. “What the hell is going on, Shane?”

  “You only use my last name when you’re about to lecture me so...before that happens...let me tell you that it’s for your own good.” Again her fingers traced the tattoo on his chest. “I love you. Know that. Maybe this is proof to you that I’m not good for you anymore, but I do love you.”

  He grabbed her forearm and held her when she moved to stand. “Was I threatened? Is that what this middle of the night rendezvous is about?”

  When she tilted her head toward the ceiling, the moonlight illuminated her face enough for him to see a bandage on her forehead, a cut lip and a wicked bruise on her cheekbone.

  “Damn it, babe, what happened?” His grip held firm when she tried to yank her arm away. “You can’t just show up in the middle of the night, ask me about my reflexes, hand me a gun and then not explain what happened to your face.”

  “The less you know the better.”

  “Start talking. Now.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “That’s obvious. You wouldn’t be involved if it weren’t complicated.” Despite the circumstances, he smiled. This was familiar--whispering with her in the dark about plots, danger, and possibilities. He’d missed it.

  Her shoulders hunched, a sign he recognized as surrender.

  “Who else would know about us?” She scooted closer to him. “Becky said you were moved here before you were ready because of a custody battle, yet from what you told me Dalton’s mom has been out of the picture. Why now? Why does she suddenly want him enough to force you back to Colorado? Are you sure she does? Could someone have gotten to her so that they could use you as leverage against me?”

  Man, he’d always been impressed with how quick her mind worked. Happy to have something else to think about than his own life, he leaned over and slipped the gun into the top drawer of his bedside table. What the hell? Whatever was going on was definitely more interesting than talking about his feelings with the therapist and learning how to do basic life bullshit in this transitional facility.

  “You think someone knew about us, wanted to force my family’s hand in transferring me here so they could use me as leverage against you so you’d stop snooping in whatever story you’re working on? Pretty elaborate theory, Shane.” He couldn’t stop smiling, but for the life of him he didn’t know why. “I thought you arranged for me to come here, thought you were the puppet master manipulating my strings.”

  Her hand moved over his abdomen in a lazy pattern. “I started working on this story about a month ago—little tidbits of information started arriving almost as soon as I moved here. Then suddenly you’re here...my secret and my weakness, the note said.”

  “Your secret and your weakness, huh? That’s not good for a variety of reasons. So this story is big, that’s what you’re saying? Are powerful people involved?” He snagged her hand and yanked her close. He hated being referred to as her weakness but knew it was true. “You trust me with a gun after my mental break on Tuesday? That’s not very smart.”

  “Just don’t use it on my sister. I’d never live with the guilt.” She grinned, cracking open the torn lip. “Yes, I believe very powerful people are involved, but the real question here that’s driving me crazy is how does anyone know we’re married when we’ve both been so good at hiding it.”

  “I don’t know. I think you’re over-thinking it, though. I don’t think my custody battle or Callie has anything to do with your story. You said you filed the marriage papers in New York, which means our marriage is public record. Maybe you’re not the only one who’s good at research. There’s not always a conspiracy.”

  “Yes, there is. Neither of us believes in coincidence. If you weren’t so medicated, your Marine instincts would tell you the same thing.”

  “You’re obsessed with my medication, yet you bring me a gun. You make no sense, babe.”

  “I have more faith in you medicated than I have in most people who are totally sober.” She smiled again, her lip looking painful as hell.

  He brushed away the trickle of blood on her chin with his thumb, his heart exploding with the knowledge that she trusted him despite all the evidence that he wasn’t a safe bet any longer.

  With a sigh, she curled against his side, her head on his shoulder and her hand roaming over his chest again, fingers tracing his death before dishonor tattoo over and over again.

  “Are you going to tell me how you got those injuries?” he asked after her lengthy silence.

  “I’d rather just lay here for awhile, if that’s okay with you. When Becky came to the hospital, I stole her key card to get in the employee’s entrance. I need to get out of here, stash it back in her car, and disappear before the world wakes up.”

  He grinned against the top of her head, his fingers toying with the long strands of hair that covered his arm. Strange how this of all things—her sneaking around, giving him a gun, working out story questions—made him feel normal.

  “I love you, Hope, just as much today as the day I married you. Never doubt that. I’m just not sure what’s best.” He held her a bit tighter.

  “We’re gonna be okay,” she whispered against his shoulder. “Trust me. It’s all going to be okay.”

  He squeezed his eyes closed and breathed in the scent of her. She always had so much faith in him...he only hoped he’d live up to it.

  Chapter Ten

  “I think we’ve finally lost our minds,” Devon said from behind dark glasses. She wore a baseball cap low over her forehead. “I don’t think this is what Marion envisioned when he told us to lay low for a few weeks or what my doctor meant when he told me to take it easy.”

  Both women had hiked four miles to the top of Saint Mary’s Glacier. Hope held binoculars to her eyes as she propped her hip against a large boulder with snow at her feet. Late spring in Colorado meant snow mixed with blinding sunlight. Maybe that’s why she’d missed the state during all of her travels. Its contradictions suited her, mountains and plains, snow under a brilliant blue sky, warm one minute, chilly the next. She sighed away her thoughts and forced herself to focus. The key to certain construction trailer burned a hole in pocket and she wanted this story wrapped sooner rather than later.

  “What’s wrong with getting some fresh air?” she asked without lowering the binoculars.

  “I’d rather have done a trip to Cabo to recuperate with some Latin hot bodies instead of lurking around on top of a glacier.” Devon grinned, her swollen lip twisting demonically with the effort. “Please don’t tell Marshall what I say about picking up men. He won’t get it that I’m all talk with zero follow-thru.”

  “Let’s go down. I haven’t seen any activity for the past hour. No one’s there.” She winced when she jumped from her perch on the boulder. Although nothing had been broken Tuesday night, her bruised body protested every movement and breath.

  “I’m soaking in your hot tub tonight when we get back from this adventure. Life has gotten more interesting since you came home.” Devon moaned as she stood and stretched her hands behind her back.

  “I won’t even ask if that’s a good or a bad thing. Protein bar?”

  “Where did that come from?” Devon eyed the bar suspiciousl
y.

  “My bag.” She peeled the label from hers and started to hike toward the deserted construction trailer.

  If their guess was right, there would be documents inside to link Gannon Construction with undocumented workers…or smugglers…at least she hoped they would find something incriminating. Money had to be involved and a lot of it for a construction company of this magnitude to risk dirtying their hands.

  She inhaled the rich pine air, observed the mountain peaks soaring around her, the falling aspen leaves and listened to the crush of her feet on glacial snow. For a moment—just a fleeting second—she relaxed.

  Hands on hips, she surveyed the fence. Devon filmed the fence for background footage if they needed it. Surveillance cameras scanned the perimeter. Seeing them, she stepped back into the shadows. Devon mirrored her actions.

  “How are we going to get in?” Devon asked, shoving the video camera into her backpack.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s what the key’s for, but I know what you mean. There are cameras everywhere.” She squinted at the cameras, wondering if they were manned or just taped. It would be easy to destroy the tapes if they gained access. If they were manned, there would be trouble. Frowning, she pulled her hat lower and double-checked that her hair was safely concealed. “Let’s walk.”

  “I’m serious about Cabo. How long has it been since you’ve taken a vacation?” Devon stepped around a fallen log, her gaze skimming the fence line. “Think about it. You and me, lots of tequila, sun and no drama. Paradise.”

  “I should have checked on Michael,” she said as an afterthought. “I hope Becky isn’t pushing him too hard.”

  “Ah, yes, the Colonel.” Devon chuckled. “Isn’t it Becky’s job to push him hard?”

  Hard. Her mind flashed to the image of Michael, the taste of his mouth… A shiver rippled through her body. She tripped on a tree root and almost lost her balance.

  “Peter used to email me that you’d met some man over there.” Devon flashed her a smile. “Said you made a good pair. A naughty, often obnoxious pair, but definitely a match.”

  She grinned. “He said we were obnoxious?”

  “Only you would take that as a compliment.” Devon rolled her eyes.

  Any thought of her former cameraman and friend made her smile. “I miss Peter.”

  “I know you do.” Devon nodded.

  “I thought Michael and I were a secret.” Once again, she wondered who’d ratted them out, or even if it’d been that difficult to discover. Maybe not.

  Devon laughed. “In that small hotel locked together with a bunch of journalists? Please. I’m sure the walls were thin, too.”

  “Okay, I get it.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  Sounds of a vehicle made her stop in the shadow of a pine. Devon stood opposite her, camera already in hand. A limousine drove from behind an iron gate. From this distance, she could not see a license plate. She hoped Devon would be able to salvage it from the video.

  “I think we need to wait until dark before trying to get inside the fence,” she whispered, no longer feeling safe within the protection of the trees.

  Devon sat back on her heels, face expressionless behind the dark glasses. “I’m not camping. We’ll get inside now or never. I have a date with your hot tub tonight, remember?”

  From this distance, they had a good view of the limousine twisting its way down the mountain.

  She swallowed hard. Her heartbeat drummed a samba rhythm in her ears. She pulled the hat from her head and shoved her hands through her hair. She couldn’t breathe. She blinked toward the sky as the world spun beneath her feet. The tree pressed hard against her back through the thin fleece coat.

  “Are you okay?” Devon crouched in front of her, glasses off to reveal the swollen left eye.

  She shook her head and averted her gaze to the fence ten feet away.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered to no one in particular. She unzipped her jacket that suddenly seemed to be squeezing the breath from her.

  Her mind played tricks on her…Peter’s laugh in her head…Marishka singing to her children…Michael falling face first to the ground…blood on her hands…picking bits of Peter’s skull from her face…dragging Michael through the desert…praying…screaming and screaming.

  “Hey.” Devon grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Look at me. We’re going to do what we came here to do and then go home. We’ll have a glass of wine in your hot tub tonight. That’s what we’re going to do, okay? Focus.”

  Through the faded images in her mind, she fought to be present. Her hands moved over her stomach for the secret casualty she couldn’t bear to think about. Nausea rolled through her like a tidal wave.

  “Is this from the head injury? What’s wrong?” Fear flickered over Devon’s face.

  She looked over her shoulder at the endless amount of pine trees that soared toward a flawless Colorado blue sky. Isolated.

  “I’m fine,” she said as the fog cleared and the nausea subsided. Forcing a shaky smile, she patted Devon on the shoulder. “No worries. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  She shrugged free of her friend’s hands and reached into her bag for some water. She stared at the construction trailer behind the fence and forced herself to concentrate.

  The key. She looked at it from side to side and then looked at the gate below where the limousine had driven through. Too simple.

  “Why not try it?” Devon stood and looked around the premises. “I don’t know where that limousine came from. I don’t see anyone.”

  Quiet. She hated quiet. She shook off the feeling of dread and stood, still leaning against the tree. Exhaling a long breath, she stared at the development site. It was a weekday. Where were the workers? Where was the activity? She narrowed her eyes as she adjusted the hat over her hair.

  “Let’s go.” Like a mountain goat, she navigated the rocky ridge. The key fit the padlock on the gate. Too easy. She didn’t trust simple.

  The gate swung wide. As an afterthought, she used the hem of her shirt to remove fingerprints from the lock and gate. Camera in hand, Devon moved ahead of her and filmed the dormant vehicles, the trailer and all else in their view. An eagle soared overhead and screeched its warning.

  The key fit the lock to the trailer, too. Digital camera in hand, she took pictures of every file she could see. Hands moved along the undersurface of desks and drawers. She found two DVDs, which she slipped inside her bag. Breaking and entering wasn’t her MO, but she believed in adapting to circumstance.

  A wire leading along the wall to a black box in the corner caught her attention. A look out the window showed Devon still filming the outside. Shirt hem pulled over her fingers she opened the box. Security footage. Finding a wrench, she whacked the recording device and stole the DVD.

  “I don’t even want to know how many felonies I’m committing,” she whispered under her breath. If these people were responsible for her being attacked the other night and Rourke’s murder—not to mention the human atrocities she imagined--she could live with the consequences.

  Outside she saw Devon snooping through the trashcan. Good girl. Smiling, she jogged to her.

  “We should go. I hate how quiet this place is. Gives me the creeps.” She looked over her shoulder and thought she saw movement behind one of the dormant earthmovers. “C’mon, Dev.”

  Devon held out a picture of the two of them walking from the diner Monday. It had been crumpled and tossed aside. Here.

  “Take it.” She squinted toward the earthmover. Nothing. Could have been an animal. But still… “If you really don’t want to camp tonight, we should go.”

  Devon rubbed her forehead and grimaced. “Damn headache. I can’t believe I don’t have a concussion. Feels like my head’s going to crack in two. I don’t suppose you have any Ibuprofen in that bag of yours?”

  She pulled out a traveling packet and tossed it to Devon. She
remembered the blood that had pooled in the snow only two days ago.

  “We should have waited to come here. You have a head injury,” she said.

  “Hard head. So did you. Those stitches above your eye make you look more dangerous than you did before. What will your Michael say about that?” Devon gulped the pills without water. “The doctor said I was fine and I am. I just have a headache. Let’s go.”

  Something was wrong here. Looking around her as she relocked the gate, she didn’t see anything or anyone. They climbed back the way they had come, all the while the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

  * * * *

  Well, Hope had been true to her word when she’d said she planned on disappearing. She’d dropped completely off the grid for two days. He glared at her sister as he held the bars and tried to stand on his own. He hadn’t seen her on the news either. Questions ached to be shouted: Where the hell had she gone? What was happening outside these ugly yellow walls?

  Not that she owed him anything, not at all. Hell, he had anticipated this.

  But he hadn’t anticipated McGee showing up and camping on his sofa since yesterday morning. All he would say is that Hope asked him to come down and keep him company. The last thing he needed was company, let alone from McGee who never stopped talking…and eating…and playing video games…and talking...Oh my God, what he would give for some peace.

  And then there were the strange looks Becky kept giving him, like she wanted to say something but didn’t dare.

  “You’re not focusing,” Becky said, her hands holding his forearms.

  Sweat dripped into his eyes. He used all of his strength to hold himself on the bars. Okay, so he had minimal feeling in his right leg but none of it was pleasurable. He missed the numbness. Stabbing pain ripped through his waist and shot up his spine. His entire body shook with the effort. If he were alone, he would have cried. He wondered what had happened to the man he had been, the man with the courage, the stamina, the strength.

  His body succumbed to spasms. He fell forward only to be caught by Becky and her partner, Gabriel.