Leverage
Leverage
Janie Crouch
He’d been hired to transport precious cargo—and it put a beautiful twist in his solitary lifeFormer operative turned pilot Dylan Branson has one mission: deliver vital codes to Omega Sector before millions of lives are lost. Surprisingly, the codes reside in the photographic memory of Shelby Keelan, a beautiful computer expert who’s so far survived two murder attempts. Used to doing things solo, Dylan will get Shelby to Washington, D.C., then walk away. So he’s stunned to discover she’s as much a loner as he is—and how much that appeals to him. Now, with both their lives in danger after his plane is sabotaged mid-air, Dylan no longer thinks of Shelby as just a job. Or that he’ll be able to let her go once it’s over.
“You hurt me, Dylan. Because what you think you want and what you really want are two different things.”
“I want you,” he whispered, backing her up against the wall. “You are what I think I want and what I really want.”
“But you might change your mind.” Shelby began to look away again.
“I am not going to change my mind.” Dylan brought his hands up on either side of her head, burrowing his fingers in her damp hair. “I hurt you, because I’m so used to pushing everyone away, and I’m sorry. You are what I want. I won’t hurt you again.”
Dylan could see the doubt in Shelby’s eyes, and it killed him. He was afraid she would pull away. But she leaned toward him, putting her lips gently against his.
He kissed her back gently. But then the hunger—the heat—that had sparked between them since the first moment they’d met flared again. And all thought of soft and gentle was left behind.
To my “Shelby”: soul mates come in all different forms, in all different seasons. Thank you for the love you radiate and helping me see the beauty in everything. May the wine of our friendship never run dry.
Leverage
Janie Crouch
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JANIE CROUCH has loved to read romance her whole life. She cut her teeth on Mills & Boon® romance novels as a pre-teen, then moved on to a passion for romantic suspense as an adult. Janie lives with her husband and four children overseas. Janie enjoys traveling, long-distance running, movie-watching, knitting and adventure/obstacle racing. You can find out more about her at www.janiecrouch.com (http://www.janiecrouch.com).
Contents
Cover (#u45378d76-b475-5f7a-bee6-02e7c1d24fd8)
Introduction (#uff6b3abb-2753-5116-88f4-472850c07110)
Dedication (#ub37b2534-b243-5ea7-973e-b7b5895c18b7)
Title Page (#ueea43475-2624-521d-b446-4542d56b8362)
About the Author (#u4058f176-a3b0-5689-9245-36e2bb811cb8)
Chapter One (#u7c316863-b1b3-5e6f-978a-1663c456a0a6)
Chapter Two (#u39dbc14a-1036-5656-8722-c31fad746a0a)
Chapter Three (#udc2fe5c0-3d2b-517a-96ba-c87262675eed)
Chapter Four (#u1639ad1f-e9b9-561d-ab62-f69555838b4e)
Chapter Five (#u8757dd51-90de-5bd5-91f3-8c7b7a1e305c)
Chapter Six (#u0cc5038e-b5c2-5f5c-9856-5bfbaccb3afa)
Chapter Seven (#u19eab3af-6575-59c3-8621-607653394bee)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_bbb59bd3-b547-583e-98a7-d43566bd8c7a)
Sometimes a man just wanted to be left alone.
Dylan Branson didn’t think that was too much to ask. He’d served his country for years, both on American soil and off, and had the scars—both physical and emotional—to show for it. But that was behind him now. Far behind him.
Not that you would know it from the voice talking at Dylan from the phone.
Dylan held the phone out at arm’s length, staring at it as if it were a snake about to bite him. He’d rather be handling a snake. Seriously, give him a cottonmouth over what was at the other end of this phone line.
It was Dennis Burgamy, Dylan’s boss when he worked at Omega Sector, a covert interagency task force. A crime-fighting, problem-solving, get-stuff-done unit, made up of the most elite agents the country had to offer. And Dylan had been one of the best of the best.
But not anymore.
Despite its arm’s-length distance, Dylan could still hear Dennis Burgamy clearly on the other line. Dylan hadn’t held the phone against his ear in at least two minutes, but evidently Burgamy hadn’t missed Dylan’s input into the conversation because the other man hadn’t even noticed Dylan wasn’t talking.
Which was pretty typical of Dylan’s former boss. The difference now was that Dylan didn’t have to listen to the other man. Burgamy wasn’t his boss anymore.
Finally silence came from the other end of the phone. Dylan cautiously brought it back to his ear.
“Are you there, Branson?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” Dylan sat on the porch of the house he’d mostly built himself and looked out over the pinkish light of early evening hitting the Blue Ridge Mountains surrounding him on three sides. Those mountains had been the only thing able to bring him a measure of peace over the past few years since his wife’s death, and he tried to draw on that peace again now. To no avail. “You do remember that I don’t work for you anymore, right, Burgamy?”
Dylan’s statement was met with a dramatic sigh. There had never been any lost love between Burgamy and any of the Branson siblings. Dylan’s sister and two brothers were all active Omega agents, and all had butted heads with Burgamy at some point.
“You are in the charter airline business now, Dylan,” Burgamy reminded him. “I’m not asking you to do anything you wouldn’t do for any other paying customer.”
It was true. For the past four years Dylan had been flying customers and cargo wherever they needed to go all over the East Coast with his Cessna. But Dylan wasn’t so desperate for business that he wanted to be at Burgamy’s beck and call.
“I’m all booked. Sorry.”
“Look, Dylan...” Dylan recognized the change in Burgamy’s tone. Evidently Burgamy realized threatening Dylan wouldn’t get him what he wanted, so he’d decided to try a different tactic. “How about if you do this for us, then I’ll erase all record of Sawyer’s little incident last year.”
The little incident referred to Dylan’s youngest brother, Sawyer, punching Burgamy in the jaw and knocking his boss unconscious during an operation that was going wrong. Sawyer managed to keep his job at Omega, but only barely. And although Sawyer was able to keep his job, the occurrence would still keep his brother from ever being able to move up in official ranks. Of course, until recently, Sawyer had no interest in ever moving higher than the rank of agent. Doing so would mean a desk job, which had frightened him no end. But now that Sawyer was married to sweet little Megan and expecting a baby, a desk job might be more appealing to him.
And damn it, this made saying no to Burgamy much more complicated.
Dylan looked out at the mountains. He didn’t want to set foot back inside Omega. He’d done it a couple of times since he’d quit over six years ago, and each time had been fraught with disaster. Dylan still had residual discomfort from the beating he’d taken while trying to help his brother Cameron on an Omega mission a while ago.
In Dylan’s experience, every trip to Omega led to some sort of pain. And he wasn’t interested in experiencing that again if he had any other option.
“It’s important, Branson,” Burgamy continued. “We need these codes. And Shelby Keelan, the lady with the codes, is a friend of your sister-in-law. I’m sure Megan will take it as a personal insult if you don’t help us with this matter.”
Dylan closed his eyes. Burgamy didn’t know it, but Dylan was already in. And if Dylan hadn’t been, bringing up Megan would’ve done it. Dylan liked Sawyer’s wife—the brilliant computer scientist—a great deal. She was good for his brother; had somehow managed to tame the playboy of the family without even trying.
And now Sawyer and Megan were having a baby. Which was totally great for Dylan’s parents, who had wanted grandkids for the longest time. They’d finally get their wish.
For just a second, that old ache crept into Dylan’s chest. He pushed away the thought of the baby that hadn’t made it when his wife had been killed. Nothing could be done about that now.
If Megan wanted him to pick up some codes or whatever from a friend of hers and bring the codes to Omega, Dylan would do it. He loved his brother, loved his sister-in-law and wanted to do anything he could to keep that baby growing happy and healthy inside her.
Of course, he didn’t know why Megan’s friend couldn’t just email the codes. Why Dylan needed to hand deliver them to Washington, DC. Or why this lady couldn’t just deliver them herself. But whatever. He knew better than to ask. With Omega, things were never simple.
Effective? Yes. Simple? No.
For example, things could’ve been much simpler if Megan or Sawyer had just called Dylan themselves and asked him to fly in the codes. He’d already be gassing up his Cessna right now. But Burgamy couldn’t resist an opportunity to lord power over any member of the Branson family. It bugged Dylan to submit to Burgamy, but he might as well get it over with.
“Fine, Burgamy, I’ll do it.”
“Good. Because Shelby Keelan is on her way to you right now. She should be arriving in Falls Run in about thirty minutes. Meeting you at the only restaurant your blip on the map seems to have.”
Dylan hung up the phone without saying anything else. Burgamy had obviously told the woman to come out here even before asking Dylan, sure he would get Dylan’s cooperation. Dylan hated being a foregone conclusion.
He watched the pinkening sky for a few more moments, allowing the phone to fall next to him in the swing on his porch rather than crush it against the wall the way he wanted to.
There were things Dylan regretted about his deliberate walk away from Omega six years ago. But having to listen to Dennis Burgamy wasn’t one of them.
Dylan would get the codes from Megan’s friend, fly them to Omega, say a quick hello to his siblings and get the hell out. There would be no traversing up the sides of yachts, emergency takeoffs with people shooting at him or being beaten to within an inch of his life.
Like his last visits.
Dylan grabbed his phone and stood up. He’d have to get going if he was going to make it into town by the time Shelby Keelan arrived. His phone buzzed again in his hand. Dylan grimaced, hoping it wasn’t Burgamy.
It wasn’t.
“You are not my current favorite sibling, Sawyer.” Dylan’s words were tough, but his greeting held no malice.
“Ha. Well, I’m still Mom’s favorite, so that’s all that matters,” Sawyer responded. “I guess I’m too late to catch you before Burgamy does.”
“Just got off the phone with him.”
“Damn it. I’m sorry, Dylan. I told Burgamy I would handle it, but you know him.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. Yes, he was quite familiar with Burgamy’s tactics. “Looks like I’ll be delivering some codes to you tonight.” Dylan looked out the window; menacing clouds were rolling in behind the setting sun. “Actually, it might be much later tonight. It looks like a storm is rolling in.”
“Thanks for doing this, man. The codes are—” Sawyer broke off midsentence and Dylan could hear his muffled words to someone else before they stopped entirely.
“Dylan?” A much softer female voice came on the line.
“Hey, Megan. How are you feeling?”
“Fine now that I’m not hurling my guts out multiple times a day.” Dylan could hear the smile in his petite sister-in-law’s voice. “I’m sorry about Burgamy, Dylan. Sawyer wanted us to leave him out of it totally, but I wouldn’t let him.”
“It’s no problem, hon. I can handle Burgamy.”
“Thanks for meeting Shelby. She and I knew each other in college. She’s...special.”
Dylan didn’t know what to make of special. That could mean a lot of things. “Well, I hope you don’t mean special as in special needs like your husband.”
Megan laughed. “No, Shelby is definitely not special needs. The opposite, in fact. A brilliant computer-game programmer.”
“Well, either way it’s no problem. I’ll see you guys soon. I’ve got to get going if I’m going to meet Shelby on time. Burgamy didn’t leave much wiggle room.”
“Thanks again, Dylan.”
“Anything for you, sweetheart. You just keep my little niece or nephew safe, okay? Bye.”
Dylan disconnected and went inside his house of the past four years. He had never brought a woman here; he’d preferred encounters to happen at their place instead. It made leaving much easier and awkward talks about why he couldn’t stay much less necessary.
Dylan preferred his solitude and planned to keep it that way. He’d tried dating, but many women thought being a widower meant he needed to be smothered with attention. With love. They wanted to wrap their arms around him and help chase his demons away. Dylan knew they meant well, but he couldn’t tolerate that kind of unrelenting attention.
Dylan would face his own demons. Always had.
So he kept things casual with women, and kept them out of his personal space. Sometimes, much more rarely now, he got physically involved, but he was sure to let a woman know up front that his heart was off the table. A future with Dylan was not an option.
Dylan walked into his bedroom and changed out of the dirty work clothes he’d had on for normal plane maintenance. He decided to take a quick shower, cursing Burgamy again when he couldn’t linger under the hot water to help loosen some of the residual soreness from old wounds. Thirty minutes wasn’t a long time to get to Falls Run from his house.
And yes, Sally’s was the only sit-down restaurant in the small town, more of a diner than anything else. There were also a couple of fast-food places, a gas station, a bar, hardware store and bank. Falls Run wasn’t that small. And it was perfect for Dylan’s purposes in a town: small enough that he didn’t have to worry about too many strangers wandering around, and large enough that he was able to get what he needed regularly enough for both his business and personal needs.
He’d chosen Falls Run on purpose. At the borders of Virginia, Tennessee and North Carolina, it allowed him access, via his Cessna, to almost anywhere on the East and Gulf coasts. Plus, the town was surrounded by the Blue Ridge Mountains. In Dylan’s opinion, you couldn’t ask for better real estate than that.
And it was far enough from Washington, DC, and Omega for him to stay away from his past there.
Dylan rolled his eyes. At least he thought Falls Run was far enough away. Evidently not, given the past few years. Dylan got dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, grabbed his keys and wallet from the dresser and headed out the door to his pickup truck.
What the hell. He’d enjoy a nice meal at Sally’s—he was tired of his own cooking anyway—and meet Megan’s friend. Dylan pretty much kept to himself, but he knew how to be polite and charming when he wanted to be. His mother had instilled that much in the Branson siblings when they were growing up. Shelby Keelan wasn’t at fault for Burgamy’s high-handed tactics; no need to blame her. He’d meet her and move on.
Get the codes. Deliver the codes. Get out.
No problem.
Chapter Two (#ulink_d7f3ebcc-fb2f-5a0e-95b9-49cbd15df7e4)
For the first time she could remember, Shelby Keelan cursed her gifts when it came to math. Normally she was very appreciative of them: they allowed her to make a great living doing something she enjoyed—making games kids loved to play. But not this time. This time her abilities had brought her out of her nice comfortable home to a strange town to meet a strange person she had no real desire to meet.
Of course, Shelby rarely had the desire to meet anyone new.
She easily found a parking spot at the restaurant in Falls Run, although the lot was across the street from the diner due to the narrow shape of the town forced by mountains. Shelby had been told there was only one restaurant and she couldn’t miss it, but she’d still been a little worried. What kind of town had only one restaurant?
Evidently the town of Falls Run.
Shelby didn’t mind small towns. She didn’t mind big cities either. It was the people in both that tended to cause her stress. Shelby just didn’t do people very well.
Even now, pulling into a mostly empty parking lot, she was pretty stressed out. Shelby knew she would need to make small talk. With strangers. Multiple strangers maybe. She had many talents, but chatting with people wasn’t one of them. She was an introvert through and through.
Her introversion had driven her flamboyant mother crazy when Shelby was a child. Her mom wanted to show her off—as if people really wanted to hear some four-year-old recite pi to the two-hundredth digit—but young Shelby had just wanted to be alone.
Adult Shelby just wanted to be alone, too. Back at her own house in Knoxville, where everything had its place and was comfortable and safe and familiar. Where she didn’t have to think too hard about what she did or what she said or if she was coming off as rude or unfriendly or standoffish.
It wasn’t that Shelby was afraid of people, she really wasn’t. She wasn’t agoraphobic, as her mother tried so often to suggest. Wasn’t afraid something terrible would happen to her if she left her house. People just...exhausted Shelby. So she chose to be around them as little as possible. Fortunately, she had a job developing games and software that allowed her to spend most of her time away from people. Perfect.
Plus, she had plenty of friends in her life, just mostly of the four-legged and furry variety. And none of them were disappointed when Shelby wasn’t up to making small talk. They kept one another company just fine. And Shelby had a couple of the two-legged-friend versions, too.
But it took pretty grave circumstances to get Shelby to willingly leave her house and be around people she didn’t know for extended periods of time as she was doing now.
Like a terrorist-attack countdown in the coding of a children’s computer game. One that Shelby happened to discover two days ago. One that anyone else in the world would’ve missed.
But Shelby hadn’t missed it, the way she never missed anything having to do with numbers. She had known immediately the numbers she saw were not part of the game. They clearly had been planted, and once Shelby dug into them a bit, she realized they were, in part, a countdown. But she couldn’t figure out any more than that on her own.
Sure that she had stumbled on to something potentially criminal at best, downright sinister at worst, Shelby had emailed her computer engineering friend from their college days at MIT, Dr. Megan Fuller.
Except Megan was Dr. Megan Fuller-Branson now, and expecting a little baby Dr. Fuller-Branson in a couple of months.
Shelby had explained the coding she’d found and what she suspected. Most others would’ve scoffed or accused Shelby of overdramatizing, but Megan and Shelby had developed a healthy respect for each other years ago at MIT. They may not be the type to chat with each other over coffee, but they took each other seriously.
And it ended up that Megan was now working with her new husband at some sort of clandestine law enforcement agency that specialized in saving-the-world type of stuff. Quite convenient for the matter at hand. Especially since the codes had been planted by some terrorist group known as DS-13, who was evidently really bad news.
Spotting the codes and realizing their nefarious purpose had been the easy part for Shelby. The hard part had come when Megan had asked Shelby to travel to Washington, DC.
Shelby understood why Megan needed her to come in. The string of coding Shelby saw in the game had only come up for a moment before deleting itself. Very few people would’ve been looking at the game in its raw-data form, and nobody would’ve been able to catch the countdown codes and the coordinates embedded in it in the split second it was available.
Unless you were Shelby, who was able to memorize thousands of numbers at once just by looking at them. A complete photographic memory when it came to numbers. And coding, whether it be as innocent as games, or as deadly as a potential terrorist attack, was essentially numbers.
Shelby now had the numbers she saw permanently stuck in her head. She couldn’t get rid of them even if she wanted to. Megan had the decoding software that would help make sense of it all. They needed to put together Shelby’s brain and Megan’s computer. And fast. Because whatever the countdown was for was happening about sixty hours from now.
Megan knew about Shelby’s dislike of being around people. Driving to DC from Knoxville was too far, so Megan had mentioned her brother-in-law’s charter airplane service. The way Shelby saw it, one person in a small airplane was much better than airports and large planes full of people. And it was Megan’s husband’s older brother. That shouldn’t be too bad.
So here she was, pulling up to a restaurant based on a text message she’d received from somebody named Chantelle DiMuzio, personal assistant of Dennis Burgamy. The assistant had requested that Shelby call Burgamy, but Shelby couldn’t remember the last time she’d used her phone to talk into. Her outgoing voice-mail message pretty much summed up her opinion about phone conversations:
Sorry, I can’t take your call. Please hang up and text me.
Shelby could text much faster than she could talk. She could type twice as fast as that. She was off the charts on a numpad.
Finally, the Chantelle lady had left a message that Mr. Burgamy had arranged for Dylan Branson, Megan’s brother-in-law, to meet her at the town’s only restaurant. Branson would fly her into DC tonight.
Shelby put the car in Park. Okay. She could do this.
She was already a little shaky from an incident about fifteen miles back when some moron had literally driven her off the road. That was the problem with driving in the mountains: if someone wasn’t paying attention—or worse, doing something stupid like texting and driving—and nearly hit you, then it was pretty much game over. These mountain roads with their sheer drops were pretty scary.
It was only because of Shelby’s hypervigilance behind the wheel that she’d managed to stay on the road and not drive off the side of the mountain altogether. Shelby wasn’t 100 percent sure of her driving skills—she really didn’t drive terribly often, and never on roads like these—so she’d wanted to make sure she was paying extra-careful attention.
And thank goodness, because that idiot hadn’t even seen her. Didn’t slow down, stop, give an “oops, I’m sorry” wave or anything. Shelby could’ve been flipped upside down at the bottom of the ravine right now and she doubted the other driver would’ve even noticed. He, or she, just sped on.
So, all in all, not a great start to this adventure. And adventure was very much Megan’s word, not Shelby’s. Shelby’s idea of adventure was more along the lines of trying the new Thai place across town, or branching off in a new direction for a video game she was developing. This whole scenario was way beyond adventure in Shelby’s opinion.
Shelby opened her car door and heard thunder cracking in the darkening sky. Great. More adventure to add to the adventure. Could small planes even take off in a thunderstorm?
Shelby walked to the door of the diner and entered. How would she know who Dylan Branson was? Inside she looked around. There were a couple of middle-aged guys and a woman at the counter, an older lady at the cash register and a teenage waitress carrying food to a couple at a table near the door. Some dark-haired Calvin Klein–looking model sat back in the corner booth—yeah, Shelby wished she could be that lucky—and a shorter, stockier man in khakis and a pretty bad polo shirt sat at a table near him.
Nobody was wearing a Trust Me, I’m the Pilot T-shirt or held a sign with her name. So evidently Shelby wasn’t going to be able to slip in without having to talk to anyone except Megan’s brother-in-law.
Shelby approached the lady at the cash register. “Hi, excuse me—”
“Oh, my goodness. Honey, you’re not from around here. I would remember that hair anywhere.” The woman’s voice wasn’t unkind, but it was loud, drawing the attention of pretty much everyone at the diner.
Shelby sighed. Remarks about her hair weren’t uncommon. It was red. Not a sweet, gentle auburn, but full-on red: garnet, poppies, wisps-of-fire red—Shelby had heard all the analogies. If she’d been born a few centuries earlier, she would’ve been burned at the stake as a witch just for her coloring.
Shelby tended to forget how much it grabbed people’s attention when they first met her. “Um, yeah. It’s really red, I know. I was wondering—”
“You couldn’t get that color out of a bottle, I imagine. Especially not with your skin coloring. Your hair must be natural.”
See? This was case and point why Shelby tended not to want to talk to people. Because really, did she have to go into her natural coloring with someone she’d known for less than ten seconds? Shelby didn’t want to be rude, but neither did she want to talk about which side of the family her coloring was from.
And Shelby was sure that question, or something very similar, would be the next inquiry from the cash register lady.
“Yeah.” Shelby remained noncommittal about the hair. “I’m looking for somebody. A pilot. His name is Dylan Branson. He was supposed to meet me here.”
“Oh, yeah, honey, he’s right over there.” The lady gestured toward the corner, and Shelby looked over. Great, it was the balding guy in the bad polo shirt. Shelby thanked her and headed that way before the woman could ask any more questions about her hair.
Dylan Branson was eating what looked like meat loaf at his table and had just put a huge forkful into his mouth when Shelby walked up to him.
“Hi, Dylan Branson, right? I’m Shelby Keelan.”
The man looked over at Shelby and his eyes bulged. He held his hand up in front of his mouth, rapidly chewing, and began standing up.
“No, don’t get up. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.”
Shelby sat down across from him. Of course, the polite thing for Branson to do would’ve been to wait until she got there and then eat together, rather than shoveling food in right when he was supposed to meet her. But whatever. Shelby just hoped Megan’s husband was a little more considerate than his brother.
And for the sake of her friend, Shelby hoped he was a little more handsome, too. Not balding and portly, like Dylan here. But maybe follically challenged didn’t run in the Branson family, just this one brother.
And he was still chewing. How big of a bite could he have taken, for goodness’ sake? The look he was giving her over his moving jaw was clearly confused.
“Take your time.” Shelby smiled. She didn’t want him to choke or anything. That wouldn’t get her to DC very quickly.
“Oh, honey, not Tucker,” the lady called out from behind the cash register, pointing to the man eating. Then she looked past Shelby to the booth beyond her in the corner. “Dylan Branson, shame on you. You knew this young lady was looking for you. You should’ve said something.”
“I would’ve, Sally. But I wanted to see if Tucker would actually choke on the meat loaf while trying to talk to her first.”
The deep voice came from the booth behind Shelby. She didn’t need to look up to see who it was. She knew. The dark-haired, sexy-as-sin Calvin Klein model.
Chapter Three (#ulink_94bb06a0-784a-5116-b1de-fa342a344c55)
The attraction punched him in the gut. Dylan had been punched enough times to know clear and well what it felt like: it stole your breath, caused you to wonder which end was up, made your whole body tingle.
Of course, it was usually followed by agony. But in this case it might be worth it.
Striking was the only word for Shelby Keelan. Her red hair fell around her face and shoulders in long wisps and curls that had escaped from the loose braid she seemed to have attempted at some point. Her eyes —now looking at him rather than Tucker—were a clear emerald green with a hint of gold in them.
But, for the love of all things holy, it was her freckles that were killing him. Scattered across her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. They were quite possibly the most alluring thing he had ever seen.
Shelby Keelan wasn’t a traditional beauty, but she was striking.
From his corner booth where he could see the main entrance, kitchen entrance and emergency exit—old habits died hard—Dylan had seen her come in. He’d been almost positive who she was from that moment, and then her brief conversation with Sally had confirmed it.
He should’ve said something when she sat down at the table near his booth and started talking to Tucker, but he couldn’t resist seeing how that played out. Poor Tucker still looked as if he was going to have a heart attack.
Shelby Keelan sat in her seat at Tucker’s table, her green eyes zeroed in on Dylan. She did not look amused.
“Confused strangers are the top entertainment around here, I take it?”
Uh-oh. Dylan stood, giving Shelby his most charming smile. “Not usually, I promise. I just couldn’t resist seeing how Tucker was going to react.”
Tucker was still staring at Shelby. “I, uh, I mean, I’m not Dylan Branson.” He finally got the words out, much too late to be helpful.
Dylan walked over and slapped Tucker on the back good-naturedly. “I think she caught that much, Tuck. Ms. Keelan is dropping off some items for me to deliver.” Dylan looked over at Shelby and held out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Dylan Branson. A pleasure to meet you.”
Shelby stood and grasped Dylan’s hand. Dylan shook it, then kept it, glad when she didn’t snatch it away, and led her over to his booth. “Let’s leave Tucker to finish his meat loaf.”
A huge crash of thunder shook the windows in Sally’s diner. “I can’t take off in this anyway. I’ll need to let Megan and Sawyer know I’ll be delayed for a few hours.”
Shelby looked out the window at the rain now pouring down and nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
“Maybe you’ll let me buy you dinner to make up for my rude behavior. Since we have some extra time before I can fly in this.”
Shelby didn’t look convinced, but Dylan wasn’t going to let it go. The way he saw it, this situation was the best of all worlds: a chance to spend some time with a gorgeous woman, but one who would only be around for a couple of hours. Once the weather cleared and she gave him the codes, they’d go their separate ways. No complications.
But for now he could just enjoy her; her company and her beauty.
“Unless you’re in a hurry and just need to drop everything off and run.” Dylan gave her another smile. “But I hope that’s not the case and you’ll have dinner with me.”
She gave him a confused look, but then nodded. “Okay, dinner. A chance to redeem yourself.” One of her eyebrows arched as she looked at him.
“Deal. Let me contact Megan and Sawyer to tell them about the storm.” Afraid he might yell at Megan for not preparing him for how beautiful Shelby was, Dylan just sent a text to Sawyer.
Shelby in pocket, but storm will delay flight. Will contact with updated ETA soon.
Dylan received a reply just moments later from Sawyer.
Roger that. I’ll inform Burgamy.
Good, let Sawyer handle Burgamy. Dylan wanted as little communication time with his ex-boss as possible. He caught the attention of the young waitress who brought them both menus. Shelby began looking through it, but Dylan didn’t even need to.
“Already know what you want?” Shelby asked him.
“Yeah. Sally’s chicken pot pie is my favorite. I usually get that.”
“That sounds good. Perfect for a rainy night and to recover from my near-death experience a little while ago.”
As far as Dylan knew, most people didn’t have near-death experiences around Falls Run. He hoped she wasn’t talking about poor Tucker. He wasn’t that bad. “What happened?”
They both ordered pot pie and sweet tea then Shelby told him about the car that had driven her partially off the side of the road. It sounded as if the driver never even saw her.
“Wow, first almost being run off the road, then almost having to have dinner with Tucker. That’s a double whammy.”
She laughed and relaxed back against the booth. Her eyes sparkled with genuine amusement. Dylan assumed he was forgiven.
“Yeah, the roads around here can be dangerous even for someone who’s driven them for years,” he continued. “And somebody not paying attention? You’re really lucky.”
“I thought the same thing after my pulse settled down to something below two hundred beats a minute.”
The waitress brought them their iced tea.
“So you and Megan went to college together? Were you close?”
“Well, sort of. Megan was so young when she was at MIT, child prodigy and all that, so she’s younger than me. Plus, I’m not a real outgoing person, so I tend to keep to myself. But we banded together a little bit because we were both females in an overwhelmingly large group of men.” Shelby took a sip of her tea. “So she married your brother?”
“One of the two, yes. Sawyer. The playboy of the family. It was amazing how fast he fell.” Dylan chuckled at the thought.
“And now they have a new baby on the way. I’m happy for Megan. I know back in college she always felt concerned she’d never really fit in anywhere.” By the way her face lit up, Dylan could tell Shelby authentically cared for Megan.
The waitress brought their food and they began to eat. “So how many siblings do you have?” Shelby asked between bites.
“I’m thirty-five and the oldest of four kids. Sawyer is the youngest. Cameron is a couple of years younger than me and our sister, Juliet, is sandwiched between Sawyer and Cameron.”
“Anybody else married?”
“My other brother, Cameron, to a woman he was involved with a few years ago. They reconnected recently.” Dylan didn’t mention that Cameron and Sophia had reconnected when Cam had taken Sophia hostage while working undercover. That would probably come across as a little weird. “Juliet just got engaged to our longtime family friend Evan. They work together.”
Again, mentioning that Juliet and Evan had fallen in love after living through an attack by a crazed stalker probably would be an overshare. Love in the Branson family tended to be less than traditional.
And that was part of the reason Dylan tried to stay as far as possible from it.
“How about you?” Shelby peeked over her pot pie at him.
“Married once, a long time ago. But not in the cards for me any longer.” Dylan definitely did not want to talk about that. “You?”
“Nah. Haven’t found anyone yet I like more than my pets.”
Dylan laughed. “I don’t blame you. Are you a dog person? Please, not cats.”
“Both, actually.” Shelby smiled at him and began telling him a story about some trouble one of her dogs had gotten into. Dylan matched that story with one of a dog he once had. Soon they were both laughing so hard they could hardly eat.
They were still talking about all sorts of things—her job as a programmer, his as a pilot, her cats that tended to act more like dogs—as they finished their meal, ordered some of Sally’s pie and finished that.
Dylan couldn’t remember feeling this comfortable and attracted, hell, this invested, in a woman in a long time.
He found himself wishing this was more than just a meeting to pick up some data from his sister-in-law’s friend. That he and Shelby had more time to spend with each other. But glancing out the window, Sawyer realized the storm would be passing soon. He needed to get the codes to Omega.
The thought of Omega brought all the memories flooding back. All the reasons why Dylan couldn’t—wouldn’t—get involved with another woman.
Tension began to fill Dylan’s relaxed body as he realized spending too much time with Shelby was not a good idea. Her smile made him think of things that just weren’t in the cards for him. He didn’t have it in his heart to love another woman. Burying Fiona and their unborn child, knowing their deaths were his fault, had killed something inside Dylan. He would be wasting time, both his and any woman in his company, by pretending he had anywhere to go in a relationship.
Not that Shelby Keelan had said anything about wanting a relationship with him, for heaven’s sake. They were just enjoying a meal together, relaxed conversation. But attraction was fairly crackling between them. Their hands kept touching on the table as they each made some point in a story. He could even feel Shelby’s smaller foot next to his leg under the table.
She wasn’t being forward, they just had a connection. And Dylan hadn’t tried to keep it in check, like he normally would’ve—not that he’d felt this way about a woman in a long time. Since he’d known he and Shelby would only be together for a couple of hours before she gave him the codes and left, Dylan had deliberately left their natural chemistry unchecked.
He wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to stop it even if he wanted to.
But his plan was backfiring. The more he talked to Shelby, the more he wanted to keep talking to her. Her acid wit kept him laughing, her intelligence kept him intrigued, and those freckles...
Those freckles were going to be his undoing. Even right now it was all he could do not to reach across the table and begin kissing a line from one freckle to the next. Starting with the ones on her nose, over to her cheeks and down to the one big one he could see where her jaw met her neck.
He’d have to concentrate on that one especially.
Dylan realized he was inching closer to Shelby across the table and forced himself to lean away, shifting his weight all the way back in the booth, away from her. What the hell was he doing? This was more than mere attraction, it was almost as if Dylan was drawn to Shelby.
Well, that was unacceptable and Dylan needed to get himself under the control he was so well known for. He couldn’t believe how close he was to asking Shelby out. To asking her to spend more time with him once he returned from Omega. Hell, to seeing if she wanted to wait at his house for the twelve hours it would take him to deliver the codes to Omega then get home, if he made the round trip as fast as possible.
And that scared the hell out of him.
Shelby wasn’t the type of woman Dylan could get involved with. She wasn’t a one-night-stand type of girl; that was already obvious. Plus, she was Megan’s friend.
He’d let things step over the emotional line with Shelby because they only had a couple of hours. Well, a couple of hours were up. It was time to end this attraction right now. While he still could.
Get the codes. Deliver the codes. Get out.
Shelby was talking about pets. Finishing an entertaining story about how the mama cat had taken a puppy to raise as her own when the puppy’s mother had died. Shelby’s green eyes had softened while telling it and Dylan had been totally caught up in the story. But now he stopped her, almost abruptly.
“You know, it looks like this storm is making its way out of the area. It’s been a pleasure chatting with you, Shelby. But if you’ll just give me the codes, I’ll be on my way for delivery.”
It was rude and came out harsher than Dylan intended. He saw confusion wash over Shelby’s face and then self-doubt. Damn it, she was trying to figure out what she had done to initiate Dylan’s borderline rudeness. He hated how Shelby drew back and made herself smaller in the booth seat across from him. The smile that had lit her features for almost their entire conversation died.
Dylan hated it, but steeled himself against the apology he found on his lips. It was better this way. Cleaner. But the disappointment in Shelby’s eyes actually hurt him. It had been a long time since anything involving a woman had had the power to hurt Dylan. Why should being a jerk to someone he’d only known a couple of hours be able to?
Even if she was the most engaging and fascinating person he’d met in a long time. And the first person who didn’t make him want to excuse himself as soon as possible so he could get back to his house, alone.
All of which was just more proof he needed to get away from her as soon as possible.
Dylan could recognize the crookedness of his own logic though he didn’t plan to do anything about it. He couldn’t do anything about it. All he could do was just get away from Shelby before things went any further.
Shelby’s brows were furrowed. “Um, I don’t understand.” Her tone was uncertain.
Dylan rubbed a hand down his face. Damn it, he was making a mess of this. “I think you should just go ahead and give me the codes. Then you can head on back home, or whatever, and I’ll take off as soon as I have a chance. All I need is a break in the storms and I’ll be fine.”
Shelby frowned and shook her head. “But I can’t.”
“You can’t leave Falls Run tonight? Well, there’s a motel down the street. I’m sure it’s not full.” Dylan almost offered to walk her over there, but that was a terrible plan.
Get the codes. Get out.
“No, I mean I can’t give you the codes.”
“You don’t understand, Shelby. It’s okay. Megan knows I will deliver them straight to her at Omega. She should’ve told you I could be trusted, but we can call her so you can talk to her about it yourself. You’ll just need to give me the drive, or disk or whatever the codes are on.”
“No, you don’t understand. I can’t give you the codes because they’re in my head. I’m what you’re supposed to deliver to Omega Sector.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_642b312c-0134-53ae-9f00-dea272487627)
You would think she’d just told him she had a nuclear device in her back pocket the way he was acting. Shelby watched from the booth as Dylan went over to pay Sally at the register for their meal.
Shelby tried to think through their conversation to figure out what had happened, where it had gone wrong. Shelby certainly wouldn’t be surprised to figure out it was something she had said. It always tended to be something she’d said.
But things had been going so well with Dylan tonight. Laughing and talking with him had been easy. Not full of those awkward pauses that tended to populate Shelby’s conversations. Especially ones with really hot guys.
Not that she tended to have too many of those.
Everything seemed to be going great, and then Shelby had watched as Dylan Branson just shut down right in front of her eyes. The light flirting, the laughing, the lack of awkward pauses they had enjoyed the whole evening—totally gone in a split second. The emotional temperature in the room had dropped twenty degrees in just a moment.
Generally, Shelby was always looking for a way to get out of conversations, to find a way to return to her natural solo state. But with Dylan she hadn’t felt the need to withdraw. They both seemed to be enjoying the conversation. Enjoying each other. So, yeah, his abrupt termination of everything hurt. More than Shelby expected.
Not that she’d been expecting Dylan to ask her to go steady or anything, but they’d been having a good time and then: pow! Right in the middle of a sentence he was suddenly finished with her.
See, this was why Shelby avoided people whenever possible.
And then when she told Dylan she had to go with him on the flight? She thought his eyes might bug out of his head.
She hadn’t been sure how to respond. When it became clear Dylan wasn’t going to elaborate, Shelby had tried to explain. “I have to go. The codes are in my head.”
“Well, then write them down or something.”
Write them down?
“Do you think Megan and I are idiots?” Shelby asked. “If I could just write them down, do you think I would be here with you right now?”
Dylan had shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Shelby had struggled to keep her temper under control. How could this even be the same man she had been talking to so comfortably just ten minutes before? “Well, I wouldn’t. If I was able, I would have already used that newfangled thing called the internet to send the codes to Omega. I have to go.”
Dylan shook his head. “How big can the codes be if they’re in your head?”
Shelby had just sat back and glared at him. “Big.”
At that, he stood up, took the bill the waitress had brought a few minutes before and gone over to pay. The restaurant looked to be closing up soon.
Shelby didn’t want to explain to him about her photographic memory of anything having to do with numbers. Fifteen minutes ago she wouldn’t have minded talking about it, almost had mentioned it when they were discussing her job. But that was when she was talking to good Dylan rather than jerk-face Dylan, who had somehow taken his place. She really wasn’t interested in telling him much of anything now.
Maybe Shelby should mention to Megan that schizophrenia might run in her husband’s family.
When Dylan didn’t immediately return, Shelby looked over at him. Through the window she could see he had stepped outside. He was on the phone now, obviously not happy with whomever he was talking to. Shelby hoped it wasn’t Megan.
Shelby also wished she knew what she had done to turn Dylan so hard and cold. Besides just existing and needing a ride. Which was why she was even here. Although that obviously hadn’t been explained to Dylan.
Shelby finished her tea as she watched Dylan talking on the phone outside. Another storm had come up and lightning played through the night sky. Shelby didn’t think they could take off in all this anyway. Maybe she should drive or look into taking a commercial flight. She could live through being surrounded by all the people at an airport and on an airplane if she had to.
Plus, how much worse could it be than being in an airplane with someone who seemed annoyed by her very existence?
Shelby got up and headed toward the door. She would just go her separate way from Dylan Branson. And hope when she met Megan’s husband, Sawyer, that he didn’t have the same temperament as his brother.
Shelby opened the door. Dylan’s back was to her as he spoke on the phone. “Yeah, I get it. She’s needed, too. All I’m saying is that this should’ve been made more clear to me, Burgamy.” Dylan turned around, looking at Shelby while listening to the other person on the phone. “Yes, crystal.”
Dylan disconnected the call without saying anything further. Good to know he was gruff with everybody, not just Shelby. They stood for a moment, not saying anything. Lightning flashed around them again.
“Look, I’m not sure what exactly happened here.” Shelby gestured toward the inside of the restaurant. “But obviously there was some sort of misunderstanding. You weren’t expecting me or whatever. And that’s fine. I’m just going to make other travel arrangements.”
Dylan rubbed his eyes wearily. “No, that’s not going to work. DC is too far to drive.”
“I can see about a commercial flight.”
“By the time you got to an airport big enough, that would take nearly as long as driving. Listen, I’m sorry I was abrupt before. I just didn’t have all the information.” Dylan shrugged. “I can fly you to DC. But since this storm seems to have stalled out right on top of us, it’s going to be a few hours. Probably three or four.”
Four hours? Shelby looked at her watch. It was after 10:00 p.m. She didn’t relish the idea of sitting in her car for that long, but surely Sally’s diner was going to close soon. Shrugging, Shelby turned toward her car.
Dylan touched her arm. “Look, the airfield is out near my house. Why don’t you just come stay at my place, get a few hours of sleep, then we’ll be ready to go when this series of storms passes.”
Shelby moved away from his touch. “Uh, no, thank you.”
“Why?”
“Are you kidding me?” Shelby’s voice was pretty loud. A couple leaving the closing diner looked over at Shelby and Dylan. Dylan waved, but Shelby ignored them.
“No, I’m not kidding you. It’s a logical solution.”
“Why would I stay with someone who out of the blue started treating me like I have the bubonic plague? No, thanks, I’ll just stay here.”
“You can’t stay here. The restaurant is closing.” Dylan’s voice had raised to a yell, probably to compensate for the thunder overhead. Unfortunately, the teenage waitress came outside just in time to hear his shout, but not the thunder. She stared at Dylan and Shelby with wide eyes.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Dylan?”
“It’s fine, Jennifer,” Dylan told the girl. “Be careful driving home in this mess.”
Jennifer kept watching them as she walked to her car. Looked as if Dylan’s yell was the most excitement she had seen in a while.
But the fact that Dylan knew Jennifer’s name reassured Shelby a bit, as did the fact that the girl was so shocked by how he was acting. Obviously, Dylan didn’t normally stand around the parking lot yelling at women.
“Sally is closing up for the night. You can’t go back in there.”
“Fine. I’ll just hang out in my car. Text me when you think it’s safe to take off and I’ll meet you at the airport.”
Shelby heard Dylan’s sigh. “It’s not an airport, more like an airfield.” A few drops of rain started to fall. It wouldn’t be long until the thunderous clouds produced rainstorms again.
“Don’t stay in your car,” he continued. “There’s a motel a couple of blocks down the road. Stay there at least. Not out in this storm.”
He was right. Shelby didn’t mind paying for a room she’d only spend a few hours in. Especially if it meant she wouldn’t have to talk to any other people unnecessarily.
Or have to stay with a man who had made up his mind to dislike her for no apparent reason.
Shelby left the shelter of the overhang near the diner’s front entrance to cross to where her car was parked. “Okay, fine.” She gave him her phone number. “Just text me or whatever when you’re ready.”
The rain was really starting to come down now. “I’ll follow you in my truck. Just to make sure everything’s okay.”
That was the exact opposite of what Shelby expected. She said nothing, just pulled up the collar of her jacket for protection from the rain. She thought she heard Dylan say something else to her, but she just wanted to make it across the street to her car. She understood why they had built the restaurant on one side of the road and the parking lot on the other—the diner had amazing views of the Blue Ridge Mountains. They wouldn’t want to use any of that prime real estate on parking.
But having to cross the street in the rain made Shelby wish they had put the parking closer.
She heard someone yell, but figured it was someone from the restaurant saying goodbye to Dylan. If he was trying to get her attention, he could just wait until they got to the motel. She wasn’t having a conversation out in the cold rain.
Shelby heard the squealing of tires as she reached the other side of the road. She looked up to see a car barreling toward her so fast she couldn’t even figure out what to do.
Her world tilted as a weight hit her from her right and she went flying sideways through the air. A split second later, the car sped through where Shelby had just been standing, not even slowing down. It sprayed water from puddles, soaking Shelby from head to foot.
From where she lay on the ground, Shelby sucked in deep breaths, trying to get her bearings. She’d been hit, right? But not by the car. She turned her head to the side and saw Dylan lying on the ground with her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Are you? What in the world just happened?” Her limbs were tangled with Dylan’s.
“That car almost hit you. I saw it speeding down the road and yelled, but you didn’t hear me.”
That wasn’t totally true. Shelby had heard him, she just hadn’t wanted to stop in the rain.
“Well, your reflexes are better than mine. Thank you.”
“I had forward momentum going for me, otherwise I wouldn’t have made it.”
What he really meant was Shelby wouldn’t have made it. Dylan could’ve stayed safely on the side of the road and would’ve been just fine.
They both began to sit up. Ouch. Shelby could already feel a rip in her coat at the elbow where she’d hit the hardest, although Dylan had taken the brunt of the fall.
“Are you okay?” she asked him. “You took your weight and some of mine.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Dylan got to his feet then offered his hand to help Shelby up. She gratefully took it, grabbing her purse and working her way to a standing position. Now everything was starting to hurt. And this was what not getting hit by a car felt like.
“Did the person driving just not see me?” They walked the rest of the way to her car.
“It’s possible.”
“But?” Shelby could hear the but in his tone. She was trying to get her keys out of her purse, but found her hands were shaking pretty badly. Dylan reached over and held the purse for her so she could manage to fish them out.
“But it actually sped up. Definitely wasn’t typical rainy-night-driving behavior.”
“Drunk, I’ll bet you. That’s the second time I’ve been almost run off the road. People around here need to pay better attention.” Shelby got her keys out and clicked open her car. She just wanted to get out of the rain.
Dylan was looking toward where the car had sped off. “Yeah. For sure.”
They walked together around to her driver’s side. He held the door open as she got into the car then shut it. Shelby cracked the window so she could hear what he had to say.
“The motel is just a couple blocks down on the right. Don’t go anywhere else, okay? Just check in and rest until I let you know we can take off.”
Shelby nodded. She wasn’t planning on doing anything but taking a hot shower and changing into dry clothes.
“I won’t. I don’t think I’m up for much dancing.”
A hint of a smile formed at Dylan’s mouth. “You’d be hard pressed to find dancing around here anyway. Unless they’ve got the karaoke set up at the Blue Moon, Falls Run’s bar.”
The rain was pouring over Dylan. Shelby kind of felt bad for all the mean things she had thought about him since he’d saved her life and all. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked him.
“Fine. Bye.”
Evidently, gruff Dylan was back.
“Okay, let me know when it’s time to go.” Shelby rolled up her window and started driving slowly down the road, not even looking back at Dylan in the rearview mirror. She was irritated at him and her whole body ached.
This was why she tried to stay alone in her house as much as possible.
Chapter Five (#ulink_aee9dee7-2c30-5a10-b037-a4d65b36b50d)
Somebody was trying to kill Shelby Keelan.
Dylan hadn’t wanted to say that to her in the parking lot of Sally’s diner while they were both soaking wet and banged up by a hard fall to the asphalt. Although, there probably wasn’t ever a good time to tell someone their life was in jeopardy.
And Shelby’s was. By someone who was trying to make it look like an accident. The car that nearly ran Shelby down hadn’t been a drunk driver. As a matter of fact, it had probably been the same vehicle that had nearly driven her off the road earlier today. Both attempts had failed, but just barely.
Dylan walked to his truck, opened it and hopped in, whistling through his teeth as he made it into the cab. Had he cracked a rib again? Damn it, he hoped not. Those hurt like hell. At the very least, his ribs were bruised. His shoulder, too. It had taken the brunt of the fall. But he was in one piece and so was Shelby.
He’d almost been too late. If he’d reacted two seconds later, or if he hadn’t trusted his gut that told him that car was trouble, Shelby would be dead. No one could’ve survived being hit at that speed.
Dylan hadn’t gotten any info about the car that would help them. Four-door, dark sedan wouldn’t narrow down anything; it wasn’t even worth calling in. And the car had been speeding by too fast for Dylan to catch helpful details.
Dylan watched as Shelby pulled out of the parking lot and began driving slowly down the street. He started his truck so he could follow her. He’d make sure she got safely inside, then would try to go get some sleep himself for a couple hours. Surely she would be safe at the motel.
But there had already been two attempts on her life. What would stop whoever was behind this from coming back to finish her in her motel room? That might actually be easier.
Dylan knew he needed to get her to come stay at his house. Dylan wasn’t connected to her in any known way, so whoever was following her wouldn’t be looking for her at his house. She could leave her car parked at the motel and Dylan could sneak her out the back door in case someone was watching.
Of course, he’d have to stop acting like a total jerk if he wanted to convince her to do that. How had Shelby phrased it? Treating her as if she had the plague.
Dylan ran a weary hand over his face as he parked his truck across the street from the motel and watched Shelby walk into the front office. Yeah, he definitely could’ve handled that whole situation at the restaurant better. But he’d thought Shelby would just give him the codes and they’d go their separate ways. She might think he was a little abrupt, but no real harm done.
How the heck was Dylan supposed to have known the codes were in her head and that she needed to be at Omega for all of this to work? How was that even possible? If the number sequence was too lengthy to be written up or easily transferred by an electronic medium, then how the hell could Shelby Keelan have them all inside her brain?
When his ex-boss had called, Burgamy should’ve made it abundantly clear that Shelby would be coming with Dylan to Omega HQ. Dylan had mentioned that fact to Burgamy, who had just quipped back: What difference does it make? Your plane seats more than one, right? You can fit some codes and one woman.
Yeah, his Cessna sat more than one—up to eight, in fact—but that wasn’t really the point. Dylan would’ve kept much more of a distance from Shelby if he had known they would be together for a few days.
Because Dylan wasn’t sure he could keep his hands off Shelby Keelan for days. He hadn’t felt this attracted to anyone in a long time. Not since Fiona. Hell, maybe not even for Fiona.
Which he couldn’t even bring himself to think about.
There had been women since Fiona, of course. During the beginning downward spiral, there had been way too many women—just part of a series of bad choices Dylan made in the name of dealing with unbearable grief. But none of them had meant anything; none of them had touched him in any sort of meaningful way.
After just a few short hours in Shelby’s company, Dylan wasn’t sure he’d be able to say the same thing about her.
Dylan wasn’t proud of how he’d handled the situation at the diner. A yelling match in front of Sally’s was never a good plan. But the thought of spending more time with Shelby? It was both the most exciting and most frightening prospect Dylan had had in his personal life in years.
And now Dylan had to talk her into coming to his house. Her presence there, even for only a few short hours, was going to disrupt his peaceful, orderly life. Dylan just knew it. But what other choice did he have? He couldn’t leave her in town alone. So even though she didn’t seem too keen on the idea of staying with him, Dylan would have to change her mind.
And he would just have to keep the attraction he had for this woman, and her damn freckles, under control.
From across the street, Dylan watched as Shelby came back out of the motel’s office, key in hand. She drove her car a little farther into the parking lot and parked in front of a room. After a moment, she got out of her car with a small suitcase and entered her room.
The Falls Run Motel wasn’t fancy, but it was clean and family friendly. There was one building with two floors of rooms. The back of all the bottom-level rooms had sliding glass doors with small concrete patios; the upper-level rooms all had small decks, both providing views of the mountains.
Shelby’s room was on the first floor, which made Dylan’s plan much easier. He had to talk to her, but knew he didn’t want to go through her room’s front door. He needed to get her out in secret in case someone was watching. That left the back sliding glass door.
Dylan pulled his truck farther into the shadows of the bank parking lot that stood across the street from the motel. He turned off the engine and flipped a switch for the light in the cab so it wouldn’t turn on when he opened the door. Just in case. He slid out of the cab, pushing all pain to the side. He felt a little ridiculous hugging the shadows as he made his way across the street in the rain, but he’d learned over the years that an ounce of prevention was worth three and a half tons of cure.
Dylan made his way around the back of the motel, keeping away from the lights. He silently walked along the line of trees until he was right behind Shelby’s room. No lights were on in the rooms on either side of her, which was good. Shelby had pulled the curtain closed, so only a tiny bit of light cracked through the glass door. Dylan approached the door and tapped on it softly.
“Shelby.” Dylan put his mouth almost up to the door. He didn’t want his voice to carry. He could see the shadow of movement in the room, but couldn’t tell if Shelby could hear him. He tapped again, a little louder.
The curtain inched back and Shelby peeked out, but Dylan could tell she still couldn’t see him from where he was in the shadows. He tapped again right where she was looking and brought his face close to the window.
Her short shriek made Dylan thankful there wasn’t anyone in the rooms next to hers. The curtain flew back down, but Dylan heard the unlocking of the door a moment later.
“You scared the pants off me,” Shelby hissed. She had a towel wrapped around her neck, drying rain out of her long red hair. It looked even more red against the white of the cloth.
“Sorry.”
“What are you doing here? And why are you at the back door? Why didn’t you use the front?”
Dylan put a finger up to his lips. He didn’t want her to announce to everyone he was here. “I’m trying to talk with you without anyone knowing I’m here. Do you mind if I come in?”
At least she didn’t hesitate as she opened the door farther and stepped back, which surprised Dylan a little bit. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he had to plead his case from a cracked door after how he’d acted. He walked in and slid the door closed behind him, pulling the curtain to give them privacy from any possible prying eyes.
“Come back because you found just the right words to let me know how you don’t like me?” Shelby stood, arms folded and eyebrow raised, by one of the beds in the room.
Dylan winced. He supposed he deserved that, at least a little.
“I’m sorry about before.”
If anything, Shelby’s eyebrow arched even higher. She didn’t say anything.
“Listen, I was going to leave you alone here, let you get some rest, go home and do the same myself before we leave in a couple hours. But the fact is, someone tried to kill you tonight.”
Shelby looked shocked then sat down on the bed and began smoothing her wet hair with the towel almost absently. “First of all, thanks for saving my life. But me almost dying and someone trying to kill me are two different things, Dylan.”
“I know. I don’t use the terms interchangeably.” Dylan took a step closer, more to keep his shadow away from the curtain than anything else. But his action drew her attention. She stood and began walking farther away without a word, turning her back to him.
Dylan sighed. He guessed he deserved that, too.
But instead of taking the plastic chair at the farthest point away from him in the room, as Dylan thought she was going to do, Shelby walked into the bathroom and came back out with another towel a moment later. She tossed it to him and sat back down on the bed.
“You look as miserable as I feel. Maybe that will help dry you off enough so that you’re at least not dripping.”
Dylan began to towel off his face and hair. “Thanks.”
“Don’t look so surprised. I’m not a she devil, you know.”
“I never thought you were.”
Her eyebrow rose again.
Dylan changed the subject. “That guy tonight wasn’t a drunk driver who got sloppy. That car was someone coming at you with the specific intention of running you down.”
Shelby stopped drying her hair and clutched the towel to her like a security blanket. Her green eyes were huge in her pale face. “Do you really think that’s true?”
“Well, let me ask you this. Do you remember anything about the car that almost ran you off the road earlier today while you were driving up here?”
Shelby shrugged. “Not too much. I’m good with remembering numbers, but not much of anything else.”
Dylan didn’t want to just feed an image into her mind. He wanted to see if he could help her remember. “Was it a light or dark color, or maybe a specific color you remember, like red or yellow?”
“No, definitely not a bright color. It was dark, maybe black or gray. I can’t really recall.”
“That’s okay.” Dylan sat down on the bed across from hers. “Is there anything you can remember about the model of the vehicle? Maybe it was an SUV or a noticeable brand of car, like a VW or a Jeep?”
“No, I don’t know anything about cars. But it wasn’t anything like that. I just remember thinking it was an old person’s car. That maybe it was some old person who shouldn’t be driving at all if he or she was going to run people off the road.”
“Okay, an old person’s car.” That was the info Dylan had been hoping for. “A sedan.”
“Yeah, a sedan.” Shelby nodded. “But I don’t know what make or anything.”
“That’s okay, you don’t have to. But I think you might find it interesting that the car that tried to run you down tonight was also a dark sedan. Someone has tried to kill you today. Twice. Both in ways that would seem like an accident.”
Shelby bounded off the bed. The towel was still clutched in front of her. “What am I going to do?”
“I don’t think it’s safe for you to stay here tonight in case that person tries to come back and finish what he started. It would be too easy to find you.”
Shelby nodded almost blankly.
“I know you were pretty resistant to this idea before, but I think you should come back to my house. Nobody would know you’re there and we’ll leave in the plane as soon as possible. It’s not safe for you to be alone anymore.”
Chapter Six (#ulink_a276cad5-ca97-5809-bf2e-8d60c690c783)
Shelby could hear what Dylan was saying, but it was as if she was processing it too slowly to make sense. Someone was trying to kill her? On purpose?
The whole concept was pretty foreign. And Dylan was afraid someone would find her here at the motel?
“How would they find me here?” she asked.
“It’s the only motel in all of Falls Run. If you assumed that what happened earlier was only an accident, you’d probably check in here, get some rest. If I was a killer, I’d look here first.”
Shelby walked over by the curtains. She wanted to peek out, to open the door and see if the boogeyman was on the porch ready to attack them, but knew she couldn’t.
Was Dylan right? Could someone actually be trying to kill her? They were dealing with DS-13, which Megan assured Shelby was definitely a group to take seriously. Shelby had the codes in her head and knew the numbers were some sort of countdown. But she had no idea what they were counting down to; that’s where Megan’s computer decryption program came in. Shelby and Megan’s computer program had to be in the same room together so Shelby could feed in the data and eliminate what wasn’t necessary. Only Shelby could do that. And once she did, they’d be able to figure out the what and the where the countdown referred to.
Were the numbers in her head worth someone killing her for? She didn’t want to think so, but the aches and bruises from her close encounter with a speeding car—which did look a lot like the one she’d seen earlier today, now that Dylan mentioned it—told her otherwise. So, yeah, maybe someone was trying to kill her.
Yet another reason why she should have just stayed home.
At least Dylan didn’t seem so irritated by her very existence anymore. He wasn’t the sexy, flirty Dylan he’d been a few hours ago, but at least he wasn’t yelling at her. She didn’t necessarily want to go back to his house with him, but neither did she want to stay here with a possible attacker. Uncomfortable was definitely better than dead.
She nodded at Dylan. “Okay, I’ll come with you.”
Dylan tossed the towel down on the bed. “Good. That really is the safest thing.”
“Should I bring my whole suitcase? Everything I brought?”
“If you need everything, I can carry the whole suitcase out. But it would be better if you had just a small bag with a few necessities. Makes us much more mobile getting to my truck.”
“Okay.”
“Plus, if someone does break in here, it makes it look like you’re still around somewhere. It would cause the perp to think maybe he missed you somehow. Buy us more time while he waits for you to come back.”
Shelby shuddered at the thought of someone coming in here, waiting for her. She looked quickly at the front door and the glass door. Two ways someone could get in. Shelby definitely didn’t want to stay here.
“Let me pack a bag.” Shelby grabbed a shirt, a pair of jeans and some underwear, rolling them into a ball with the delicates—did it have to be a red-and-black thong?—on the inside. Shelby grabbed a toothbrush and a comb, thankful she’d never been one for wearing much makeup. The tennis shoes and socks on her feet would be fine.
This should be all she needed. The rest she could buy once she got to Washington, DC.
“I don’t have anything to put this in,” Shelby told Dylan.
“That’s okay. I’ve got a small duffel bag you can use once we get to my house. Just put your comb and toothbrush in your back pocket and ball up your clothes.”
Shelby did as he said. “Are we going to need to run?”
“We will at first, out to the tree line behind the motel. There’s no way around that. We’ve got to get away from the building as quickly as possible. But otherwise, I hope not. Two people sprinting across the street draws a lot more attention than two people just walking fast to get out of the rain.” Dylan looked around the room. “You don’t have a baseball cap or hoodie, do you? Anything with a hood?”
“No.”
Dylan shrugged. “Your red hair is hard to hide without something covering it. Just stay as close to me as you can as we’re crossing the street. If I stop, you stop. Don’t ask questions, just do it.”
Shelby wasn’t planning on asking for justification for everything he did while he was getting them out of here. It would be nice if he would take her for a little bit less of an idiot. “Fine.”
If Dylan noticed Shelby’s annoyance, he didn’t mention it. He walked over to the front door and turned off the lights in the room, plunging it into darkness.
“Let’s give our eyes a chance to adjust. Then we’ll head out.”
Shelby nodded then realized he couldn’t see her. “Okay.”
After a few moments, Shelby’s vision adjusted. Dylan had made his way over to the sliding glass door already and was peering around the curtain.
“Is somebody out there?” Shelby asked after what seemed like a long time.
“Probably not. Whoever wants to hurt you would probably come through the front door. Most motel rooms don’t have doors at the back, just windows that don’t open. Unless he’s familiar with this motel specifically, then he’d think the front door was the best bet.”
“Oh.” Shelby couldn’t think of anything more intelligent to say. How did Dylan, a pilot, know all that? Maybe he sat around and watched too many crime shows on television.
“Are you ready?”
Shelby took a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Okay, Freckles. Remember, stay as close to me as possible and try not to talk.”
Did he just call her Freckles? Shelby didn’t even have time to get offended. Dylan was already out the door. She followed him quickly, clothes tucked under her arm, sliding the door shut on her way out.
Dylan made a dash for the tree line, a hundred feet or so from the hotel. Shelby made sure to keep up with him. Once they were in the cover of the trees, Dylan stopped for a minute.
“Okay?” he asked her.
“Yeah.”
“We’ll make our way along the trees to the side of the motel by the office, then we’ll cut across the street. My truck is parked at the bank.”
They made their way silently along the trees, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Dylan kept hold of the hand Shelby wasn’t using to carry the clothes, keeping her close to his side. Every once in a while Dylan would stop and peer out. Shelby forced herself not to ask what he saw, if anything.
When they reached the side of the motel, the trees stopped. They’d have to walk out in the open now. Shelby peeked around Dylan’s large shoulders. As far as she could tell, nobody was out. Why would they be? Anyone with any sense was inside, not outside in the wet cold. Shelby shivered.
“Are you ready?” Dylan asked, turning his head back toward her so she could hear him over the rain. “We’ll walk side by side to my truck. I don’t see anybody, but don’t dawdle.”
Shelby nodded and Dylan took her hand and they began to walk through the parking lot and across the street. Compared to the cover of the trees, Shelby felt exposed out in the open. She kept her head tucked down and walked as quickly as possible, but the steps across the street seemed to take forever.
When Dylan slowed down and curved Shelby into the crook of his arm, Shelby glanced up. She knew he wouldn’t choose now to turn this into a lover’s pose unless he had to.
“What?” she asked him.
“A car just turned onto the road up the block. A sedan.”
“The same one?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to take any chances. I need to keep you out of sight and away from anything that might associate you with me.” Dylan turned them away from where his truck was parked. “Detour.”
Shelby kept up as Dylan now rushed across the street toward the bank building rather than his vehicle. He didn’t stop until they were standing up against the wall of the bank, the opposite side from where the car was coming. Shelby clutched her balled-up change of clothes to her chest with one arm.
“Okay, we’re going to work our way around to the back side of the building and see what that car is doing.”
They stayed against the wall as they walked back. Dylan had yet to let go of Shelby’s hand. When they got to the back where they could glance out to see the road, Shelby stayed behind Dylan while he took a look.
“I don’t see anybody. Maybe that car wasn’t even the same guy.”
“That’s good, right?”
Dylan nodded and let go of her hand. Everything seemed safe. Shelby wondered if this whole thing was just a case of overactive imaginations. Admittedly, it was unlikely that two cars similar in make and model would almost hit her twice in one day, but it wasn’t impossible.
“Okay, I don’t see anyone,” Dylan told her again. “Let’s head to the truck.”
Shelby nodded and they began walking, neither of them quite as worried about secrecy.
Shelby felt Dylan stiffen a moment before she noticed the car again herself. It was pulling out of the parking lot directly adjacent to the bank, moving slowly, obviously looking for something or someone.
Okay, maybe not overactive imaginations.
Dylan grabbed Shelby’s hand again and pulled her forward, then put his other hand on her head to get her to stay low. They ran to his truck, keeping as low as possible. Dylan opened the passenger-side door and jumped in, sliding across the seat and reaching to help Shelby at the same time.
“Hurry. Stay down.” Dylan’s voice was curt as he kept a watchful eye out the windshield while trying to stay out of sight himself. Shelby threw her clothes toward him, grabbed his hand and climbed. She pulled the door closed as quickly as she could, glad that no lights had come on in the cab. She ducked down low in the seat.
“Is he still coming toward us?”
“Yes, but I don’t think he saw us. It looks more like a sweep-through than anything. He’s past us now.”
Shelby peeked up and saw the rear of the car as it drove slowly by. The person driving was looking for someplace. Or someone. But the car was moving on now.
Dylan straightened up in his seat. “I think it’s safe now. But let’s get out of here before he comes back. Once he’s sure the street is clear, he’ll try to find you at your room.”
“Okay.” Shelby sat up and reached to grab her clothes which had fallen all over the cab when she’d thrown them inside. She found her pants and shirt with no problem. But kept feeling around the darkened cab for her underwear.
“Um, I think this is what you’re looking for.”
Hanging from Dylan’s finger was Shelby’s black-and-red lace thong.
Chapter Seven (#ulink_aba7b885-445f-5102-97e4-3b87d24b042c)
Dylan didn’t allow himself to dwell on that tiny scrap of lace during the drive to his house. He needed to stay focused and make sure no one was following them. Although he knew following them on the windy road that led from town to his house with no headlights would be nearly impossible.
But that gave him too much time to think about red-and-black material, so he focused instead on being doubly sure no one followed.
No one did.
The storm still raged as they reached Dylan’s house fifteen minutes later. Although he normally wouldn’t park there, he pulled into the garage so they wouldn’t have to get wet again. Shelby was just beginning to stop shivering. She hadn’t said much of anything on the drive here. Once she’d snatched the thong off his finger, she’d kind of hunkered down over on the opposite side of the cab.
About as far from Dylan as she could get.
Dylan turned off the ignition and opened his door. He would’ve gone around to help Shelby, but she’d already made it out fine on her own. So he opened the door that led through a small mudroom before entering the main part of his house.
Dylan’s house wasn’t too large. Three decent-size bedrooms, a living room with a large fireplace and a kitchen with an eat-in nook. Dylan had designed and built most of it himself, based on his own needs and preferences. It definitely had not been built with entertaining in mind. Hell, except for family, Dylan never entertained anybody at his house. Any meetings concerning his charter business were conducted at his office by the airfield a half mile away.
Dylan wasn’t a sloppy person—his mother hadn’t allowed it growing up, neither had the army—but still he looked over his house with a critical eye. He’d never brought a woman here before, and for the first time had a moment’s doubt. What did his house look like to Shelby? Too sparse, too masculine, too rough around the edges? There definitely weren’t a tremendous amount of creature comforts here.
Dylan wondered if Shelby would start complaining right off the bat, or if she’d be too polite to do so. She hadn’t seemed to hold back any of her opinions so far, so Dylan didn’t expect her to do so now. But when he turned to look at Shelby as she walked farther into the living room, she didn’t seem to be put off at all by his house.
“This is a great space,” she told him, looking around. “Lots of windows. I’m sure that lets in great light during the day.”
Dylan had to admit he was impressed. He didn’t think Shelby would notice the windows, his favorite feature, first. He thought she might notice the kitchen was small and rather rustic—Dylan wasn’t much of a cook—or that the television was pretty tiny in the living room and off to the side.
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Janie Crouch
He’d been hired to transport precious cargo—and it put a beautiful twist in his solitary lifeFormer operative turned pilot Dylan Branson has one mission: deliver vital codes to Omega Sector before millions of lives are lost. Surprisingly, the codes reside in the photographic memory of Shelby Keelan, a beautiful computer expert who’s so far survived two murder attempts. Used to doing things solo, Dylan will get Shelby to Washington, D.C., then walk away. So he’s stunned to discover she’s as much a loner as he is—and how much that appeals to him. Now, with both their lives in danger after his plane is sabotaged mid-air, Dylan no longer thinks of Shelby as just a job. Or that he’ll be able to let her go once it’s over.
“You hurt me, Dylan. Because what you think you want and what you really want are two different things.”
“I want you,” he whispered, backing her up against the wall. “You are what I think I want and what I really want.”
“But you might change your mind.” Shelby began to look away again.
“I am not going to change my mind.” Dylan brought his hands up on either side of her head, burrowing his fingers in her damp hair. “I hurt you, because I’m so used to pushing everyone away, and I’m sorry. You are what I want. I won’t hurt you again.”
Dylan could see the doubt in Shelby’s eyes, and it killed him. He was afraid she would pull away. But she leaned toward him, putting her lips gently against his.
He kissed her back gently. But then the hunger—the heat—that had sparked between them since the first moment they’d met flared again. And all thought of soft and gentle was left behind.
To my “Shelby”: soul mates come in all different forms, in all different seasons. Thank you for the love you radiate and helping me see the beauty in everything. May the wine of our friendship never run dry.
Leverage
Janie Crouch
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JANIE CROUCH has loved to read romance her whole life. She cut her teeth on Mills & Boon® romance novels as a pre-teen, then moved on to a passion for romantic suspense as an adult. Janie lives with her husband and four children overseas. Janie enjoys traveling, long-distance running, movie-watching, knitting and adventure/obstacle racing. You can find out more about her at www.janiecrouch.com (http://www.janiecrouch.com).
Contents
Cover (#u45378d76-b475-5f7a-bee6-02e7c1d24fd8)
Introduction (#uff6b3abb-2753-5116-88f4-472850c07110)
Dedication (#ub37b2534-b243-5ea7-973e-b7b5895c18b7)
Title Page (#ueea43475-2624-521d-b446-4542d56b8362)
About the Author (#u4058f176-a3b0-5689-9245-36e2bb811cb8)
Chapter One (#u7c316863-b1b3-5e6f-978a-1663c456a0a6)
Chapter Two (#u39dbc14a-1036-5656-8722-c31fad746a0a)
Chapter Three (#udc2fe5c0-3d2b-517a-96ba-c87262675eed)
Chapter Four (#u1639ad1f-e9b9-561d-ab62-f69555838b4e)
Chapter Five (#u8757dd51-90de-5bd5-91f3-8c7b7a1e305c)
Chapter Six (#u0cc5038e-b5c2-5f5c-9856-5bfbaccb3afa)
Chapter Seven (#u19eab3af-6575-59c3-8621-607653394bee)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_bbb59bd3-b547-583e-98a7-d43566bd8c7a)
Sometimes a man just wanted to be left alone.
Dylan Branson didn’t think that was too much to ask. He’d served his country for years, both on American soil and off, and had the scars—both physical and emotional—to show for it. But that was behind him now. Far behind him.
Not that you would know it from the voice talking at Dylan from the phone.
Dylan held the phone out at arm’s length, staring at it as if it were a snake about to bite him. He’d rather be handling a snake. Seriously, give him a cottonmouth over what was at the other end of this phone line.
It was Dennis Burgamy, Dylan’s boss when he worked at Omega Sector, a covert interagency task force. A crime-fighting, problem-solving, get-stuff-done unit, made up of the most elite agents the country had to offer. And Dylan had been one of the best of the best.
But not anymore.
Despite its arm’s-length distance, Dylan could still hear Dennis Burgamy clearly on the other line. Dylan hadn’t held the phone against his ear in at least two minutes, but evidently Burgamy hadn’t missed Dylan’s input into the conversation because the other man hadn’t even noticed Dylan wasn’t talking.
Which was pretty typical of Dylan’s former boss. The difference now was that Dylan didn’t have to listen to the other man. Burgamy wasn’t his boss anymore.
Finally silence came from the other end of the phone. Dylan cautiously brought it back to his ear.
“Are you there, Branson?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” Dylan sat on the porch of the house he’d mostly built himself and looked out over the pinkish light of early evening hitting the Blue Ridge Mountains surrounding him on three sides. Those mountains had been the only thing able to bring him a measure of peace over the past few years since his wife’s death, and he tried to draw on that peace again now. To no avail. “You do remember that I don’t work for you anymore, right, Burgamy?”
Dylan’s statement was met with a dramatic sigh. There had never been any lost love between Burgamy and any of the Branson siblings. Dylan’s sister and two brothers were all active Omega agents, and all had butted heads with Burgamy at some point.
“You are in the charter airline business now, Dylan,” Burgamy reminded him. “I’m not asking you to do anything you wouldn’t do for any other paying customer.”
It was true. For the past four years Dylan had been flying customers and cargo wherever they needed to go all over the East Coast with his Cessna. But Dylan wasn’t so desperate for business that he wanted to be at Burgamy’s beck and call.
“I’m all booked. Sorry.”
“Look, Dylan...” Dylan recognized the change in Burgamy’s tone. Evidently Burgamy realized threatening Dylan wouldn’t get him what he wanted, so he’d decided to try a different tactic. “How about if you do this for us, then I’ll erase all record of Sawyer’s little incident last year.”
The little incident referred to Dylan’s youngest brother, Sawyer, punching Burgamy in the jaw and knocking his boss unconscious during an operation that was going wrong. Sawyer managed to keep his job at Omega, but only barely. And although Sawyer was able to keep his job, the occurrence would still keep his brother from ever being able to move up in official ranks. Of course, until recently, Sawyer had no interest in ever moving higher than the rank of agent. Doing so would mean a desk job, which had frightened him no end. But now that Sawyer was married to sweet little Megan and expecting a baby, a desk job might be more appealing to him.
And damn it, this made saying no to Burgamy much more complicated.
Dylan looked out at the mountains. He didn’t want to set foot back inside Omega. He’d done it a couple of times since he’d quit over six years ago, and each time had been fraught with disaster. Dylan still had residual discomfort from the beating he’d taken while trying to help his brother Cameron on an Omega mission a while ago.
In Dylan’s experience, every trip to Omega led to some sort of pain. And he wasn’t interested in experiencing that again if he had any other option.
“It’s important, Branson,” Burgamy continued. “We need these codes. And Shelby Keelan, the lady with the codes, is a friend of your sister-in-law. I’m sure Megan will take it as a personal insult if you don’t help us with this matter.”
Dylan closed his eyes. Burgamy didn’t know it, but Dylan was already in. And if Dylan hadn’t been, bringing up Megan would’ve done it. Dylan liked Sawyer’s wife—the brilliant computer scientist—a great deal. She was good for his brother; had somehow managed to tame the playboy of the family without even trying.
And now Sawyer and Megan were having a baby. Which was totally great for Dylan’s parents, who had wanted grandkids for the longest time. They’d finally get their wish.
For just a second, that old ache crept into Dylan’s chest. He pushed away the thought of the baby that hadn’t made it when his wife had been killed. Nothing could be done about that now.
If Megan wanted him to pick up some codes or whatever from a friend of hers and bring the codes to Omega, Dylan would do it. He loved his brother, loved his sister-in-law and wanted to do anything he could to keep that baby growing happy and healthy inside her.
Of course, he didn’t know why Megan’s friend couldn’t just email the codes. Why Dylan needed to hand deliver them to Washington, DC. Or why this lady couldn’t just deliver them herself. But whatever. He knew better than to ask. With Omega, things were never simple.
Effective? Yes. Simple? No.
For example, things could’ve been much simpler if Megan or Sawyer had just called Dylan themselves and asked him to fly in the codes. He’d already be gassing up his Cessna right now. But Burgamy couldn’t resist an opportunity to lord power over any member of the Branson family. It bugged Dylan to submit to Burgamy, but he might as well get it over with.
“Fine, Burgamy, I’ll do it.”
“Good. Because Shelby Keelan is on her way to you right now. She should be arriving in Falls Run in about thirty minutes. Meeting you at the only restaurant your blip on the map seems to have.”
Dylan hung up the phone without saying anything else. Burgamy had obviously told the woman to come out here even before asking Dylan, sure he would get Dylan’s cooperation. Dylan hated being a foregone conclusion.
He watched the pinkening sky for a few more moments, allowing the phone to fall next to him in the swing on his porch rather than crush it against the wall the way he wanted to.
There were things Dylan regretted about his deliberate walk away from Omega six years ago. But having to listen to Dennis Burgamy wasn’t one of them.
Dylan would get the codes from Megan’s friend, fly them to Omega, say a quick hello to his siblings and get the hell out. There would be no traversing up the sides of yachts, emergency takeoffs with people shooting at him or being beaten to within an inch of his life.
Like his last visits.
Dylan grabbed his phone and stood up. He’d have to get going if he was going to make it into town by the time Shelby Keelan arrived. His phone buzzed again in his hand. Dylan grimaced, hoping it wasn’t Burgamy.
It wasn’t.
“You are not my current favorite sibling, Sawyer.” Dylan’s words were tough, but his greeting held no malice.
“Ha. Well, I’m still Mom’s favorite, so that’s all that matters,” Sawyer responded. “I guess I’m too late to catch you before Burgamy does.”
“Just got off the phone with him.”
“Damn it. I’m sorry, Dylan. I told Burgamy I would handle it, but you know him.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. Yes, he was quite familiar with Burgamy’s tactics. “Looks like I’ll be delivering some codes to you tonight.” Dylan looked out the window; menacing clouds were rolling in behind the setting sun. “Actually, it might be much later tonight. It looks like a storm is rolling in.”
“Thanks for doing this, man. The codes are—” Sawyer broke off midsentence and Dylan could hear his muffled words to someone else before they stopped entirely.
“Dylan?” A much softer female voice came on the line.
“Hey, Megan. How are you feeling?”
“Fine now that I’m not hurling my guts out multiple times a day.” Dylan could hear the smile in his petite sister-in-law’s voice. “I’m sorry about Burgamy, Dylan. Sawyer wanted us to leave him out of it totally, but I wouldn’t let him.”
“It’s no problem, hon. I can handle Burgamy.”
“Thanks for meeting Shelby. She and I knew each other in college. She’s...special.”
Dylan didn’t know what to make of special. That could mean a lot of things. “Well, I hope you don’t mean special as in special needs like your husband.”
Megan laughed. “No, Shelby is definitely not special needs. The opposite, in fact. A brilliant computer-game programmer.”
“Well, either way it’s no problem. I’ll see you guys soon. I’ve got to get going if I’m going to meet Shelby on time. Burgamy didn’t leave much wiggle room.”
“Thanks again, Dylan.”
“Anything for you, sweetheart. You just keep my little niece or nephew safe, okay? Bye.”
Dylan disconnected and went inside his house of the past four years. He had never brought a woman here; he’d preferred encounters to happen at their place instead. It made leaving much easier and awkward talks about why he couldn’t stay much less necessary.
Dylan preferred his solitude and planned to keep it that way. He’d tried dating, but many women thought being a widower meant he needed to be smothered with attention. With love. They wanted to wrap their arms around him and help chase his demons away. Dylan knew they meant well, but he couldn’t tolerate that kind of unrelenting attention.
Dylan would face his own demons. Always had.
So he kept things casual with women, and kept them out of his personal space. Sometimes, much more rarely now, he got physically involved, but he was sure to let a woman know up front that his heart was off the table. A future with Dylan was not an option.
Dylan walked into his bedroom and changed out of the dirty work clothes he’d had on for normal plane maintenance. He decided to take a quick shower, cursing Burgamy again when he couldn’t linger under the hot water to help loosen some of the residual soreness from old wounds. Thirty minutes wasn’t a long time to get to Falls Run from his house.
And yes, Sally’s was the only sit-down restaurant in the small town, more of a diner than anything else. There were also a couple of fast-food places, a gas station, a bar, hardware store and bank. Falls Run wasn’t that small. And it was perfect for Dylan’s purposes in a town: small enough that he didn’t have to worry about too many strangers wandering around, and large enough that he was able to get what he needed regularly enough for both his business and personal needs.
He’d chosen Falls Run on purpose. At the borders of Virginia, Tennessee and North Carolina, it allowed him access, via his Cessna, to almost anywhere on the East and Gulf coasts. Plus, the town was surrounded by the Blue Ridge Mountains. In Dylan’s opinion, you couldn’t ask for better real estate than that.
And it was far enough from Washington, DC, and Omega for him to stay away from his past there.
Dylan rolled his eyes. At least he thought Falls Run was far enough away. Evidently not, given the past few years. Dylan got dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, grabbed his keys and wallet from the dresser and headed out the door to his pickup truck.
What the hell. He’d enjoy a nice meal at Sally’s—he was tired of his own cooking anyway—and meet Megan’s friend. Dylan pretty much kept to himself, but he knew how to be polite and charming when he wanted to be. His mother had instilled that much in the Branson siblings when they were growing up. Shelby Keelan wasn’t at fault for Burgamy’s high-handed tactics; no need to blame her. He’d meet her and move on.
Get the codes. Deliver the codes. Get out.
No problem.
Chapter Two (#ulink_d7f3ebcc-fb2f-5a0e-95b9-49cbd15df7e4)
For the first time she could remember, Shelby Keelan cursed her gifts when it came to math. Normally she was very appreciative of them: they allowed her to make a great living doing something she enjoyed—making games kids loved to play. But not this time. This time her abilities had brought her out of her nice comfortable home to a strange town to meet a strange person she had no real desire to meet.
Of course, Shelby rarely had the desire to meet anyone new.
She easily found a parking spot at the restaurant in Falls Run, although the lot was across the street from the diner due to the narrow shape of the town forced by mountains. Shelby had been told there was only one restaurant and she couldn’t miss it, but she’d still been a little worried. What kind of town had only one restaurant?
Evidently the town of Falls Run.
Shelby didn’t mind small towns. She didn’t mind big cities either. It was the people in both that tended to cause her stress. Shelby just didn’t do people very well.
Even now, pulling into a mostly empty parking lot, she was pretty stressed out. Shelby knew she would need to make small talk. With strangers. Multiple strangers maybe. She had many talents, but chatting with people wasn’t one of them. She was an introvert through and through.
Her introversion had driven her flamboyant mother crazy when Shelby was a child. Her mom wanted to show her off—as if people really wanted to hear some four-year-old recite pi to the two-hundredth digit—but young Shelby had just wanted to be alone.
Adult Shelby just wanted to be alone, too. Back at her own house in Knoxville, where everything had its place and was comfortable and safe and familiar. Where she didn’t have to think too hard about what she did or what she said or if she was coming off as rude or unfriendly or standoffish.
It wasn’t that Shelby was afraid of people, she really wasn’t. She wasn’t agoraphobic, as her mother tried so often to suggest. Wasn’t afraid something terrible would happen to her if she left her house. People just...exhausted Shelby. So she chose to be around them as little as possible. Fortunately, she had a job developing games and software that allowed her to spend most of her time away from people. Perfect.
Plus, she had plenty of friends in her life, just mostly of the four-legged and furry variety. And none of them were disappointed when Shelby wasn’t up to making small talk. They kept one another company just fine. And Shelby had a couple of the two-legged-friend versions, too.
But it took pretty grave circumstances to get Shelby to willingly leave her house and be around people she didn’t know for extended periods of time as she was doing now.
Like a terrorist-attack countdown in the coding of a children’s computer game. One that Shelby happened to discover two days ago. One that anyone else in the world would’ve missed.
But Shelby hadn’t missed it, the way she never missed anything having to do with numbers. She had known immediately the numbers she saw were not part of the game. They clearly had been planted, and once Shelby dug into them a bit, she realized they were, in part, a countdown. But she couldn’t figure out any more than that on her own.
Sure that she had stumbled on to something potentially criminal at best, downright sinister at worst, Shelby had emailed her computer engineering friend from their college days at MIT, Dr. Megan Fuller.
Except Megan was Dr. Megan Fuller-Branson now, and expecting a little baby Dr. Fuller-Branson in a couple of months.
Shelby had explained the coding she’d found and what she suspected. Most others would’ve scoffed or accused Shelby of overdramatizing, but Megan and Shelby had developed a healthy respect for each other years ago at MIT. They may not be the type to chat with each other over coffee, but they took each other seriously.
And it ended up that Megan was now working with her new husband at some sort of clandestine law enforcement agency that specialized in saving-the-world type of stuff. Quite convenient for the matter at hand. Especially since the codes had been planted by some terrorist group known as DS-13, who was evidently really bad news.
Spotting the codes and realizing their nefarious purpose had been the easy part for Shelby. The hard part had come when Megan had asked Shelby to travel to Washington, DC.
Shelby understood why Megan needed her to come in. The string of coding Shelby saw in the game had only come up for a moment before deleting itself. Very few people would’ve been looking at the game in its raw-data form, and nobody would’ve been able to catch the countdown codes and the coordinates embedded in it in the split second it was available.
Unless you were Shelby, who was able to memorize thousands of numbers at once just by looking at them. A complete photographic memory when it came to numbers. And coding, whether it be as innocent as games, or as deadly as a potential terrorist attack, was essentially numbers.
Shelby now had the numbers she saw permanently stuck in her head. She couldn’t get rid of them even if she wanted to. Megan had the decoding software that would help make sense of it all. They needed to put together Shelby’s brain and Megan’s computer. And fast. Because whatever the countdown was for was happening about sixty hours from now.
Megan knew about Shelby’s dislike of being around people. Driving to DC from Knoxville was too far, so Megan had mentioned her brother-in-law’s charter airplane service. The way Shelby saw it, one person in a small airplane was much better than airports and large planes full of people. And it was Megan’s husband’s older brother. That shouldn’t be too bad.
So here she was, pulling up to a restaurant based on a text message she’d received from somebody named Chantelle DiMuzio, personal assistant of Dennis Burgamy. The assistant had requested that Shelby call Burgamy, but Shelby couldn’t remember the last time she’d used her phone to talk into. Her outgoing voice-mail message pretty much summed up her opinion about phone conversations:
Sorry, I can’t take your call. Please hang up and text me.
Shelby could text much faster than she could talk. She could type twice as fast as that. She was off the charts on a numpad.
Finally, the Chantelle lady had left a message that Mr. Burgamy had arranged for Dylan Branson, Megan’s brother-in-law, to meet her at the town’s only restaurant. Branson would fly her into DC tonight.
Shelby put the car in Park. Okay. She could do this.
She was already a little shaky from an incident about fifteen miles back when some moron had literally driven her off the road. That was the problem with driving in the mountains: if someone wasn’t paying attention—or worse, doing something stupid like texting and driving—and nearly hit you, then it was pretty much game over. These mountain roads with their sheer drops were pretty scary.
It was only because of Shelby’s hypervigilance behind the wheel that she’d managed to stay on the road and not drive off the side of the mountain altogether. Shelby wasn’t 100 percent sure of her driving skills—she really didn’t drive terribly often, and never on roads like these—so she’d wanted to make sure she was paying extra-careful attention.
And thank goodness, because that idiot hadn’t even seen her. Didn’t slow down, stop, give an “oops, I’m sorry” wave or anything. Shelby could’ve been flipped upside down at the bottom of the ravine right now and she doubted the other driver would’ve even noticed. He, or she, just sped on.
So, all in all, not a great start to this adventure. And adventure was very much Megan’s word, not Shelby’s. Shelby’s idea of adventure was more along the lines of trying the new Thai place across town, or branching off in a new direction for a video game she was developing. This whole scenario was way beyond adventure in Shelby’s opinion.
Shelby opened her car door and heard thunder cracking in the darkening sky. Great. More adventure to add to the adventure. Could small planes even take off in a thunderstorm?
Shelby walked to the door of the diner and entered. How would she know who Dylan Branson was? Inside she looked around. There were a couple of middle-aged guys and a woman at the counter, an older lady at the cash register and a teenage waitress carrying food to a couple at a table near the door. Some dark-haired Calvin Klein–looking model sat back in the corner booth—yeah, Shelby wished she could be that lucky—and a shorter, stockier man in khakis and a pretty bad polo shirt sat at a table near him.
Nobody was wearing a Trust Me, I’m the Pilot T-shirt or held a sign with her name. So evidently Shelby wasn’t going to be able to slip in without having to talk to anyone except Megan’s brother-in-law.
Shelby approached the lady at the cash register. “Hi, excuse me—”
“Oh, my goodness. Honey, you’re not from around here. I would remember that hair anywhere.” The woman’s voice wasn’t unkind, but it was loud, drawing the attention of pretty much everyone at the diner.
Shelby sighed. Remarks about her hair weren’t uncommon. It was red. Not a sweet, gentle auburn, but full-on red: garnet, poppies, wisps-of-fire red—Shelby had heard all the analogies. If she’d been born a few centuries earlier, she would’ve been burned at the stake as a witch just for her coloring.
Shelby tended to forget how much it grabbed people’s attention when they first met her. “Um, yeah. It’s really red, I know. I was wondering—”
“You couldn’t get that color out of a bottle, I imagine. Especially not with your skin coloring. Your hair must be natural.”
See? This was case and point why Shelby tended not to want to talk to people. Because really, did she have to go into her natural coloring with someone she’d known for less than ten seconds? Shelby didn’t want to be rude, but neither did she want to talk about which side of the family her coloring was from.
And Shelby was sure that question, or something very similar, would be the next inquiry from the cash register lady.
“Yeah.” Shelby remained noncommittal about the hair. “I’m looking for somebody. A pilot. His name is Dylan Branson. He was supposed to meet me here.”
“Oh, yeah, honey, he’s right over there.” The lady gestured toward the corner, and Shelby looked over. Great, it was the balding guy in the bad polo shirt. Shelby thanked her and headed that way before the woman could ask any more questions about her hair.
Dylan Branson was eating what looked like meat loaf at his table and had just put a huge forkful into his mouth when Shelby walked up to him.
“Hi, Dylan Branson, right? I’m Shelby Keelan.”
The man looked over at Shelby and his eyes bulged. He held his hand up in front of his mouth, rapidly chewing, and began standing up.
“No, don’t get up. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.”
Shelby sat down across from him. Of course, the polite thing for Branson to do would’ve been to wait until she got there and then eat together, rather than shoveling food in right when he was supposed to meet her. But whatever. Shelby just hoped Megan’s husband was a little more considerate than his brother.
And for the sake of her friend, Shelby hoped he was a little more handsome, too. Not balding and portly, like Dylan here. But maybe follically challenged didn’t run in the Branson family, just this one brother.
And he was still chewing. How big of a bite could he have taken, for goodness’ sake? The look he was giving her over his moving jaw was clearly confused.
“Take your time.” Shelby smiled. She didn’t want him to choke or anything. That wouldn’t get her to DC very quickly.
“Oh, honey, not Tucker,” the lady called out from behind the cash register, pointing to the man eating. Then she looked past Shelby to the booth beyond her in the corner. “Dylan Branson, shame on you. You knew this young lady was looking for you. You should’ve said something.”
“I would’ve, Sally. But I wanted to see if Tucker would actually choke on the meat loaf while trying to talk to her first.”
The deep voice came from the booth behind Shelby. She didn’t need to look up to see who it was. She knew. The dark-haired, sexy-as-sin Calvin Klein model.
Chapter Three (#ulink_94bb06a0-784a-5116-b1de-fa342a344c55)
The attraction punched him in the gut. Dylan had been punched enough times to know clear and well what it felt like: it stole your breath, caused you to wonder which end was up, made your whole body tingle.
Of course, it was usually followed by agony. But in this case it might be worth it.
Striking was the only word for Shelby Keelan. Her red hair fell around her face and shoulders in long wisps and curls that had escaped from the loose braid she seemed to have attempted at some point. Her eyes —now looking at him rather than Tucker—were a clear emerald green with a hint of gold in them.
But, for the love of all things holy, it was her freckles that were killing him. Scattered across her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. They were quite possibly the most alluring thing he had ever seen.
Shelby Keelan wasn’t a traditional beauty, but she was striking.
From his corner booth where he could see the main entrance, kitchen entrance and emergency exit—old habits died hard—Dylan had seen her come in. He’d been almost positive who she was from that moment, and then her brief conversation with Sally had confirmed it.
He should’ve said something when she sat down at the table near his booth and started talking to Tucker, but he couldn’t resist seeing how that played out. Poor Tucker still looked as if he was going to have a heart attack.
Shelby Keelan sat in her seat at Tucker’s table, her green eyes zeroed in on Dylan. She did not look amused.
“Confused strangers are the top entertainment around here, I take it?”
Uh-oh. Dylan stood, giving Shelby his most charming smile. “Not usually, I promise. I just couldn’t resist seeing how Tucker was going to react.”
Tucker was still staring at Shelby. “I, uh, I mean, I’m not Dylan Branson.” He finally got the words out, much too late to be helpful.
Dylan walked over and slapped Tucker on the back good-naturedly. “I think she caught that much, Tuck. Ms. Keelan is dropping off some items for me to deliver.” Dylan looked over at Shelby and held out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Dylan Branson. A pleasure to meet you.”
Shelby stood and grasped Dylan’s hand. Dylan shook it, then kept it, glad when she didn’t snatch it away, and led her over to his booth. “Let’s leave Tucker to finish his meat loaf.”
A huge crash of thunder shook the windows in Sally’s diner. “I can’t take off in this anyway. I’ll need to let Megan and Sawyer know I’ll be delayed for a few hours.”
Shelby looked out the window at the rain now pouring down and nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
“Maybe you’ll let me buy you dinner to make up for my rude behavior. Since we have some extra time before I can fly in this.”
Shelby didn’t look convinced, but Dylan wasn’t going to let it go. The way he saw it, this situation was the best of all worlds: a chance to spend some time with a gorgeous woman, but one who would only be around for a couple of hours. Once the weather cleared and she gave him the codes, they’d go their separate ways. No complications.
But for now he could just enjoy her; her company and her beauty.
“Unless you’re in a hurry and just need to drop everything off and run.” Dylan gave her another smile. “But I hope that’s not the case and you’ll have dinner with me.”
She gave him a confused look, but then nodded. “Okay, dinner. A chance to redeem yourself.” One of her eyebrows arched as she looked at him.
“Deal. Let me contact Megan and Sawyer to tell them about the storm.” Afraid he might yell at Megan for not preparing him for how beautiful Shelby was, Dylan just sent a text to Sawyer.
Shelby in pocket, but storm will delay flight. Will contact with updated ETA soon.
Dylan received a reply just moments later from Sawyer.
Roger that. I’ll inform Burgamy.
Good, let Sawyer handle Burgamy. Dylan wanted as little communication time with his ex-boss as possible. He caught the attention of the young waitress who brought them both menus. Shelby began looking through it, but Dylan didn’t even need to.
“Already know what you want?” Shelby asked him.
“Yeah. Sally’s chicken pot pie is my favorite. I usually get that.”
“That sounds good. Perfect for a rainy night and to recover from my near-death experience a little while ago.”
As far as Dylan knew, most people didn’t have near-death experiences around Falls Run. He hoped she wasn’t talking about poor Tucker. He wasn’t that bad. “What happened?”
They both ordered pot pie and sweet tea then Shelby told him about the car that had driven her partially off the side of the road. It sounded as if the driver never even saw her.
“Wow, first almost being run off the road, then almost having to have dinner with Tucker. That’s a double whammy.”
She laughed and relaxed back against the booth. Her eyes sparkled with genuine amusement. Dylan assumed he was forgiven.
“Yeah, the roads around here can be dangerous even for someone who’s driven them for years,” he continued. “And somebody not paying attention? You’re really lucky.”
“I thought the same thing after my pulse settled down to something below two hundred beats a minute.”
The waitress brought them their iced tea.
“So you and Megan went to college together? Were you close?”
“Well, sort of. Megan was so young when she was at MIT, child prodigy and all that, so she’s younger than me. Plus, I’m not a real outgoing person, so I tend to keep to myself. But we banded together a little bit because we were both females in an overwhelmingly large group of men.” Shelby took a sip of her tea. “So she married your brother?”
“One of the two, yes. Sawyer. The playboy of the family. It was amazing how fast he fell.” Dylan chuckled at the thought.
“And now they have a new baby on the way. I’m happy for Megan. I know back in college she always felt concerned she’d never really fit in anywhere.” By the way her face lit up, Dylan could tell Shelby authentically cared for Megan.
The waitress brought their food and they began to eat. “So how many siblings do you have?” Shelby asked between bites.
“I’m thirty-five and the oldest of four kids. Sawyer is the youngest. Cameron is a couple of years younger than me and our sister, Juliet, is sandwiched between Sawyer and Cameron.”
“Anybody else married?”
“My other brother, Cameron, to a woman he was involved with a few years ago. They reconnected recently.” Dylan didn’t mention that Cameron and Sophia had reconnected when Cam had taken Sophia hostage while working undercover. That would probably come across as a little weird. “Juliet just got engaged to our longtime family friend Evan. They work together.”
Again, mentioning that Juliet and Evan had fallen in love after living through an attack by a crazed stalker probably would be an overshare. Love in the Branson family tended to be less than traditional.
And that was part of the reason Dylan tried to stay as far as possible from it.
“How about you?” Shelby peeked over her pot pie at him.
“Married once, a long time ago. But not in the cards for me any longer.” Dylan definitely did not want to talk about that. “You?”
“Nah. Haven’t found anyone yet I like more than my pets.”
Dylan laughed. “I don’t blame you. Are you a dog person? Please, not cats.”
“Both, actually.” Shelby smiled at him and began telling him a story about some trouble one of her dogs had gotten into. Dylan matched that story with one of a dog he once had. Soon they were both laughing so hard they could hardly eat.
They were still talking about all sorts of things—her job as a programmer, his as a pilot, her cats that tended to act more like dogs—as they finished their meal, ordered some of Sally’s pie and finished that.
Dylan couldn’t remember feeling this comfortable and attracted, hell, this invested, in a woman in a long time.
He found himself wishing this was more than just a meeting to pick up some data from his sister-in-law’s friend. That he and Shelby had more time to spend with each other. But glancing out the window, Sawyer realized the storm would be passing soon. He needed to get the codes to Omega.
The thought of Omega brought all the memories flooding back. All the reasons why Dylan couldn’t—wouldn’t—get involved with another woman.
Tension began to fill Dylan’s relaxed body as he realized spending too much time with Shelby was not a good idea. Her smile made him think of things that just weren’t in the cards for him. He didn’t have it in his heart to love another woman. Burying Fiona and their unborn child, knowing their deaths were his fault, had killed something inside Dylan. He would be wasting time, both his and any woman in his company, by pretending he had anywhere to go in a relationship.
Not that Shelby Keelan had said anything about wanting a relationship with him, for heaven’s sake. They were just enjoying a meal together, relaxed conversation. But attraction was fairly crackling between them. Their hands kept touching on the table as they each made some point in a story. He could even feel Shelby’s smaller foot next to his leg under the table.
She wasn’t being forward, they just had a connection. And Dylan hadn’t tried to keep it in check, like he normally would’ve—not that he’d felt this way about a woman in a long time. Since he’d known he and Shelby would only be together for a couple of hours before she gave him the codes and left, Dylan had deliberately left their natural chemistry unchecked.
He wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to stop it even if he wanted to.
But his plan was backfiring. The more he talked to Shelby, the more he wanted to keep talking to her. Her acid wit kept him laughing, her intelligence kept him intrigued, and those freckles...
Those freckles were going to be his undoing. Even right now it was all he could do not to reach across the table and begin kissing a line from one freckle to the next. Starting with the ones on her nose, over to her cheeks and down to the one big one he could see where her jaw met her neck.
He’d have to concentrate on that one especially.
Dylan realized he was inching closer to Shelby across the table and forced himself to lean away, shifting his weight all the way back in the booth, away from her. What the hell was he doing? This was more than mere attraction, it was almost as if Dylan was drawn to Shelby.
Well, that was unacceptable and Dylan needed to get himself under the control he was so well known for. He couldn’t believe how close he was to asking Shelby out. To asking her to spend more time with him once he returned from Omega. Hell, to seeing if she wanted to wait at his house for the twelve hours it would take him to deliver the codes to Omega then get home, if he made the round trip as fast as possible.
And that scared the hell out of him.
Shelby wasn’t the type of woman Dylan could get involved with. She wasn’t a one-night-stand type of girl; that was already obvious. Plus, she was Megan’s friend.
He’d let things step over the emotional line with Shelby because they only had a couple of hours. Well, a couple of hours were up. It was time to end this attraction right now. While he still could.
Get the codes. Deliver the codes. Get out.
Shelby was talking about pets. Finishing an entertaining story about how the mama cat had taken a puppy to raise as her own when the puppy’s mother had died. Shelby’s green eyes had softened while telling it and Dylan had been totally caught up in the story. But now he stopped her, almost abruptly.
“You know, it looks like this storm is making its way out of the area. It’s been a pleasure chatting with you, Shelby. But if you’ll just give me the codes, I’ll be on my way for delivery.”
It was rude and came out harsher than Dylan intended. He saw confusion wash over Shelby’s face and then self-doubt. Damn it, she was trying to figure out what she had done to initiate Dylan’s borderline rudeness. He hated how Shelby drew back and made herself smaller in the booth seat across from him. The smile that had lit her features for almost their entire conversation died.
Dylan hated it, but steeled himself against the apology he found on his lips. It was better this way. Cleaner. But the disappointment in Shelby’s eyes actually hurt him. It had been a long time since anything involving a woman had had the power to hurt Dylan. Why should being a jerk to someone he’d only known a couple of hours be able to?
Even if she was the most engaging and fascinating person he’d met in a long time. And the first person who didn’t make him want to excuse himself as soon as possible so he could get back to his house, alone.
All of which was just more proof he needed to get away from her as soon as possible.
Dylan could recognize the crookedness of his own logic though he didn’t plan to do anything about it. He couldn’t do anything about it. All he could do was just get away from Shelby before things went any further.
Shelby’s brows were furrowed. “Um, I don’t understand.” Her tone was uncertain.
Dylan rubbed a hand down his face. Damn it, he was making a mess of this. “I think you should just go ahead and give me the codes. Then you can head on back home, or whatever, and I’ll take off as soon as I have a chance. All I need is a break in the storms and I’ll be fine.”
Shelby frowned and shook her head. “But I can’t.”
“You can’t leave Falls Run tonight? Well, there’s a motel down the street. I’m sure it’s not full.” Dylan almost offered to walk her over there, but that was a terrible plan.
Get the codes. Get out.
“No, I mean I can’t give you the codes.”
“You don’t understand, Shelby. It’s okay. Megan knows I will deliver them straight to her at Omega. She should’ve told you I could be trusted, but we can call her so you can talk to her about it yourself. You’ll just need to give me the drive, or disk or whatever the codes are on.”
“No, you don’t understand. I can’t give you the codes because they’re in my head. I’m what you’re supposed to deliver to Omega Sector.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_642b312c-0134-53ae-9f00-dea272487627)
You would think she’d just told him she had a nuclear device in her back pocket the way he was acting. Shelby watched from the booth as Dylan went over to pay Sally at the register for their meal.
Shelby tried to think through their conversation to figure out what had happened, where it had gone wrong. Shelby certainly wouldn’t be surprised to figure out it was something she had said. It always tended to be something she’d said.
But things had been going so well with Dylan tonight. Laughing and talking with him had been easy. Not full of those awkward pauses that tended to populate Shelby’s conversations. Especially ones with really hot guys.
Not that she tended to have too many of those.
Everything seemed to be going great, and then Shelby had watched as Dylan Branson just shut down right in front of her eyes. The light flirting, the laughing, the lack of awkward pauses they had enjoyed the whole evening—totally gone in a split second. The emotional temperature in the room had dropped twenty degrees in just a moment.
Generally, Shelby was always looking for a way to get out of conversations, to find a way to return to her natural solo state. But with Dylan she hadn’t felt the need to withdraw. They both seemed to be enjoying the conversation. Enjoying each other. So, yeah, his abrupt termination of everything hurt. More than Shelby expected.
Not that she’d been expecting Dylan to ask her to go steady or anything, but they’d been having a good time and then: pow! Right in the middle of a sentence he was suddenly finished with her.
See, this was why Shelby avoided people whenever possible.
And then when she told Dylan she had to go with him on the flight? She thought his eyes might bug out of his head.
She hadn’t been sure how to respond. When it became clear Dylan wasn’t going to elaborate, Shelby had tried to explain. “I have to go. The codes are in my head.”
“Well, then write them down or something.”
Write them down?
“Do you think Megan and I are idiots?” Shelby asked. “If I could just write them down, do you think I would be here with you right now?”
Dylan had shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Shelby had struggled to keep her temper under control. How could this even be the same man she had been talking to so comfortably just ten minutes before? “Well, I wouldn’t. If I was able, I would have already used that newfangled thing called the internet to send the codes to Omega. I have to go.”
Dylan shook his head. “How big can the codes be if they’re in your head?”
Shelby had just sat back and glared at him. “Big.”
At that, he stood up, took the bill the waitress had brought a few minutes before and gone over to pay. The restaurant looked to be closing up soon.
Shelby didn’t want to explain to him about her photographic memory of anything having to do with numbers. Fifteen minutes ago she wouldn’t have minded talking about it, almost had mentioned it when they were discussing her job. But that was when she was talking to good Dylan rather than jerk-face Dylan, who had somehow taken his place. She really wasn’t interested in telling him much of anything now.
Maybe Shelby should mention to Megan that schizophrenia might run in her husband’s family.
When Dylan didn’t immediately return, Shelby looked over at him. Through the window she could see he had stepped outside. He was on the phone now, obviously not happy with whomever he was talking to. Shelby hoped it wasn’t Megan.
Shelby also wished she knew what she had done to turn Dylan so hard and cold. Besides just existing and needing a ride. Which was why she was even here. Although that obviously hadn’t been explained to Dylan.
Shelby finished her tea as she watched Dylan talking on the phone outside. Another storm had come up and lightning played through the night sky. Shelby didn’t think they could take off in all this anyway. Maybe she should drive or look into taking a commercial flight. She could live through being surrounded by all the people at an airport and on an airplane if she had to.
Plus, how much worse could it be than being in an airplane with someone who seemed annoyed by her very existence?
Shelby got up and headed toward the door. She would just go her separate way from Dylan Branson. And hope when she met Megan’s husband, Sawyer, that he didn’t have the same temperament as his brother.
Shelby opened the door. Dylan’s back was to her as he spoke on the phone. “Yeah, I get it. She’s needed, too. All I’m saying is that this should’ve been made more clear to me, Burgamy.” Dylan turned around, looking at Shelby while listening to the other person on the phone. “Yes, crystal.”
Dylan disconnected the call without saying anything further. Good to know he was gruff with everybody, not just Shelby. They stood for a moment, not saying anything. Lightning flashed around them again.
“Look, I’m not sure what exactly happened here.” Shelby gestured toward the inside of the restaurant. “But obviously there was some sort of misunderstanding. You weren’t expecting me or whatever. And that’s fine. I’m just going to make other travel arrangements.”
Dylan rubbed his eyes wearily. “No, that’s not going to work. DC is too far to drive.”
“I can see about a commercial flight.”
“By the time you got to an airport big enough, that would take nearly as long as driving. Listen, I’m sorry I was abrupt before. I just didn’t have all the information.” Dylan shrugged. “I can fly you to DC. But since this storm seems to have stalled out right on top of us, it’s going to be a few hours. Probably three or four.”
Four hours? Shelby looked at her watch. It was after 10:00 p.m. She didn’t relish the idea of sitting in her car for that long, but surely Sally’s diner was going to close soon. Shrugging, Shelby turned toward her car.
Dylan touched her arm. “Look, the airfield is out near my house. Why don’t you just come stay at my place, get a few hours of sleep, then we’ll be ready to go when this series of storms passes.”
Shelby moved away from his touch. “Uh, no, thank you.”
“Why?”
“Are you kidding me?” Shelby’s voice was pretty loud. A couple leaving the closing diner looked over at Shelby and Dylan. Dylan waved, but Shelby ignored them.
“No, I’m not kidding you. It’s a logical solution.”
“Why would I stay with someone who out of the blue started treating me like I have the bubonic plague? No, thanks, I’ll just stay here.”
“You can’t stay here. The restaurant is closing.” Dylan’s voice had raised to a yell, probably to compensate for the thunder overhead. Unfortunately, the teenage waitress came outside just in time to hear his shout, but not the thunder. She stared at Dylan and Shelby with wide eyes.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Dylan?”
“It’s fine, Jennifer,” Dylan told the girl. “Be careful driving home in this mess.”
Jennifer kept watching them as she walked to her car. Looked as if Dylan’s yell was the most excitement she had seen in a while.
But the fact that Dylan knew Jennifer’s name reassured Shelby a bit, as did the fact that the girl was so shocked by how he was acting. Obviously, Dylan didn’t normally stand around the parking lot yelling at women.
“Sally is closing up for the night. You can’t go back in there.”
“Fine. I’ll just hang out in my car. Text me when you think it’s safe to take off and I’ll meet you at the airport.”
Shelby heard Dylan’s sigh. “It’s not an airport, more like an airfield.” A few drops of rain started to fall. It wouldn’t be long until the thunderous clouds produced rainstorms again.
“Don’t stay in your car,” he continued. “There’s a motel a couple of blocks down the road. Stay there at least. Not out in this storm.”
He was right. Shelby didn’t mind paying for a room she’d only spend a few hours in. Especially if it meant she wouldn’t have to talk to any other people unnecessarily.
Or have to stay with a man who had made up his mind to dislike her for no apparent reason.
Shelby left the shelter of the overhang near the diner’s front entrance to cross to where her car was parked. “Okay, fine.” She gave him her phone number. “Just text me or whatever when you’re ready.”
The rain was really starting to come down now. “I’ll follow you in my truck. Just to make sure everything’s okay.”
That was the exact opposite of what Shelby expected. She said nothing, just pulled up the collar of her jacket for protection from the rain. She thought she heard Dylan say something else to her, but she just wanted to make it across the street to her car. She understood why they had built the restaurant on one side of the road and the parking lot on the other—the diner had amazing views of the Blue Ridge Mountains. They wouldn’t want to use any of that prime real estate on parking.
But having to cross the street in the rain made Shelby wish they had put the parking closer.
She heard someone yell, but figured it was someone from the restaurant saying goodbye to Dylan. If he was trying to get her attention, he could just wait until they got to the motel. She wasn’t having a conversation out in the cold rain.
Shelby heard the squealing of tires as she reached the other side of the road. She looked up to see a car barreling toward her so fast she couldn’t even figure out what to do.
Her world tilted as a weight hit her from her right and she went flying sideways through the air. A split second later, the car sped through where Shelby had just been standing, not even slowing down. It sprayed water from puddles, soaking Shelby from head to foot.
From where she lay on the ground, Shelby sucked in deep breaths, trying to get her bearings. She’d been hit, right? But not by the car. She turned her head to the side and saw Dylan lying on the ground with her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Are you? What in the world just happened?” Her limbs were tangled with Dylan’s.
“That car almost hit you. I saw it speeding down the road and yelled, but you didn’t hear me.”
That wasn’t totally true. Shelby had heard him, she just hadn’t wanted to stop in the rain.
“Well, your reflexes are better than mine. Thank you.”
“I had forward momentum going for me, otherwise I wouldn’t have made it.”
What he really meant was Shelby wouldn’t have made it. Dylan could’ve stayed safely on the side of the road and would’ve been just fine.
They both began to sit up. Ouch. Shelby could already feel a rip in her coat at the elbow where she’d hit the hardest, although Dylan had taken the brunt of the fall.
“Are you okay?” she asked him. “You took your weight and some of mine.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Dylan got to his feet then offered his hand to help Shelby up. She gratefully took it, grabbing her purse and working her way to a standing position. Now everything was starting to hurt. And this was what not getting hit by a car felt like.
“Did the person driving just not see me?” They walked the rest of the way to her car.
“It’s possible.”
“But?” Shelby could hear the but in his tone. She was trying to get her keys out of her purse, but found her hands were shaking pretty badly. Dylan reached over and held the purse for her so she could manage to fish them out.
“But it actually sped up. Definitely wasn’t typical rainy-night-driving behavior.”
“Drunk, I’ll bet you. That’s the second time I’ve been almost run off the road. People around here need to pay better attention.” Shelby got her keys out and clicked open her car. She just wanted to get out of the rain.
Dylan was looking toward where the car had sped off. “Yeah. For sure.”
They walked together around to her driver’s side. He held the door open as she got into the car then shut it. Shelby cracked the window so she could hear what he had to say.
“The motel is just a couple blocks down on the right. Don’t go anywhere else, okay? Just check in and rest until I let you know we can take off.”
Shelby nodded. She wasn’t planning on doing anything but taking a hot shower and changing into dry clothes.
“I won’t. I don’t think I’m up for much dancing.”
A hint of a smile formed at Dylan’s mouth. “You’d be hard pressed to find dancing around here anyway. Unless they’ve got the karaoke set up at the Blue Moon, Falls Run’s bar.”
The rain was pouring over Dylan. Shelby kind of felt bad for all the mean things she had thought about him since he’d saved her life and all. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked him.
“Fine. Bye.”
Evidently, gruff Dylan was back.
“Okay, let me know when it’s time to go.” Shelby rolled up her window and started driving slowly down the road, not even looking back at Dylan in the rearview mirror. She was irritated at him and her whole body ached.
This was why she tried to stay alone in her house as much as possible.
Chapter Five (#ulink_aee9dee7-2c30-5a10-b037-a4d65b36b50d)
Somebody was trying to kill Shelby Keelan.
Dylan hadn’t wanted to say that to her in the parking lot of Sally’s diner while they were both soaking wet and banged up by a hard fall to the asphalt. Although, there probably wasn’t ever a good time to tell someone their life was in jeopardy.
And Shelby’s was. By someone who was trying to make it look like an accident. The car that nearly ran Shelby down hadn’t been a drunk driver. As a matter of fact, it had probably been the same vehicle that had nearly driven her off the road earlier today. Both attempts had failed, but just barely.
Dylan walked to his truck, opened it and hopped in, whistling through his teeth as he made it into the cab. Had he cracked a rib again? Damn it, he hoped not. Those hurt like hell. At the very least, his ribs were bruised. His shoulder, too. It had taken the brunt of the fall. But he was in one piece and so was Shelby.
He’d almost been too late. If he’d reacted two seconds later, or if he hadn’t trusted his gut that told him that car was trouble, Shelby would be dead. No one could’ve survived being hit at that speed.
Dylan hadn’t gotten any info about the car that would help them. Four-door, dark sedan wouldn’t narrow down anything; it wasn’t even worth calling in. And the car had been speeding by too fast for Dylan to catch helpful details.
Dylan watched as Shelby pulled out of the parking lot and began driving slowly down the street. He started his truck so he could follow her. He’d make sure she got safely inside, then would try to go get some sleep himself for a couple hours. Surely she would be safe at the motel.
But there had already been two attempts on her life. What would stop whoever was behind this from coming back to finish her in her motel room? That might actually be easier.
Dylan knew he needed to get her to come stay at his house. Dylan wasn’t connected to her in any known way, so whoever was following her wouldn’t be looking for her at his house. She could leave her car parked at the motel and Dylan could sneak her out the back door in case someone was watching.
Of course, he’d have to stop acting like a total jerk if he wanted to convince her to do that. How had Shelby phrased it? Treating her as if she had the plague.
Dylan ran a weary hand over his face as he parked his truck across the street from the motel and watched Shelby walk into the front office. Yeah, he definitely could’ve handled that whole situation at the restaurant better. But he’d thought Shelby would just give him the codes and they’d go their separate ways. She might think he was a little abrupt, but no real harm done.
How the heck was Dylan supposed to have known the codes were in her head and that she needed to be at Omega for all of this to work? How was that even possible? If the number sequence was too lengthy to be written up or easily transferred by an electronic medium, then how the hell could Shelby Keelan have them all inside her brain?
When his ex-boss had called, Burgamy should’ve made it abundantly clear that Shelby would be coming with Dylan to Omega HQ. Dylan had mentioned that fact to Burgamy, who had just quipped back: What difference does it make? Your plane seats more than one, right? You can fit some codes and one woman.
Yeah, his Cessna sat more than one—up to eight, in fact—but that wasn’t really the point. Dylan would’ve kept much more of a distance from Shelby if he had known they would be together for a few days.
Because Dylan wasn’t sure he could keep his hands off Shelby Keelan for days. He hadn’t felt this attracted to anyone in a long time. Not since Fiona. Hell, maybe not even for Fiona.
Which he couldn’t even bring himself to think about.
There had been women since Fiona, of course. During the beginning downward spiral, there had been way too many women—just part of a series of bad choices Dylan made in the name of dealing with unbearable grief. But none of them had meant anything; none of them had touched him in any sort of meaningful way.
After just a few short hours in Shelby’s company, Dylan wasn’t sure he’d be able to say the same thing about her.
Dylan wasn’t proud of how he’d handled the situation at the diner. A yelling match in front of Sally’s was never a good plan. But the thought of spending more time with Shelby? It was both the most exciting and most frightening prospect Dylan had had in his personal life in years.
And now Dylan had to talk her into coming to his house. Her presence there, even for only a few short hours, was going to disrupt his peaceful, orderly life. Dylan just knew it. But what other choice did he have? He couldn’t leave her in town alone. So even though she didn’t seem too keen on the idea of staying with him, Dylan would have to change her mind.
And he would just have to keep the attraction he had for this woman, and her damn freckles, under control.
From across the street, Dylan watched as Shelby came back out of the motel’s office, key in hand. She drove her car a little farther into the parking lot and parked in front of a room. After a moment, she got out of her car with a small suitcase and entered her room.
The Falls Run Motel wasn’t fancy, but it was clean and family friendly. There was one building with two floors of rooms. The back of all the bottom-level rooms had sliding glass doors with small concrete patios; the upper-level rooms all had small decks, both providing views of the mountains.
Shelby’s room was on the first floor, which made Dylan’s plan much easier. He had to talk to her, but knew he didn’t want to go through her room’s front door. He needed to get her out in secret in case someone was watching. That left the back sliding glass door.
Dylan pulled his truck farther into the shadows of the bank parking lot that stood across the street from the motel. He turned off the engine and flipped a switch for the light in the cab so it wouldn’t turn on when he opened the door. Just in case. He slid out of the cab, pushing all pain to the side. He felt a little ridiculous hugging the shadows as he made his way across the street in the rain, but he’d learned over the years that an ounce of prevention was worth three and a half tons of cure.
Dylan made his way around the back of the motel, keeping away from the lights. He silently walked along the line of trees until he was right behind Shelby’s room. No lights were on in the rooms on either side of her, which was good. Shelby had pulled the curtain closed, so only a tiny bit of light cracked through the glass door. Dylan approached the door and tapped on it softly.
“Shelby.” Dylan put his mouth almost up to the door. He didn’t want his voice to carry. He could see the shadow of movement in the room, but couldn’t tell if Shelby could hear him. He tapped again, a little louder.
The curtain inched back and Shelby peeked out, but Dylan could tell she still couldn’t see him from where he was in the shadows. He tapped again right where she was looking and brought his face close to the window.
Her short shriek made Dylan thankful there wasn’t anyone in the rooms next to hers. The curtain flew back down, but Dylan heard the unlocking of the door a moment later.
“You scared the pants off me,” Shelby hissed. She had a towel wrapped around her neck, drying rain out of her long red hair. It looked even more red against the white of the cloth.
“Sorry.”
“What are you doing here? And why are you at the back door? Why didn’t you use the front?”
Dylan put a finger up to his lips. He didn’t want her to announce to everyone he was here. “I’m trying to talk with you without anyone knowing I’m here. Do you mind if I come in?”
At least she didn’t hesitate as she opened the door farther and stepped back, which surprised Dylan a little bit. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he had to plead his case from a cracked door after how he’d acted. He walked in and slid the door closed behind him, pulling the curtain to give them privacy from any possible prying eyes.
“Come back because you found just the right words to let me know how you don’t like me?” Shelby stood, arms folded and eyebrow raised, by one of the beds in the room.
Dylan winced. He supposed he deserved that, at least a little.
“I’m sorry about before.”
If anything, Shelby’s eyebrow arched even higher. She didn’t say anything.
“Listen, I was going to leave you alone here, let you get some rest, go home and do the same myself before we leave in a couple hours. But the fact is, someone tried to kill you tonight.”
Shelby looked shocked then sat down on the bed and began smoothing her wet hair with the towel almost absently. “First of all, thanks for saving my life. But me almost dying and someone trying to kill me are two different things, Dylan.”
“I know. I don’t use the terms interchangeably.” Dylan took a step closer, more to keep his shadow away from the curtain than anything else. But his action drew her attention. She stood and began walking farther away without a word, turning her back to him.
Dylan sighed. He guessed he deserved that, too.
But instead of taking the plastic chair at the farthest point away from him in the room, as Dylan thought she was going to do, Shelby walked into the bathroom and came back out with another towel a moment later. She tossed it to him and sat back down on the bed.
“You look as miserable as I feel. Maybe that will help dry you off enough so that you’re at least not dripping.”
Dylan began to towel off his face and hair. “Thanks.”
“Don’t look so surprised. I’m not a she devil, you know.”
“I never thought you were.”
Her eyebrow rose again.
Dylan changed the subject. “That guy tonight wasn’t a drunk driver who got sloppy. That car was someone coming at you with the specific intention of running you down.”
Shelby stopped drying her hair and clutched the towel to her like a security blanket. Her green eyes were huge in her pale face. “Do you really think that’s true?”
“Well, let me ask you this. Do you remember anything about the car that almost ran you off the road earlier today while you were driving up here?”
Shelby shrugged. “Not too much. I’m good with remembering numbers, but not much of anything else.”
Dylan didn’t want to just feed an image into her mind. He wanted to see if he could help her remember. “Was it a light or dark color, or maybe a specific color you remember, like red or yellow?”
“No, definitely not a bright color. It was dark, maybe black or gray. I can’t really recall.”
“That’s okay.” Dylan sat down on the bed across from hers. “Is there anything you can remember about the model of the vehicle? Maybe it was an SUV or a noticeable brand of car, like a VW or a Jeep?”
“No, I don’t know anything about cars. But it wasn’t anything like that. I just remember thinking it was an old person’s car. That maybe it was some old person who shouldn’t be driving at all if he or she was going to run people off the road.”
“Okay, an old person’s car.” That was the info Dylan had been hoping for. “A sedan.”
“Yeah, a sedan.” Shelby nodded. “But I don’t know what make or anything.”
“That’s okay, you don’t have to. But I think you might find it interesting that the car that tried to run you down tonight was also a dark sedan. Someone has tried to kill you today. Twice. Both in ways that would seem like an accident.”
Shelby bounded off the bed. The towel was still clutched in front of her. “What am I going to do?”
“I don’t think it’s safe for you to stay here tonight in case that person tries to come back and finish what he started. It would be too easy to find you.”
Shelby nodded almost blankly.
“I know you were pretty resistant to this idea before, but I think you should come back to my house. Nobody would know you’re there and we’ll leave in the plane as soon as possible. It’s not safe for you to be alone anymore.”
Chapter Six (#ulink_a276cad5-ca97-5809-bf2e-8d60c690c783)
Shelby could hear what Dylan was saying, but it was as if she was processing it too slowly to make sense. Someone was trying to kill her? On purpose?
The whole concept was pretty foreign. And Dylan was afraid someone would find her here at the motel?
“How would they find me here?” she asked.
“It’s the only motel in all of Falls Run. If you assumed that what happened earlier was only an accident, you’d probably check in here, get some rest. If I was a killer, I’d look here first.”
Shelby walked over by the curtains. She wanted to peek out, to open the door and see if the boogeyman was on the porch ready to attack them, but knew she couldn’t.
Was Dylan right? Could someone actually be trying to kill her? They were dealing with DS-13, which Megan assured Shelby was definitely a group to take seriously. Shelby had the codes in her head and knew the numbers were some sort of countdown. But she had no idea what they were counting down to; that’s where Megan’s computer decryption program came in. Shelby and Megan’s computer program had to be in the same room together so Shelby could feed in the data and eliminate what wasn’t necessary. Only Shelby could do that. And once she did, they’d be able to figure out the what and the where the countdown referred to.
Were the numbers in her head worth someone killing her for? She didn’t want to think so, but the aches and bruises from her close encounter with a speeding car—which did look a lot like the one she’d seen earlier today, now that Dylan mentioned it—told her otherwise. So, yeah, maybe someone was trying to kill her.
Yet another reason why she should have just stayed home.
At least Dylan didn’t seem so irritated by her very existence anymore. He wasn’t the sexy, flirty Dylan he’d been a few hours ago, but at least he wasn’t yelling at her. She didn’t necessarily want to go back to his house with him, but neither did she want to stay here with a possible attacker. Uncomfortable was definitely better than dead.
She nodded at Dylan. “Okay, I’ll come with you.”
Dylan tossed the towel down on the bed. “Good. That really is the safest thing.”
“Should I bring my whole suitcase? Everything I brought?”
“If you need everything, I can carry the whole suitcase out. But it would be better if you had just a small bag with a few necessities. Makes us much more mobile getting to my truck.”
“Okay.”
“Plus, if someone does break in here, it makes it look like you’re still around somewhere. It would cause the perp to think maybe he missed you somehow. Buy us more time while he waits for you to come back.”
Shelby shuddered at the thought of someone coming in here, waiting for her. She looked quickly at the front door and the glass door. Two ways someone could get in. Shelby definitely didn’t want to stay here.
“Let me pack a bag.” Shelby grabbed a shirt, a pair of jeans and some underwear, rolling them into a ball with the delicates—did it have to be a red-and-black thong?—on the inside. Shelby grabbed a toothbrush and a comb, thankful she’d never been one for wearing much makeup. The tennis shoes and socks on her feet would be fine.
This should be all she needed. The rest she could buy once she got to Washington, DC.
“I don’t have anything to put this in,” Shelby told Dylan.
“That’s okay. I’ve got a small duffel bag you can use once we get to my house. Just put your comb and toothbrush in your back pocket and ball up your clothes.”
Shelby did as he said. “Are we going to need to run?”
“We will at first, out to the tree line behind the motel. There’s no way around that. We’ve got to get away from the building as quickly as possible. But otherwise, I hope not. Two people sprinting across the street draws a lot more attention than two people just walking fast to get out of the rain.” Dylan looked around the room. “You don’t have a baseball cap or hoodie, do you? Anything with a hood?”
“No.”
Dylan shrugged. “Your red hair is hard to hide without something covering it. Just stay as close to me as you can as we’re crossing the street. If I stop, you stop. Don’t ask questions, just do it.”
Shelby wasn’t planning on asking for justification for everything he did while he was getting them out of here. It would be nice if he would take her for a little bit less of an idiot. “Fine.”
If Dylan noticed Shelby’s annoyance, he didn’t mention it. He walked over to the front door and turned off the lights in the room, plunging it into darkness.
“Let’s give our eyes a chance to adjust. Then we’ll head out.”
Shelby nodded then realized he couldn’t see her. “Okay.”
After a few moments, Shelby’s vision adjusted. Dylan had made his way over to the sliding glass door already and was peering around the curtain.
“Is somebody out there?” Shelby asked after what seemed like a long time.
“Probably not. Whoever wants to hurt you would probably come through the front door. Most motel rooms don’t have doors at the back, just windows that don’t open. Unless he’s familiar with this motel specifically, then he’d think the front door was the best bet.”
“Oh.” Shelby couldn’t think of anything more intelligent to say. How did Dylan, a pilot, know all that? Maybe he sat around and watched too many crime shows on television.
“Are you ready?”
Shelby took a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Okay, Freckles. Remember, stay as close to me as possible and try not to talk.”
Did he just call her Freckles? Shelby didn’t even have time to get offended. Dylan was already out the door. She followed him quickly, clothes tucked under her arm, sliding the door shut on her way out.
Dylan made a dash for the tree line, a hundred feet or so from the hotel. Shelby made sure to keep up with him. Once they were in the cover of the trees, Dylan stopped for a minute.
“Okay?” he asked her.
“Yeah.”
“We’ll make our way along the trees to the side of the motel by the office, then we’ll cut across the street. My truck is parked at the bank.”
They made their way silently along the trees, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Dylan kept hold of the hand Shelby wasn’t using to carry the clothes, keeping her close to his side. Every once in a while Dylan would stop and peer out. Shelby forced herself not to ask what he saw, if anything.
When they reached the side of the motel, the trees stopped. They’d have to walk out in the open now. Shelby peeked around Dylan’s large shoulders. As far as she could tell, nobody was out. Why would they be? Anyone with any sense was inside, not outside in the wet cold. Shelby shivered.
“Are you ready?” Dylan asked, turning his head back toward her so she could hear him over the rain. “We’ll walk side by side to my truck. I don’t see anybody, but don’t dawdle.”
Shelby nodded and Dylan took her hand and they began to walk through the parking lot and across the street. Compared to the cover of the trees, Shelby felt exposed out in the open. She kept her head tucked down and walked as quickly as possible, but the steps across the street seemed to take forever.
When Dylan slowed down and curved Shelby into the crook of his arm, Shelby glanced up. She knew he wouldn’t choose now to turn this into a lover’s pose unless he had to.
“What?” she asked him.
“A car just turned onto the road up the block. A sedan.”
“The same one?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to take any chances. I need to keep you out of sight and away from anything that might associate you with me.” Dylan turned them away from where his truck was parked. “Detour.”
Shelby kept up as Dylan now rushed across the street toward the bank building rather than his vehicle. He didn’t stop until they were standing up against the wall of the bank, the opposite side from where the car was coming. Shelby clutched her balled-up change of clothes to her chest with one arm.
“Okay, we’re going to work our way around to the back side of the building and see what that car is doing.”
They stayed against the wall as they walked back. Dylan had yet to let go of Shelby’s hand. When they got to the back where they could glance out to see the road, Shelby stayed behind Dylan while he took a look.
“I don’t see anybody. Maybe that car wasn’t even the same guy.”
“That’s good, right?”
Dylan nodded and let go of her hand. Everything seemed safe. Shelby wondered if this whole thing was just a case of overactive imaginations. Admittedly, it was unlikely that two cars similar in make and model would almost hit her twice in one day, but it wasn’t impossible.
“Okay, I don’t see anyone,” Dylan told her again. “Let’s head to the truck.”
Shelby nodded and they began walking, neither of them quite as worried about secrecy.
Shelby felt Dylan stiffen a moment before she noticed the car again herself. It was pulling out of the parking lot directly adjacent to the bank, moving slowly, obviously looking for something or someone.
Okay, maybe not overactive imaginations.
Dylan grabbed Shelby’s hand again and pulled her forward, then put his other hand on her head to get her to stay low. They ran to his truck, keeping as low as possible. Dylan opened the passenger-side door and jumped in, sliding across the seat and reaching to help Shelby at the same time.
“Hurry. Stay down.” Dylan’s voice was curt as he kept a watchful eye out the windshield while trying to stay out of sight himself. Shelby threw her clothes toward him, grabbed his hand and climbed. She pulled the door closed as quickly as she could, glad that no lights had come on in the cab. She ducked down low in the seat.
“Is he still coming toward us?”
“Yes, but I don’t think he saw us. It looks more like a sweep-through than anything. He’s past us now.”
Shelby peeked up and saw the rear of the car as it drove slowly by. The person driving was looking for someplace. Or someone. But the car was moving on now.
Dylan straightened up in his seat. “I think it’s safe now. But let’s get out of here before he comes back. Once he’s sure the street is clear, he’ll try to find you at your room.”
“Okay.” Shelby sat up and reached to grab her clothes which had fallen all over the cab when she’d thrown them inside. She found her pants and shirt with no problem. But kept feeling around the darkened cab for her underwear.
“Um, I think this is what you’re looking for.”
Hanging from Dylan’s finger was Shelby’s black-and-red lace thong.
Chapter Seven (#ulink_aba7b885-445f-5102-97e4-3b87d24b042c)
Dylan didn’t allow himself to dwell on that tiny scrap of lace during the drive to his house. He needed to stay focused and make sure no one was following them. Although he knew following them on the windy road that led from town to his house with no headlights would be nearly impossible.
But that gave him too much time to think about red-and-black material, so he focused instead on being doubly sure no one followed.
No one did.
The storm still raged as they reached Dylan’s house fifteen minutes later. Although he normally wouldn’t park there, he pulled into the garage so they wouldn’t have to get wet again. Shelby was just beginning to stop shivering. She hadn’t said much of anything on the drive here. Once she’d snatched the thong off his finger, she’d kind of hunkered down over on the opposite side of the cab.
About as far from Dylan as she could get.
Dylan turned off the ignition and opened his door. He would’ve gone around to help Shelby, but she’d already made it out fine on her own. So he opened the door that led through a small mudroom before entering the main part of his house.
Dylan’s house wasn’t too large. Three decent-size bedrooms, a living room with a large fireplace and a kitchen with an eat-in nook. Dylan had designed and built most of it himself, based on his own needs and preferences. It definitely had not been built with entertaining in mind. Hell, except for family, Dylan never entertained anybody at his house. Any meetings concerning his charter business were conducted at his office by the airfield a half mile away.
Dylan wasn’t a sloppy person—his mother hadn’t allowed it growing up, neither had the army—but still he looked over his house with a critical eye. He’d never brought a woman here before, and for the first time had a moment’s doubt. What did his house look like to Shelby? Too sparse, too masculine, too rough around the edges? There definitely weren’t a tremendous amount of creature comforts here.
Dylan wondered if Shelby would start complaining right off the bat, or if she’d be too polite to do so. She hadn’t seemed to hold back any of her opinions so far, so Dylan didn’t expect her to do so now. But when he turned to look at Shelby as she walked farther into the living room, she didn’t seem to be put off at all by his house.
“This is a great space,” she told him, looking around. “Lots of windows. I’m sure that lets in great light during the day.”
Dylan had to admit he was impressed. He didn’t think Shelby would notice the windows, his favorite feature, first. He thought she might notice the kitchen was small and rather rustic—Dylan wasn’t much of a cook—or that the television was pretty tiny in the living room and off to the side.
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Janie Crouch
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: He’d been hired to transport precious cargo—and it put a beautiful twist in his solitary lifeFormer operative turned pilot Dylan Branson has one mission: deliver vital codes to Omega Sector before millions of lives are lost. Surprisingly, the codes reside in the photographic memory of Shelby Keelan, a beautiful computer expert who’s so far survived two murder attempts. Used to doing things solo, Dylan will get Shelby to Washington, D.C., then walk away. So he’s stunned to discover she’s as much a loner as he is—and how much that appeals to him. Now, with both their lives in danger after his plane is sabotaged mid-air, Dylan no longer thinks of Shelby as just a job. Or that he’ll be able to let her go once it’s over.