Edge of the Enforcer

Chapter Sixteen

DeVries studied the shooting range. Fenced-off and backed up to a dirt cliff. Probably to prevent people and animals from wandering into the field of fire. Inside the fencing, various posts held range markers and were topped with head-size metal plates. Along the firing line, waist-high stumps served as tables. “Nice setup,” he said to Logan.

“It works for small arms. We have a rifle range farther out.” Logan handed him a revolver, box of bullets, and earmuffs. “You can start her with the .38s, and I have .357s if she gets enthusiastic.” Choosing a stump, Logan set his range bag down next to it and pulled out a box of bullets.

Simon followed suit.

DeVries motioned for Lindsey to join him at the far end.

Well, his comments about murder had definitely shaken her. Her face was still pale. He should have dragged her back to her cabin, but…dammit, he wanted her to tell him voluntarily.

Think hard, girl. Make the right decision.

“Okay. What am I doing?” She straightened her shoulders, looking sick.

“You know how to shoot at all?” She didn’t like firearms, he remembered, as he put the earmuffs on her.

“Uh-uh.” She stared at Becca’s Smith & Wesson lying on the stump top as if it were a snake.

“Right. You watch me load and shoot this. I’ll walk you through it for your turn.”

Becca’s pistol should do well for her, he thought. She might find the pistol’s six-inch barrel heavy, but the longer length decreased the recoil.

After loading and donning earmuffs and eye protection, he took his stance, feet apart, double-handed grip, sighting, breathing, moving precisely so she could absorb without him having to say anything. Slowly he squeezed the trigger. A high metallic sound gave auditory indication he’d struck the target. When the post swayed slightly, he realized the Hunts had used a car spring as part of the target construction. He glanced over at Logan and raised his voice to be heard. “I like the feedback.”

“Me too. We put the springs in when we taught Becca to shoot. Instant gratification works a treat.”

No shit. Enjoying the dinging and shaking of the targets, he emptied the S&W.

“You didn’t miss once.” Lindsey was wide-eyed.

Her admiration felt good—and made him feel like a fucking teenager. What was he, twelve? “Get killed if you miss.” He wanted to take back the words when she flinched. What the fuck had happened there in Texas? Had she really murdered her husband? He wouldn’t think a cold-blooded killer would cringe at the word.

Tell me, baby, so I can fix it.

“Here.” After giving her the safety glasses, he handed her the pistol and showed her how to eject the spent shells and reload. The revolver was a good choice for a beginner—almost idiotproof when it came to loading. His S&W 1911 semiautomatic was his preferred weapon, but he did enjoy the heft of a revolver at times.

As she stepped up to the line, he adjusted her stance, enjoying the feel of her. Her sweetness. Dammit, if she’d murdered her husband, the bastard must have had it coming. And yet, there was the dead cop. “Ready?”

She nodded and took aim. Squeezed the trigger.

THE GUN BUCKED in Lindsey’s hand, and her world fell in. Even as the muted noise hit her ears and the acrid stench of gunpowder filled her lungs, darkness closed, turning even the snow to black.

She could feel Victor’s body landing on top of her. Hear his screaming. The gun bucked in her hands, the bullet hitting him with a horrible punching sound. Screaming and screaming. Her vision filled with red. Hot and sticky, Victor’s blood soaked into her clothing.

His body pinned her down as he convulsed. His feet hammered the floor, and then nothing. There was liquid on her face. She pushed, pushed, smothering under his weight, under the terror.

Couldn’t breathe.

Something stung her left cheek. Her right. Powerful hands held her shoulders and shook her. “Lindsey.”

She grabbed the arm, holding on as the world disintegrated around her. “He’s—” Her voice cracked. “He’s dead. Oh God, Victor’s dead.”

“Open your eyes, babe. Look at me.”

The hard-edged tone ruthlessly sliced through the blackness. She still felt the lifeless weight of her husband’s body. She’d waited and waited for him to take a breath.

“Look. At. Me.”

She blinked.

Sea-gray eyes bored into hers.

“Zander?” She was on her knees, pushing him away from her.

His painful hold on her shoulders loosened. “Fuck, baby.” He yanked her forward, hauling her into his arms, squeezing the breath out of her. They were sitting on the ground. Earmuffs and safety glasses lay nearby in the snow.

Snow.

This was California, not Texas. Not her ranch. She swallowed, trying to keep her breakfast down.

“What the fuck happened?” She knew the voice. Logan.

“Guessing a flashback.” Zander drew her closer on his lap, enfolding her in strength.

“That sounded as if she saw a murder,” Simon said.

She burrowed her head against Zander’s shoulder. Red still hazed the edges of her vision, and shudders shook her until her bones hurt.

“More than just saw. She didn’t react to us shooting. Didn’t react till she used the S&W herself.” His callused palm cupped her chin and lifted, forcing her to look at him. “You shoot your husband, Lindsey?”

She quivered under his hard words, his merciless stare, his unbreakable grip on her face—yet he held her to his chest. Relentless and gentle. A Dom’s paradoxical traits.

Around them, the tree branches creaked in the light wind. The world was so still she could hear the thudding of her heart.

“Lindsey, answer me.”

“I killed him,” she whispered, turning her gaze away. But Victor’s eyes stared back at her from a dark tree; red started to pool in the snow. A scream built up inside her, filling her ears, erasing the silence.

“Stay with me, pet.” Zander shook her lightly. “Why’d you kill him?”

“I—”Why? “He…” She saw the rifles along the side of the metal walls. “There were guns.” She hadn’t meant to shoot him. The boy. Screaming. The pistol bucking in her hands. Blood hot, covering her chest. “He wanted…”

“Fuck, she’s lost in it.” A stinging smack on her cheek. “Girl, look at me.” Zander’s sharp gaze pinned her in the present.

“I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t—”

His eyes turned soft as a morning fog over the bay. “You’re doing good. Now, step by step.”

She nodded.

“Back me up, Simon,” he muttered.

“I ask and push; you comfort.” Simon went down on one knee, facing her. His olive complexion and black hair stood out against the whiteness of the snowdrift behind him. “Lindsey, where did this happen?”

“My ranch.” While Zander stroked her shoulders, soothing her, she said, “I told you—remember the phone call about a pretty boy? I went to the ranch. To see.” As her shaking eased, as she did her best to think, she froze. What was she doing? She’d—oh God—she’d told them about Victor. Told them—

“Too late now, babe,” Zander whispered into her ear. His stubbled cheek rubbed hers. “Get it out.”

Simon was crouched in front of her, expressionless. She looked to her right. Logan leaned on a stump, arms crossed on his chest, gunmetal-blue gaze on her. She heard her voice saying the words, “I killed him.” She’d dug her own grave; might as well finish burying herself.

They’d turn her in—they’d have to. A tremor ran through her.

Zander squeezed, reminding her she was on his lap. In his arms. “Spit it out. Afterward, we’ll figure out how to fix it.”

How to fix it. “You can’t. I tried.” Misery drained her hopes into the ground. Down and down and down. “They’ll kill me.”

He shoved her face into his chest, and she inhaled the wild clean scent of him, as if he’d been born in a pine forest. “Nobody is going to kill you,” he grated out.

She clung for a moment, unable to let go.

“Let’s go through this step by step, pet,” Simon said quietly, and she raised her head. “You went to the ranch. What happened?”

“I drove there at dark, only I wasn’t sure exactly where to look. ‘Hey, Parnell, got a pretty boy for you. I’ll stash him in the usual spot at your ranch.’”

Like a book on tape, her voice kept going, reciting the movie in her head. “Victor’s car wasn’t at the main house. I found it at the old one.” Knowing she was stalling, she tried to explain how the original ranch house was used occasionally for guests during hunting season. Victor hadn’t been there or at the broken-down stable.

She walked across the flattened ground toward voices coming from the aged metal shed used to store broken machinery.

There was a high, muffled scream.

“You little bastard, hold still!” Victor’s voice.

The door opened under her hand…and she froze. An unshaded bulb cast light over a young boy, barely past puberty, lying on the concrete floor. Wrists and ankles tied together in front. Gagged. Jeans pulled down.

Victor stood there, unbuckling his belt.

“What are you doing?” Her voice emerged shocked. Stupid.

Somehow, Simon’s black gaze came into focus—she was still talking, wasn’t she? She said to him, “I should have run. Should have—”

“Tell us,” Simon prompted.

His face dissolved as she felt Victor’s hands grab her and throw her. “I hit the crates…” Her voice didn’t sound real as she kept talking…

She’d slammed into a pile of wooden crates a few feet away from the boy. Blinking, half-dazed, she stared around her. Ranch machinery had been shoved against the metal walls to make room for heaps of small boxes and the stacks of long cases. One crate lid was pried off, showing gleaming rifles. “Guns? What are you—”

“Jesus, you’re a stupid cunt. Why would I want a cunt like you when I can fuck sweeter meat? Like him?” He nudged the terrified boy with his shiny dress shoe and buckled his belt as he walked over.

Cold grew inside her. “Why?” Her numb lips had trouble forming the word.

“This place. Miles of emptiness right along the border.”

My ranch? He married me to get the ranch?

He had. He smirked at her, so smug, his chest puffed up with pride. She’d kissed that chest. Kissed him.

Sickness twisted her stomach—and as she breathed in the snowy mountain air, she heard herself whimper. Zander’s arms tightened around her. “I got you, baby. I got you.” Warmth. Safety. Caring. She folded it in, made it her own.

“Go on, pet,” Simon said. “Let’s get through this.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I said to him—to Victor— ‘You’re smuggling.’ He jeered at me.” Word by word, she continued, tracing the path of the nightmare she’d walked so many times before.

“You’re smuggling.” Somehow she had to get up. Free the child. Find help. She couldn’t. Her head spun like a dust devil when she strained to move.

Victor sneered. “Aren’t you so smart when it’s all laid out?” He reached behind him where his coat was draped over a crate stack and pulled out a pistol. “Drugs and fresh meat in, weapons and ammo out. Rake in the cash.”

Her land had been in her family since Texas was settled. The Rayburn honor was polluted by this bastard. Anger flared inside her; fear clogged her throat.

He waved the pistol. “Guess I’m going to be a widower sooner than I figured. Travis’ll find your body eventually. Your family’s heard me tell you not to take long rides by yourself.”

They had. And now she knew it hadn’t been because he cared, but to keep her from blundering into the men doing the smuggling. She felt as if she were drowning in filth.

He never loved me. And she’d made love with the monster, let him inside her. “You bastard.”

“Hell, you married me for my money,” Victor snapped. “You just didn’t realize I married you for your ranch.”

As her words echoed in the air, beneath her, holding her in the snow, Zander went rigid. “Jesus, you did marry him for his fucking money.”

She turned and saw his face.

Cynicism twisted his expression, filled his gaze with ice. Even while she sat on his lap, he was…distant. Gone. He blamed her. He actually thought she was as greedy as his wife. Again. His rejection seemed to burn through her, crisping every support beam to ash, letting the last few timbers fall around her.

“Lindsey.” Simon directed her attention back. “How did you get away from your husband?”

She wanted Zander’s arms—no, no, she didn’t. She didn’t want him anymore anyway. Not if he could think that. Yet losing him…hurt far more bitterly than losing her ranch, even her life.

As her skin chilled, she wrapped her arms around her waist. She was the sole support and comforter for her own self. Why did she keep forgetting that? “No more questions.”

No more help. No more friends. And now, she had to leave. Run. Start over…again. Another strange city. Buy a different name. Find a new job.

Don’t ever try to find friends or lovers again. The future had turned dark, not from clouds on the horizon but from an engulfing blackness.

Zander wasn’t holding her anymore. He was so distant, he could have been in a whole different county. She pushed to her feet.

Her legs trembled, but she could walk. Their old tracks would lead her back to the lodge.

“Lindsey.” Simon had risen to his feet. “We need to hear the rest and figure out how to fix this.”

She couldn’t keep from looking at Zander. His face was expressionless, his eyes flat and cold, as if he’d never met her before. She wanted to kick him.

To cry.

The deadness inside her grew, a black hole sucking away all warmth. She’d move on again…to nothing. Why hadn’t she just let Ricks kill her? “No need. I’ll be gone within a half hour.”

Zander didn’t speak.

“Hey, deVries, thanks for believing in me.” She burned to say more, to scream at him, but her throat closed with sobs instead, and she walked away.

The trail down kept tripping her as her blurry eyes missed seeing logs and rocks. Eventually she realized footsteps trailed behind her. Hopes rising, she turned.

Not Zander. Logan.

“Go away.”

“Sorry, sugar. I’m walking you down.” He didn’t look as if he’d listen to reason or sentiment. In fact, he looked about as tractable as the granite mountaintop behind him.

Fine. Without speaking, she spun and kept going. At least anger burned the tears away for the moment.

“HEY, DEVRIES, THANKS for believing in me.” The bitterness in her voice was a knife to deVries’s skin. His heart.

Dammit, she’d killed her husband. Whom she’d married for money. DeVries felt as if he had blundered into a firefight. The thunder still hung in the air. He shook his head hard, trying to cast off the fucked-up shit in his skull. Forcing himself to not run after her was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

He had to get his act together first.

He realized Logan had gone with her. That was good. Should have been him. Jesus, someone better shoot him for real. Guilt twisted the blade already stuck in his chest. How could he have fucked her up like that?

He couldn’t hold back any longer; he needed to get to her. He pushed to his feet. His snow-crusted, wet jeans stuck to his skin, hindering his balance for a second. He started after her.

“You leave her alone,” Simon snapped, grabbing deVries’s arm, spinning him around. “You’ve done enough damage.”

DeVries staggered back a step.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Simon shoved him another foot.

“She got me by surprise—and I’m a fucking asshole.” Unwilling to fight, deVries caught the next blow and held.

Eyes black with fury, Simon slapped deVries’s fingers from his wrist. “She needed your support.”

The blade dug deeper into his soul. “I know. I fucked up.” Turning away, deVries unloaded the revolver and tucked it, bullets, and gear into his range bag. “I got to get down there.”

“I’ll bring Logan’s bag. Head out.”

Simon caught up to him a few minutes later on the trail. “Would you mind telling me what happened there?”

DeVries worked his jaw and forced the words out. “My wife dumped me to marry a rich dude. For his money. Hearing Lindsey did the same…”

“You don’t know that. She told us what the bastard said.”

“Simon, I think she did.” The first morning, he’d asked, “What did you do—marry for money?” and her guilt had been obvious. After stepping over a half-buried log, he ducked a snow-covered branch hanging over the trail. “But dammit, money doesn’t mean much to her.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

DeVries sucked in a breath. “I had a brain-dead moment.” From the very beginning, he’d found she didn’t care about getting rich. In fact, rather than conning him out of grocery funds, she’d tried to convince him she loved mac ‘n’ cheese. Had told him the best accommodations came with pets—like the mouse in her kitchen. She hadn’t wanted to accept a lower rent from her friend. Never asked him for anything. Hell, she had more pride than sense sometimes. “If Lindsey married the bastard for money, she had a hell of a good reason—and it probably wasn’t for her.”

“I’m pleased to see you’re not a total moron,” Simon said in a dry voice.

He deserved the reprimand. “Since the killing was self-defense, why’s she running and using a fake name?” Why was she wanted in Texas for murdering a cop?

“Let’s find out.”

“Yeah.”

The trail emerged from the forest and into the lodge clearing. DeVries headed down the winding path leading to the cabin.

They met Logan halfway there. “Here.” He tossed Lindsey’s keys to Simon—rather than deVries.

Ignoring the unspoken insult, deVries asked, “She see you take them?”

“Nope.” Logan gave him a hard look. “Your head on straight yet?”

DeVries suppressed the urge to bury his fist in the man’s gut. He’d earned Logan’s question. “Got bit by shit in the past. I fucked up.”

The muscles in Logan’s jaw eased as he shrugged. “I can’t bust you for something I’ve done myself. Thank fuck women are forgiving creatures.”

“Is she packing?” Simon asked, handing Logan his bag.

“Not yet.” A glimmer of a smile lit Logan’s eyes. “I told her if she didn’t get in the shower and warm up, I’d strip her down and put her there.”

“If you manhandled Lindsey, Becca will poison your supper,” Simon said. “And Rona will help.”

Logan chuckled. “I know. But it made a fine threat.” He led the way back to Lindsey and deVries’s cabin. “Do you want me there or not?”

DeVries considered. “She’s been running for months. You block the door—let her know that’s over. And you’ll be one more ally when she realizes she’s got to stop.” He looked at Simon. “I lead. Step in if I overlook something.”

Both men nodded agreement.

“You want a minute to apologize before we come in?” Simon asked.

He did—but he didn’t deserve it. “I fucked up in front of you; I can man up and grovel there too.”

Logan barked a laugh.

Simon used the keys to open the door and handed them to deVries.

Lindsey stood in the center of the room. Still dressed. Shivering slightly. He’d bet she turned on the shower to fool Logan and never undressed. She saw deVries and took a step back. “Get out!”

He set his range bag down. When he walked forward, the speed with which she retreated hurt his heart. God, he was an asshole.

Her back bumped into the wall. “Go away.”

“No.” He braced his palms on the logs on each side of her shoulders, trapping her and hopefully ensuring she’d listen. “Lindsey, I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

“Get—what?” Her brown eyes flickered up to his before she looked away.

“I heard the ‘married for money’ business, and my own shit buggered my mind. But”—he leaned his forehead against hers, his lips almost touching—“I know you. If you married him for money, you had a fucking good reason.”

Her breathing hitched. “You don’t think I’m a…a whore?”

God, he should be horsewhipped for giving her any cause to believe he wasn’t in her corner. “Not even close. Can you forgive me for taking a minute to get my head out of my ass?”

Tears swam in her brown eyes.

“Fuck, don’t cry.” She was going to bust his heart open.

She swiped her arm over her eyes and huffed. “You’re a sadist. You like tears.”

He kissed her damp cheek, tasting the salt. “Not this kind. Never this kind.” The tightness in his chest loosened when she let him gather her in. He molded her against him, feeling as if he’d climbed out of the fog into the sunlight. Soft and sweet. Logan was right. Thank fucking God good women were forgiving.

Unable to release her for long minutes, he cuddled her. Her breathing hitched a few times as if she held back sobs—tough Texan—and finally, he felt the stiffness ease from her small frame.

With a feeling of loss, he pulled away. Jesus, he didn’t want to do this, to drag her into reliving a nightmare. A man fought to keep his woman from unhappiness. And he couldn’t this time. He inhaled a measured breath and checked his control. “Now, let’s finish this, baby.”

She went stiff, brittle as glass. “I don’t think so.”

Stubborn little submissive. “I do.”

With a shove hard enough to knock him away, she ran, then realized Logan blocked the door. She skidded to a halt. Her eyes widened at the sight of Simon in a chair beside the small wood stove.

She spun to face deVries. “This is none of your business. I won’t talk about it.”

“Yeah, it is. Yeah, you will.” His toy bag was still on the bed, so he took out two short lengths of rope. When he walked toward her, she retreated…right into Simon.

Simon pulled her onto his lap and held her forearms out to deVries.

“No!” She struggled…halfheartedly. Her fear was obvious, but she needed help and deep down, she knew it.

“No more running, pet. That option is gone,” he said gently. With one segment of rope, he tied her wrists together and used the second length on her ankles. The ropes would drive home that escape wasn’t possible. “You’re going to let us help you.”

He scooped her up, holding her firmly. Mercilessly.

Surrounded by Doms, restrained, choices gone. Showing her subconscious had surrendered, she sagged against him. Right where he wanted her.

Cradling her gently, he sat on the low bed. “He—Victor—was going to kill you. What happened?”

Her level gaze met his. She’d lived a nightmare but wasn’t trapped in it now.

“I’ve got you, baby. Share with me.” Trust me. Please.

When she started to speak, he felt his eyes burn with tears. He’d stretched the bond between them, and yet it hadn’t broken.

“Victor took a step forward, and the boy kind of rolled into him.” She looked down at her bound wrists. “I don’t know why—trying to save me or panicking. Victor stumbled back into the crates and dropped the pistol, and it slid a little ways. I was still on the floor, and I jumped for it.”

Her hands fisted. “I grabbed the gun and rolled over. Victor lunged too, and he hit my foot and landed on me.”

Her face drained of color.

“THE GUN WENT off.” Her finger had been on the trigger, and Lindsey bit her lip at the memory, feeling the sickness return. The recoil of the pistol and the jerk of Victor’s chest had been almost simultaneous. The blood splattered on her, even her face. His body had been half on top of hers, pinning her down. She shuddered.

Zander clasped her tighter. God, she loved him.

“I—” She regulated her breathing and found a smidgen of courage when her gaze met Simon’s compassionate eyes.

“It was an accident,” she whispered, “but…even if it hadn’t been, I think I would have shot him anyway.”

“Good to know you’re not an idiot,” Zander muttered.

Her gaze went to him. “What?”

“He’d have killed you and the boy. What part of that didn’t you understand?”

“I—yes.” His matter-of-fact statement smoothed the jagged edges of guilt. “I called 9-1-1.”

“So far, so good. And?”

“I untied the boy, and we…we kind of had hysterics together. Finally the police came—well, one. He’d been in high school with me. After checking things, Craig believed us. He let me go up to the house because I…needed…to clean up.” Victor’s blood had covered her face, her clothes. She swallowed hard.

“Easy, babe. I’m here.” Her fingernails were digging into her palms. Zander uncurled her fingers and wrapped them around his.

“Okay.” She concentrated. “I was cleaning up when I heard the chief of police talking outside the bathroom window. Victor is—was—Chief Parnell’s brother. Travis had been to the shed and seen Victor’s body. He was crazy mad. Wanted to kill me—to cut me up, he said.” She felt the cold slide up her spine. “…cut her so bad that even in hell, Victor will hear her screams. I’ll see how many pieces I can chop off before she dies.”

“He was talking to Craig?” Simon asked.

She shook her head. “Another officer. They said Victor’s death was a p-problem. Chief—Travis—is in charge of the smuggling. Victor worked with him.”

“Oh hell,” came a low comment from Logan. She’d actually forgotten he was there.

“He told the detective with him to kill Craig and make it look like I did it. They could dump my body in the river and tell people that I’d run.”

Zander made a noise, a growl deep in his throat, and she stopped. “Go on, babe,” he said.

“They’d say I killed Victor and later shot Craig, trying to get away. The ranch would be tied up in legal stuff, and they could keep using it.”

“I stood there.” She’d been numb. “Craig was yelling that the boy had run, and I ran to the front door and screamed for Craig to watch out. I heard the gunshots.” Too late. Too, too late. Grief and guilt churned inside her. “If I’d moved faster. Yelled sooner.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered, pet,” Simon said gently. “They were his comrades. He’d never have believed you in time.”

“How’d you escape?” Zander asked. His jaw was tight, his eyes furious. For her.

He was on her side. The relief drained the strength out of her.

“Babe?” Zander prompted.

“I hid.” She managed a weak chuckle. “My grandpa was crazy. Paranoid. During the Cold War stuff, he made a hidden room off the basement to prepare for a nuclear war and Commie invasion. It gets ventilated through an outside pipe, has an old chemical toilet, and was stocked with ancient civil defense cans of drinking water and food. I hid there for a week.”

“No shit.” Zander cupped her head against his hard chest. “That took balls.”

“I guess.” She’d bitten her knuckles raw to keep from screaming. Not knowing who was around, she couldn’t afford to make any noise. Day after day. Alone. Sometimes it’d seemed as if the floor was covered with blood. Sometimes she’d wake to see Victor over her or Chief Parnell with a knife. Each night, the walls would move in closer.

She managed a smile. “If I ever smell another can of canned lunch meat, I’ll puke.”

Simon shook his head, his expression holding only respect. “How did you decide when to get out?”

“My sisters came.” The thought of them was like sunshine in the murk. “My car was still at the house. The police said I’d escaped—hitchhiked out or died somewhere on the ranch, but when I didn’t turn up or call, my sisters thought maybe I was hiding.”

When the door had opened, they’d scared her so bad she’d screamed. And had hysterics. “I told them what had happened and they…they believed me.”

Simon said, “Anyone who knows you would, Lindsey.”

Zander kissed the top of her head with a growl of agreement.

As tears filled her eyes, she blinked furiously. “I knew I’d have to run. And I hoped—I’d told Victor about the hidden safe once, and since he was using the place for illegal stuff, I hoped maybe he’d left something I could use. I found lots of cash in it and a case with flash drives.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what the drives contained. I figured maybe evidence, so I took them.”

“What was on them?” Simon asked.

“I couldn’t read them. They’re—”

“Encrypted,” Zander finished for her. He half smiled at her startled look. “I’ll explain later about my stamp hunt.” He looked at Simon. “She’s been trying to find the password.”

She nodded. “With the money, I bought a fake ID in San Antonio, bought a second one in Chicago. And another in San Francisco.”

Silence hung heavy in the room, like a snowfall, muffling all sound.

Without speaking, Zander untied her wrists, rubbing the dents out of the reddened skin.

Simon was frowning. “Why didn’t you go to a different law enforcement agency to tell your story?”

She blinked, realizing she’d left a part out. “I did. I called the border patrol and talked to an agent—Orrin Ricks. But he worked for—with—the chief. It wasn’t good.” Tears rose again. “I—I don’t want to discuss it.”

As Lindsey stared at the three men, pressure landed on her chest, a massive boulder of realization. What have I done? By telling them about her crime, she’d made them…whatevers. Accessories. Knowing a murderer and not turning her in was against the law. “God, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“What?” Zander snapped.

She wrenched around in his arms, taking his face between her hands. “You could be arrested for knowing me, for aiding and abetting a criminal.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re worrying about us?”

“Yes, you dummy. They’ll arrest you.” She fumbled at the ropes still around her ankles, her heart rate increasing. “I’ll just… I can disappear. No one needs to know I told you anything. I bam-bamboozled you and Simon and Logan. You thought I was a nice person.” Her attempt to jump off his lap got her nothing except his grunt of exasperation.

“Babe, you are a nice person. And I’ll turn your ass red if you try to run away again.”

Tears rose in her eyes. She grabbed his shirt and shook him. “Don’t you get it? They’ll kill you!” She turned to glare at Simon and Logan. “And you two as well.”

A deep chuckle came from Logan. “She’s no bigger than a minute and trying to save our asses. I like her, deVries.”

“Hands off,” Zander said in a half growl. He drew her against his chest, arms over hers, trapping her in his lap. “Sit still, or I’ll tie you up again.”

A sob caught in her throat. They didn’t understand the danger.

“Shhh,” Zander said. “We get your worry. Now let us see what we can do about this mess.”

“You shouldn’t do anything; don’t you understand?”

“That’s not an option. But—”

“But,” Simon interrupted, “we won’t take any action without talking it over with you first. And giving you time to run, if that’s what you need.”

Zander’s arms tightened until she couldn’t breathe. At last, he relaxed. “Better not come to that, but all right.”

Logan gave a brief nod.

“You agree not to run before we talk?” Simon asked.

Lindsey kept her gaze down as she rubbed at her wrists. “Agreed.” What was one more lie?

“Good enough.” Zander kissed the top of her head. “Why don’t you finish the shower you didn’t take? I’m going to talk to Simon and Logan, but I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

She watched as the men left. Waited a full minute—and grabbed her purse.

Her keys were gone.

***

DeVries approached the cabin—warily—because fifteen minutes before, they’d all heard Lindsey’s scream of fury. Logan had shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “Sounds like your pet discovered her car keys are gone.”

At the moment, it had seemed funny.

Now, deVries was remembering how long the girl could hold on to a grudge. Prepared to dodge, he opened the door and stepped inside.

She didn’t throw anything at him. With a quilt around her, she was sitting on the bed. Her face was flushed, and steam from the shower hung in the air. She gave him a look filled with misery before staring at the floor. “You should have let me leave.”

“Not gonna happen.” He sat beside her and laced his fingers with hers. She still didn’t look at him.

Hell, she’d had a crap time of it. DeVries had been fucked over by a greedy wife; at least she hadn’t destroyed his life or tried to kill him. After what Lindsey had endured, he was amazed she’d trusted him at all…let alone wanted to protect him.

He put a hand on each side of her face, forcing her to see only him. “Lindsey, we’re going…steady.” His lips twitched at the word. “Remember?”

Her head dipped up and down.

“That means you’re mine. Mine to care for.” He ran his thumb over her full lower lip. “Mine to fuck.” He leaned forward, his mouth an inch from hers. “And mine to protect. Don’t forget again.”

“Zander.”

Damn, the way she whispered his name tugged at his heart. “You’re not in this alone anymore.” He rested his forehead against hers. “In the military, you learn there’s nothing like a team, having someone at your side, someone guarding your back. Let me help, Lindsey. Let us help.”

A tremor ran through her…and finally she heaved a breath. “Okay.”

Thank fuck. He saw the acceptance in her face. She wouldn’t try to run again. “Good.”

“But what am I”—she halted and amended—“what can we do?”

“Simon, Logan, and I know a lot of people. Simon’s taking point on making calls.” He pulled her closer, pleased when she snuggled into him. “Did you ever crack the password for the jump drives?”

“Only one so far. And it was…” Her voice held revulsion. “Sick. Victor raping… Nothing incriminating for the bad cops.”

Jesus, she’d been through hell. “You willing to give us the drives?”

“I…yes. They’re hidden in my car.”

“Good. Simon and I have access to stronger software-cracking programs than you used.”

“I forgot to tell you. I already sent copies of the one drive to a bunch of Homeland Security offices in Texas.”

“Good job. I like the way you think.” Tilting her head up, he kissed her. “I got another question for you.”

“Shoot,” she said with a wry smile.

“In your fancy-ass condo, I asked if you’d married for money. You nodded. Turned red.” He shifted his weight. “Kinda led to my knee-jerk reaction to what your asshole ex said to you.”

Her mouth dropped open and understanding lit her eyes.

“So, Tex, mind telling me why you married Victor?”

She bit her lip before nodding. “That’s fair. My sister, Mandy, had cancer. Her doctor thought a different treatment might work—only it wasn’t approved by Mom’s insurance company. None of us had much money—I worked part-time so I could be home with her. I was dating Victor, and he said if we were man and wife, she’d be his sister, and of course, he’d be happy to cover her treatment.”

The asshole. “Got you married and indebted to him before you had time to think, huh?”

“Actually, he was making me uneasy, and I’d backed off. I usually have pretty good instincts, but when he said that, he seemed like a dream come true.” Her eyes reddened. “I wasn’t thinking too clearly at the time. The d-doctors didn’t think Mandy would survive another year.”

He tucked his arm around her shoulders, hoping to hell he was asking the right question. “How’s your sister now?”

“Just fine. She starts college next month.” Her smile turned radiant. “God, Zander, she’s so happy and excited.”

He’d asked the right question. And here was that Texas-size heart of hers. Fuck, she was something. He gave her a light kiss and studied her. “Is this the end of the secrets between us?”

She nodded.

“If so, seems like we should enjoy ourselves.” Ignoring the way she clutched at her quilt, he yanked it off and tossed it across the room.

Her mouth dropped open. “Now?” Her nipples were bunching in the cool air.

“Hell, yeah.” He started to push her down and changed his mind. She’d been pushed around all afternoon. Instead, he coaxed her lips open, teasing her, drawing her into the kiss. By degrees, enjoying every second, he kissed her until she responded, until her arms wrapped around his neck, and her firm breasts flattened against his chest.

Finally he fell back onto the bed, pulling her on top of him.

“Zander?” She straddled him, her palms braced on his chest.

“Your turn, pet,” he said. “Take what you want.”

She stared at him a minute, flushed with arousal, and delight filled her face. “Me?”

He nodded.

“All right!” When she tugged at his shirt, he lifted up so she could pull it over his head. His boots and jeans followed. Her lips, softer than flower petals, brushed over his chin, his neck. She varied tiny nips of her teeth with caresses of her tongue.

Fuck, he was going to die. He put his hands behind his head to keep from grabbing her hips and impaling her on his dick.

She licked around his nipples. Nibbled. Kissed the ridges of his stomach muscles, tracing them with her lips. Detoured down his arms and sucked on his fingers.

Her pussy dragged over his straining erection as she moved…downward…torturous inch by inch. When she licked the top of his cock, he barely kept from groaning. Mischief brightened her eyes. “Does take what you want mean I get to tie the big, bad Enforcer up?”

“Don’t push your luck, Tex.”

She actually giggled, and then her mouth closed over his cock, surrounding him in wet velvety heat. Fuck.