High Intensity (High Mountain Trackers HMT 2G #2)

Chapter 15

Fifteen

Jillian

Sloane pointedly ignores my obvious irritation, which only annoys me more.

I have five dogs—as I’ve pointed out several times, for Pete’s sake—and none of them, not even Nugget, would allow anyone to get too close to me without doing some damage. They may look like placid animals, but I have no doubt each one of them would protect me with their life.

Heck, Emo may be trained as a cadaver dog, but she is a Malinois, a breed also known for their protective nature, which is why they are frequently used as law enforcement canines. They can be fierce.

Aside from that, I have a decent alarm system, I have neighbors, and now that I’ve been removed from Hayley’s approved visitor’s list, I doubt they’d even be interested in me. But none of it swayed Sheriff Ewing.

He showed up at the hospital with two FBI agents in tow about an hour ago. After he introduced the two agents, who were on Hayley’s guard duty, he informed me for the girl’s safety and my own, I no longer would be allowed to see her. Then he mentioned Sloane would follow me home and I’d have a guard assigned to me twenty-four seven, until there was no longer a threat. Since I was doubtful of any threat to me in the first place, I did not take kindly to the invasion of my privacy.

Obviously, it did not stop Sloane from following me home and into my house.

Hayley had woken up shortly before the FBI contingent showed up, so I’d had a chance to prepare her for their arrival. Of course, at the time neither of us had realized I wouldn’t be there beyond the FBI’s involvement either. I could read the shock on her face when Ewing was asked to escort me out of the room, and part of me wanted to scoop her up in my arms and refuse to leave her side.

Except, I won’t take the risk my presence might pose to her, as they apparently think it might.

“Be grateful the feds are letting us take responsibility for your safety,” Sloane shares from her perch on my couch. “You might not have been given the option of staying home with your dogs if your safety had been up to them.”

“I still don’t see how I could be of any interest to them. It’s not like I had any information of value to start with, and now I’m no longer allowed to see Hayley, any kind of leverage I might’ve provided is gone.”

“Look,” Sloane bites sharply, a serious expression on her face. “I understand it’s an inconvenience, but you’re just going to have to suck it up for the greater good.”

I snap my mouth shut on the knee-jerk objection that wants to escape.

Because she’s right; this is a minor inconvenience for me and the last thing I want is to distract law enforcement from doing what they feel they need to make sure Hayley stays safe. Ultimately, that girl’s safety is paramount to me as well.

“Point taken,” I concede.

Suddenly overwhelmed with sadness I might not see Hayley again, I walk into my kitchen and put on the kettle for a cup of tea. I could use one, and this gives me a moment to get myself under control.

A few seconds later, I can’t stop myself from asking, “Will you be able to find out how she’s doing?”

“Hayley?” Her expression softens at my nod. “If I can’t, my boss can. Or otherwise, we ask your boyfriend to work his old Bureau connections, I’m sure he could still pull some strings.”

I roll my eyes at her reference to Wolff as my boyfriend. I have a feeling it won’t take her long to get back to the subject of what happened between him and me.

“Speaking about your boyfriend…”

See?

I end up confirming we slept together but that’s as much information as I’m willing to share. It doesn’t matter to Sloane; she runs with it either way. She gets busy plotting out our future, making suggestions as to where we should live, but when she starts talking about children, I cut her off.

“I’m staring forty in the face; I’m not sure children are on the menu.”

“Plenty of women have families a little later in life these days,” she argues.

“I’m aware, I just don’t think I could go there. Again,” I add as an afterthought.

I watch first confusion, then realization, and finally sadness wash over her face.

“The person you lost…” She refers to our earlier conversation when Aspen was in the hospital last week. “A child?”

I pour us both a cup of tea and sink down on the couch beside her before confirming.

“My five-year-old daughter, Macy, was killed in an accident eight years ago.”

For some reason it’s a little less difficult mentioning her name this time. I’m so grateful when Sloane asks pointed questions about what my daughter was like, and not about what happened to her. I’m able to answer without breaking down. Perhaps the trick was always to focus on who she was and not the tragedy that took her from me.

We talk about Macy and Aspen and Sloane’s pregnancy. We share our experiences parenting, and the conversation changes something in our friendship. Deepening it by our discovery of another layer of compatibility.

It’s almost five when a knock has Sloane jump up and head for the door. I’m surprised when Wolff stalks in. I thought he’d still be in Kalispell.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt out a bit ungraciously, so I quickly follow it up with, “I thought you’d still be with your mom.”

He stalks up and cups my face in his hands and before I can even react, his mouth is on mine.

“Hello to you too,” he mumbles, after taking the wind from my sails with that kiss.

When I glance over his shoulder I catch sight of Sloane, shamelessly grinning like an idiot at the display.

Wolff

I got the call from Junior Ewing just as Mom was loaded onto the ambulance.

She was being moved back to Wellspring Senior Living, where she’d made it clear she’d be more comfortable, and staff would be able to keep an eye on her.

I ended up following the ambulance to the home where I told Mom I had to leave. As expected, she shooed me to the door, the promise of a more extensive explanation later was enough for her after I mentioned Jillian might be in danger.

The moment I got back in the truck, I called an old FBI colleague, still working from the Kalispell office, to get the dirt on what was going on. He mentioned the Ovando family name and the hair on my neck stood up.

I don’t think there is anyone working for any federal law enforcement agency—present or past—who hasn’t heard that name before. A notorious Bolivian crime family, the Ovandos have made waves for years now, shedding blood without hesitation in their bid to put a claim on the pipeline of drugs being pumped onto our streets. They already control the majority of cocaine production in Bolivia, and have been looking for other ways to increase their profit margin.

I have no fucking idea how these guys tie in with the plane crash—although I could think of some plausible scenarios—but to hear one of them accosted Jillian in the hospital parking lot has my blood run cold. I was grateful to hear Junior put a detail on her, but he’d guessed correctly I would be looking out for her safety.

Which is why I rushed back to Libby.

I barely even registered Sloane when the door opened. The only person I had eyes for was Jillian, standing by the kitchen island and looking surprised to see me. A wave of relief propelled me across the room, and my heart didn’t slow down until I had her body in my arms and her taste on my lips.

“Well, hello…” Sloane sounds behind me, amusement tinting her voice. “Can’t say I’ve seen that side of you before, Wolff. Not so unflappable after all.”

Keeping a firm hold of Jillian, who is trying to wiggle free, I swivel my head to look over my shoulder.

“Are you still here?” I fire back. “Don’t you have a family to get home to?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Am I to assume you’re taking over?”

“Correct. Check with your boss.”

“Fine. I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Excuse me,” Jillian mutters, putting both her hands against my chest and shoving hard. “I’m not some kind of package to change hands.”

“Oh, keep your panties on,” Sloane teases as she pulls open the door. “At least long enough for me to get out of here.”

Reluctantly I let go of Jillian, who immediately creates some distance.

“It’s bad enough I’m being forced to put up with babysitters,” she snaps. “But I draw the line at being talked about like I’m not even in the room. What the hell is wrong with you two?”

One now, because Sloane conveniently slipped out the door. Still, I nod, because I see her point. I did walk in here like some caveman, completely disregarding her needs in favor of my own need for reassurance.

“We care, which isn’t an excuse, but an explanation,” I volunteer, shrugging out of my coat and hanging it over the back of a kitchen chair. “For myself, all I can say is an hour and a half is a long fucking time to be on the road with worry as your only companion.”

Her anger seems to deflate as her eyes close and the tension leaves her body.

“I can’t believe you left your mom. How is she?”

“She is back at Wellspring, where she will be monitored closely. She actually insisted I come when she heard it involved you.”

“Does she…”

“Know I care about you?” I finish for her. “Yes. I was stuck in a hospital room with her for twenty-four hours. My mother is relentless and very skilled at drawing out information I’m not excited to part with.”

Her mouth stretches into a grin.

“I knew there was a reason I liked your mother.”

“Why? Because she’s a master interrogator?”

“No. Because she’s smart, determined, and unapologetically goes after what she wants.”

I shrug, I have to agree. “She is all of those things.”

“I’m glad to hear she’s doing better.” Jillian opens the fridge and starts rummaging through the contents. “I assume you’ll be here for dinner?”

“I’ll be here for the foreseeable future, but that doesn’t mean you have to feed me.”

She pulls her head from the fridge and gives me one of those are-you-for-real looks. I’ve been the subject of one of those once or twice in my day and have learned the best way to deal with them is raise your hands in defense and retreat calmly. Which is exactly what I do, all the way to the couch, where I take a seat and am immediately surrounded by a handful of dogs, all vying for my attention.

“Oh my God. I haven’t even taken those guys for a walk,” Jillian remarks.

“Then grab your coat and we’ll take them,” I suggest. “And when we come back, I’ll help you with whatever it is you were planning to throw together for dinner.”

I let her go out the back with the dogs and tell her to wait, while I lock up the house behind her. Then I leave out the front so I can set the alarm before I join her in the backyard. None of the dogs are on a leash, but she has them well-trained, and they seem to stick close to her.

The moon is already out and reflecting off the snow cover, creating a blueish glow. It’s crisp, probably not too much below the freezing mark, but the chilly air has a bite. Jillian is keeping her hands warm by having them tucked in the pockets of her short bubble jacket. Our arms rub as we walk side by side, and I find myself reaching for her hand, pulling it free and folding it in my larger one. She doesn’t pull back but slightly adjusts the grip so we’re palm to palm, her slim fingers woven with mine.

I haven’t had the urge to hold anyone’s hand since leaving my high school athletic dance with Kayla Masters, who the entire football team lusted after, and then only to stake my claim. No one is here to see me hold Jillian’s hand, but this isn’t for anyone else’s benefit and I’m not worried about staking any claim. I just crave the physical connection to feel close to her.

We walk in silence—any talking we need to do can wait until later—and enjoy the night and each other’s company.

“If you can make a salad?” Jillian asks when we return to the house half an hour later.

“Sure.”

She hands me a cutting board and a knife, pulls a bunch of vegetables from the fridge, and sets them in front of me.

“What are we cooking?”

“Pesto chicken and gnocchi. It’s fast and easy.”

“Sounds good to me.”

It is good; I end up cleaning out the pot after Jillian swears she’s had enough. Then I insist on doing dishes while Jillian puts on the kettle for tea.

All this time we haven’t once discussed what happened today, but the subject has to be addressed at some point.

“Do you want to tell me what happened today?” I ask when we take a seat on her couch.

She sighs deeply, but does not resist when I tuck her under my arm. Then she tells me about her encounter.

“He used your name?”

“Yes. My full name. I thought he might’ve been FBI at first glance, but he identified himself as a representative for Hayley’s uncle. Claimed to have been sent to thank me for finding and attending to Hayley, but the whole thing struck me as odd, and I was eager to get away from him.”

“Good decision. Stefano Puma is not a nice individual.”

She tilts her head back to look at me. “You’ve heard of him?”

“The man has been around and on the radar for a while.”

I don’t bother going into detail about Puma’s reputation. Back when I was still with the FBI, he was known to get his hands dirty, but I suspect by now he has his own army of enforcers. Jillian doesn’t need to know she turned her back on a callous killer, although I have a feeling she’s starting to realize the potential gravity of her situation.

“Yikes.”

“Right. There’s good reason why law enforcement felt it necessary to put a protective detail on you. You’re lucky it’s a job I’ve done a time or two, and I was happy to volunteer.”

That earns me a smile. “You were, were you?”

“Absolutely.” I cup the side of her face in my hand and lean in to kiss her smiling mouth. “I don’t know about you,” I mumble against her lips. “But I think an early night is in order.”

“Mmm, that sounds like a plan, but first I’ve gotta let the guys out one more time.”

While she takes care of the dogs, I quickly place a call to Wellspring to make sure Mom is settled in. Then I start turning off lights and making sure the house is secure, before I follow Jillian down the hall.

She’s already stripping off her clothes when I walk in, and for a moment I just stand here and watch.

“You’re still dressed,” she observes.

“I know, I’m busy enjoying the show.”

She crooks her finger and beckons me over. “Come here and I can help you get naked.”

I walk over and reach for her, but she swats my hands away.

“My turn,” she insists, her hands making quick work of my belt and jeans.

I have to lock my knees and suck in a lungful of air when she drops down on her knees, frees my cock, and in one smooth move slides me into the wet heat of her mouth.

I’m not sure I can take another breath, but what a glorious way to go this would be.

Jillian’s body is still draped over me when I startle awake sometime during the night.

I’m not sure what time it is—it’s still dark out—so I grab for my phone, which is plugged into the charger. The screen shows two fifteen, and I notice my phone is only at thirty-five percent battery capacity.

Maybe I didn’t plug it in properly.

I follow the cord to the outlet to make sure.

Weird.

Gently rolling Jillian off me, I lift my head to glance at the digital clock on her nightstand to find the display dark. Then I reach for the lamp and flick it on.

Nothing.

I’m immediately on alert, my ears prick up, trying to catch any sounds, but the house is quiet. Almost too quiet. I listen for a few beats when I hear what sounds like a soft click. To my surprise, there is no reaction from the dogs. When I got up to go to the bathroom around midnight, one of them was whining by the back door, and I let the pack out for a pee. I know every one of them came back inside.

And that’s when the adrenaline starts pumping for real.