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

Chapter 17

Seventeen

Jillian

“No.”

I cross my arms over my chest and stare down the FBI agent.

Like hell I’ll be leaving my dogs behind, which is what would be expected of me if I volunteered myself into their protective custody.

Special Agents Bellinger and Cohen showed up half an hour ago to get our statements on what happened last night. Bellinger waited until the end to drop the protective custody bomb on me.

“Ms. Lederman…” he placates me. His tone is the equivalent of a pat on the head and has the absolute opposite effect.

“You have my answer. Unless you actually intend to take me into custody, we’re done here.”

I hear Wolff stifle a snort behind me. I’m surprised he hasn’t jumped in, but he seems content letting me take the lead.

“It’s safer for you,” the agent insists.

“I’d rather you keep Hayley safe,” I fire back.

“The girl? We have her safe,” he assures me.

“Good. Focus your energy and manpower on keeping her that way. She has no one else looking out for her.”

“Actually, her uncle is very concerned about her and is supposed to arrive in the coming days.”

“Wasn’t he stuck in Guatemala?” Wolff asks, putting his hand on my shoulder in a possessive gesture.

Bellinger closely observes the move before lifting his eyes to his former colleague.

“Not for much longer. With the help of embassy personnel, he is currently being transported to Mexico, where we have resources waiting to fly him here.”

Thank God. Having family here will be good for Hayley. Maybe it’ll be a start for her to begin processing and healing from the trauma she endured. Nothing worse than feeling utterly alone in the world when you have a heavy burden to bear.

“Any luck tracking down the guys who paid us a visit last night?” Wolff pushes for more answers.

“We’re working on it. We’re still processing the scene.”

The scene. I’m assuming he’s talking about my house.

“What would they want with me in the first place?”

Bellinger shifts his attention to me and shrugs.

“This would be speculation only, but it’s possible they were hoping you could lead them to the girl. We were able to quietly move her from the hospital yesterday afternoon, but they must’ve found out she was gone. We suspect they had a contact in the hospital.”

“Staff?” Wolff wants to know.

“Possibly. We’re narrowing it down,” Bellinger dismisses him and addresses me. “But these people are dangerous, determined, and ruthless. They’ll have no qualms going through you to get to the girl, and one failed attempt will not deter them for long. And next time you—or your dogs—may not be so lucky. You really should come with us.”

He’s dead wrong if he thinks that comment will sway me. All it does is piss me off, and I also think he’s wrong.

“And what would that accomplish, other than point a giant arrow at my head? All it’ll do is reaffirm the notion I have information they’re looking for. Which, I’ll remind you, I don’t.”

Wolff squeezes my shoulder as he throws in his two cents.

“She has a point, and you know it.” Then he adds more aggressively. “Unless, of course, that is exactly what you’re counting on. Were you hoping to use her to draw them out?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bellinger blusters, but I can tell by the reaction of Agent Cohen—who has lingered in the background—Wolff hit a mark.

Angry now, I slip from Wolff’s hold and march to the door of his cabin, flinging it wide open.

“I believe you’ve overstayed your welcome,” I bite off, trying with all my might to hold on to my temper.

Bellinger opens his mouth to say something but, wisely, thinks better of it as he starts walking out, his partner in tow. As soon as Cohen steps out on the porch, I fling the door shut with a bang. Wolff nods his approval when I turn to face him.

“They were gonna use me as bait,” I grumble, still seething.

“Yup.”

“Is that normal FBI practice?”

“I wouldn’t say normal, but it’s not uncommon,” he answers cautiously.

“Assholes,” I vent. “I can see why you left.”

He doesn’t stop me when I walk past him, heading for the spare bedroom where we left the dogs to sleep off the remnants of the drug in their systems. We still don’t know what it may have been they were given, but as I understand it, samples of Nugget’s and Hunter’s blood were sent to the lab first thing this morning.

I was still in bed when the vet texted with an update on Nugget and Hunter. She’d put both of them on an IV and has been trying to flush the drugs from their systems. It’s been more successful on Hunter, who is apparently awake and responsive, although still a little sluggish. Nugget is a little slower to perk up, but Doc Richards was cautiously optimistic. I want to go check on them with everything in me but, as Wolff pointed out before the FBI agents showed up, it’s safer for me to stay put and trust my pups are receiving the best possible care.

Peanut lifts her head when I walk in. All three dogs are sprawled on the double mattress, having had to leave their own beds at home. They even made me leave their food and water bowls behind, which Wolff later explained would be standard protocol in the case of a possible poisoning. The only things I was able to bring were their collars and leashes.

I flop down on the bed and snuggle my pups. All three have their tails wagging, thumping the mattress. I gratefully receive kisses as I spoil them with attention.

“Do you guys need to go out for a pee?”

“I can take them,” Wolff offers from the door opening.

“Are you trying to keep me locked in here?” I snap.

I immediately realize that was uncalled for and raise my hand in apology, as I scramble up from the bed.

“Nope,” he replies calmly. “I just thought I’d offer. I was going to go out to check on a few things anyway, but you’re welcome to come. We’re keeping the gate to the ranch closed, and security is tight here. No one will be able to get close unnoticed, so you’re safe as long as you don’t wander off too far.”

I walk up to him and loop my arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, pressing my mouth to his. “You didn’t deserve that. And yes, I’d love to come with you. I could use some fresh air.”

“Are you saying it smells in here?” he teases.

“No,” I assure him with a smile. “I just need to clear my head.”

Wolff

“Glad to see it, boy.”

I just left the office and step out on the porch when I hear Thomas’s voice.

He’s sitting in his usual spot—the rocking chair—all bundled up with a blanket over his lap and a space heater by his feet. Jonas’s father lived most of his long life in Texas, where he was a rancher, before Jonas coaxed him into coming to Montana. His favorite pastime is watching the ranch’s activities from his perch on the porch, and nothing will deter him. Not even Montana’s much colder winters.

I walk over and lean my hip against the railing.

“See what?”

The old man points his gloved finger at the corral, where I see Jillian playing with her dogs in the snow. She took them off leash, and even though they could easily slip through the fencing, they don’t wander off.

“She’s a pretty one. Dainty-lookin’ but I bet she’s made of stern stuff. Gotta be, doing the kind of work she does. Good with animals, smart, and…she’s sweet on ya, boy.”

Thomas calls everyone boy. He seems to have adopted us all and loves doling out fatherly advice. Whether we ask for it or not. He also has a romantic streak a mile wide and likes to play Cupid, given the chance. But the man truly cares, which is why I don’t blow him off like I might have otherwise.

“I like her,” I volunteer, earning me a bark of laughter.

“Always understated and aloof, aren’t ya? You don’t fool me though. I wasn’t sure about you—thought maybe you’d be the one holdout in the bunch—but all it took was the right gal to come along.”

“Fine,” I concede. “I like her a lot.”

His hoarse chuckle turns into a coughing fit, and I look on with a bit of concern.

“You can blink now,” he finally says, catching his breath. “Ain’t ready to croak yet.”

“Good,” I return. “Things would get boring without you.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can mock an old man, but have a care with that filly; she’s carrying deep hurt.”

I don’t know how he knows these things, whether he just guesses at it or what, but in this case, he is right on the mark. The truth is, if I had known how devastating and deep that hurt ran, I might not have risked getting involved with her.

Ah, who the hell am I kidding? I’d already had second and even third thoughts and still went ahead, because I couldn’t stay away.

It’s that simple.

“I’ll have a care,” I promise him as I push away from the railing.

Jillian looks up when she hears the crunch of my boots in the snow and greets me with a smile. Fuck, I like that. Even the pack seems happy to see me, sidling up to me for pats and ear scratches.

“These dogs certainly perked up,” I point out.

“They did, didn’t they? It’s amazing what a whiff of cool outside air and a good run in the snow will do.” She puts a hand on my arm. “Did you get done what you needed to do?”

All I did was talk to Jonas about my schedule and Ama about dinner tonight. Things are pretty slow at the ranch right now and, unless we get called out on a search, taking some personal time is not an issue, according to Jonas. Ama was already aware of the extra guest at the ranch and accounted for it in her planning of dinner, so that wasn’t a problem either.

“I did. I got tomorrow off and was going to suggest heading to Kalispell. Maybe checking in on Mom at Wellspring? We could take Peanut, and I’m sure Jackson would be happy to have the other two hang out with him.”

At least I’m hoping he will be. Since Jillian first arrived here, we’ve been trying to get Jackson—who suffers from PTSD—to let her find him a good emotional support dog, but so far he’s been a bit resistant. Maybe looking after Jillian’s two will open him up to the idea.

She glances at Emo and Murphy before turning those pretty green eyes back to me.

“Happy? That doesn’t exactly sound like Jackson. You wouldn’t be manipulating the situation now, would you?”

I point my index finger at myself. “Me? Manipulate? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She grabs the front of my coat and pulls herself up on her toes, laughing in my face.

“You’re an awful liar, but I appreciate the effort.”

I slip my arms around her waist to hold her in place and drop my head so I can kiss the grin off her face. As every time my lips taste hers, the world disappears, and I don’t even realize we’re standing out in the open until a sharp whistle pierces the air.

When I look up, I see Thomas standing at the edge of the porch, hollering.

“Do I gotta put the hose on y’all?”