Sheltered. HelenKay Dimon
had people in his life he’d die for and a job he loved, but the whole craving a home thing never registered with him. Maybe it stemmed from having a father more dedicated to the army than his kids.
Maybe it was what happened when the person you trusted most left you to die on an abandoned stretch of dirt road in Afghanistan. Holt suspected that didn’t help, but it didn’t really matter how he got to the emotional freeze-out, because that was his reality and he didn’t see it changing.
“You do this a lot?” she asked.
“Rescue? Yeah, it’s all I do.” All he knew.
The final bit of tension zapping around the room ceased. “So you can actually shoot that thing?”
He followed her gaze to his gun. The one she could see. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re not a handyman.”
It was his turn to shrug. “I’m handy.”
“Oh, really?”
“I’ve got skills.” He needed to pull back. Knew it but didn’t.
Her expression changed then. “Are you flirting with me?”
So tempting. “That would be bad form, since two guys just tried to kick my butt.” He needed to stay on his feet and aware, though he could understand why she asked. His gaze kept wandering. So did his thoughts.
Not good at all.
“I don’t understand any of what’s going on tonight. I’ve seen you around town. I stay away from the camp and never say anything about what goes on there.” She broke away and walked toward the kitchen, then paced back.
She walked with her movements jerky for the first time. Frustration pulsed off her.
Yeah, he needed this intel. He felt for her, but she talked about knowing what happened in the camp. Didn’t say she “heard” tales. No, she had personal knowledge. He’d bet on it. “You’re saying you don’t know what you did to upset the New Foundations people?”
“Of course I do.”
Round and round they went. She gave new meaning to the term pulling teeth. “And?”
“My entire life is dedicated to ruining that place.”
Bingo. “Well, then...”
She pointed in the general direction of the front door. “They don’t know that.”
“Clearly they do.” And she had him curious. Her hatred sounded personal. That could mean she once lived there. She might know about former members. People his team needed to interview.
“You are not the only one working undercover. For me, it’s more like working underground.” She went back to pacing. “And up until tonight no one ever bothered me. I live just far enough away, keep my name out of the papers and protests. I drive miles outside of my way just so I can avoid driving near the entrance.”
When he couldn’t take the quiet tap of her bare feet against the hardwood one more second, he stepped in front of her. “Maybe someone recognized you.”
He needed more details but decided not to press because whatever the reason, she’d landed on someone’s radar screen. That meant the life she knew and protected was over.
Her head snapped up. “It could be worse than that.”
“How?”
Tension tightened her features again. “Someone up there must have figured out who I really am.”
Simon Falls leaned back in his desk chair. The only desk chair on the property. Everyone else preferred mats and cushy chairs. He wanted a stiff-backed seat that put him face-to-face with the monitors on the wall and in front of him. Security feeds, including two rotating video shots of places in town.
Now was not the time to descend into touchy-feely madness. He’d leave the talk about privacy and personal space to the workshop leaders. No one paid him to hold hands. His job came down to one simple idea: protect the camp at any cost. A task that would be easier if everyone did their job, which brought his mind back to this meeting.
He tapped his pen against the desk blotter as he stared at the two men he depended on to handle trouble. This time they’d failed him. He’d handed them one assignment—grab the girl and bring her back unharmed.
They’d run into trouble and had all sorts of excuses. Only one interested Simon.
“What man?” When neither underling answered him, Simon tried again. “At the house. Give me the identity.”
“It was Hank Fletcher, one of the newer guys on our staff.” Todd Burdock, the best shot in the camp, gave his assessment while standing at attention.
Simon turned the information over in his mind. “You’re saying Hank is dating Lindsey Pike.”
Todd frowned as if he were choosing his words carefully. “I’m saying he was sleeping over.”
Grant Whiddle nodded. “No question they’re together.”
None of that information matched the surveillance. Simon watched Lindsey. Had watched her for months once the whispers started and the background investigation ran him into a wall. “Since when?”
Todd shook his hand. “I don’t know.”
Not a sufficient answer, and the man should know that. Simon did not countenance failure. Not here. Not on his watch. “Find out.”
“We can call him in,” Grant suggested.
Simon knew that was the exact wrong answer. That was the reason he ran camp security and the two in front of him didn’t.
“Hank is not to know we were behind tonight’s incident.” That would make tracking impossible, and now Simon had a new person to track. “No, this needs to be handled differently. Who does Hank know at the compound?”
“No one. He sticks to himself,” Todd said without giving eye contact. Then again, he never did.
But Hank was the issue here. A loner. No surprise there. They littered the camp. Disillusioned men who needed a purpose filled the beds and the coffers. They came with what little they owned and handed it over in exchange for a promise.
Simon remembered tagging Hank as one of those types during his interview. Dishonorably discharged for firing when any sane person would fire. He had potential plus a gift for shooting. And he might still work out, but that didn’t mean the Lindsey Pike connection could be ignored.
“He lives at the bunkhouse.” Simon knew because he’d assigned Hank the space. “Is this his first night away from the compound since arriving?”
Grant gave Todd a quick look before speaking. “No.”
That didn’t quite match up with Simon’s view of the man or with what Simon saw on the monitors day after day. Hank did his job, never wavered, rarely asked questions. But everyone had an agenda, and Simon would find Hank’s.
“We need a closer watch on him. I want every minute accounted for, including those with Lindsey.” Especially those with Lindsey.
“So we’re not bringing her up to camp now?” Grant asked.
The question screeched across Simon’s nerves. So stupid. That was the problem with hired guns. They didn’t always come with brains. “You can’t very well try to drag her out of her house two nights in a row. She’ll be expecting you.”
Grant shook his head. “But we’ll be expecting Hank this time. We can take another guy and—”
Enough. “The original mission is on hold until we know