Blue Ridge Ricochet. Paula Graves
his friends were still lingering at a couple of the tables near the window.
“Yeah, I’m ready. I know Bella wanted the hours, and I have some things to do today.” Like release a man from her locked cellar and somehow figure out a way to convince him she wasn’t some sort of psychopath.
But what about Del McClintock? The whole point of agreeing to come in for the morning shift was Trevor’s comment about Del and some of the other guys from the BRI being there.
And now she was going to slip out the back and not even talk to him?
Damn you, Alexander Quinn.
One minute. She could take one minute to go say hi to Del.
She grabbed her purse and her coat, and headed out through the door leading to the front of the diner, ignoring Trevor’s troubled look. Several of the people with Del had left while she was cleaning up, but he was still there, along with Ray Battle and Ray’s girlfriend, Tonya. Ray sent Del a smirking look as Nicki approached.
“Hey there, Del.” She pasted on a friendly smile. “Can’t get enough of my cooking?”
“Never.” Del smiled back at her, his straight white teeth flashing. He was a good-looking man, tall and hard-muscled, which couldn’t be said of all the BRI members she’d met over the past couple of months. He was also better educated than most, which made her wonder why he’d hooked up with a group like the Blue Ridge Infantry.
Then again, there were lots of people in the world blessed with good genes and good fortune who didn’t have the moral fiber to make anything of themselves despite the raw material.
Del had been in the army, or so he claimed. Nicki had no reason to doubt him. But he had left the service as soon as he could manage, coming back home to join his father at Cortland Lumber in a town a few miles east of River’s End, working in the sawmill.
As in, the business owned by Wayne Cortland, one of the most ruthless—and efficient—criminals to operate in southern Virginia until his death almost three years earlier.
According to the files Alexander Quinn had given Nicki to study, Wayne Cortland had pulled together a disparate group of black hat hackers, mountain meth cookers and members of the Blue Ridge Infantry to fill his organization. The hackers were the brains, the BRI served as the muscle and the meth cookers were the source of money.
But ever since Cortland’s murder at the hands of his own son, those three groups had been struggling to take over the remains of the organization and keep it going on their own.
Nicki was pretty sure Del McClintock was part of the BRI’s attempt to take over the drug business for themselves. And at least two or three of the guys in his entourage were hackers.
But what she hadn’t yet discovered was who had taken over as head of the Virginia branch of the BRI. Quinn believed that the unknown leader might be the key to toppling the whole organization, from the group in Virginia to the branch in Tennessee.
What they needed was someone inside, close to the top man, who could funnel information to Quinn and, through him, to the authorities.
Nicki planned to be that someone. And thanks to a little tidbit Del had let drop a week ago, she had an idea how to make it happen.
“Were you serious about what you said last week?” she asked, lowering her voice so that only the people at Del’s table could hear. “About me picking up some work for you? You know, medical work?”
Del’s eyes narrowed, and she was afraid she’d overplayed her hand. But his expression cleared. “If you think you’re up to it. It’s not exactly legal.”
“It’s just me doing a little first aid as needed, right?” She flashed him a grin. “And if you and your friends want to show me a little gratitude with gifts of cash, who’s to say there’s anything wrong with that?”
“Exactly.” Del’s smile was deceptively attractive, making him look genial and harmless when she knew he was anything but.
Nicki hid a little shiver and brightened her smile. “So you’ll let me know if you need anything, right?”
“Absolutely.” He winked at her. “Can you stick around?”
“I wish,” she lied. “But last night I picked up a stray cat, and I’m afraid he’s making a mess on my floors as we speak.”
“We shoot strays at our place,” Ray said with a grin.
You would, she thought. She forced a laugh. “I guess I have a soft heart. Or a soft head. Whichever. See y’all later.” She gave a little wave and headed out the front door, keeping a smile on her face until she was certain she was safely out of sight.
She blew out a pent-up breath and allowed herself a little tremble. She had to figure out a way to get over her revulsion, especially if Del required her to be a little more than just friendly and flirtatious in order to give her the breaks she was looking for.
But the thought made her sick. Which was silly, really—there’d been a time in her life when a guy like Del McClintock had been her particular brand of temptation. Dangerous, shady and handsome as sin.
Sort of like the injured man tied up in her cellar at home.
Damn it. What had she been thinking?
* * *
THE SOUND OF a vehicle engine drifted into the cabin, stirring Dallas from a light doze. He pushed himself up to a sitting position on the sofa, his nerves jangling, and tried to reorient himself as the engine noise grew closer. The nap on the sofa hadn’t done much for his aches and pains, but he felt a little stronger than he had even this morning. Food and activity to work out the kinks from his weeks of captivity had gone a long way to restoring some of his earlier vigor.
But would it be enough to give him the edge over his feisty captor?
He glanced through the narrow gap between the curtains of the front window and spotted Nicki’s Jeep pulling into the gravel driveway outside the cabin. She pulled to a stop and cut the engine, but she didn’t get out right away.
What was she doing?
A minute ticked by. Then two. Dallas’s legs began to ache again from the stillness of waiting.
When the Jeep door opened and she got out and turned toward the cabin, he pulled back from the window and took up a position against the wall by the door. When she entered, the door would hide him until it was too late to prepare herself for his ambush.
At least, that’s what he hoped.
Her footsteps ascended the wooden steps of the porch slowly. Deliberately. Inside Dallas’s chest, his heart took a couple of hard leaps into a higher gear. He braced himself with a deep breath, preparing his limbs for action. He was still weaker than he liked, but his size and the factor of surprise would give him an edge.
He heard the rattle of keys in the door and pressed himself flat against the wall.
The door swung open with a creak of the hinges, and her boots hit the landing with a thud. He heard a soft huff of air escape her lungs as she stepped into the cabin and started to close the door behind her.
He hit her hard and fast, shoving her to the floor beneath him. Her soft cry of shock gave him the briefest moment of triumph, before his body landed flush against hers, his hips driving hers into the hard floor.
She started to struggle, her thighs opening as she kicked her legs toward him. The movement settled his hips more firmly into the cradle between her thighs, and, for a moment, he couldn’t think. Couldn’t come up with a single rational thought. All he could do was feel. The heat of her body under his. The softness of her curves, how perfectly they seemed to mold to his own lean hardness, welcoming him as if their bodies had been fashioned by a master craftsman to fit together in seamless perfection.
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