Collision Course (13 page)

She
sighed. “It’s a sad story you don’t need to hear.” She disengaged her wrist
from his hand and checked her watch. “And I need to get back to work.”

He
missed the contact at once.

No
entanglements, remember? And she could definitely fall into that category.

“Thanks
for the pastry,” he told her.

“How
about a hamburger? You’ll need more than a turnover to keep you going until
dinner time.”

“Thanks.
Sounds nice.”

He
watched her walk away, cursing himself even as the sway of her hips and her
tight round ass mesmerized him. It took a deliberate effort on his part to
refocus on his work.

Casey
disappeared for a while after she brought him his hamburger and drink but even
when he couldn’t see her, he was acutely aware of her presence. And he didn’t
need anything interfering with his concentration.

By the
end of the afternoon, he’d given up on being able to get anything more from the
Cimarron file. So far he hadn’t run into any secret trap he knew of. If he had,
Bennett would be all over him like green on grass so he should quit before he
got into trouble. He thought of contacting Max Rider with what he’d uncovered
but changed his mind. He wanted enough information so they couldn’t dismiss his
story.

Casey
cleared his table as he shut down for the day.

“See you
tomorrow, at the range?” She asked the question in a casual, offhand manner but
she clutched the towel in her hand a little too tightly.

Trey
hesitated. Common sense told him he shouldn’t be making any commitments, even
ones like this. But then he heard himself saying, “Six o’clock again?”

“Works
for me.”

As he
walked out of the restaurant, he wondered if he’d made a huge mistake.

Over the
next three days, as if by silent agreement, they fell into a routine. They
continued to show up at the same time at the range and spend an hour on target
practice, exchanging little in the way of conversation. His purpose here—or so
he kept telling himself—was to sharpen his proficiency with the Glock so if
push came to shove, he could at least make a half-assed attempt to defend
himself. He’d never be as good as Casey. He stopped often to watch her. Admire
her.

Trey had
to force himself to concentrate because her presence made his groin tighten and
his cock harden to the point of pain. He followed up with a cold shower before
heading to the Half ’n Half for the next part of his daily routine. Each day
when Casey brought his coffee, he’d order breakfast and when he finished he’d
boot up his laptop. He’d managed to crack seventy percent of the files under
the Funda heading and more for Cimarron. The rest didn’t respond to the
programs he used and he worried again about tripping an electronic warning if
he tried different software.

But he
found the same pattern in both—money from illegal sources funneled through
subsidiaries and used for transactions primarily in South America. Some of it
also being used to expand BGE subsidiaries. He swallowed the bitter taste in
his mouth as he deciphered what the initials of each company listed stood for,
such as CRC, Charles Ruger Corporation for the purchase and distribution of
illegal arms. How cocky, how arrogant to use the name of a real handgun. But
then Bennett would have assumed no one but him would see the files in question.

As
usual, while he ran the decrypting programs for each file, he made notes,
getting down his thoughts and observations. He needed busy work or people might
wonder about him just sitting there staring at the laptop screen.

Focused
on the task at hand—saving his notes to the Alexandre file online and working
away—it startled him when Casey’s distinctive scent drifted past his nose. She
grinned as she refilled his coffee mug, then surprised him by filling another
and sliding into the seat across from him.

He
tilted the cover down on his laptop and lifted an eyebrow.

“I’m not
bothering you, am I?” She wrinkled her forehead. “I thought maybe you could use
a break from so much concentration.”

“No. Of
course not. I mean, no, you’re definitely not bothering me.”

She
wanted to talk and how could he make pleasant conversation with so many topics
to avoid. Normal things like where he’d been living, did he have family, what
did he do for a living before the book thing? Trey hesitated to make up any
more details. He didn’t want to waste brainpower keeping all his lies straight.
When he tried to question her, she was just as reserved, as if the last ten
years of her life weren’t up for discussion. What had happened to make her feel
that way?

How
simple it would be if he could lay it all out for her. As former FBI, she might
be able to help him. Even when he gathered enough information, getting it
through to Max Rider could be dicey, if the phone numbers he had were no longer
viable.

Distracted
by his work, he lost track of time once more until Casey came by to remind him
to order lunch. And ask if he minded if she ate with him.

Getting
any friendlier with her didn’t fit in with his plan but he couldn’t stop the
explosion of lust swamping him whenever she came within five feet of him. He
needed to clamp down on his raging hormones and a hard-on he couldn’t seem to
make go away. The smartest thing would be to break away from her. Keep her out
of his mess.

His gut
told him he could trust her, but he had all he could do to keep himself off the
grid and safe. Men who could make him disappear in a heartbeat were likely
right now scouring the country for him. Each night when he closed his eyes,
fear crawled up into his throat and he wondered if he’d be alive come morning.

He
didn’t know how much longer it would be until Bennett found him. If that
happened, Casey could get caught up in the situation. All her experience might
not be enough against the kind of people hunting him.

He
considered leaving Connelly, changing locations. Staying too long in one place
couldn’t be good, anyway. He would get too comfortable. Complacent. Let his
edges soften and not be quite as alert. He should get out of her life now—get
out of town—but he couldn’t seem to make himself leave.

“T.J.?”
Casey snapped her fingers in front of him.

He
lifted his gaze to her, realizing she’d been waiting for an answer while he’d
been having an argument with himself.

“I’d
offer you a penny for your thoughts,” she said in her low, musical voice, “but
I have a feeling they’d be worth a lot more.”

He took
a swallow of coffee, giving himself time to organize his thoughts. “Stuck on a
particular turn of the plot, is all. No worries. I’ll figure it out.”

Casey
went back to work and Trey to the folder he currently had open. Eftos
Machinery—like the others, he couldn’t find a listing for it anywhere in the
world. Not a normal machinery business or the files would be easy to read and
the transactions easy to track. But he couldn’t figure out what the name would
be a code for. Maybe Max would be good with what he had now but he wanted to
find everything he could. To blow Bennett’s entire organization wide open.

When
Casey joined him with their food, he still hadn’t progressed any further.

“Wow.”
She set their plates on the table. “Deep into something?”

“Sorry.”
He grinned. “The plot, you know. Sometimes it refuses to do what you have in
mind.”

“Maybe I
could help,” she suggested. “You know, brainstorm with you.”

“Maybe.”
Not happening.
“We’ll see.”

He
reached over and took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb against her soft skin.
The sparks leaping between them were so strong he had a hard time believing
they weren’t visible. Even as he reminded himself he could get burned here, he
heard himself ask, “How about having dinner with me tonight? Someplace besides
the Half ’n Half?”

So much
for pulling away from her. Not a smart thing to do but god help him, he
couldn’t stop himself.

She
lifted her eyebrows as if the invitation surprised her, too. “Um, sure. I guess
that would be okay.”

“You’ll
have to pick the place. I only know of one restaurant in Connelly.”

“Why
don’t we drive over to Eastwood? There’s a place famous for its great steaks.”

He
nodded. Good. He didn’t want his dinner with Casey to be under the local
microscope. He didn’t expect Eastwood to be any bigger, but at least it gave
him the comfort of being off the community radar. The fear of discovery and
what it would mean still roiled near the surface. He lived every day on the
edge, wondering when Bennett’s men would discover his hideout.

“Sounds
great.”

Casey
stood up. “It’ll have to be late, if that’s okay. I can’t leave here until
seven. Dinner rush, you know.”

“No
problem. Does eight work for you then?”

“Yes.
Great. I’ll write down my address. And…” She paused, wet her lips, swallowed.
“Thanks.”

What was
he seeing here? Shyness? It clashed with her no nonsense personality but it
touched his heart.

Stow
it, idiot. Have dinner and then get the hell out of here. Forget about her.
Hole up someplace else before you get yourself in another kind of trouble.

Pushing
his empty mug aside, he clicked to open his current file and went back to work.

Casey
welcomed the spurts of business during the day that kept her occupied. Why had
she started taking her coffee break with him? Eaten lunch with him? It was
obvious he wanted to be left alone. His project consumed him. She had a hard
time believing he wrote a book. He typed intermittently, using the mouse a lot
as if surfing the web. Maybe he was doing research, but so much of it? And if
Connelly was the model for the town in his so-called book, why didn’t he ever
ask questions about it? Wander around and soak up the atmosphere? Talk to
anyone besides her?

No,
something else was going on here. The more she saw of him the more convinced
she became her instincts the day he arrived had been right on. Odds were he’d
chosen Connelly because it was off the radar. A good place to hide out. While
he might be a stranger who stuck out like a sore thumb, if he didn’t give
anyone any trouble, no one would ask questions.

But
she’d seen a necessity to intrude on him, taking a coffee break and eating
lunch with him. Her actions would give him a certain legitimacy with the people
who came into the Half ’n Half. Sort of Casey’s blessing. Then if anyone—a
stranger—showed up asking questions, people would come to her before giving out
any information.

Hello,
Casey, you hate all men, remember? Whatever’s going on with him, let him deal
with it.

Why then
had she ever accepted the invitation to dinner? Spending any time with him at
all was bad enough. But the sense of danger surrounding him got to her. She’d
try without making it too obvious to get him to open up to her. Let him know he
could trust her.

Oh,
right. If he’s in big trouble, why the hell is he going to spill his guts to
some woman he’s known for less than a week?

Worse
than her feeling he was in danger, she had trouble seeing him without
remembering her dream. God, all she had to do was watch him sitting there,
hunched over his laptop, and wild erotic images danced along the corridors of
her brain.

As she
wove her way through the tables on the restaurant side, topping off half-filled
mugs, a warm hand closed over her arm. The contact made her body jerk and the
coffee sloshed in the pot.

“Oh!”
She blew out a breath as she turned and saw Ben Russell seated at a table,
chair pushed away enough to allow him to stretch out his long legs. “Lord, Ben,
I nearly dumped coffee on your head. Don’t you know better than to startle
someone with hot liquid?”

He
merely gave her a slow, lazy smile. “Sorry. Can I get you to sit down with me
for a minute or two?”

She
indicated the full room with her free hand. “As you can see, we’re a little
busy.”

“Just
for a couple of minutes. Please?”

Casey
hoped he wouldn’t bring up anything personal. The couple of shifts she’d worked
as a volunteer had been slow and half the time Ben hadn’t been there. But when
he showed up, he still hinted about them getting together outside of work. To
give her a sounding board for what she’d experienced during her deployment, he
always said.

As if
I could tell another human being, especially Ben, about Paul Marsden and Aaron
Smart.

He
hadn’t made any overt moves, and she kept their conversations about her service
overseas as general as possible. She didn’t need his pity at the personal
conflicts she’d had and she continued to make it clear she had no intention of
carrying their relationship beyond the sheriff’s department. She hoped he
hadn’t decided to bring it up again.

“Okay.”
She set the carafe on the tale and dropped into the chair next to him. “I can
manage a quick break. What’s up?”

Ben
leaned forward, his face closer to hers. “What can you tell me about your new
regular, Casey? The guy who appears to be renting the last booth on the other
side.”

Tension
snapped through her. Why the sudden interest in T.J.? Could Ira Guillory have
mentioned T.J.’s using the range? Said something about their newest visitor’s
proficiency with a handgun? That was the damn trouble with a small town.
Everyone dabbled in everyone else’s business.

Casey
forced herself to relax. “What about him? He seems harmless enough. Doesn’t
bother anybody. All he does is sit there working at his computer all day, like
everyone else on the coffee house side.”

Ben
cocked an eyebrow. “Doesn’t it seem a little weird to you? A total stranger
happens to drop into our little piece of nowhere and settle in at the Half ’n
Half with his computer? It’s not like we’re a tourist hot spot.”