Authors: Misty Evans
Ah, hell
.
The tip of the fat tornado raced along the ground, sending detritus into the air in all directions. Even this far away, Elliot felt the energy crackling and hissing along the ground, in the air.
His vision was slightly off from one too many blows to his head from the ghost, so he squinted to try to clear it. Realized what he was seeing. Where the tornado actually was, the path of destruction it was taking.
The mill.
Only a few minutes ago—or had it been longer?—he’d run away from the mill. Images of Nelson’s tortured body flashed through his mind. All that blood…the man’s screams…
Had Nelson told him? Told the man about Elliot? About Ruby?
No way to know. His brain couldn’t remember exactly what had happened.
Didn’t matter. He had to go back.
Because if by some chance, Nelson was still alive…
Ruby
.
The ghost was here for her.
Ignoring the righteous pain in his leg, Elliot forced himself to his feet and started running.
He took two steps and fell flat on his face, one foot twisting around a broken corn stalk. As hail began to pelt him, he lost consciousness.
R
UBY’S
B
ODY
F
ELT
like it might implode one vertebrae, one organ at a time.
One second, she was holding onto Jax for dear life as the heavy machine he’d tied them to began to come off the ground.
The next second, the severe wind died with no warning, sending them and the machine back to the ground with a hard thump.
Her back hit first, then her head. Jax came down on top of her, a dead weight knocking the air from her lungs and crushing her into the concrete floor.
An “ooof” left her mouth and she realized she could actually hear herself. The horrible wind tunnel they’d been in was gone. The only sound meeting her ears now was the soft fall of rain pinging on the machines, the shelves, the floor.
Jax lay for a moment on top of her, his eyes closed, his mouth sucking in oxygen. His hair was matted, water rivulets running down his forehead, his jaw.
His eyelids flipped open and he zeroed in on her face. “You all right?”
His voice was gravelly and rough. Probably from the amount of dirt and rubbish he’d ingested. God knew, she’d eaten a bit of that herself.
“I can’t…breathe…” she choked out.
“Jesus, sorry.” The startled look on his face made her smile as he jerked himself up off of her, his one hand releasing its grip on the machine leg somewhat reluctantly. “My arm is asleep.”
She laughed, a bubble of hysteria riding just under her breastbone. “I can’t believe we’re alive.”
He chuckled too, leaning on one elbow, his long legs stretched out beside her. “I’ve saved quite a few people in my time—bullets flying, dark of night, never knowing where the next bad guy is hiding—but never like this. This is one for the books.”
She had to agree. Reaching up, she brushed a piece of straw off his face. “Thank you.”
He shot her a knowing glance, followed by a smirk. “For saving your ass or giving you the best orgasm of your life?”
She buttoned her pants, then struggled to sit up. Her hair hung in wet strands and she ran a hand through it, her fingers getting caught in multiple tangles. The hysteria filling her chest subsided a bit. Her brain came fully online. “It was good, but I wouldn’t qualify it as the
best
orgasm of my life.”
He sat up next to her, helping her with the tangles. His fingers did more damage than good, but it felt nice to have him close. “Is that so? I barely touched you and you exploded.”
Oh, my God. Were they really arguing about the significance of her orgasm right now? “I’ll grant you that I won’t soon forget it under the circumstances, but really, it wasn’t the best of my life.”
The best had been in Marrakech. When he was inside her and had made her come multiple times in the span of a minute.
Yeah,
that
was the best.
Of course, she’d been easy then too. He’d been flirting with her, staring at her, touching her here and there the whole trip into Morocco. It had been like extended foreplay, the way he knew exactly how to make her blush, challenge her, make her feel sexier than she’d ever felt before.
When she’d finally given in and kissed him, their first lovemaking had turned into a fast, furious pounding against the wall of her hotel room. What had followed had been hours and hours of the best sex she’d ever had.
His finger and thumb cupped her chin, turning her head so they were eye-to-eye. “Maybe the best is yet to come.”
She really shouldn’t lead him on. What she’d felt for him during the storm was the tip of the iceberg. If she let her feelings run wide open, they’d both careen over the cliff and blow their careers—as well as their hearts—to oblivion.
But, sweet Jesus, it just might be worth it
.
It was wrong, but she grinned through the rain running down her face. “Maybe.”
The hope she shouldn’t have given him was evident on his face. It promised her a future filled with hot, head-banging sex.
The anticipation was almost as good as the actual sex act.
Almost.
He helped her up and they surveyed the damage. In the distance they heard the rumble of thunder, much less menacing than before. Ruby did her best to smooth her hair back from her face, but it was pointless. It would take her hours to get the disaster under control. Her gun was missing and a quick sweep of the area revealed the Sig was gone.
Damn, and that was her favorite handgun.
She pointed upward to the loft. Half of it was gone, along with the stairs that had led up to it. “Think the body is still there?”
Jax, standing over at the hole left by the tornado, stared outside at the spot where she’d parked the rental. “Nope.”
Ruby huffed out a sigh and went to look at what he was staring at.
The breeze rattled the lone wall panel still intact and she inched her way past it, worried it might let loose of its tenuous hold at any moment. Through part of the opening, she saw the oak tree had indeed split in half, a massive piece of trunk and a scattering of branches visible on the ground just beyond the building.
She stopped next to Jax and peered out.
Her body recoiled. Augustus Nelson lay sprawled, his limbs torqued at unnatural angles, across her rental car.
Which was on its side, glass and car parts scattered around it as if a giant having a tantrum had picked it up and smashed it against the ground.
“So much for having Emit make an anonymous phone call.”
“Yeah,” Jax said, hands on hips as he glanced at the horizon. “I think we’re in for another long night.”
“Well, if I hadn’t already ruined my last chance at getting my old job back, this would have done it anyway.”
“We couldn’t have called it in, Ruby. We had no service.” Jax drew out his cell phone. The case had a crack in it and it was drenched, but still seemed to work. “I’ve got one bar.”
Better than nothing. She slipped a hand into his, lacing her fingers between his bigger ones. “Guess we better alert the authorities.”
He tugged her close and her body bumped against his. “Emit first. He can smooth things over with the local PD.”
He made the call while Ruby stared at Augustus, his cuts and bruises now on full display.
There’s no way Elliot would have done that to a person. Not even someone he hated.
A flash of something in the branches of the part of the oak that was still standing caught her eye. Her mind whirled with the possibilities as her go-bag, the fabric rent and stuck on a dead branch, fluttered in the breeze.
Chapter Twelve
_____________________
______________________________________________________
“T
HEY
W
H…
W
HAT?”
Beatrice sputtered into her office phone.
“Don’t freak, B,” Emit said through the speaker. “Both of them are okay. The tornado got close, but they rode it out. Under some machine from what I understand. Jax’s arm is a little screwed up from holding onto the thing, but he claims it’s minor.”
Good thing her office chair was behind her with Trace standing nearby on alert because her legs turned to Jell-O at the thought of Jaxon and Agent McKellen riding out a tornado hanging onto some feed mill machine. Trace, thank goodness for his superhuman reflexes, got the chair under her before she fell to the floor.
No wonder Jax hadn’t returned her phone calls. “Jax would say he was fine even if he was bleeding out. I want them transported to the emergency room, asap.”
“They’re in Bumblefuck, USA,” Emit countered. There isn’t anything more than a local clinic, and at the moment, as I understand, they’re at the police station giving their detailed accounts of what happened.”
“Police station?”
“There was a casualty. Not from the tornado, but…”
“What happened?”
“They found Augustus Nelson, aka Little Gus, at the building. He’d been tortured and beaten to a pulp.”
“How did they find him?”
“Ruby gave Elliot a bag with a GPS tracker sewn into the lining. They told me they were going to see Director Timms, Ruby’s temporary boss, at FBI headquarters. Instead, they followed the signal to the feed and grain mill.”
Beatrice leaned back in the chair and rocked, trying to reduce her blood pressure that was skyrocketing again. She glanced at Trace, who was listening intently. She would deal with Jaxon’s duplicity and impertinence later. “Elliot Hayden killed Nelson?”
“Jax doesn’t think it fits with Hayden’s MO. Nelson might have had info to clear Elliot’s name, according to Ruby. Doesn’t make sense he would off the guy.”
Trace tapped his lip with a finger. “Unless he got the info and realized Nelson was a problem. If Hayden didn’t kill him, who did? Who led Jax and Ruby to that building?”
“You think it’s a setup?” Beatrice asked Trace.
“Don’t you?” he said.
Beatrice went back to the phone and Emit. “Are Jax and Ruby suspects?”
Emit sighed. “At this point, I’d say they’re the only suspects. I called Director Timms for the second time today to vouch for Ruby, but he refuses to accept my reasons for why she went AWOL. He doesn’t know Hayden’s escaped and therefore has no idea why she’d be tracking him. She needs someone at the CIA level to explain the situation to Timms and the PD in Pottersville, and clear her name.”
“Langley won’t do that,” Beatrice said, rubbing her temple. “They don’t want anyone to know Hayden escaped—not Timms and especially not a group of small town police officers with absolutely no top-secret clearance.”
A long pause ensued. “Well, then, it looks like Jax and Agent McKellen may be hanging out in Bumblefuck for awhile.”
Great. Just what they all needed. “I’ll get them out and back to Chicago.”
“How?”
Beatrice ignored the concerned look Trace shot her. “Let me worry about that. You, Rory, and Colton stay on Hayden’s tail.”
“B, don’t do anything…”
“Stupid?” she interrupted him. “You aren’t seriously going to call me that, are you?”
“I wasn’t calling
you
stupid, just warning you not to do anything you’ll regret.”
She wasn’t about to. Jaxon Sloan was as much her family as the baby inside of her, and the baby was making no moves to join the world anytime soon. “It’s a little over two hours to Chicago. Even if I go into labor, Jax has assured me I’ll be in that state for longer than two hours, so you needn’t worry about me having the baby in the plane.”
She disconnected, grabbed her laptop, and stood. “Ready the plane,” she said to Trace. “We’re going to Bumblefuck, Illinois.”
Two hours later
“D
ON’T
L
EAVE
T
OWN,”
Jeremy Rolands growled.
The Pottersville PD’s chief looked, Jax thought, a lot like Santa Claus…white beard, a belly that strained the buttons on his shirt and crystal blue eyes. “I may be wanting to talk to you two again. Soon,” the man added, giving Jax the stink eye.
After a couple of hours in an interrogation room, someone—Beatrice? Emit? The Colonel?—had called good ol’ Santa Rolands and gotten Jax and Ruby off the hook.
Not that they were completely out of hot water, but at least their identities had been confirmed and they were being released. No overnight stay in the single cell inside city hall tonight.
Ruby, who still had dreck in her hair, narrowed her eyes at the chief. Her wet shirt clung to her breasts and made it infinitely hard for Jax to concentrate. “Where exactly do you expect us to hang out? Is there a Holiday Inn hiding in this village?”
“Look, girlie—”
“Girlie?” Ruby huffed.
Jax kicked her under the table. Not hard, just to remind her that they needed to make nice to the officer and vamoose.