Smoky Mountain Setup. Paula Graves

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      “Then how do you know?”

      “They called you Bombshell Barbie.”

      She arched an eyebrow at him. “And that told you it was me?”

      “No. What told me it was you was that one of them said you were dangerous as hell and wouldn’t go down without a fight. The combination of the two—the nickname and the statement about your fighting spirit—that’s what told me it was you.”

      She stifled a smile, not sure she should feel quite as complimented as she did. “Bombshell Barbie, huh?”

      He held up his hands. “I didn’t come up with it.”

      “I know. I’m pretty sure a guy named Marty Tucker did. He was up to his nasty eyeballs in the BRI until he shot himself trying to escape a colony of bats.”

      “Bats?”

      “Long story. He lived. Now he’s in state prison, serving time for kidnapping and other assorted crimes. Sadly, he’s chosen to keep all his secrets about the BRI to himself, so we’re not any closer to bringing them down than we were before.” She frowned. “Matter of fact, they’ve been really quiet recently. No chatter coming out of there at all that we’ve heard.”

      “Until now.”

      “Until now.” She cocked her head. “How long have you known about this target on my back?”

      “Two days.”

      “And you didn’t think to call and warn me?”

      He slanted a look at her. “You’d have believed it was me on the other line?”

      “Probably not,” she admitted.

      “I knew you’d need proof.”

      “What kind of proof?”

      “An audio recording of the BRI’s plans.”

      An electric pulse of excitement zinged through her. “You have that?”

      He shook his head. “Not on me. I didn’t want to risk getting caught with it. I put it in a safe place.”

      “Where?”

      “I can’t tell you that. Not yet.”

      Her spine stiffened, and angry heat warmed her face. “You can’t tell me? I’m the one in danger and you can’t tell me?”

      His gaze flicked around the cozy room. “How do you know this place isn’t wired for sound?”

      “I check it periodically for bugs,” she said flatly, trying to control her frustration.

      “Using what equipment? Something you got from work?”

      “Yes.” She met his questioning look without flinching, even though she knew where he was going with the question. “And yes, I realize Quinn probably has a way to get around a bug detector he himself supplied. But I trust him with my life.”

      Landry’s eyes narrowed and he pulled back. “Really? Well, I don’t.”

      She bit back a protest and counted to ten. Landry had no reason to trust Quinn, after all. Or anyone else, she supposed, considering what he claimed he’d been through over the past few months. “Fair enough.”

      “It’s safe for now.”

      “But the BRI is still after me?”

      He nodded, easing forward again. “I don’t know the timing of what they have in the works. I know only what they’re planning to do. What you need to look for.”

      Another chill washed through her, raising goose bumps on her arms and legs. “Do you mean to keep that a secret, too?”

      A small flicker in the corner of his eye was his only reaction to her blunt question. “No, of course not.”

      “So what do I look for?”

      “First, it’s not going to be your standard hit. No sniper shot, nothing like that.”

      She had an unsettling sense of unreality, listening to Landry speak of her impending death as if it was just another case to be investigated. “Is that good news or bad news?”

      His gaze snapped up to meet hers. “None of this is good news.”

      “Right.”

      He suddenly reached across the space between them, closing his hand over hers. As if he’d read her earlier thoughts, in an urgent tone he added, “This is not just another case for me, Livvie. No matter what happened between us two years ago, you will never, ever be just another case for me.”

      As she stared at him, heat spreading through her from the point where his fingers had closed around hers, he let go and sat back, clearly struggling to regain his cool composure.

      “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Go on.”

      “They’re going to take you when you’re alone. So you need to make sure you’re never alone.”

      “That’s impossible.”

      “Look, I know your boss offered you the chance to stay at the office with some of the other agents. Maybe you should do that.”

      She looked at the whiteout conditions outside the cabin window. “Too late for that.”

      He followed her gaze. “I’m sure your boss could come up with some way to get you out of here.”

      She shook her head quickly. “Landry, I’m safe enough here. For now, anyway. I’m armed and it’s not easy to get here in the snow. And you’re here, right?”

      He nodded toward the rolltop desk. “But I’m unarmed.”

      She met his warm gaze, trying to be objective, to put everything from their past, good or bad, out of her mind and just assess the situation as an agent.

      He’d shown up unannounced, after having disappeared for nearly a year, and told her that he’d been working with the same dangerous militia group he now said had made her a target for assassination. But he’d come alone and warned her of the danger against her. He’d had the opportunity to hurt her earlier, when he’d got the drop on her with her Mossberg shotgun, but he’d done nothing to hurt her.

      Was he trying to pull some sort of scam? Was this story about hillbilly assassins part of some bigger plan the BRI had hatched?

      Or was he telling her the truth?

      “Why?” she asked finally.

      His eyebrows twitched upward. “Why did I come? I told you—”

      She shook her head. “No—why has BRI targeted me specifically? Do you know?”

      “They СКАЧАТЬ