Author: Robyn Carr

“So you found out? And left?”

“No, Eric. There were women and children there. It took me a long time to get the lay of the land, communicate with my team, start evacuating the captives. I didn’t seem to be in immediate danger. And if I had to run, I knew a couple of exit routes.”

“He prevented them from leaving? How?”

“Intimidation, brainwashing, convincing the women they couldn’t legally remove their children. His children. He threatened them, told them if they took his children from him, he wouldn’t rest till he found them. Plus he had his guys, the ones who helped with the heavy chores around the farm. The marijuana grow wasn’t revealed to his female clan, so we hadn’t gotten the word on that until I found it. I think only a couple of them were aware of it. I had to sneak around after dark and peek in open doors and slats in the walls of the barn—it wasn’t easy to find. It was across the river where none of the women went, where Jacob’s house was and the men lived. Till then, we had only heard about his collection of women and children and his determination to keep them inside the fence.”

“What about him? Jacob? What did he expect from you?”

“Well, that’s a little complicated. He thought he was healing me. We built a story about me being a victim of sexual abuse so he would probably understand why I wasn’t willing to be involved with a man. And it worked, thank God. But I had to endure a lot of preaching and his attempts at seduction. Whew. Those were hours that passed like days. I cried a lot, acted vulnerable and grateful, begged, bought time. Some of the other women helped shield me, helped me avoid him.”

“What if it hadn’t worked?” he asked. “You could have been in serious danger.”

“We planned it for a year. The FBI had watched for longer than that, interviewing people who were closely acquainted with him and his commune. We even tried to get a man inside, but that didn’t work. We just didn’t have a model for the kind of man he wanted to work with. But we understood the women he targeted.”

“It was risky,” he said. “Very risky.”

“There’s always risk. Thus the training and planning.”

“He could have assaulted you. Raped you.”

“He was a megalomaniac, but predictable. We didn’t go in there without profiling him—we knew him pretty well. We interviewed a couple of women who left his commune. The women inside talked to each other—they were like a bunch of sister wives. He hadn’t raped anyone as far as anyone knew. But, I knew that going in without a wire or weapon could be dangerous, especially if he found me out. I wasn’t going to let him rape me.”

“But he could have.”

“If he’d had help,” she said with a shrug. “Eric, if the whole thing had turned, if he’d used his big armed men to hold me down he could have, but we knew he worked alone with the women. He thought they all loved and adored him. And he was just one man.”

“You’re a spook!” he said.

She gave a twist of the mouth that said, oh, well. And shrugged.

“But why, Laine? Why do you do that stuff? I have to understand.”

“Because it needs to be done! And I’m good at it! If we hadn’t investigated, gone inside, gotten people out, there would still be eight to ten women and as many children in there and he planned to fight to keep his property and his farm and as a last resort, burn the place to the ground and run, leaving the women and children inside!”

“And why didn’t you leave when you found out what you needed to find out?”

“Because I was in!” She took a breath. “Getting inside wasn’t easy.”

“Are you undercover now? Here?”

She gritted her teeth. “I’m on leave. Why are you so upset?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I knew you worked for the FBI. I didn’t think you were that...that... Thinking of you doing something that dangerous, I guess it just...” He put a hand on her shoulder and ran it down her arm. “When I hold you, you seem small against me. You’re soft and pliant and I feel protective and it’s hard for me to imagine...”

“Eric, I’m soft in your arms because I want to be. Not because I’m helpless. Because I like feeling that way with you. Now get a grip. I’m a professional.”

“It’s a big thing for me, getting a picture of you in my head taking on some terrorist. Alone.”

“Yeah? Well, the DEA was a little pissy, too.”

“Huh?”

She gave a shrug and a little snort. “We’re all a little possessive with cases. Once I found the pot, we could’ve called in DEA but it was our case and we worked it to the end. DEA wasn’t happy about that. Federal agencies are territorial. Everyone wants jurisdiction. In the end a DEA interdiction unit picked up two of our four escaped guys, so they got a piece of it.”

“I’m going to need a dictionary....”

“Interdiction unit. They interrupt the trafficking of drugs, humans, weapons, cash—all fuel for more crimes.”

“Can you show me?”

“Show you what?”

“How you were trained to defend yourself? Just for my peace of mind? Because I don’t want to have thoughts in my head of anything bad happening to you. And because you’ll go back to that life and I— Just show me, okay?”

“Eric, nothing bad is going to happen to me. Not here, for God’s sake. I’m on leave....”

“You won’t be on leave forever. I don’t know what I thought you did in the FBI but it wasn’t going undercover against terrorists.”

“If it’s too much for you, what I do for a living, you can opt out. I told you, I’m not holding you hostage.”

He shook his head. “Too late for that,” he said. “I’m in. So, can you show me something?”

She took a deep breath. “All right, listen. I learned some defensive moves for competition when I was a kid in karate, which is the same as a fair fight and there’s a referee present. But what I learned in training is how to do whatever it takes. If you’re my brother or my boyfriend and you just want to test me, it’s hard to pull off. If you’re a bad guy and you get the jump on me, I’m going to kick you in the balls and rip your ears off and gouge your eyes out. Do you hear me? Do you? Because it’s better if you just take my word for it.”

He grabbed her wrists. Tightly. “Just get out of this for me.”

She deftly twisted her hands toward his thumbs and pinned his thumbs back, making him yelp. “Jesus.”

“A preschooler could have done that.”

“Try not to totally emasculate me,” he said, rubbing his thumbs and wrists.

“I’m going to need a dictionary,” she said, grinning.

“Okay, I’m six-two and one-eighty. If I somehow got the slip on you, got you down, covered your little body with mine...”

“Wanna go for it, champ?” she asked, lifting a brow.

“You’re a little cocky,” he said.

She lay down on the floor. “Take your time,” she said.

He studied her position. He really didn’t want to get kicked in the nuts. On the other hand, he wanted assurance that she was capable. Safe. That she could, as she insisted, take care of herself.

He approached her from the side. Slowly. He covered her small body with his much larger body.

“Well?” she said. “What’s your plan? You going to suffocate me? Rape me? Beat me?”

He laced his fingers through hers, hoping to avoid that uncomfortable preschool move. He stretched her arms out, pinning them.

“Very good, Eric. How are you going to get my pants down?”

He thought about this for a second, then grasped both of her hands in one of his and lifted himself just slightly. He thought he’d snake one hand down between their bodies just to illustrate that he could, but it never got beyond a thought. She freed her hands, socked him in the jaw and from nowhere her legs came up from beneath them, wrapped around his torso and, with amazing strength, she flipped him off her. He landed with an oomph, flat on his back. Then, as fast as greased lightning, she crawled right over his body and kneeled on his arms, pinning him. He could probably get out of this hold, but until he did, her hands were free. And he had grown so attached to his eyeballs.

“Whoa,” he said, breathless.

“Do you have any idea how tired I get of proving myself to the boys?” she asked. And she was not smiling.

“In the FBI?”

“No. They know I can take care of myself. We have defensive training courses all the time. Sadly, I haven’t learned how to stop a bullet, but I’m relatively smart and competent in other areas.”

Relatively, my ass, he thought.

“Remember, I have a twin brother and he’s big, six feet. Pax now knows size isn’t the key factor so we’ve reached a mutual peace. And I have a father who thinks I’ve lowered my standards to do what I do. I didn’t. It’s hard to do what I do.”

He nodded. “If I had to, I could fight you,” he said.

“Don’t,” she advised. “Stay out of fights. And please, can we be done with this conversation?”

“How’d it turn out? Your assignment?”

“I got them out,” she said. “Only one wouldn’t leave and it was a sad, tragic decision for her. I’m very unhappy about that—I wanted them all out. And Jacob got himself shot in a standoff with police. But the other women and children are all safe.”

“You got them out,” he said. He smiled at her. “Damn.”

“Don’t tell the town what you know.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “I think they’re figuring it out, though. And someone else might tell.” He sighed. “I have to go back to work. Can I come over tonight?”

“Can you behave?”

“I totally had this coming,” he admitted. “You only look five-foot-four. You’re really very big and scary.” He smiled up at her. “I’m losing the feeling in my hands.”

She slid her knees off his arms. His arms went around her and rolled with her until he was on top, but he didn’t let all his weight fall on her. It was obvious by the way her hands rested lightly on his shoulders that she acquiesced.

“Feel better?” she asked.

He nodded. “Were you scared?”

“A couple of times I was terrified, but not so much for myself. I was afraid of not getting them out. I worried about one or more of the kids getting hurt, especially the littlest ones. Scared me to death.”

“That’s when you got shot, isn’t it?”

“Yep. I never saw him with a gun before. The men who worked for him, yes, and they never threatened anyone with guns. Their guns were for their movement of drugs, not to use against the women. That night he picked it right up off his desk and fired.” She moved her shoulder. “I’m good now.”

“You must be proud of yourself. I’m proud of you. Scared of you,” he said, smiling, “but proud.”

“It’s funny about that. I never quite get there—proud. Even though it was ultimately successful, it was too close. And I lost one. I lost one—that eats at me. I keep going over in my mind how I could have played it smarter, done better. Then I tell myself there’s no point, but I slip back into that old loop—if I’d just done this and not that...”

“I can relate. So can everyone. It’s hard to get to the point of accepting the past as is and remind yourself that everything going forward now counts.”

“And are we going forward?” she asked, her fingertips running through the dark auburn hair over his ears.