Hot Pursuit (22 page)

“Sure.” She stepped into the yard and fiddled
with a fat pink rose blooming on one of the bushes.

Matt turned back to Evie, who’d come to join
them at the door. “I have to go do this, and while you can come
with me if you want, I’d prefer you get some sleep. Can I trust you
to do that?”

She had that determined look he knew so well.
“I think I’d rather stay here. But what if they call?”

“I’m not expecting it for a couple of hours
yet, but if they do, call me. Don’t do anything without me,
Evie.”

“I won’t—but why do you think they’ll wait so
long?”

“Because it’ll be getting dark then.” He
leaned down and kissed her. “No matter what anyone says, no matter
what they threaten, you call me. I’m two hundred yards away. Got
that?”

She nodded. “I’m not stupid. I know you’re my
best chance.”

He couldn’t say why those words wrapped
around his heart and squeezed, but they did. She called out to
Chris, who came back and spoke with her for a few seconds. He
wasn’t sure if Evie realized her hand was on his arm or not.

Chris watched them with interest, her gaze
darting between them. He could tell by the gleam in her eye she
thought there was something going on between him and Evie.

And wasn’t there?

“Go,” Evie said. “I’ll take a nap.”

“Don’t leave the house.”

“Matt.” She dragged his name out.

“Yeah, got it.” He joined Chris, who hooked
her arm in his as they started up the path to the main house. His
mind strayed to Evie and the problem of what David West could’ve
left behind. Several silent minutes went by before Chris spoke.

“I’ve always liked her.”

Matt’s attention snapped to his sister.
“Forget it. I’m leaving in a few days. She’s just a friend.”

She tsked. “I can tell when two people are
interested in each other. Besides, long-distance relationships
can
work. There’s e-mail, webcams—”

“You know my life isn’t the kind any woman
wants to share.”

“You don’t know until you try.”

“Yeah, I do. If Ben left in the middle of the
night with two hours’ notice and couldn’t tell you where he was
going or how long he’d be gone—” Not to mention whether he’d ever
come back again, though no way in hell was Matt putting that
thought in his sister’s head. “—would you marry him?”

Chris scrunched up her nose, clearly peeved
at being derailed. “Probably not.”

“Exactly.” He’d made his peace with that a
long time ago. Marriage and family life weren’t for him. He was too
focused on what he did, and not ready to give it up.

But what if you have to? What if Mendez and
the board make that choice for you?

Matt firmed his jaw. He’d deal with it when
the time came.

* * *

Brianna walked around outside the cabin,
fishing for a signal. It would have been easier if she wasn’t
constantly looking at the ground to make sure she wasn’t about to
step on a snake, stumble over a gator, or drop into quicksand.

She swatted at something that buzzed past her
head and stifled a shriek. Goddamn swamp! Why had she thought
coming out here would be a good idea? She shot a glance at the
cabin. Inside, Julian was playing that stupid game, totally
engrossed. There was nothing else to do and she was getting jumpy.
And the smell. God, what kind of people built cabins in the middle
of a swamp?

All around her, tall cypresses rose out of
the murky water, creating a canopy over her head that filtered
sunlight in tiny drops. Spanish moss hung in long hanks, swaying
with the passage of the occasional breeze that came through. Julian
had told her when they were motoring in here that the deafening
sound coming from every dark corner of the place was made by
frogs.

Ugh. She spent ten years living in the
country when she was a kid and she never wanted to go back. This
assignment was a frigging nightmare.

“Yesss,” she said when the bars on her phone
appeared. Quickly, she punched in a number. He picked up on the
second ring.

“Does this mean the answer’s yes?” a male
voice said.

“I’m still thinking.” Her heart was suddenly
doing the flamenco against her ribs. “What are my guarantees?”

He laughed. “There are none, baby.”

“How do I know this isn’t a ruse? That you
won’t double-cross me?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”
His voice was cool, alluring. She’d always thought so.

He was trying to shake her up. Still, the
implication stung.

“I do what’s best for me,” she said. “That’s
all it is.”

“Then give me an answer. Nothing’s changed
since the last time we discussed this.”

“I could get it first. I have the girl.”

“You don’t know what you’re looking for. I
do.”

“Evie knows.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. Yes or no,
Brianna?”

“I’m thinking.”

The line went dead. Brianna swore. A second
later, the phone rang again. She answered, triumphant. “You need me
for this, don’t you?”

“It’s why I sent you,” Ryan Rivera said, his
voice as full of menace as ever. “And what the fuck are you doing
answering the phone like that? Looking for a fucking pat on the
head?”

Brianna swallowed her heart.
Jesus-freaking-Christ. Her pulse refused to slow down and her head
got swimmy. She leaned against the side of the cabin and breathed
deep. “No, sir. Sorry, sir. I was just, uh, talking to Julian.”

Rivera grunted. “Where are you with this?
Have you made contact with the Baker girl yet?”

Brianna blinked. “Um, yes, sir. Soon she’ll
turn over the info in exchange for her sister. We’re waiting until
it’s dark.”

He sighed patiently. It was never a good
sign. A second later, as if to confirm it, he got mean. “Listen
carefully, Brianna, because I’m not very happy with you at the
moment. Get your fucking ass in gear and get me that information
pronto. Then you need to make sure there are no witnesses,
understand? Don’t leave a mess behind.”

Brianna resisted the urge to stammer. She
didn’t mind killing Evie and her sister, but she didn’t think it
was going to be all that easy. “Evie has help, sir. A military
commando of some sort.”

This morning, the whole damn town had been
alive with talk of Evie Baker and Matt Girard, a high school
relationship gone wrong, and the way he’d saved her from a bully
out at the lake last night. She wasn’t too concerned about him—he
was as vulnerable to a bullet as anybody—but it added extra work to
an already difficult job. Especially when she didn’t know precisely
what the hell they were after yet. West had left the information
with Evie Baker—but Brianna still didn’t know what form it took.
And she was beginning to worry Evie didn’t either.

Rivera wasn’t concerned about any of it, of
course. He just expected results.

“If he gets in the way, kill him too.”

* * *

Misty Lee had done wonders with the gardens.
They’d always been beautiful, green, lush, and required an army of
gardeners, but Misty Lee had gone in with a vision and made changes
that turned Reynier’s Retreat into the envy of the Rochambeau
Garden Club. Long sweeping lawns were planted with a variety of
blooming flowers, ornamental grasses, and shrubs. Matt wouldn’t
have noticed something as mundane as landscaping, but the
transformation still stunned him each time he came out here since
arriving two days ago. Who’d have thought his stepmama had it in
her?

No wonder Chris had decided to get married at
Reynier’s Retreat instead of in a church. Workers were busy placing
chairs, the florist fiddled with vines on the trellis, and the
minister directed a run-through of the actual ceremony that managed
to drag on at least an hour longer than Matt anticipated. Evie
hadn’t called, and he didn’t bother trying her because he hoped she
was sleeping. She wasn’t stupid, and she wouldn’t leave the grounds
without telling him. Of that he was certain.

Misty Lee sidled up to him, a Pomeranian
tucked in one arm—and smashed up against her considerable
assets—and batted her eyelashes. “You look bored, Matthew,
honey.”

“Not at all, Mother, dear.”

Misty Lee giggled. She loved it when he
called her mother for some silly reason. Anyone observing the two
of them would probably think she was flirting, but then Misty Lee
flirted with everyone. It was as natural to her as breathing.

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“I can’t.”

She frowned. “Your daddy would love to see
you, Matt. He said just this morning that he’s hardly talked to you
since you got back.”

Somehow, Matt doubted the senator had put it
quite like that. The man was too busy playing the elder statesman
to notice he hadn’t talked to his son more than ten minutes total
in two days. But he would notice if it appeared Matt wasn’t playing
the role of dutiful child.

When he’d been little, the senator had always
been about appearances. They’d been an ideal-looking family, even
if the picture hadn’t been reality.

And then his mother died, and the picture
crumbled. Matt and Christina spent their childhoods with nannies
and shockingly tacky stepmamas while their father spent his time
getting people to vote for him—a task made more difficult by the
stripper wives, but then Matt pretty much figured his father had
counted on that. It was as if he’d wanted to self-destruct but
couldn’t quite manage it.

Matt ground his teeth. If the senator was
thinking about him now, there had to be a reason for it other than
a sudden urge to be a father.

No doubt he was wondering if Matt was ready
to leave the military and take his place at Girard Oil yet. That
was a refrain Matt had heard before, and one he didn’t need to
listen to right now.

“There’s plenty of time.” He said it
smoothly, evenly—though it was a lie. In a few short days, he was
leaving again.

And that didn’t bother him in the least. He’d
never known what to say to his father. Any conversation between
them always degenerated quickly. The old man didn’t like that he’d
joined the military, and Matt didn’t like that his father had spent
the best part of their childhood away from him and his sister.

They were never going to see things the same
way. Not only that, but Matt also had his own secrets to keep.
There were things he’d done when he was a reckless teenager who
resented his father that still caused him more shame than he liked
to think about.

There were things you did not do, lines you
did not cross. And he’d crossed them long ago. There was no point
in pretending things would ever be normal after all these
years.

Misty Lee was about to say something else
when one of the caterers approached to ask a question. “Well I know
I saw that dish in the sideboard just this morning.” She stood
there frowning for a moment and then excused herself to rush off to
find some ancient piece of family silver.

The minister called for yet another
run-through of the ceremony. As soon as Matt walked up the aisle
with his assigned bridesmaid—a blushing young woman from Shreveport
who slanted him heated glances and giggled nervously—he ducked out
and sat down. Another five minutes and he was leaving. They’d
already done this five times, and he was done.

Besides, the sun was slipping behind the
horizon, and it would soon be dark. Sarah’s kidnappers would make
their move then. It was easier to hide and they were less likely to
be seen when they met with Evie.

And with him. He wasn’t letting her go by
herself, no matter what they wanted.

The senator caught his eye from where he
stood with Chris at the end of the center aisle. His father looked
unpleased. Whether it was with him or someone else, Matt didn’t
really care.

Since leaving home ten years ago, Matt had
seen more of this world than his father could ever hope to imagine.
Where once the old man had scared him half-silly, now Beauregard
James Matthew Girard the Third was like a toothless old lion in
Matt’s mind. Frightening at first, a nuisance maybe, but ultimately
without the teeth to back up the threat.

The military had done that for him. Taught
him what was really scary in the world. And taught him how to
defeat those fears.

But if the board convening to discuss his
fate next week decided he was no good for the U.S. Army after all,
he’d find himself back in Rochambeau a whole lot sooner than
planned. Provided he didn’t end up spending time in Fort
Leavenworth military prison for gross negligence or for posing a
threat to national security.

And if he had to return to Rochambeau even
for a little while, he knew the conversation about his future at
Girard Oil would heat up to a boil.

His gut churned at the thought. He couldn’t
even begin to express how trapped that idea made him feel. He’d
spent too many years living life on the edge to suddenly do
something normal. Except, a little voice told him, normal was what
a woman like Evie would want.

He didn’t bother wondering where that thought
came from. It was simply what she did to him, he was
discovering.

By the time the latest rehearsal was over,
the shadows were stretching across the gardens. Matt stood. No way
in hell was he staying for another one of these damn things.

Chris caught him as he was striding down the
aisle. “Leaving so soon?”

Matt put his arm around her and hugged her.
“Yeah, I have things to do tonight.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Do these things
involve a pretty girl named Evie?”

He smiled. “They might.”

Her expression grew serious. “Don’t hurt her,
Matt.”

“What makes you think I’d do that?”

She shrugged. “You said you weren’t settling
down. And in case you didn’t know it, she’s pretty much always had
a crush on you.”

Old guilt bubbled to the surface. And
pleasure, too. He liked the idea that Evie might still have
feelings for him. “I appreciate the concern, but we’re adults now,
Chris. We know what we’re doing.”