Survival Instinct (10 page)

Chapter 11

K
arin managed evening chores with an old sock over her cast to keep it from picking up unsavory farm substances, and with Dave by her side. “Yes,” she’d told him. “I’ll come with you. But we have to talk.” So they fed the goats, and she taught him how to milk Agatha, leaning over him to wrap one hand over his, initiating just the right rhythm in his fingers.

He gave her a sideways glance, one sparked with humor. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Hell, yes,” she told him, and licked his neck.

He carried the milk pail as she fed the sheep, apologizing to them for the whole Mad Sheep disease ploy. The sheep did not appear to care, and as they ate, Dave took a rake to the worst spots of the pen. He and Karin cast simultaneous glances at the old henhouse and she waggled her eyebrows at him, eliciting a somewhat smug grin. She drank it in.

She figured it was one of the last she’d see. That connection between them, so warm and nearly palpable…she figured she wouldn’t have it much longer. Maybe that was why she pinned him against the barn for one last, deep kiss before taking him by the hand and walking along the crest of the hill. When she sat, ignoring the dampness of the spring ground, he followed suit. But he’d picked up on her tension.

“You’re not changing your mind,” he said warily, more a prod than a question.

Karin drew her knees to her chest and pulled her hoodie sweatshirt out to envelop them. Total coincidence if it looked something like a fetal curl. “I’m not. But you might.”

He thought on that a moment and shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “Too cryptic. You’ll have to give me more.”

She thought wistfully about his flask, but knew he wasn’t carrying it. A swallow of that Cardhu would have gone down well, cask bite and all. “This Owen of yours,” she said. “The family business. Are you all rescuers?”

That surprised him. He withdrew, looking down the slope of the greening pasture. When he glanced at her, his eyes were back to cool ice. She told herself to get used to it. He said, “The safe house tipped you off, huh?”

“Well,
yeah.
” That was the truth, but not all of it…and here, on this hill, Karin was offering the whole truth. She added, “Not just that. It’s the way you are. A rescuer. I figure you either come from a family of them, or a family of the opposite. A kick-you-when-you’re-down family.”

Dave snorted. “No, not that.” He turned his jacket collar up, though it wasn’t nearly cold enough to inspire the need. “Rescuers. I never thought of it like that before, but…yeah.”

“So what’s Owen’s beef with you? He’s a rescuer…you’re a rescuer. I thought you said you weren’t in the family biz.”

“This day isn’t about me.” He tried to put some finality into his words. He didn’t have much success. Not after what had happened between them that afternoon.

She leaned into him, bumping his shoulder. Did it again, until he looked over at her. Not happily. She shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t when you got here. But now, kinda…yeah, it is.”
And besides, I don’t think there’s any way we’re going to have this little talk after I spill the beans on myself.

He scruffed his hand through his hair. It looked like defeat to Karin. “When my parents started the agency, they kept it personal. Small cases, affecting individuals. But once Owen truly had control, things changed. He got a few big jobs…he headed upscale. Instead of dealing with individuals, the agency manages big-picture ops. Saving the world, instead of just your neighbor.” He shrugged. “It’s a good agency. It’s a
superb
agency. Their operatives are the best. But…they’re
operatives.
I’m not.”

She thought about that a moment. A long moment. Then she asked, “Why?”

He made a gesture of impatience. “Ellen, is this—”

“Yes,” she interrupted, unrepentant. “If I leave with you, then yes. I want to know more about who I’m going with.”

“You knew enough to…”

This time, her smile—a little wry, but undeterred—was enough to cut him short. She said, “Yes, I did. That was my
now.
This is about my future.”

Dave did the hair-scruffing thing again. When he spoke, it was grudging. “Okay. Yeah. Look…there’s nothing wrong with Owen’s way. It’s just not for me.”

“But you don’t mind drawing on the resources of the family agency.”

He stiffened slightly. “No,” he said. “I don’t. What I’m doing is just as important. If my parents were still alive, they would have the same priorities. Owen might not appreciate the path that I’ve taken, but he understands that. It doesn’t happen all that damn often, but if I need resources, I ask for them.”

“And you help them, too.” She filled in that blank; he gave her a disgruntled and impatient look. “You said something about Pittsburgh. Ribs…collarbone. I’ve got good reason to know how long ribs can stay sore.”

His eyes had narrowed. “You’re full of surprises.”

Oh, ha. You’re about to find out how right you are.

But he conceded her point. “Yes. I help them out when they need me. Which is just often enough to remind me what Owen thinks I should be doing, but not so often that I tell him to take a flying leap. He’s good like that. Knows just where the line is.”

“Where?” she asked softly, knowing he would be appalled that she seldom bothered to draw lines at all. Morally acceptable to unacceptable…she’d lived her life moving freely on either side of that line. “Or should I ask, why? What made you different? What made your work more important than what your family expected of you?”

Because this was one of those families. A family with obligations and expectations. Rather like Rumsey, only with an entirely different focus.

She thought he might object again. She said, “I’ve got the persistence to hang off the side of a cliff all night. What makes you think I’m going to give up on this?”

He said his bad words again. The whole string, under his breath, not even looking at her.
Nom de Dieu de bordel de merde.
Then he said, “It was just one of those things. Everyone’s got one or two of them.” He glanced at her as though guessing what hers might be but she didn’t flinch; he’d know soon enough. “I was nine. I took ride-alongs with my dad all the time—not the crucial stuff, nothing inappropriate. Meeting people he worked with, handling legwork. But I got greedy, and I wanted in on some of the exciting stuff. When you’re nine, you can’t even imagine…”

Well, yes. She could. Rumsey had hauled her everywhere, introducing her to the life. But she nodded anyway. “So you…what? Invited yourself along?”

He hadn’t expected her to guess it so closely, but he got past his surprise to say, “Just that. Hid in the backseat of my dad’s sedan one night. Turned out he was on his way to a body recovery.” He looked at her without turning his head, just a flash of those bright eyes. “Little boy about my age, the son of a French diplomat who was touring our wine county. He’d been kidnapped and dumped. It was an ugly scene.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It must have been a shock.”

“That’s one way to put it.” He shifted to look her straight on, obviously struggling to move past the memory. “Don’t bother with psychobabble, by the way.”

“Me?” She hadn’t intended it. In truth, she was too lost in her own thoughts, in what came next.

“You. Anyone. I’ve heard enough of it—how it’s too late to save that kid, and if I spend my life trying I’ll just waste my time. The way I see it, I was pretty much headed for this business. I might as well choose how I go about it.”

“I get that. I got funneled into the family business, too.”

He frowned, golden eyebrows pulled together. Thick eyebrows, thick enough to avoid that pale-haired, eyebrow-free appearance. “You were a legal secretary.”

“Okay,” she told him. Now or never. “It’s my turn to talk. And you just listen. Though you’re not going to like it.” She sat silent for a moment, thinking of his hands on her body, savoring that memory. Then thinking of his honesty in love-making. He didn’t hide how she’d affected him, didn’t play stoic…he’d laughed and cried out and shared himself with her.

He wasn’t likely to hide how he felt about her words, either.

He didn’t help, not when he reached out to tuck her cast-covering sock back into place where it had slipped toward her thumb. She’d miss that thoughtfulness. She’d only had it a short while, but she’d drunk it up and found herself thirstier than expected. Still thirsty.
Always thirsty, at this rate.

Didn’t matter; it was what she was used to. She knew how to live that way, and this was something she had to do. No longer even a choice, somehow. She’d help this boy as best she could. She had her own demons to drive her.

She lifted her head to look him in the eye as she spoke. She’d see it that way, the exact moment he realized the import of what she said. “A year ago my sister and I were in a car accident. No—” She shook her head sharply as his mouth opened, and made no attempt to retain any of Ellen’s mannerisms. “No, you
think
you know this, but you don’t. We were in that car accident, and my sister died.”

“I do know—”

“My sister
Ellen.
”

Dave didn’t hear her. Not really. He only stared, frowning. And she stared back, waiting. Impatient. Blue-gray eyes watching him from beneath her eyebrows.

And that was when it fell into place. So preposterous it had never even occurred to him, and yet it explained every lingering question he’d had since his arrival here. It explained how quiet Ellen had slammed a man with a hand cultivator; it explained how she’d had the grit to get through the night on the mountainside.

It explained why he’d reacted to her when Ellen had never inspired more than a professional glance.

“Karin,” he said. It sounded like a question so he said it again, making it into a statement. “You’re Karin.”

She nodded, relieved and wary at the same time.

He managed another silent moment, before the questions and anger coalesced into the realization that this woman couldn’t help him at all. Not only couldn’t help him, had wasted precious days in which he might have been hunting Rashawn in other ways. Realization burst out, and it was loud.
“Why?”

“Here’s the way this goes,” she said. “I’ll explain, and then I’ll help you. Or you can shout at me again and you can leave right now without me. Me, I’m leaving tonight regardless. The hounds you put on my heels are real enough.”

“Just tell me why the
hell
you let me think—” He couldn’t help it, couldn’t keep the anger inside. Everything they’d been through…for nothing. Everything they’d done together…meaningless. And he was no closer to saving Rashawn than he’d ever been. Even the photo just told him what he’d already known.

Dark honey-brown hair spilled over her shoulder, trapped in the ponytail he’d helped her secure. He’d run his fingers through that hair…he’d loved it. But this new expression wasn’t one he’d seen before. Harder. Perfectly resolute. “That’s two,” she said. “You ready to listen yet, or should I go make my alternate arrangements?”

Dave put both hands over his face, ignoring the dirt from his recent farm chores. “I’m listening.”

“Ellen is—was—my older sister. She moved away years ago, because she couldn’t deal with the family business.” Her voice was resolute. Implacable. And for all the emotion she kept out of it, the deeper husky notes of that voice throbbed with the price of this conversation. “Rumsey raised us to follow in his footsteps. I was eight when I took my first real part in a con game.” She paused so he could take that in.

Took her part in a con game. Raised to be a scam artist. A thief. A player.

Thank God he had his hands over his face. No doubt she could still see his jaw clench.

“Ellen left as soon as she could. But by the time I was ready to go, I was in too deep. I had to run for it. Ellen intended to bring me back here so I could lay low and figure out how to move on. But when…” She faltered for the first time.

He dropped his hands, found her wiping some imaginary scuff off her jeans. She swallowed visibly, but then she was back. “After the crash, as she lay there dying, Ellen made me promise to take her name. I needed the time to sort my life out…it seemed like a good idea.” She snorted, but the tears in her voice never made it anywhere near her face. Tough woman. “Hell, it
was
a good idea. It worked perfectly until you came along.”

He shook his head and didn’t even realize he was doing it until she gave him a sharp look. He said, “Why the hell didn’t you just tell me I had the wrong woman?”

Her expression turned skeptical. “Did you listen to what I just said? I’m
hiding,
that’s why. And I dare you to count how many times I said I couldn’t help you. I’d have booted you right off the place if Longsford’s errand boys hadn’t come in and complicated the hell out of things.”

She brushed her knees off and stood. “As I recall, I even drugged you and ran off to keep myself safe, which is where I’d be right now if your sneaky bug hadn’t been attached to my back. Safe. Keeping my little world together.” She crossed her arms, awkward with the cast, and glared down at him. “Now my cover’s heading for blown, Longsford is still after me and you’re no better off than if you’d only
believed
me. Not to mention the whole thrown-over-the-cliff thing. That
really sucked.
”

Dave rested his forehead on the heels of both hands. The sense of betrayal went beyond reason, even when fair play reared its intrusive little head and reminded him that she was
right.
That everything she’d said was true. He’d intruded here; she’d told him she couldn’t help. Repeatedly. With emphasis and conviction.

If only you’d told me the truth…

Then what? He’d already put her up against a wall. He’d already drawn Longsford’s men her way, trapping her between running as Ellen or running as Karin.

And still…the lie twisted in his stomach.
And there’s your conflict of interest.
Stupid, to end up in bed—or on the floor—with a woman connected to one of his investigations.