The Survivor (9 page)

Though she'd barely met him, she knew instinctively that he was an admirable man, that he was good and decent. He was the kind of person who adopted a stray, who smiled indulgently when she danced with an old widower who needed cheering up. A man who would see this job through to the end because he'd said he would. He was smart and funny, unbelievably sexy and gorgeous, and she loved the way she felt when she was with him. As though he held some secret part of her and she was only complete when she was near him.

And if that wasn't dangerous, then she didn't know what was.

Because she didn't want that, ultimately. She didn't want to allow her happiness to get so tangled up in someone that she'd rather die than live if something happened to them.

Like her mother.

Her mother had been so devastated after Bess's father had died that she hadn't wanted to live at all. Bess remembered very little from that time, but she
did recall foraging for food in the kitchen while her mother slept. Getting herself ready for school, packing her own lunches, such as they were. Had her clothes been clean? Probably not. But she'd known enough to get herself dressed and outside to catch the bus.

She didn't remember a single tender gesture from her mother after her father died. She'd retreated into the world of her own misery, and other than the scribbled apology at the bottom of her suicide note, she hadn't thought about her daughter.

If that was love, then Bess didn't want any part of it.

Her grandfather had told her later that her mother had always been “fragile.” Bess wasn't exactly sure what that was supposed to mean or why it would have made her feel better, but in a strange sort of way, it had. He'd also said she was more like her father and she'd taken comfort in that. In knowing that she was more like the stronger parent.

“All right,” Lex said. “There are eight pictures here with names and addresses. If you'll give me Mrs. Handley's email address, I'll forward them to her.”

Bess walked over and peered at the faces on the computer screen, trying to discern from their looks which one, if any, was the culprit. There were a couple of really seedy-looking characters, but then
she felt bad for thinking that. She didn't know their circumstances or what sort of hand life had dealt them. Who was she to judge based on a photo from the DMV?

She rattled off the address and he sent the file. “She probably won't look at it tonight,” Bess told him. “And it's really too late to call.”

“Maybe call her in the morning then and let her know the message is there?”

She nodded. That sounded good.

“We'll see what she says before we head out in the morning. If she can ID him, then we can call Payne and find out everything we need to know.” He paused and a frown wrinkled his smooth brow.

“Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. “Nothing I can put my finger on, but something about this doesn't feel right.”

“What do you mean?”

He grinned at her and shook his head. “That's just it. I don't know. I feel like I'm missing something.”

She laughed and quirked a brow. “Developing the sight, are you?”

“Nah,” he said. “I'll leave that to Elsie.” He paused again and for the first time he seemed a bit nervous.

And then it dawned on her—he wasn't used to sharing a bed with anyone, either, and was every bit as nervous about it as she was. For whatever reason,
this heartened her more than she would have believed.

“Wanna see if anything good is on television?” she asked.

He nodded. “I don't suppose you like ESPN?”

“No.”

“Damn. You just lost your shot at earning The Perfect Woman title,” he teased.

Bess plopped on what she decided would be her side of the bed and aimed the remote at the TV. “I don't suppose you like Britcoms?”

“About as much as having my balls snatched off with red-hot pinchers,” he said, startling a laugh out of her.

She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Well, hell. You just lost your shot at earning The Most Forward-Thinking Man award.”

Lex slid into bed next to her and hauled her closer to him. She snuggled in and relaxed against him, contented in a way she hadn't expected.

“Perfect women are boring,” he said on a sigh, giving her a squeeze.

She smiled. “Forward-thinking men are over-rated.”

His chest vibrated beneath her cheek as he chuckled, then the bed shifted and he laughed harder.

She lifted her head to see Honey sprawled on his far side and felt her lips twitch. She should have
known that Honey wasn't going to stay on the floor, that she'd want to be by Lex. “Is she jealous or is this a regular occurrence?”

“A regular occurrence. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. If Severus were here he'd be curled around my head right now…with his ass in your face.”

“Nice,” he said, laughing softly. “I can tell you I'd definitely have a problem with that.”

“Cats are clean,” she said, stifling a yawn. “In fact, he cleans his ass all the time. I see him do it.”

He laughed again, the sound warm and familiar. “Be that as it may…”

She found a sitcom they both agreed on, then she settled more firmly against him, strangely content. And when she awoke the next morning, his chest was bellied up to her back, his arm around her waist, her breast in his hand.

He was definitely a spooner…and she rather liked it.

T
HOUGH HE FELT LIKE THEY
should be on the road—should be moving, at the very least—Lex realized there was no point to pressing forward until they knew what direction to head. Bess had called several of her clients last night and, as of this morning, none of them had heard from John Smith. They'd each been asked to call if he did show up, so until the phone rang there was really nothing they could do.

And it was driving him crazy.

Rather than sit inside the hotel room where Bess and the bed seemed to loom large, he clipped Honey's leash onto her collar and told Bess he wanted to walk her for a bit before they got back into the car. That was true, of course, but he also needed to take a minute to get a little perspective, because at some point over the past twenty-four hours, he'd lost it.

Big-time.

This morning he'd awoken with her hair in his face, her sweet rump against his groin and a luscious handful of breast beneath his palm. That had been a first. He'd never physically spent the entire night in bed with a woman. He'd either left hers for his own or sent her on her way. In all honesty, despite the fact that he'd had the most wonderful, mind-blowing, phenomenal sex in his life, something about sleeping with Bess had felt more…significant.

He wasn't altogether certain what was happening to him, but he grimly suspected he was getting increasingly more invested in her than was wise. His head was still a mess from the near-death experience—though the nightmares were fewer and far between, he still occasionally had them—and he'd just started a new job. He didn't have the time to give to a new relationship, even one as sexually satisfying as his and Bess's. He felt like a bastard for even thinking like that. It wasn't like he'd bedded her and wanted to bail.

Just the opposite, really.

He suspected that he'd want to spend more and more time with her, to explore the relationship, and that was a luxury he couldn't afford right now. In addition, though he knew he was going to love working for Ranger Security and anticipated becoming good friends with the men there, he still wanted to
do something more. To find that purpose he'd been searching for his whole life.

Being in the military had fulfilled the need somewhat, but not to the extent he knew it should. Did he doubt that his service benefited the greater good? No. And he was proud of his contribution. But he wanted something more. He wanted to do something on a more personal level. He exhaled mightily and watched Honey eye a squirrel with entirely too much interest for his comfort. Lex smiled at his dog. He hadn't been kidding when he told Bess that he thought everybody needed a pet. Honey had certainly been good for his overall mental health. Too bad some of the other wounded soldiers hadn't had the same benefit, he thought, going still at the idea. His heart rate kicked up and his skin prickled, alerting him to the fact that he was on to something special, something that certainly bore thinking about.

But not at this moment. Right now he had to think about Bess and what the hell he was going to do with her.

Or without her, as it were.

And, really, if all of the reasons he'd listed to avoid a relationship with Bess sounded thin and superficial, it was probably because they were. But he had a hard enough time admitting the truth to himself, much less her, so he was going to stick with the superficial excuses for as long as he could.

How could he tell her that he'd been secretly glad to come home? That he'd been terrified of getting shot again? Of dying before he'd truly lived? That he was afraid that when the time came, his fear might keep him from reacting as a man should? How did he know that he wouldn't be a coward?

That was ultimately the problem, Lex realized suddenly.

It wasn't so much that he was afraid to die—it was that he might not be able to act in time to save someone else. How could he confess those things to her when he could barely admit them to himself?

As for what Bess was thinking, who knew? He'd caught her staring at him a couple of times with the most puzzled expression on her face, as though he were a new species or an antique she'd never come across before. In that regard, he imagined that she was every bit as skittish about their newfound attraction as he was. Though she'd been incredibly responsive and open in bed, he'd still gotten the impression that she hadn't had very many partners and, given the fact that she was the most interesting and beautiful creature he'd ever seen, he figured that had to be by choice. So…why? Why hadn't anyone snapped her up? Why was she still single? Her choice?

For reasons that escaped him, he thought yes.

Which naturally begged the question again—why? Why would she
choose
to be alone? Why hadn't she
snagged a husband and produced a pair of beautiful children?

Even though he knew it wasn't wise, these were questions he was going to have to find the answers to. He wasn't going to be able to help himself. Much like a crossword, she was a puzzle he desperately had to figure out. He wanted to pick her brain apart and find out what made her tick. Without a quid pro quo, of course.

As for this case, there was absolutely no reason at all why he should be pulling a weird vibe, but he was feeling it all the same. Though he'd been over everything backward and forward and was certain he wasn't missing anything, he couldn't shake the sensation that there was another element waiting to pop out and bite him in the ass. The feeling had him looking over his shoulder and second-guessing his decisions, made him antsy as hell. He was a doer, not a waiter, which Bess had noticed this morning and had teased him about. With that droll quirk of her lips that habitually set his groin on fire, she'd offered to go find him a dragon to slay.

He grinned, unable to help himself. Hell, he'd probably smiled more over the past twenty-four hours than he had in the past six months. And he'd certainly felt more alive, no doubt from the extra blood flow through his body.

Bess came around the side of the building and
waved, then pointed to her cell phone. “We got a call,” she said in carrying tones.

Every muscle went tight and he gave a quick tug on the leash to make Honey turn around. “Come on, girl,” he said, anticipation making his fingers twitch with excitement. A break, at last.

“Mrs. Handley looked through the pictures this morning and ID'd our guy,” she said. “His name is Harold Yeager and he's got a Bluffton address.”

He frowned. Bluffton sounded familiar. And if he remembered correctly it wasn't very far from Albany.

“It's about an hour west of Albany,” she said.

Lex nodded grimly. “So he went home last night. He's been slowly making the trek back down south and then west.”

“I think he must have missed Chester's address,” she said. “Otherwise he would have gone there before heading toward Valdosta.”

He silently agreed. “I know we need to get on the road, but I want to take a few minutes to do some research on Mr. Yeager,” Lex told her.

She nodded. “Of course.”

They had just gotten back into the room when her cell phone rang again. Lex pulled his laptop out of the bag and listened as Bess took the call.

“Mr. Johnson? He was? How long ago did he leave?” She smiled, seemingly satisfied. “Thanks so much for letting me know and, again, I'm so sorry
about this. Yes, sir,” she said. “I'm sure Princess did you proud.” She laughed at something the older man was telling her. “You give her an extra treat from me,” she said. “Thanks again.” She disconnected and looked over at him.

“He was just in Pansey,” Bess told him. She hurried over and looked at the map. “Which means that he'll probably go to Ashford next and then on to Dothan.”

A few keystrokes later he'd pulled an entire history on Harold Yeager. He smiled and beckoned her over. “He
is
a mechanic,” he said, glad that his hunch was right. “He lives in the apartment above his shop. He's forty-three. Recently filed bankruptcy, not married, no dependents. Sells spare parts and yard-sale finds on eBay.”

She nodded, impressed, and sent him an admiring glance. “How did you find all this?”

“You'd be amazed at what you can find out about someone on the internet.” He studied the map for a moment. “I think we need to skip ahead directly to Dothan and nab him there.”

She was still looking at the computer and gave her head a shake. “This is incredible.”

He grinned at her and shrugged. “This is nothing. Give me a few more minutes and I could know his credit score, his cholesterol levels and whether or not he's got any overdue books from the library.” He
popped the lid closed on the laptop and then jerked his head toward the door. “Come on,” he said. “We need to get moving. We'll grab breakfast on the road, if that works for you.”

She nodded her consent and less than five minutes later they were on their way to Dothan. He still felt something was off, but was glad to be pushing forward. If time hadn't been such an issue, he would have liked to poke around in Yeager's past a little more, see what would motivate the man to try to bully the book out of someone. Something besides the bankruptcy. He'd alert Payne to their new plan and, with any luck, they'd be back in Marietta by nightfall.

His gaze slid to Bess and his heart gave a little lurch at the thought of leaving her, but he beat the sensation back and told himself it was for the best.

And if he kept saying it, maybe he'd actually believe it.

 

B
ESS LISTENED AS
L
EX
called Brian and filled him in. The excitement in his voice was practically palpable and his energy literally filled up the car. She didn't know if he was genuinely that thrilled to have a break in the case or if he was just happy to have something else to focus on besides the sudden awkwardness that had sprung up. She wasn't sure what had brought it about since things between them had
been so unbelievably effortless and natural—frighteningly so, actually—but couldn't fault him for it when she felt it herself.

It didn't make sense. They'd shared their thoughts, shared their bodies and shared a bed, and yet now…

She wished she understood what had brought the wall up—she'd had no conscious thought of erecting one herself, but knew she had—and didn't know exactly how to take it down. She wanted things to go back to the way they were, when she and Lex had simply been having fun and were hot for one another. The heat was still there—she could feel it burning—but something was getting in the way of the fun.

She couldn't speak for him, of course, but knew where her own anxiety was coming from. She didn't want to think about where this was going, didn't really want it to go any further than where it was right now. If she were completely honest with herself, she'd never felt this sort of breathless anticipation over a relationship before, had never looked at a guy and thought,
I can see myself with him.

She did look at Lex and think that, and
that's
what was bugging her. The unmistakable knowledge that he was different, that she could inadvertently let him have a piece of her that she didn't want to part with. That she'd just wake up one morning, spooned again, and he'd own her heart.

And, much as she knew that was the fairy-tale
ending, she didn't want it. She couldn't take such a risk. She couldn't let herself become so dependent on him for her happiness that she'd be devastated when he left her, or God forbid, something happened to him. It wasn't worth it to her. Sad? Maybe. But she couldn't help it.

She had her shop and her things and her cat, and really, getting the cat had been difficult for her. She inwardly smiled. But she hadn't so much as
gotten
Severus as he'd gotten her. She'd pulled into a little place in Mississippi, loaded up her van with the things she'd purchased and headed toward the next town. She'd made it onto the interstate before the cat had climbed into the passenger seat, cool as you please, as though he'd been riding shotgun with her for years. The best she could figure, he'd Houdini'ed himself right into her car while the doors were open. Impressed with his ingenuity, she'd been unable to try to find a home for him and instead had made one for him herself.

“We're what?” Lex asked. “About two and half hours from Dothan?”

“That sounds about right,” Bess told him.

He pulled into a fast-food restaurant and they ordered a quick breakfast, then got immediately back on the road. “I know we're rushing here,” he said. “But I think the timing is going to be crucial.”

She agreed. “Did you find out what sort of car he
drives?” she asked, savoring a bite of her sausage biscuit. The coffee wasn't the best—it could strip paint it was so strong—but the sandwich certainly hit the spot. Bess wasn't one of those women who ever “forgot” to eat. If she was late getting a meal, her stomach quickly announced its displeasure.

“Yeah. A black Trans Am. An '80s model with the big golden firebird on the hood.”

Her eyes widened significantly. “That should be easy to spot.”

He grinned at her, some of the tension easing between them and lessening the strangeness she'd felt inside the car. “Hardly conspicuous, right?”

“What was your first car?” she asked, shooting him a speculative look. “No, wait. Let me guess. A Gremlin.”

He choked on a laugh and his eyes widened. “I have not ever driven a Gremlin,” he said. “Though I can guarantee you I would have caught action in it if I had.”

It was her turn to laugh. “I'm sure you would have caught action if you'd driven a tricycle. You just look like that kind of guy.”

She watched him smile again and that grin lightened her heart more than it should have. More than was good for her.
Oh, hell.
“What kind of guy?”