crept up her back. All that space and no escape.
Jack ended the slide show and the room filled with silence. Finn turned the lights on and tossed a folder in her lap.
"There's a detailed map of the ranch. Memorize it. Also prints of some of the pictures you saw. Study them."
She gave him a sloppy salute. "Yes, sir," she said dryly.
They left the motel while Jack was still shutting down the computer. Finn drove her back to the house and unloaded her parcels from the trunk.
"Pack your bags." He dumped the packages from Bradfords in the driveway. "We leave tomorrow."
"What?" She stared at him, floored by the pace of events. "I barely said 'I do.' Don't I even get to catch my breath?"
He gave her a grim smile. "We're running out of time. Breathing's not an option."
She ground her jaw down, knowing he was waiting for her to complain. "Where are we going?"
"Montana."
Montana. Borian country. She saw the expectation in Finn's face, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of quitting.
Instead, she smiled at him through half-lowered lids. "Terrific. I have a little cowgirl outfit I've been dying to try out." She picked up the bags and unlocked the door, stepped into the house and kicked thedoor shut with her heel. Behind her she heard the sound of his car speeding down the drive. She was glad to be rid of him, glad to get rid of the suffocating, can't breathe feeling being elose to him created.
As Finn drove away, his gut churned. Despite her constant lip, Angelina had surprised him, and he didn't like surprises. She'd been upset by the seedy motel room, but had quietly suppressed those feelings. She'd watched the slides attentively, asked good questions, and made no complaints. He couldn't have asked more of a trained operative.
He let himself into his motet room, part of him wishing Angelina would have lived up to his expectations. He was already dangerously attracted to her. He didn't want to like her, too. That was a lethal combination. Although he'd loved his wife with a feeling bordering on obsession, he'd never liked her very much. She'd been weak and manipulative, and somewhere deep inside he'd known that. The knowledge had kept him from going crazy himself, especially after she'd betrayed him.
For a moment he was back in the warehouse, staring into the leering eyes of Pedro Morales. We know who you are, Mr. Federal Agent. Thanks to your wife, we know everything about you.
Inside his head the gun went off, the sound exploding in his mind the way the bullet had exploded in his body.
He shook off the memory, but couldn't shake the cold sweat as easily. Tossing his briefcase on the bed, he loosened his tie, undid his top shirt button, and turned up the AC, hoping the deep freeze would kill off the part of his brain where the memories lived. He was tired and hungry and his hip ached where the bullet had plowed into it. He just wanted to get some food into him before hitting the sack. Tomorrow would be another long day.
He found a steak place not too far from the motel and ate a fast dinner. When he returned to the room, the message light on his phone blinked red in the darkness. He looked longingly at the bed, but punched in the number to retrieve the message. It was from the front desk: Uncle Jack had left a package.
* * *
The minute Finn had gone, Angelina took a deep breath and opened the file he'd handed her. Standing in the entryway, she scanned the meager contents-a few snapshots and a sheet of paper with a brief biography of Carol Simmons Borian from Percy, Alabama.
On impulse, Angelina hurried into Beamer's study and took down the huge U.S. atlas and flipped the pages to Alabama. She couldn't even find Percy on the map.
Small towns. That was one thing she had in common with her mother. Had she hated hers the way Angelina had hated Ruby? Or was Carol one of those cutesy women who loved sweaters with pictures of cats on them and knowing what her neighbors were up to every second? Angelina picked up one
Jack ended the slide show and the room filled with silence. Finn turned the lights on and tossed a folder in her lap.
"There's a detailed map of the ranch. Memorize it. Also prints of some of the pictures you saw. Study them."
She gave him a sloppy salute. "Yes, sir," she said dryly.
They left the motel while Jack was still shutting down the computer. Finn drove her back to the house and unloaded her parcels from the trunk.
"Pack your bags." He dumped the packages from Bradfords in the driveway. "We leave tomorrow."
"What?" She stared at him, floored by the pace of events. "I barely said 'I do.' Don't I even get to catch my breath?"
He gave her a grim smile. "We're running out of time. Breathing's not an option."
She ground her jaw down, knowing he was waiting for her to complain. "Where are we going?"
"Montana."
Montana. Borian country. She saw the expectation in Finn's face, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of quitting.
Instead, she smiled at him through half-lowered lids. "Terrific. I have a little cowgirl outfit I've been dying to try out." She picked up the bags and unlocked the door, stepped into the house and kicked thedoor shut with her heel. Behind her she heard the sound of his car speeding down the drive. She was glad to be rid of him, glad to get rid of the suffocating, can't breathe feeling being elose to him created.
As Finn drove away, his gut churned. Despite her constant lip, Angelina had surprised him, and he didn't like surprises. She'd been upset by the seedy motel room, but had quietly suppressed those feelings. She'd watched the slides attentively, asked good questions, and made no complaints. He couldn't have asked more of a trained operative.
He let himself into his motet room, part of him wishing Angelina would have lived up to his expectations. He was already dangerously attracted to her. He didn't want to like her, too. That was a lethal combination. Although he'd loved his wife with a feeling bordering on obsession, he'd never liked her very much. She'd been weak and manipulative, and somewhere deep inside he'd known that. The knowledge had kept him from going crazy himself, especially after she'd betrayed him.
For a moment he was back in the warehouse, staring into the leering eyes of Pedro Morales. We know who you are, Mr. Federal Agent. Thanks to your wife, we know everything about you.
Inside his head the gun went off, the sound exploding in his mind the way the bullet had exploded in his body.
He shook off the memory, but couldn't shake the cold sweat as easily. Tossing his briefcase on the bed, he loosened his tie, undid his top shirt button, and turned up the AC, hoping the deep freeze would kill off the part of his brain where the memories lived. He was tired and hungry and his hip ached where the bullet had plowed into it. He just wanted to get some food into him before hitting the sack. Tomorrow would be another long day.
He found a steak place not too far from the motel and ate a fast dinner. When he returned to the room, the message light on his phone blinked red in the darkness. He looked longingly at the bed, but punched in the number to retrieve the message. It was from the front desk: Uncle Jack had left a package.
* * *
The minute Finn had gone, Angelina took a deep breath and opened the file he'd handed her. Standing in the entryway, she scanned the meager contents-a few snapshots and a sheet of paper with a brief biography of Carol Simmons Borian from Percy, Alabama.
On impulse, Angelina hurried into Beamer's study and took down the huge U.S. atlas and flipped the pages to Alabama. She couldn't even find Percy on the map.
Small towns. That was one thing she had in common with her mother. Had she hated hers the way Angelina had hated Ruby? Or was Carol one of those cutesy women who loved sweaters with pictures of cats on them and knowing what her neighbors were up to every second? Angelina picked up one
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