Andrew Peterson - First to Kill

“Let’s… just use my room number.”

“Understood,” Holly said.

“You’ll label the envelope yourself?” Harvey asked.

“Scout’s honor,” she said.

Nathan mouthed sorry again.

Holly shook her head.

“Okay, good,” Harvey said. “Then things are okay. We’re all set then.”

“I’ve got you covered,” she said.

“That’s good, that’s real good. Okay. We’re all set. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll call you at oh-six-thirty. Good night, old friend,” Nathan said.

“Okay, that’s it then. Good night.”

“Sorry about that,” Nathan said, ending the call. “He’s a protective man.”

“I can tell. Does he have a family, a wife and kids?”

“Yes. Two sons. He’s been married for almost fifteen years, but he’s not worried about his family. If I know Harv, he’s already paging Gavin to arrange for two of our best guys to be here first thing in the morning. If I called back right now, the line would be busy.”

“He’s bringing in bodyguards?”

“He worries about me. To be honest, overly so, to the point of being annoying at times. Even though the Bridgestones have my name, there’s no information on me in any computer system they could access. Even if they had a high-level contact in the DOD, they still couldn’t access my file. I’m surprised you were able to get it. Speaking of, how did you get it?”

“I didn’t, Larry Gifford did. I didn’t ask how.”

“I’ll have to grill him about that. He must be a resourceful guy.”

“He is. If I had to speculate, he probably used your father’s influence.”

“Yeah, that would do it,” Nathan agreed. “Anyway, back to Harv. I rarely give him a hard time about being overprotective, and when I do, he shrugs it off. Remember when I told you my picture was in the encyclopedia under baggage ? His picture’s under cloak-and-dagger .”

“It’s his training, it’ll always be with him. You too.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Would he be as concerned if there wasn’t, you know… torture involved?”

“Probably not.”

Despite Holly’s protest, Nathan paid for their drinks. At her Explorer, Nathan asked if she still wanted him to drive. Because of the glass of wine, she said yes. Legally, she wasn’t drunk, but because of her position in the FBI, discretion was the better part of valor. He agreed and tucked her into the passenger’s seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Holly kept checking her side mirror, looking for anyone who might be following them. As they wound their way through the deserted streets of downtown Sacramento, Nathan did the same, using the rearview mirror. Two peas in a pod, he thought.

Holly’s home was in a planned residential neighborhood with neatly landscaped yards. As he approached her driveway, she leaned across him and hit the button on the garage-door remote attached to the Explorer’s visor. He held his breath as her left breast brushed across his arm. For a few seconds, their faces were inches apart. He pulled the SUV into her garage and killed the engine. This time, Holly waited while he climbed out and opened her door. She punched a six-digit number into the keypad by the door and the blinking red LED changed to solid green. Once inside, Holly rearmed the system and turned on some lights.

“Nice,” Nathan said. Her kitchen was spotless, cleaner than his, which was saying a lot. Either she didn’t spend a lot time in here, or she was obsessive about tidiness. He suspected it was a combination of both. The blue granite countertops were a perfect complement to the dark cherry cabinets. In the family room, mission-style furniture was arranged at right angles to a big-screen television. Several limited-edition prints of Wyland’s seascapes adorned the walls. He recognized one of them, a pod of orcas, because the original oil was in his La Jolla home. No need to mention that.

She set her purse down on the counter. “I don’t have any nonalcoholic beer, but I’ve got a pitcher of tea in the refrigerator. Glasses are in the cabinet above the dishwasher.” She disappeared down the hall on the right. “I’ll be right back.”

“I like your home.”

“Thank you. Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to check phone messages and email.”

Married to the job, he thought. He grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and poured himself and Holly some tea. He settled onto the couch in the living room and closed his eyes. Sleep would come easily right now. He thought about Holly and her brush against him in the car. Had it been an overture, an invitation? He supposed it could’ve been by mistake, but in his experience, women were acutely aware of that type of contact. It didn’t take much to send the wrong signal to men. He wasn’t presumptuous enough to believe she had given him a green light for anything more than a snooze on the couch, which was looking more and more likely the longer he sat here with his eyes closed.

What a draining twenty-four hours. He ran the events through his mind. The helicopter ride into Sacramento. The ride out to the farmhouse. Henning’s challenging and arrogant attitude. The Bridgestones’ cousins’ dog-and-pony show under interrogation. The buried cash. The long ride into the mountains with Holly. James Ortega’s charred body. The SWAT raid at the farmhouse. The second tunnel. The dead surveillance techs and cousins. And the Bridgestones’ knowledge of Nathan’s involvement. What else might they know? He closed his eyes and sighed. The four hours of sleep he’d gotten earlier seemed like decades ago.

“Nathan?”

He looked around. Holly’s living room. She stood a few feet away.

“How long?” he asked.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes, not too deep. I guess I didn’t realize how tired I was. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I checked on you ten minutes ago and saw you’d dozed off. I didn’t want to wake you. I have a spare bedroom if you want a bed.”

He waved a hand at the floor. “Do you care if I stretch out in here?”

“On the floor?”

He shrugged.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble setting you up in the spare bedroom.”

“I’m good right here, thanks.”

“At least let me put some blankets down, that wood is like concrete.” She returned half a minute later with an armful of blankets and a quilt.

Nathan picked up the coffee table and moved it aside. He didn’t want to drag it across the oak floor. Then he helped her spread the blankets out.

“Do you sleep on the floor very often?”

“I usually end up there by morning, so I may as well start there.”

“Bad dreams.”

He nodded. “It’s just something I’ve gotten used to over the years. It’s no big deal.”

“I know I keep saying this, but I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“I’m just a guy.”

“No, you aren’t just a guy. Trust me on that.”

“We had a hell of a day.”

She took a step forward and took his hand. “Yes, we did. It doesn’t have to end just yet.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

* * *

An hour later, after Nathan had fallen asleep, Holly gathered her strewn clothes. Her body still tingling, she padded down the hall, being careful not to make any noise. He looked at peace. She wondered if he was truly asleep. The screams of her surveillance techs still fresh in her mind, she couldn’t begin to imagine the horrors he’d endured at the hands of his sadistic captor in Nicaragua. When he’d removed his shirt, her mind couldn’t register it. She’d betrayed outright shock and it had nearly ruined the moment. The crisscrossing network of scars on his chest and back looked vicious and brutal. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d endured. And yet he had a positive outlook on the world. He still cared. Despite how he thought of himself, Nathan McBride was a truly remarkable man. He’d been so aware of her needs during their lovemaking. Granted, there hadn’t been many: She could count them on one hand. But hands down, he’d been the most unselfish lover she’d ever been with. She hoped there might be a future for them. But given their situations and their professions, and given the distance separating them, she doubted it could work long-term. One or the other would have to relocate, and possibly give up the life he or she had built for themselves. She toyed with the idea of transferring to San Diego, but she liked being a special agent in charge of a major field office and was sure the same opportunity wouldn’t be available in San Diego for some time. Such openings were extremely rare and she felt fortunate to have been promoted to Sacramento’s top position. At least we’ll always have something special between us , she thought, tucking herself into bed. Nathan was right, it had been one hell of a day.