Lawman Protection

He turned toward her, his big body filling the doorway, effectively blocking her in the kitchen. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go there alone,” he said. “Whoever attacked before could be waiting for you.”

“He already took my notes and warned me off. He’s not going to waste any more time with me.” But she sounded more confident than she felt.

“Let me send someone with you. One of my men—”

“No! I do not need a babysitter.” She told herself he was merely concerned, not being deliberately overbearing, and she softened her voice, trying to appear less angry at his suggestion. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine,” she said. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

“I don’t like it.”

“This isn’t about what you like and don’t like. I’m not your responsibility.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue this point, too, but thought better of it. “Call me when you get to your place,” he said. “Let me know you’re okay.” He hesitated, then added, “Please.”

She wondered how much effort it took for him to add that last word. “I’ll call you,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He stepped aside to let her pass and she retrieved her bag from the guest room. He helped her load it and the cat supplies into her Jeep. “Thanks for taking me in last night,” she said. “I think I would have been a lot more upset if I’d been alone when I got that call.” Though she resisted his overprotectiveness, she had to admit his strong, calm presence last night had made her feel safe. She hadn’t worried about anyone getting past him to get to her.

“I hope I’ll see you again under better circumstances.” He put a hand on her arm, his gaze focused on her mouth, as if debating the wisdom of another kiss.

She made the decision for him, leaning in to kiss him. The contact was brief, but intense, heat and awareness spreading through her. His grip tightened on her arm, but he didn’t resist when she pulled away. “I’d better go,” she said.

“Call me,” he reminded.

“I will.” And in the meantime, she’d try to figure out exactly what she felt for Captain Graham Ellison, and what she wanted to do about those feelings.

* * *

“SO THIS CRATE definitely contained a Hellfire missile?” Graham studied the debris they’d collected from the crash site, each piece tagged and cataloged, lined up on folding tables or set against the wall in a room in the trailer that had formerly been used to store supplies. The charred bits of wood and twisted scraps of metal told a story, though it was up to the task force to put that story together in the right order.

“According to the investigator the army sent over from Fort Carson, it did.” Marco consulted a notepad. “They even know the serial number, a partial of which was stenciled on the box. If we find the missile, the numbers on the tail fin should match.”

“Where did the missile come from?” Michael Dance, a tall, dark-haired lieutenant with the Border Patrol, asked. The newest member of the task force, he was also recently engaged to the woman who’d been instrumental in helping them find and target Raul Meredes. Abby was finishing up her masters in botany from the University of Colorado.

“Originally, from a shipment of Hellfires destined for Afghanistan,” Marco said. “But a number of them disappeared along the way, probably to the black market in the Middle East and Africa.”

“So, how did it end up here?” Carmen Redhorse, the sole female member of the task force, with the Colorado Bureau of Investigations, asked.

“Anyone with enough money can buy anything,” Lance said.

“How much do you think one of these would sell for?” Michael nodded toward the busted crate.

Marco shrugged. “Half a mil? Maybe not that much, if you knew the right people.”

Lance leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “So who do we know around here with that kind of smack?” he asked.

“Being able to afford a missile doesn’t mean Richard Prentice bought one,” Carmen said.

“But the fact that the missile was on a plane flown by a man who was known to work for Prentice gives us reason to question him,” Graham said. He turned to Lance. “What did you find out about Bobby Pace?”

Lance uncrossed his arms and stood up straight. “He keeps his plane in a hangar at Montrose Regional Airport. The Fixed Base Operations manager saw him there three days ago, checking out his plane, but Bobby said he didn’t have a flight scheduled. I asked if he seemed nervous or anything, but the man I talked to—” he checked his notebook “—Eddie Silvada, said Bobby always seemed nervous lately. Jumpy. Silvada thought it was just because he’d been having financial problems. His kid has cancer and even with insurance, the treatments are expensive.”

Graham nodded. This fit with what Emma had told him.

“Does he have other family in the area?” Carmen asked. “A wife?”

“Ex-wife,” Lance said. “Susan Pace. They’ve been divorced a year and she says they don’t talk much—just about the kid. She doesn’t know what he was up to.”