LITMIR.BIZ

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hadn’t changed much in ten years, same muscular build, same hardened features. No gray showed yet in the jet-black hair. The other agents had nicknamed him “Street Fighter.” Two years in the military had made Wyatt Green disciplined and clean-cut, but something about him would always echo the tough streets of Las Vegas where he’d grown up.

      Christine searched her freezer for the cold compresses with no luck. “I think my daughter has been taking the compresses for her stuffed animals. Frozen corn will do in a pinch.” She tossed it to him.

      He caught the bag of corn and pressed it against his forearm. “Whatever works.”

      She studied him for a moment, the angles and planes of his face, his square jaw. Only the tightening of his mouth gave away that he was hurting. “I know a little first aid. Let me have a look at it.”

      “Be my guest.” He set the bag of frozen vegetables aside and held his arm out to her. Cupping his elbow, she palpated up his forearm. His skin was warm to the touch. She stood close enough to be engulfed in the soapy, clean scent. Her heartbeat quickened a little. She had always liked that smell.

      “Ouch.” He winced and drew back, massaging the spot where she had pressed hard. “Thanks a lot, Nurse Christine.”

      She smiled. “Don’t be such a baby. You definitely did something to it, but I don’t think it is broken. You probably just bruised or twisted it.” She handed him the bag of corn. “See if this helps at all.”

      Silence descended between them. Christine freshened her cup of tea from the kettle that simmered on the stove. “So why has the Bureau sent you back here in such a clandestine way?”

      Wyatt paced around the kitchen table as though he were trying to formulate how to answer her question. He stopped to examine a picture of Dustin and Christine standing in front of a row of tall sunflowers. She thought to tell him about the accident, but changed her mind. She felt the need to be guarded around him. The less personal they had to get, the better.

      Wyatt didn’t say anything, but he flexed his hand and his jawline hardened. When he turned around to face her, he smiled. She knew him too well. The smile was an attempt to hide the pain that seeing the picture had caused. Even though they’d had to work the Roosevelt assignment together, she’d broken up with Wyatt before she had met Dustin. All Wyatt’s hurt over the breakup had come out as anger, which only confirmed that he was not emotionally mature enough to make any kind of a commitment to her. It didn’t look as if he’d changed much in the past ten years. He still buried his feelings.

      She repeated her request. “You said you were here on agency business.”

      Wyatt cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Yes, we have reason to believe that a man has taken his son to a militia training camp somewhere in this area. Emmett Lansky violated the conditions of his custody agreement when he took the boy across state lines. He was only supposed to have the kid for the weekend.”

      Her breath caught in her throat. Handling the cases that involved children was always hard for her. “How old is the little boy?”

      “He’s five.”

      The same age as Eva. Christine set her cup of tea on the table as shock waves vibrated through her. She only hoped they made getting the child back their top priority. “Let me guess, though. The violation of the custody agreement allows you to gather some intel on this group and gives you some leverage for making Lansky talk. So far, you haven’t been able to catch them doing anything illegal, but you suspect they are up to something.”

      “That kid needs to be back with his mom,” Wyatt said. “That’s the focus of the assignment.”

      Christine pressed a little. “But you have probably been watching this guy, waiting for him to break some law, so you will at the very least have a reason to question him.”

      “We’ve had eyes on Lansky and the group he’s a leader of for a long time. They are antigovernment, and judging from some emails we intercepted, they may be planning on doing harm to some elected officials they don’t like. It could just be talk, but we’d like to prevent an escalation. The normal pattern is for them to start looking for ways to fund their plans, usually through some illegal activity. If we can prevent that, we will have done our job.” He made his way around the kitchen table. “Either way, the kid gets home safe to his mom, and we rein in Emmett, which might cause the other members to back off.”

      She crossed her arms and shook her head. “I just hope that little boy is okay.”

      His expression became serious. “I intend to do everything I can to get that kid back in his mother’s arms.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “It’s not a bad thing if we’re able to prevent an act of domestic terrorism in the process.”

      “I’m glad you take your job so seriously.” Wyatt’s strong need for justice had been one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place. It was an admirable quality, but not enough to base a life together on. “I can’t say that I miss it—the agency, I mean.”

      He stepped toward her. His eyes were full of fire. “Too bad. You had a nice start on being a great agent.” His voice had grown husky.

      She could read the smoldering undercurrent of attraction in his words. He wasn’t really talking about her skills as an agent. He was talking about them, about their relationship. As always, though, Wyatt could never directly say how he felt, and she had to try to decipher the code he spoke in. Some things never changed. “I still have a lot to do tonight. What do you need from me?”

      “You know the area. You know the people, and you are the sheriff. These guys must have built some ties to people around here. They may even have recruited members from the town. I need you to tell me of any people who have said things that sounded like they had a beef with the government. Anyone who has had long, unexplained absences that might indicate they’re at the camp. Has anyone been purchasing a lot of firearms? You know what to look for. If we could bring in a person who would give up the location of the camp, the assignment would be completed in two or three days.”

      Christine felt herself growing defensive. He was asking her to betray the people she loved and cared about without cause or true evidence. She wasn’t about to point the finger at anyone just because of an offhand remark. “With airplanes, helicopters and cutting-edge surveillance equipment at your disposal, you can’t find one little training camp. Maybe it doesn’t exist.”

      “You know better than I do that there are a thousand places a group of men could hide out here,” he asserted.

      Christine pressed the palms of her hands together in an attempt to hide the rising anger. “You don’t understand these people. There’s a big difference between men who support each other and practice target shooting and men who are plotting to overthrow the government. Just because someone owns a gun and complains about paying taxes doesn’t make them an outlaw.”

      An edginess entered Wyatt’s voice. “Look, we messed up bad ten years ago, I know that. We thought we would be a little more low-key this time. That’s why I came to you. I need your help.”

      “The mistake the agency made ten years ago wasn’t just that poor kid getting shot. We came in as outsiders. We treated these good people like they were either stupid country folk or extremists. I’m not an outsider anymore. I can tell you these are good people here, smart and hard-working. They don’t want extremists here any more than you do.”

      “I’m trying to protect the good people, too,” Wyatt insisted.

      She stepped toward him. “These are my people now. They’ve put their trust in me when they elected me sheriff. I’m not going to betray them because one of them might have complained about the government at a church potluck.”

      “I’m not saying they are bad people. I’m just saying sometimes there can be some rotten apples. And the bad guys look and act just like the good guys.”

      “And what if I point the finger at somebody, and it turns out I’m

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