Mistaken Identity Page 12

  Not a truck, he decided after it throttled down for a turn, and then revved up again. Not a car, either. His mouth settled into a tight smile.

  He knew that road-eating snarl. Only a Harley XL 883 Custom Sportster chewed up the road and spit it out like that, and Marsh knew exactly who was driving this particular Harley. Deactivating the sensors, he hooked his thumbs in his pockets and waited at the top of the path.

  The roar reached crescendo pitch. Gravel scattered. Silence descended. A moment later, his brother stalked up the path. Evan’s tawny hair was plastered against his skull from his helmet. Fire blazed in his eyes.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Good to see you, too,” Marsh drawled.

  “Listen to me, you hardheaded cowboy. It took me five calls to track you down and seven hours to get here. I’m in no mood for games. Do you have any idea how close you are to crossing the line?”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Do you?” The assistant D.A. slapped the dust from his jeans with an angry palm. “I couldn’t believe it when Pepper finally spilled the exact details of your crazy plan.”

  Marsh hitched a brow. “I see I’m going to have to talk to my partner when I get back to El Paso.”

  “If you get back to El Paso. She’s worried about you, dammit, and with good reason. It’s not every day a DEA agent kidnaps a potential witness in a federal racketeering case. You’re going to have the FBI screaming for your blood.”

  Marsh didn’t point out that the Bureau had been working that particular racketeering case for three years—and that their investigation had gone nowhere, even after Ellen’s brutal death. Evan was as frustrated as Marsh by the lack of progress on the case. He’d jerked every string in the Justice Department, just as Marsh had pressured every state and local agency involved in the investigation—until he’d decided to take the investigation on himself.

  “I didn’t kidnap her,” he replied with a shrug. “I simply convinced her it was in her best interests to accompany me.”

  “Yeah, right! By staging a break-in and scaring the hell out of her.”

  “I’m definitely going to have a talk with Pepper.”

  “She didn’t tell me about that bit of idiocy,” Evan snapped. “I figured it out for myself after I talked to Al Ramos. He told me that someone had busted the locks on Becky Smith’s front door right before she agreed to take off with you. I know you, Hoss. I know how you operate. You planned it all out, didn’t you? Step by step.”

  When Marsh didn’t reply, his brother’s eyes went flat and dangerous.

  “You’re going to tell me what else you’ve got up your sleeve, or I swear I’ll pound it out of you.”

  “The last time we exchanged punches, you were fourteen and I was twelve. Think you can still take me?”

  “I’ll sure as hell give it my best shot.”

  He might just manage it, too. Evan had kept himself in shape all through law school and the years he’d worked for the Department of Justice. He could still muscle a bawling calf into the chute with the best of them, still spend as many hours in the saddle during fall roundup as any of the Bar-H hands.

  “You’re not the only one in this, Marsh. We both lost a sister.”

  The rigidly controlled emotion in his voice struck a chord. Marsh shot a glance over his shoulder. Slanting sunlight cut a swath in front of the cabin, leaving the porch in shadow. They couldn’t talk there. Lauren might walk out in the middle of the conversation, and he wasn’t ready to explain Evan to her—or last night to Evan.

  Hell, he couldn’t explain last night to himself. He’d never intended to let things go that far. He’d brought her up here for one reason, and one reason only. He should never have allowed himself to become distracted by her taste, her touch.

  Blowing out a long breath, he hooked a thumb toward the side of the cabin. “Let’s go over by the woodpile. You can plant your butt on a log while I explain the plan.”

  After seven hours on the Harley, Evan needed to stretch his legs.

  “Just talk. I’ll listen.”

  Marsh plunged in as his brother paced in front of the stacked logs. “David Jannisek is our only link to the shooting. I knew we had to get him in order to get to the man who tried to kill him. All he needed was the proper incentive to come out of hiding.”

  “Becky Smith—or the woman he thinks is Becky Smith.”

  “Exactly. So Phase One was to find Ms. Smith.”

  “And convince her to cooperate by staging that phony break-in.”

  He nodded. “That was Phase Two.”

  His nagging guilt took a quantum leap forward with the admission. He’d convinced himself that the ends would justify the means, and that frightening one woman into cooperating was a small enough price to pay for finding another woman’s killer. Now…

  “Great plan so far,” Evan drawled. “A, you find the wrong woman. B, you put your shield at risk to convince her to cooperate. I can’t wait to hear Phase Three.”

  “Phase Three involved getting the word out that I had her.”

  “The word’s out. I heard about it from three different sources down in Tucson. I would have preferred to hear it from my brother,” he added, acidly, “but he was pulling his Lone Ranger act.”

  “I put my job on the line. I wasn’t going to put yours, too.”

  In short, succinct words Evan let him know what he thought about that bit of brotherly concern for his career. He’d picked up a few descriptive adjectives in his dealings with the scum he prosecuted that impressed even the most hardened special agent.

  “All right,” he growled, once he got that off his chest. “What’s Phase Four?”

  “That’s where it got complicated,” Marsh admitted. “I was going to use the time here at the cabin to extract every bit of information I could about Jannisek from Becky.”

  “Except instead of Becky, you snatched…what’s her name? Laurie? Lara?”

  “Lauren.”

  He said her name slowly, remembering his doubts over which sister he’d snared. In retrospect, Marsh couldn’t believe he’d mistaken Lauren for her sister, even for a moment. Every report on Becky had painted her as a flighty, flaky tease. Lauren was anything but flaky, and the furthest thing from a tease a man could imagine. She’d given herself completely last night. Held nothing back. Marsh’s gut knotted just thinking about those hours on the narrow bunk.

  “Lauren,” he repeated. “Her name’s Lauren.”

  In the shadows of the porch, Lauren’s jaw locked so tight pain shot up the side of her face.

  Taut nerves, what seemed like an endless wait, and the sound of deep voices had pulled her outside just moments ago. Just in time to learn that the new arrival was Marsh’s brother—and to hear him demand the details of this almighty plan! Anger and hurt piled on top of each other as she listened incredulously.

  Marsh had set her up! He’d planned every twist and turn in their convoluted game. She’d run out Becky’s back door straight into his arms like a mouse with only one way out of a maze. She’d let him scare her into standing in for her sister. And last night, when she’d cried in his arms and blamed herself for Becky’s disappearance, for not trusting him, he’d…he’d just stood there.

  Damn him!

  “It beats me how you got her to play along with you.”

  Lauren heard the brother through a haze of fury.

  “You tricked her into cooperating. You got her here. You can’t drag any information about Jannisek from her, but you somehow manage to convince her to stay and act as the bait you need to trap Jannisek. How did you pull that one off, Hoss? Turn on the famous Henderson charm?”

  The silence that followed made Lauren’s stomach curl in on itself. Oh, God! He’d planned even those bone-melting kisses? Those hours they’d spent in each other’s arms last night?

  Part of her refused to believe it. Marsh wasn’t capable of that kind of duplicity. Not when he’d held her so close. Not
when he’d loved her so wonderfully. But the other part of her, the part fueled by searing anger, called him every name she could think of. She came up with a few choice names for herself while she was at it. How could she have fallen for his line of bull? How could she have let herself be seduced by a pair of laughing blue eyes and a cocky grin?

  She didn’t wait to hear more. She’d played Marsh’s game in a misguided attempt to protect her sister. Despite her efforts, Becky had decided she didn’t want her protection and taken off for parts unknown. Marsh could damn well play it alone from here on out.

  Seething, Lauren stalked back inside. Her purse she retrieved from the bunk room, the car keys from the table where Marsh had dropped them. It took a severe effort of will not to slam the door behind her when she left.

  Her sneakers made no sound on the grass in front of the cabin. She crossed the small clearing, keeping out of sight of the two men still deep in conversation, and hit the path down the hill.

  Chapter 11

  Immersed in the unfolding plan, Evan watched his brother pace. It still worried him that Marsh had skated so close to the edge in his determined hunt for Ellen’s killers, but deep down he shared his frustration.

  God knew Evan had worked every angle he could. Ruthlessly, he’d used both his powers of persuasion and the authority of his office to pressure the FBI into putting more resources on the racketeering investigation. Like Marsh, he’d squeezed every source he knew dry. He’d even put a considerable dent in his personal savings to buy information offered by snitches, all of which had led to dead ends. He wanted the man behind the deadly cross fire that had killed Ellen with the same fierce determination his brothers did.

  But he wouldn’t seduce an innocent woman to get to the killer. Nor would Marsh.

  “You’re not going to try to convince me you sweet-talked this Lauren into bed as part of your plan, are you?”

  Jaw tight, fists shoved in his pockets, Marsh looked ready to take Evan up on his offer to revert back to their rough and tumble boyhood methods for settling disputes.

  “Of course not!”

  “But you did take her to bed?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  Evan let out a long, slow whistle. Marsh had stepped further over the line than he’d imagined.

  “Not smart, Hoss. Not smart at all. You’re the last person I’d expect to mix this kind of dangerous business with pleasure.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” He shoved a hand through his hair. He was as tight as Evan had ever seen him. “The roof could have caved in on me last night and I wouldn’t have noticed. And I promised to protect her. Her and her sister. Some protector!”

  The searing self-disgust in his voice told its own story. Evidently Marsh was up to his ears in more than a murder investigation. This Lauren Smith seemed to have rocked him right back on his heels.

  Good! Someone needed to shake him up. He’d turned too much into himself and his job since his break up with Jenna. A burning desire to meet the woman who could shake the unshakable Marsh gripped Evan.

  “Why don’t we take this discussion inside? I have a feeling that…”

  A distant thud spun both men around.

  “What was that?”

  Marsh frowned. “I don’t know.”

  A second or two later, the whine of an engine cranking over supplied the answer.

  “Someone’s departing the premises,” Evan observed dryly. “My guess is it’s your Lauren.”

  Marsh took off like a spurred mustang, disappearing around the side of the cabin in three strides. Evan followed. He had one foot on the porch steps when his brother barreled back out the door.

  “She’s gone.” He thrust out a hand. “Give me the keys to your bike.”

  Marsh caught the keys on the fly and shot down the path, trying to figure why the hell Lauren had bolted. A dozen possibilities raced through his mind as he swung a leg over the Harley’s seat, heeled the kickstand, and thumbed the ignition. Maybe the nerve-wracking wait had gotten to her. Maybe last night had shaken her as much as it had shaken him.

  Or maybe she’d been feeding him a line of bull all this time about wanting to draw the dogs off her sister’s scent. She could have decided to use the diversion of Evan’s appearance on the scene to make her escape.

  Marsh rejected that possibility instantly. Whatever Lauren’s reasons for taking off, she hadn’t faked her worry for her sister. Though what the bubble-headed Becky had done to earn that kind of devotion was completely beyond his comprehension at this point. All he knew was that he couldn’t let Lauren go without any explanations or any goodbyes.

  Or without bringing in Jannisek.

  His gut kicked, but the thought of letting Lauren get away dug deeper than the possibility Jannisek might slip through his net. Marsh had let one woman walk out of his life without a protest. True, he’d been in and out of a coma at the time. Yet for reasons he didn’t have time to examine at the moment, he was damned if he’d let this one walk out, too.

  Bending low over the handlebar, he aimed the Harley down the curving road. The Sportster took the road like the lean, mean, dirt-eating machine it was. Over the engine’s roar, he could hear the Blazer up ahead.

  Marsh throttled back, leaning into the turns. The pines lining the road blurred into a green haze. Air whipped at his hair and face. The speedometer needle leaped to forty on the flat stretches, dropped to twenty on the turns. He slowed for a hairpin turn and glanced down. Red brake lights flashed through a screen of pines.

  After a quick survey of the terrain ahead, he shot off the road, and aimed the Harley down a slope. It was a bumpy ride, but Marsh broke out of the trees and skidded to a stop in the middle of the road just as the Blazer came out of a turn fifty or so yards away.

  Swinging off the Sportster, Marsh kicked down the stand, folded his arms and waited. There wasn’t room to go around him. She’d have to stop or run right over him.

  For a second or two, the issue appeared to be in doubt. He saw her slashing frown. Saw, too, the way she hunched over the wheel. Then the Blazer’s brakes squealed. It pitched to a stop a scant ten feet away. His jaw tight, Marsh covered the short distance and wrenched open the driver’s door.

  “You want to tell me why you took off like that?”

  “You want to know? You really want to know? All right. I’ll tell you.”

  She came out swinging. Her leather shoulder bag hit Marsh square in the chest with just enough force to send him stumbling back a pace or two.

  “For starters, there’s Phase One.”

  “You heard that?”

  “I…” She swung again. “…heard.”

  Whap!

  “Lauren, let me explain.”

  “Then, there’s Phase Two.”

  Whap!

  Marsh took the blow on his upraised arm. “Listen to me…”

  “You planned everything, you bastard! Every touch. Every kiss. Even…” Whap! “…last night!”

  He protected his head and shoulders, hoping she’d run out of steam before she beat him to a pulp with her purse. What the hell did she have in the thing, anyway?

  “And I fell for it!” she raged, winding up for another attack. “Fool, that I am, I fell for it. You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson by now.”

  That spurred him to action. He ducked, snagged her wrist as it swung past, and came up in a move that twisted her swinging arm back behind her and brought her up hard against him.

  “Let’s get one thing straight, right here and right now. Last night wasn’t part of any plan. It was a mistake. A stupid, dangerous mistake.”

  “Oh, that makes me feel so much better!”

  He was digging the hole deeper with every word and had no idea how to get out.

  “Lauren, if you’ll just calm down and listen to me….”

  “I’m through listening to you. You’re a worse liar than my ex-husband, and that takes some doing. Let me go.”

  “No.”r />
  The flat refusal brought her head back. Eyes narrowed, she hissed a warning. “Marsh…”

  He tightened his grip. “I lost myself in you last night. Lost sense of everything but you. That’s not smart for an agent working a situation.”

  His mangled explanation didn’t appease her. If anything, it incensed her even more.

  “I’ve got news for you, Mr. Hot-Shot Special Agent. It wasn’t exactly the smart thing for anyone to do. I can’t believe I lost all control like that!”

  She looked so completely disgusted, so flushed and furious and un-Lauren-like that he wanted to bend her back over his arm and kiss her until they both went blind or crazy or both.

  “When this is over,” he promised, “I’m going to do my best to make you lose control as often as I can manage it.”

  “When this is over, I’m never going to see you again!”

  “We’ll negotiate ‘never’ when we come to it. In the meantime, I’m asking you to believe me. I didn’t make love to you with deliberation and malice aforethought.”

  “Ha! You never considered it? You never once thought about the possibility or calculated its impact on your precious plan?”

  He couldn’t lie to her. Not again. “All right, maybe the idea occurred to me.”

  Her hiss raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

  “Making love to you didn’t figure into the plan, Lauren, I swear. But from the moment you crashed into me in Becky’s backyard, I couldn’t get your feel or your scent out of my head. You got in the way of every thought. Every breath I took. The truth is I couldn’t stop myself last night. I wanted you so badly I hurt with it. I want you now.”

  He waited for her protest, bracing for an elbow to the ribs or a knee to the groin. She didn’t attempt either. Instead, she leaned back on his arm and studied his face through eyes narrowed to slits.

  “I won’t deny that I wanted what happened last night,” she said finally. “But it won’t happen again. Not until we sort this mess out. Maybe not ever again. I don’t trust you.”

  A knee to the groin would have been easier to take. Too late, Marsh realized the shield he’d built around himself had cracked wide open, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.