Except his skin was warm and he moaned again. He was no dream but a flesh-and-blood man.
She slid two fingers down the warm leather of his jackets collar to feel the steady pound of his pulse. He was breathing. His heartbeat was strong.
Hold on, mister.
His eyelashes fluttered again.
Help is coming. I promise.
Who was speaking? Brody wondered as he struggled against the dark. He flashed back to scuba school, when hed been underwater without air, training for every disaster, fighting off fake enemies and holding his breath. The moment hed been free, his lungs had been close to bursting as he surged up, up, up toward the glowing light. Once again fighting with all his might, he broke through the light and opened his eyes.
Why, welcome back.
Her voice was light music, and his vision was nothing but brightness and a round blur of a shadow directly overhead. The bright light speared pain through his skull. Dimly he registered the pain but his body felt so far away.
Who was talking to him? It was that silhouette before his eyes. Wait, it was no silhouette but an angel kneeling over him, golden-haired and radiating light. A light so pure and perfect, hed never seen the like.
Where was he? A fraction of a memory flashed into his mind. The rumbling vibration of the bikes engine, the kiss of the summer wind on his face, the rush of the asphalt beneath him as he shifted and the deer and fawn leaping onto the road in front of him.
He was dead. Thats what happened. The crash had killed him and he was looking at heaven. At an angel who watched over him with all of the good Lords grace.
Boy, his captain was sure going to be disappointed, and Brody was sad about that, but hed never seen such beauty. It filled his soul, made insignificant the pain beginning to arch through his body
Wait. He was in pain? That didnt seem right. And he was lying on something hardthe road. And where was St. Peter? No pearly gates, no judgment day.
Pain slammed against him like a sledgehammer drilling into his chest. He wheezed in a breath, alive, on earth and gazing up into the face of the most beautiful woman hed ever seen.
Lie still. Her voice was like the sweetest of hymns. Her touch was like a healing balm as she eased him back onto the ground.
He hadnt realized hed even lifted his head, but he was breathless as he rested against the road. His senses cleared, and he could feel the breeze shivering over him, the heat radiating off the pavement. See the blue of the flawless sky and the peaches-and-cream complexion of the concerned woman gazing intently down at him.
The paramedics are coming. Relief shone in her deep blue eyes. You just lie still and have faith. Youre going to be fine.
She said those words with such force that he believed her. Even with the pain rocketing through his head and jabbing through his ribs and zipping all the way down his right leg. He knew he was going to be fine.
The siren shrilled louder, closer, magnifying the pain in his throbbing head. He gritted his teeth, refusing to give in to the inviting darkness of unconsciousness. He could hold on. He would.
She laid her hand against his unshaven jaw, and it was as if light filled him from head to toe.
Who was she? Why did she affect him this way? Maybe it was shock setting in or how hard his head had hit the pavement, but when he looked at her, his soul stirred.
Boots pounded to a stop. Men dropped equipment and a uniformed mana local firemandropped to his knees.
Had a spill, did you? Kindness and wisdom were written into the lines on the mans face. No, dont try to sit up. Not yet. Whats your name, cowboy?
Brody, he said before the fog cleared from his brain and he realized he was in big trouble.
Hed blown his cover. He hadnt been on the job more than five minutes, and what did he do?
Blow it all to bits. Hed given his real name instead of the cover name hed been given. And this was his final mission. When he wanted to go out with a bang, not hanging his head.
Its not over yet, he realized, biting his tongue before he could say his first name. He had to think quick.
Brody, he repeated. Brody Gabriel.
It wasnt the name that matched his false ID and social security card, his insurance information and the registration papers to the bike, but hed worry about that later.
This mission could still be salvaged.
Dont worry about your bike, the fireman reassured him, the name Jason was embroidered in red thread on his shirt, Its still in one piece. Sure is a beauty. Howd you wipe out on a straight stretch?
A deer.
Rough, man. The fireman shook his head and patched in his equipment.
Brody tried looking around again. Where had his rescuer gone? All he knew was that he couldnt see her. He tried to sit up and nausea rolled through him. He sank weakly to the pavement and let the medics check his pulse and blood pressure.
While they did, he took a quick inventory of his pain. His ribs were killing him. But his right ankle hurt worse.
Lord, Brody prayed, please dont let my leg be broken. That would be an end to everything. Hed worked hard to prepare for this mission. No one was as primed and prepared as he was. He refused to hand over his hard work to a junior agent. This was supposed to be the mission hed be remembered for.
Im good, he told Jason. I just need to sit up, get my bearings. I hit pretty hard going down.
Youve got a mild concussion to prove it, is my bet. The fireman flicked a flashlight and shone it into Brodys eyes. Let us take care of you. Sometimes you cant tell how bad youre hurt right off. Its good to go to the hospital, let em take their pictures and run their tests. Make sure youre A-OK. Now move your fingers for me. Can you feel that?
Yep. Brodys relief was tempered by the cervical collar they snapped around his neck. His toes moved, too. Another good sign.
Thats when she moved into his line of sight. His golden haired rescuer leaned against the front quarter panel of the sheriffs cruiser and crossed her long legs at the ankles.
My, but she was fine. Tall, slim and pure goodness. Her long blond hair shimmered in the sun and danced in the breeze. Her blue eyes were now hidden behind sunglasses, but her rosebud mouth was drawn into a severe frown as she gestured toward the road, as if describing what had happened.
She wore a faded denim jacket over a light pink shirt and stylish jeans. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal the glint of a gold watch on one wrist and a glitter of a gold bracelet on the other. Her voice rose and fell and he was too far away to pick up on her words, but the sound soothed him. Made longing flicker to life in the middle of his chest.
Hed never felt such a zing of awareness over a woman before. He was on duty. He was the youngest senior agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He knew better than to take a personal interest in anyone when he was dedicated to a case, to upholding the laws of this great land.
What he ought to do was put her out of his mind, ignore the sting of longing in his chest and concentrate on his job.
Then she turned in profile to gesture toward the side of the road, and thats when he recognized her. The perfect slope of a nose, the delicate cut of cheekbone and chin. She was one of the McKaslin girls. Michelle.
The youngest daughter of the family hed come to investigate.
The youngest daughter of the family hed come to investigate.
Chapter Two
In the harsh fluorescent lights of Bozeman Generals waiting room, Michelle stared down at her new toe-thong, wedge sandals that went so perfectly with her favorite bootleg jeans.
It was a perfect sandal. And on sale, too. Shed been wanting a pair of wedge sandals for over two months now, salivating each and every time she saw a model wearing them on the pages of her beloved magazines. So, when shed saw them in the window display at the mall on her way to the Christian bookstore, shed bought them on impulse.
An hour ago, shed felt rad. Better than shed been in a long time. Tapping across the parking lot to her truck with her shopping bags had given her great satisfaction. As if all her problems in life were solved with six pairs of new shoes.
Until shed seen the medics working on the motorcycle guy, their faces grim. Their equipment had reflected the suns harsh rays in ruthless stabs of light that had hurt her eyes and cut straight to her soul.
She could still see that man wipe out right in front of her. The drag of his body on the pavement, the ricochet of his head hitting the blacktop, the deathly stillness after his big body had skidded to a stop.
She shivered, horrified all over again. It was by Gods grace hed opened his eyes, she decided. A miracle that hed survived. Shed never realized before how fragile a human life could be. Flesh and bone meeting concrete and steelwell, she hated to think of all that could have happened.
Or all the catastrophic ways the man the firemen called Brody could still be hurt.
Go on home, Sheriff Cameron Durango had told her at the scene.
Go home? She hadnt caused the accident, but she felt responsible. She couldnt explain why. She just was. From the moment she saw his big male form sprawled out on the road, the rise and fall of his chest, the ripple of the wind stirring the flaps of his jacket, shed been involved.
When shed lifted his visor and saw the hard cut of his high cheekbones, the straight blade of his nose and the tight line of his strong mouth, he looked strong and vulnerable at the same moment.
Shed seen him crash. Shed seen him bleed. She couldnt just walk away as if it hadnt happened. As if she didnt care. As if she didnt have a heart. She couldnt have left a wounded bird in the road, let alone a wounded man. Even if shed been waiting for hours and hours.
Where was he? What was taking so long? Okay, the waiting room was crammed with people coughing and sneezing and one man was holding a cloth to his cut handthe nurse came out and took him away quickly. They were busy, she got that, but what about Brody? Was he so hurt that he was in surgery or something scary like that? Maybe she ought to go up to the desk and ask.
She grabbed her purse and tucked her cell safely inside. With great relish, she abandoned the hard black plastic chair that was making her back ache. She wove around sick people and some cowboys big-booted feet that were sticking way out into the aisle.
The line behind the check-in window was long. She fell into place. But when she looked up, she nearly fell off her wedge-sandals at the sight of Brody limping down the wide hallway toward her.
Alive. Walking on his own steam. He looked bruised but strong, and her spirit lifted at the sight. Relief left her trembling and weak, and wasnt that really weird because he was like a total stranger?
He was holding his helmet in his left hand and a slip of paper in the right. The white slash of a bandage over his left brow was a shocking contrast to his brown hair and sun-golden skin.
His eyes were dark, shadowed with pain and his mouth a tight unhappy line as he strolled up to her. I remember you.
He could have said that with more enthusiasm. Like with a low dip to his voice, the way a movie star did when he was zeroing in on his ladylove for the first time. Hed say, with perfect warmth in the words, I remember you, and the heroine would flutter and fall instantly in love.
Yeah, that would be better than the way Brody said it, as if she were a bad luck charm he wanted to avoid. Theyre letting you walk out of here, so that must mean youre all right.
My ankles wrapped. Ive got a few stitches and Im as good as new.
Im glad. I mean, like, you really crashed hard. I couldnt go home until I knew for sure that you were all right.
So, thats what she was doing here.
Brody stuffed the pain prescription in his pocket and mulled that little piece of information over. According to his research, Michelle McKaslin was the spoiled favorite of the family, the youngest of six girls. The oldest had been killed in a plane crash years ago. She was working two jobs, one at the local hair salon and the other at her sisters coffee shop, and still living at home. The Intel he had on her was that she loved to shop, talk on the phone with her friends and ride her horse.
You came here to see a doc, too, he said, not believing her. Nobody sat in a waiting room for hours without a good reason. Unless she suspected who he was. What had he muttered before hed come to? Had he given himself away? I saw your truck skid to a stop. Hit your head on the windshield, didnt you?
Her big blue eyes grew wider. Oh, no, I was wearing my seat belt. It just looked so scary with the way they put the neck collar on you and took you off in the ambulance. I cant help feeling responsible, you know, since I was there. Im really glad youre not seriously hurt. I started praying the minute I saw the deer leap onto the road.
There wasnt a flicker of dishonesty in her face. Only honest concern shone in her eyes, and her body language reinforced it. None of the paperwork he had on her had indicated shed be sincere. That surprised him. He didnt run into nice people in his line of work.
Unless the niceness was only a mask, hiding something much worse inside.
Let me get this straight. You drove all the way back to the city to sit in a waiting room for two hours just so you knew I was all right?
Yep. This is Montana. We dont abandon injured strangers on the road.
She seemed proud of that, and he had no choice but to take what she said as the truth. He relaxed, but only a fraction.
Wait one minute! the clerk behind the desk shouted at him, forcing him to abandon Michelle and approach the window where intimidating paperwork was pushed at him. Your insurance isnt valid.
Not valid? It figured. None of his ID matched his new name. His cover was supposed to be Brad Donaldson, and thats what his Virginia drivers license said, his new insurance card, everything.
We can make arrangements if you cant pay the entire bill right now. The woman with the big, black rim glasses and the KGB frown could have had a job at the Bureau intimidating difficult people.
Brody glanced at the total. Blinked. His heart rate skyrocketed. Are you sure you billed me right? I didnt have a liver transplant.
The woman behind the window turned as cold as a glacier. Our prices are so high because of people who do not pay their hospital bills.
Great. Why did that make him feel like dirt? He paid his bills. Not that he had eight hundred dollars in his wallet to spare.
The woman, whose badge identified her as Mo, lifted one questioning brow. She glanced at his bikers scarred bomber jacket, the right shoulder seam torn, and the unshaven jaw as if drawing her own conclusions.