Are you really here? she asked, feeling immediately foolish.
Feels a little unreal, doesnt it?
She nodded. I didnt think Id ever see you again. He lifted her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips.
I used to have dreams of you. That you were beside me again sitting close enough that I could feel the warmth of your body by mine. Hear your breathing. And then Id wake up and He let go of her hand and dropped his own hands to his knees. Doesnt matter. Here you are. Warm and breathing.
She caught his hand, holding him in place. Dont go.
He looked down at her hand on his. When he spoke, his voice was a low rasp. Are you sure you want me to stay?
She knew what he was asking.
Know what I missed? His voice deepened. Roughened.
Her heartbeat sped up immediately in response. When she spoke, her own voice sounded breathless. What?
This. He leaned forward, closing the space between them, and touched his mouth to hers.
Smoky Mountain Setup
Paula Graves
www.millsandboon.co.uk
PAULA GRAVES, an Alabama native, wrote her first book at the age of six. A voracious reader, Paula loves books that pair tantalizing mystery with compelling romance. When shes not reading or writing, she works as a creative director for a Birmingham advertising agency and spends time with her family and friends. Paula invites readers to visit her website, www.paulagraves.com.
For my chat pals, Kelly, Jenn and Donna.
Thanks for keeping me laughing.
Contents
Cover
Introduction
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Extract
Copyright
Chapter One
The ligature marks on his wrists had long since healed, but the stinging phantom pain of the raw spots the shackles had chafed into his skin sometimes caught him by surprise. Odd, he thought, given the other injuries hed sustained during his month of captivity, that those superficial wounds were the ones to continue tormenting him.
Hed had cracked ribs, for sure. A dislocated shoulder hed been forced to reduce himself, since the rough men whod taken him captive hadnt cared much about his comfort.
Cade Landry had escaped on the thirty-first day of his captivity, and hed been running ever since.
Given the icy chill in the air and the heavy clouds overhead threatening snow, he should have headed south to Mexico instead of wandering around the Southern Appalachians while he tried to figure out what to do next. He could be sipping cerveza on a beach somewhere, flirting with pretty cantina waitresses and soaking up the tropical sun.
It wasnt as if he had any kind of life to get back to now.
And still, somehow, hed never completely given up on the idea of clearing his name, though hed spent the past several months avoiding the issue altogether.
No more. It was time to see if there was anything left of his life to reclaim.
Clouds overhead obscured the sun hed been using as his compass, but he was pretty sure he was still headed west, which would take him out of these mountains sooner or later. Sooner if he was on the Tennessee side, later if he was in North Carolina.
Either way, he was heading for Purgatory.
Where she was.
You dont know if you can trust her anymore.
Maybe not, he conceded to the mean little voice in the back of his head. But she was the best shot he had.
He squinted up at the gray sky overhead, enough sunlight still filtering through the clouds to make his pupils contract. Definitely still headed west, he decided, but he hoped hed reach civilization sooner rather than later. He had to make a stop in Barrowville first. Hed made a point to shave that morning, to clean up and look his most presentable. Maybe hed get lucky and somebody would give him a ride into town.
The money hed hidden away before his abduction had still been there when hed escaped, thank God, but months of living under the radar had taken a toll on his cash reserves. He needed to see if the money theyd put away a couple of years ago was still in the bank. It was a risk, but one he had to take if he wanted to get through the long, cold winter.
Technically, the account was in her name, but he was on the account, as well, and as far as he knew, shed never closed it out.
Maybe it had been as hard for her to let go as it had been for him.
Landry could tell from the color of the sky and the chill in the air that snow was coming, and hed lived in eastern Tennessee long enough to know that snowstorms in the Smokies could rise up fast, like a rattlesnake, and strike with power and fury.
Just like the men hed escaped.
* * *
OLIVIA SHARP POKED at the fire behind the grate and wrapped her sweater more tightly around her shoulders. Winter in the Smoky Mountains had so far proved to be a cold, damp affair, but tonight they were supposed to get the first snow of the season for the lower elevations.
Growing up on Sand Mountain in Alabama, shed seen snow now and then, but rarely enough to blanket everything and shut a person in for more than a day or two. But the TV weathermen out of Knoxville were calling for as much as a foot and a half in the higher elevations, and the lower elevations could expect five or six inches by morning.
She was safe and snug, tucked in with about a weeks worth of background checks to read through. In a company like The Gates, which specialized in high-stakes security cases, everything lived or died on the quality of personnel who worked the cases and kept the company running at peak performance, and the CEO, Alexander Quinn, had put her in charge of profiling prospective hires.
She was lucky to still have a job at all, she knew. Her first big job at The Gates had been a spectacular failure. Tasked with finding a traitor in their midst, shed failed to smoke him out until it was nearly too late. Quinn would have been well within his rights to terminate her employment on the spot, but hed given her another chance.
She had no intention of screwing up again.
She had made it through three files and was starting a fourth when her cell phone rang. No information on the display, which usually meant her caller was Quinn or another agent who didnt want his identity revealed. Sharp, she answered.
Hey, Olivia, its me. The distinctive mountain drawl on the other end of the line belonged to Anson Daughtry, the companys IT director and one of the people whod saved her bacon during the investigation into the mole at The Gates, mostly by putting his own ass on the line.
Of course, hed had a good incentivethe pretty payroll accountant hed fallen hard for had been right in the middle of the danger.
I thought you were on your honeymoon.
I am. She could almost hear him grinning. Ginny says hi.
Hi, Ginny. She couldnt stop her own smile. She might like to play the role of a tough woman of action, but two good people crazy in love still had the capacity to make her go all squishy inside. Seriously, Daughtry, why are you calling me on your honeymoon?
You remember that bank account you asked me to start monitoring for activity a few months ago?
She sat up straighter, the muscles of her stomach tightening. Of course.
I got an alert in my email. Someone accessed the account a little after one. Withdrew five thousand dollars.
Olivia glanced at the clock over the mantel. About an hour ago. Any idea what branch?
Thats the interesting thing, Daughtry said. It was the one in Barrowville.
Oh. A cool tingle washed over Olivias body, sprinkling goose bumps along her arms and legs. Okay. Thanks for letting me know.
Is there anything else you need me to do?
No, she said quickly. I just needed the information.
She could tell from Daughtrys thick silence that he had questions about her request and what the information hed just imparted to her meant. But she simply said, Thanks. Go enjoy your honeymoon, and hung up the phone before he could ask anything else.
She could be in Barrowville in fifteen minutes. Ten if she drove fast, although the first flurries had already begun to fall outside her cabin window.
No. He wouldnt still be there an hour later. And the information she needed from whichever bank teller had handled the transaction, she could get over the phone.
She looked up the phone number for the bank and made the call, finally reaching the teller in question after a long wait. How can I help you?
My name is Olivia Sharp. I have an account at your bank. She rattled off the account number shed memorized ages ago. I just received an alert that some of the money has been accessed and you were the teller who handled the transaction.
Yes, maam, the teller answered. She sounded young and worried.
He gave his name as Cade Landry?
Yes, maam. He had the right identification and he knew the account number. Hes on the account.
Im sure you handled things by the numbers. I just need to know if you remember what he looked like.
The teller was silent for a moment, long enough for Olivia to fear the connection had been lost. But as she was opening her mouth to speak, the teller answered her question. He was tall. Dark hair. Nice eyes. I dont remember what color, just that they were nice. Friendly, you know?
Olivia knew about Landrys nice eyes. She knew their color, as well, a soft hue somewhere between hazel and green. What about his build?
His build?
You knowheavy, slim
Oh, right. It was...nice. You know, he looked good. There was a nervous vibration in the tellers voice. Built nice.
Athletic?
Yes, definitely. He looked athletic.
Olivia closed her eyes. What about his voice? Low? Medium? Did he have an accent?
It was deep, Im pretty sure. And he didnt have an accent, exactly. I mean, he was from down here somewhere.
Down here meaning the South, Olivia assumed. If it was really Cade Landry, hed have spoken with a Georgia drawl. I see.
Is there a problem? Our files show Mr. Landry is still authorized to withdraw funds from the account. The teller was starting to sound worried. Should I put the bank manager on the phone?
No, Olivia said quickly. Mr. Landry is authorized to withdraw funds. I just wasnt aware he was planning to. Thank you for the information. She hung up the phone and tugged her sweater more tightly around her, trying to control a sudden case of the shakes.
So, someone claiming to be Cade Landry, someone who fit his description and spoke with a Southern accent, had withdrawn $5,000 out of a savings account shed set up almost two years ago, back when the relationship between her and her FBI partner had been going strong.
Before the disaster in Richmond.
But if it really was Landry whod withdrawn the money from the account, where the hell had he been for the past year?
* * *
THE CHILL IN the air had grown bitter as the cold front rolled in, sending the temperature plunging. Overhead, clouds hung low and heavy, threatening snow.
The bank in Barrowville hadnt given him any trouble with the withdrawal, so clearly Olivia hadnt removed his name from the account.
Maybe that was a good sign.
He pedaled harder as the newly purchased thrift-store bike started uphill on Deception Lake Road. Getting her new address had been easy enoughhed asked for and received the latest copy of the bank statement, which included her home address in Purgatory, Tennessee.
It had been a little too easy, really. What if hed been an ex-boyfriend stalking her?
Isnt that sort of what you are? The mean voice in his head was back.
Fine, he thought. Im her ex-boyfriend. And Im about to drop by her place unannounced. And Im armed.
But the last thing hed ever do was hurt Olivia, no matter how badly shed hurt him. He just needed to talk to her. He might not be sure he could trust her, but he knew there was nobody else he could trust.
Hed learned that painful truth the hard way.
By the time he reached the turnoff to Perdition Gap, sleet had begun to fall, making crackling noises where the icy pellets hit the fallen leaves blanketing the roadside. He picked up speed as the road dipped downhill toward the narrow gorge cut into the mountains by Ketoowee River, hurried along by the bitter westerly wind that drove sleet like needle pricks into his bare cheeks.