All or Nothing: A Trust No One Novel (9 page)

Smoke curled from the chimney, giving the illusion of warmth and hospitality. Outbuildings dotted the landscape—sheds, barns, and Quonset huts. A ten-foot chain-link fence, topped with razor wire, enclosed it all. Joe pulled up to an electric gate and entered a code on a keypad. Carefully watching the placement of his fingers, Cara stored the numbers away in her memory as the gate swung open.

Several men stood on the front lawn talking and laughing. Two were even wrestling. All stopped and watched them pull up the drive.

“Are they students?” she asked.

“A few. The rest work for me.” Joe got out of the vehicle. “Ty will take you to your room. Dinner is usually about six thirty.” He stalked away toward the men, leaving her to get used to her new prison on her own.

“Follow me, Cara.” Tyler led the way to the house with the luggage. She stayed close, uneasy as the men in the yard watched her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Joe greet the men with good-natured slaps on the back.

Just before she stepped through the door at Tyler’s heels, Joe looked over at her. For a moment, their eyes met and his frustrated expression clearly stated he was sorry he’d brought her here.

She smiled at him sweetly.
He isn’t as sorry as he’s going to be
.

As Joe frowned and turned back to his men, Cara asked Tyler, “Is he always so arrogant?”

“Hell, compared to some days, today he’s positively humble.”

She frowned and glanced back over her shoulder at Joe before she followed Tyler into the house.

A tall, slender, dark-haired woman met them just inside the door. Tyler kissed her on the cheek as he went by and then looked back over his shoulder. “Cara, this is Irene. She runs the place.”

Cara took a moment to study the woman. Early forties, very fit, not the classic example of beauty, but her eyes had a keen, intelligent spark, and her radiant smile lit up the room. Cara felt drawn to her.

“Tyler, you know very well who runs this place.” Irene took Cara’s hands. “Welcome. Your room is all ready. If there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

“Thank you. I’ll try not to be a bother.”

“Well, I hope you bother the hell out of me. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you ever since Joe told me to get your room ready. We don’t get many women here, and those who do come are all about fighting and blowing stuff up. I miss good old-fashioned girl-talk.”

Cara laughed. “I hate to disappoint you, but apparently I’m here to learn about fighting and blowing stuff up, too.”

“If you didn’t walk in here with army boots and camo, you’re already a step above the rest.” Irene smiled.

Cara reciprocated, warmed by the woman’s acceptance and her honest, outgoing nature.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour. Pot roast. It’s Joe’s favorite.”

“It smells wonderful.” Cara hadn’t realized how hungry she was.

She followed Tyler up two flights of stairs and down a hall until he opened the door to one of the rooms and dropped her bags at the foot of the bed.

“Home, sweet home.”

The room was surprisingly feminine and tastefully decorated in lilac and flowered prints. She hadn’t known what to expect, but certainly something a little more penal. Tyler must be right. Irene did run the place.

He swung open a set of double doors, and she followed him onto the balcony. A covered terrace joined her room and the room next door. “That’s Joe’s room. He said he wanted you close.”

Cara’s face grew warm, but she almost laughed at the crimson shade that crept up Tyler’s neck and spread across his cheeks. Obviously, he didn’t know why Joe wanted her nearby and had put a completely different spin on the story. She wasn’t about to correct his misconception. She might be able to use it to her advantage.

Tyler cleared his throat. “You have one of the most beautiful views of Flathead Lake from right here.”

The view held her spellbound. The snowcapped peaks in the distance lent majesty to the scene. The lake seemed to go on and on, its shoreline sometimes flat and grass-covered, sometimes rocky with steep slopes down to the water. Boats were mooring at a nearby dock for the night. Several campfires flickered in the near-dusk, their reflections rippling across the pristine water. The early fall chill made the air crisp and clean, and the aroma of pine trees wafted in on the breeze.

Remembering why she was here, she turned away from the lake. She wasn’t here to enjoy the view. If she had her way, she wouldn’t be here long enough to enjoy anything. She shrugged and stepped back inside, carefully closing and locking the doors.

Tyler’s mouth twitched with amusement.

“What?” She glared at him.

“It’s just that… well, we close the rest of the world out at the gate. There’s nothing inside to worry about, so we don’t lock up much else.”

“I’m a city girl. I like things locked up nice and tight.”

He didn’t comment, but a lopsided grin appeared as he backed from the room.

She slammed the door and locked it behind him.

Close to exhaustion, Cara climbed into the steamy shower and let the hot water pelt her skin until thoughts of David, Brian, and Charlie drained away like dirty bathwater. For a few precious moments she was free. Except for Joe.

She tried, but she couldn’t get him out of her head. Nor could she forget his harsh, angry words. He was a hard man to read. Dangerous, for sure, and yet tender when he spoke about losing his fiancée. Loyal to a fault, he was determined to keep his promise to Charlie… but Charlie hadn’t known about David. It was a promise Joe wouldn’t be able to keep. She had to make sure he didn’t try. He had the advantage for the moment, but his considerable overconfidence would be his downfall. Cara wasn’t finished with him yet.

Donning yesterday’s slacks and a long-sleeved knit shirt, she went downstairs. The landing, and every direction she turned from there, had hardwood floors, burnished until they gleamed. Simple, scenic paintings graced the walls; the furniture was modern and tasteful with the hint of a feminine touch. Beautifully crafted wood doors closed off several rooms she passed. The whole place was immaculately cleaned and polished. Irene again.

Voices came from an open doorway as she approached. She stopped just outside, watching. Joe was helping Irene take the pot roast from the oven.

“Go on. I can do this. Wouldn’t want any of your soldiers to see you doing kitchen detail.” Irene’s voice teased, and Joe grinned.

“If my men knew half the things you know about me, they’d pack their bags and hightail it out of here. I need to keep you happy so you won’t give my secrets away.” Joe set the roasting pan on the counter and grabbed a carving knife.

This was the other Joe, the one Cara met by the slot machines, and she couldn’t keep from smiling. It was obvious he and Irene shared a special relationship. Irene was a sweet, charming lady. Who wouldn’t like her?

Cara was about to back out of the doorway when Joe looked up and their eyes met. For a second, he grinned. Then the wariness returned and he frowned, reminding Cara she was the outsider. His hostility hit her like a slap in the face. Maybe she deserved it. Perhaps, with her part in Charlie’s death, she was the enemy. Joe said he believed she wasn’t involved but, when the time came, would he be able to trust her? If not for his promise to his friend, he would never have brought her here… and that would have been fine with her.

Blast it! I miss Charlie.
Why did he have to take that job and have the misfortune of becoming involved with her? He should still be alive. Tears burned. Remembering the tape and Brian’s involvement in Charlie’s murder made her stomach lurch. She turned and fled.

Safely inside her room, she locked the door again. In the dark, fully dressed, she climbed into bed. Far from home, lonely, sick with grief and hungry, she curled into a ball.

Footsteps stopped outside her door. “Cara, we need to talk.” Joe’s voice was muffled. He knocked, waiting a minute, and then rattled the doorknob.

She didn’t reply, didn’t even breathe, just silently prayed the lock would hold if tested.

He knocked again. “Cara, please…” He said something she couldn’t hear, and his footsteps retreated.

She let out her breath. In the morning, she’d have to face him, but not tonight. Tonight she could be alone with her fears. She cried, great wrenching sobs, even as she promised herself this would be the last of the tears.

A while later, Joe knocked on her door again, and called her name. When she didn’t answer, he walked away.

Chapter Eight

Saturday, 9:49 pm

J
OE MANAGED TO
control the urge to break her door down and force her to talk to him… and what? Come around to his way of thinking? That was never going to happen.
Damn!
He mumbled under his breath as he turned away and walked to his room.

Why did he let this thing get so far out of hand? One minute they were having a friendly conversation, the next, he threatened to hold her captive. Stupid move. If there was one thing he’d already learned, it was he’d get nowhere with her if she feared him.

What quirk of fate caused her to marry the devil himself? What relationship existed between her former husband and her brother? Joe needed answers. When he thought about Dennelli hurting her, the sympathy, the protectiveness, the rage came out of nowhere. He wanted to kill the guy. Simple as that.

Of course, discretion wasn’t his strong suit, so he hadn’t stopped there. No. He maligned her ability to handle the situation. He might as well have told her it was all her fault. That she’d driven the SOB to the point of abusing her and deserved everything she got. It really stung when she said he wasn’t so different from that bastard. But then, maybe he wasn’t.

Bottom line, he’d start all over again, earning her trust. Somehow he’d find a way to help her even if all he did was teach her to help herself. He’d do that much, at least, because he promised Charlie.

He felt sorry for her… that was all it was… and she was hell on anyone who had the nerve to pity her. Charlie couldn’t have known how difficult this was going to be, so if she was too strong-willed and stubborn to accept help… then to hell with his promise.

Sleep didn’t come easily. That was her fault too.

Sunday, 5:45 am

I
T WAS STILL
dark when Joe walked into her room and plunked down on her bed. “Rise and shine, Party Girl.”

She rolled over and glared at him. “How did you get in here?”

“It’s my house. I’ve got keys to everything.” He grinned. “Even the balcony. Come on. Get up. You’ve got fifteen minutes.” He left her lying in the same spot, her head buried beneath the covers. Would she blow him off and go back to sleep? That wouldn’t be good. In spite of what she thought of him, Joe only wanted to help her, but he couldn’t teach her what she needed to learn if she wouldn’t follow his instructions. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. It would be a long day for both of them.

Cara was downstairs before her fifteen minutes were up. Good sign. She wore sweats, a T-shirt, and the sparkly
OREGON COAST
baseball cap he’d bought to help hide her face in Lincoln City. He smiled, reminded of the feel of her long tresses between his fingers and the intimacy of washing and rinsing her hair. Then the image of the scar on her back flashed before him, and the smile vanished. She had a lot to learn and very little time. He met her in front of the house.

“What’s first?” she asked.

“Stretch. We’re going for a run.”

“A run? Believe it or not, I have
run
before. I thought you brought me here to learn something I don’t know.”

He turned to face her, measuring each word with cold clarity. “Murphy wants Sinclair bad enough he’d send you in there with a flak jacket and a couple of grenades. I meant what I said. It won’t be a suicide mission. You’re going to be stronger, faster, and smarter than you’ve ever been, or I’ll call it off. Make no mistake. I will have the final say. So we’re going for a run.” He resumed his stretching, watching her.

Her blue eyes turned steel hard as her lips drew together in a fine line, and her hands balled into fists. That was okay. Anger made you stronger and gave you a reason to fight. Now, if he could only channel that anger so it wasn’t always directed at him.

“We’ll start out slow. Eight miles today.” Joe finished his routine and straightened in time to admire her legs as she stretched first one hamstring then the other.

She shot him an incredulous look and started to say something, then bit her lip. It was a safe bet she’d never run anywhere close to eight miles before. She drew herself up straight and set her jaw determinedly then followed him to the gate. She even seemed to get a little excited when she discovered they’d be running outside the perimeter fence. It wasn’t hard to figure out why.

“The trail winds around the outside of the fence for a while, then heads toward the lake and comes back around to the gate.” He paused until she looked at him. “Don’t get off the trail. There’s wildlife that come down during the night to water.”

“Wildlife?”

“Cougars, bears, and wolves. We’ve seen them all one time or another.”

It was true they’d seen predators in the area on occasion but, for the most part, the animals avoided humans. He hated scaring her, but he couldn’t have her taking off through the woods trying to get away. Joe opened the gate and she followed him out.

Cara kept pace with him for the first mile, started to fall behind in the second, and disappeared from sight in the third. About five miles in, he sat on a bench overlooking Flathead Lake, waiting for her. She raced past, not looking at him, not even slowing down. Stubborn. A smile spread. Obviously, she was still angry.

How in the hell was he going to pull this off? She was mad at the world and men specifically. She’d never trust him and without that they wouldn’t get far. He could get her in and out of the plant alive, but then what? Cut her loose? Sinclair might not be a threat any longer, but Dennelli added a new wrinkle. Maybe her ex-husband wasn’t out to kill her, but whatever he’d done to her, death might have been kinder. It was possible he was finished with her now, but Cara obviously didn’t think so, and Joe’s gut told him she was probably dead-on. A man who inflicted the level of abuse Joe had seen wasn’t likely to stop until someone stopped him. Charlie’s words replayed in his mind.
You’ve got to protect her, Joe.