Lone Rider (23 page)

             
He knew how the grapevine worked at a major crime scene, knew many of them had already put two and two together. They knew Tess had been Grey’s hostage.

             
His feelings of protectiveness ballooned as he watched Tess’ blond head weave through the commotion. For a moment he debated getting Barry Neilson to go after her. Maybe for her sake, Grey needed to back away, give her time.

But when he saw the direction she was headed, he started swearing again. Quickening his pace, he ran, hoping to cut her off.

*    *    *

             
Tess didn’t care where she went. The need to get away, to be alone, drove her blindly. Had everyone but her known
Dallas
was an undercover FBI agent? That
Dallas
wasn’t even his real name?

She ducked around vehicles, avoiding stares, hating the pity she glimpsed in more than one face. A large van emblazoned
STATE POLICE
loomed directly in her path. A uniformed officer headed toward her, hand raised. “Stop, ma’am.”

             
Tess stepped sideways, intent only on bypassing the officer. To her horror, she came face
-
to
-
face with Bogen.

             
His hands were cuffed behind his back
,
and officers flanked either side. His trademark sunglasses were gone, his scarred face more frightening than ever. Bogen snarled when he saw her.

             
“Well, if it ain’t Haynes’ whore! I should have taken care of you that first night. I still might.”

             
Even as he spoke the officers shoved Bogen into the van and out of sight. Though the confrontation lasted only seconds, Tess felt herself start to shake. She turned, struggling to retrace her steps, unsure of where to go. She felt sick, scared, humiliated. Utterly helpless.

             
A hand gently grasped her shoulder. Strong, familiar arms embraced her. Even now she didn’t think, didn’t hesitate to turn to Grey.

             
“Tess.”

             
“Make it go away,” she wept. “Tell me it’s not really happening.”

He saw the depth of her torment, knew it was something he couldn’t fix. “I’m sorry.”

She lowered her head against his chest, giving in to the nearly debilitating need for comfort, not caring who watched or what they thought.

Be
hind them, ATF agents and SWAT t
eam members filed in and out of the basement
,
carrying confiscated weaponry. Grey tugged her away, into the darkness, shielding her from prying eyes.

When they were alone he smoothed the wet hair from her forehead, pressed his lips to her temple as he enfolded her against his body, offering warmth. Her clothes were soaked. Her skin felt clammy and she was trembling. Shell shock.

He held her tightly, letting her cry, wishing he had the words to heal her anguish. But no words were adequate. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to make it better. He wanted to pick her up and kiss her until neither of them remembered the pain, the problems. The mess that was their life, their relationship. And they
did
have a relationship -- good or bad -- whether either of them wanted to admit it or not.

When she quieted, Grey pulled a bandanna from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. The muffled sounds and shouts coming from the compound intruded, shattering the fragile moment.

             
She straightened, wiping her eyes.

“Grey...
Dallas
. I don’t even know what to call you.”  She stepped away, crossing her arms to ward off the chill.

He knew there were a lot of things she could call him, was grateful she didn’t. He stepped closer but kept his hands at his sides. She had to be freezing
,
but he sensed she’d resist any attempt to draw her back in his arms.

“We need to get you someplace warm. I’ll have Barry take you--”

             
“Are you coming
,
too?”  She pinned him with eyes that were huge, sad; her voice low, anxious. “I...I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

             
He knew what that admission cost her, could sense her inner turmoil. He wished he could promise to stay at her side, to fight all the battles for her. But he couldn’t. Besides, once she regained her bearings, she wouldn’t want him to.
Once she regained her bearings, she might hate him.

As if on cue, Barry stepped out of the shadows. He exchanged a knowing glance with Grey. Both men had dealt with hostage situations, knew the tumult of emotion experienced upon release. Barry, however, definitely had the advantage of professional distance in this case.

             
“Grey needs to stay here a while longer,” Barry interjected smoothly. “I’ll take you somewhere quiet. You can contact your family. Then we’ll need to get a statement.”

Tess cast a wary look in Grey’s direction, her uncertainty plain.

“You can trust Barry,” Grey said. “He’ll take care of you; keep you safe.”

Safe?
Tears stung her eyes. For the past three weeks, the only time she’d felt safe had been with
Dallas
. The need to stay close to him battled with her desire to retreat. “When will I see you again?”

“Soon.”

She noticed the slight flattening of his lips, the evasive shift of his eyes.
Soon?
It felt like a brush-off.

She stiffened. Why had she expected more? He had a job to do...had been doing his job all along.

She moved toward Barry, taking yet another step away from Grey. From
Dallas
.

             
“Do you want me to get your personal belongings from the cabin?” Grey offered.

             
“No.”  She suddenly felt exhausted. Befuddled. More than anything she simply wanted to be alone. To try and make sense of what had happened. “I don’t want anything that will remind me of the time I spent here.” 

*   *   *

             
The next eighteen hours were long and arduous. First Tess went to the local h
ospital for a physical. She lay
on the table, silently counting tiles overhead, trying not to think about being poked and prodded. A female agent remained during the exam, taking notes. One more humiliation. The questions were as cold and sterile as the small exam room. Had she been raped? Physically abused? Drugged?

             
She shook her head each time, then remembered the pills
Dallas
gave her the first night.

             
“Did you suffer any long-term e
ffect from taking them?” the doctor asked, scribbling on her chart.

             
“No.”

             
“Is there a possibility you were sexually abused during the time you were drugged?”

             
Tess closed her eyes, recalling that awful night in the pantry. She shook her head again. “No.”

             
“You understand, we have to ask -- to assess whether you were exposed to any sexually transmitted diseases,” the doctor explained with polite frankness. “Or at risk for pregnancy.”

             
Heat crept into her cheeks.

At risk for pregnancy
.

The doctor moved on to other qu
estions, his assumption plain: She hadn’t been raped:
therefore
,
she couldn’t be pregnant.

Oh, but she could.

Dallas
had not used a condom that first time.

Automatically her mind tried calculating days. Exactly when was her last period?

Right before she was captured – three weeks ago. She wasn’t even due to start yet.

She clung to the slight feeling of relief. She was probably safe, though it was too soon to know.

After the doctor finished his exam, an older woman came into the room. She introduced herself as a psychologist and talked briefly about post-traumatic stress, recommending that Tess consider counseling upon her return home. Tess was grateful the woman didn’t push. The last thing
Tess
wanted to discuss was how she felt. She honestly didn’t know. At this moment she felt detached. Five minutes ago she’d wanted to cry.

             
Barry Neilson waited for her at the hospital, ready to transport her to a nearby motel.

“You might want to contact your family first thing,” he suggested as they drove. “News of the arrests will be made public later today. I can keep your name away from the press for a day, perhaps two, but that’s it.”

             
Tess looked out the car window watching but not seeing the scenery.
Her family
.

“They never knew I was missing, did they?”

Her thoughts went back to the beginning of the summer. Tess had been eager to head west. Her father and brother had just kicked off a huge hotel expansion project. And her mother was spending the summer in
Europe
.
Normal stuff.

             
“I’ve sent a liaison officer to speak with your father personally, to explain what happened. I’m sure your family’s main concern will be that you’re unharmed.”

             
Barry’s words reminded her that, thanks to
Dallas
, she hadn’t been hurt. If Snake had been the one to find her that night, the liaison officer could have been delivering very different news. Tess shivered.

             
“Would you have preferred to tell them yourself?” Barry asked.

             
“No.”  The thought of answering fifty questions right now was overwhelming. Letting someone else rehash the story bought her a little more time to herself. A little more distance.

             
At the motel she showered and was provided with clean clothes. The tags were still on the clothes, indicating a recent purchase. The sizes were correct. A lucky guess or had
Dallas
picked them out? Told someone her size?

A meal was sent to her room, but she couldn’t eat. The female agent who stayed with her was solicitous but professional, asking no questions. The questions, Tess discovered, came later. Giving her statement took over six hours.

She gave a chronological description of her captivity, squirming when the queries turned personal. When pressed, she acknowledged her physical relationship with Grey and was grateful the subject was dropped soon after establishing mutual consent. She didn’t, however, believe it would be the last she heard on the subject. She wondered if Grey was facing the same questions, wondered at his responses. Did he offer excuses for their lovemaking? C
ast the blame on her?

The questions intensified, the toughest ones centering on that first night, the night she was abducted. How many men had ridden up with Snake? Could she identify them if she saw them again? What exactly had been said? She told her story, hearing the words as if spoken by another.

Some of her recollections seemed hazy, while others were eerily detailed. Like how the red plaid shirt Snake wore that night had two patches on the left elbow, one blue, one black. How Matt Michaels had been wearing a faded green T-shirt with a beer logo. And how his blood had swirled in Technicolor beneath him, as his body convulsed. She wept as she described Matt’s death, breaking down completely at the end.

             
By the time Barry escorted her back to her motel room it was evening. “I know this hasn’t been easy,” he said. “Unfortunately, we’ll need to go over it again in the morning. See if you recall any other pertinent details. In the meantime, if anything comes to you, write it down, no matter how insignificant. I’ve seen entire cases broken on small, seemingly irrelevant, facts.”

             
Tess nodded half
heartedly. Earlier Barry had outlined the next steps. She would fly home tomorrow afternoon. The FBI would have additional questions, then someone from the U.S. Attorney’s office would contact her. After charges were pressed, there would be depositions. And ultimately the trials.

Barry had also explained that the case was federal in scope.  A government agent had been murdered; a federal capital crime.  The list of other federal violations was lengthy.  Drug trafficking and kidnapping were only the tip of the iceberg.

             
Right now the processes seemed daunting. Once again her thoughts wandered to
Dallas
. She hadn’t seen him since leaving the compound early that morning. She wanted to talk to him, see him.

             
“Is
Dallas
staying at this motel?”