admit to wanting to know what he was thinking as he watched her.
She resisted the incredibly stupid impulse to touch her hair to make sure it was in place, as if that mattered, then turned toward him and decided to just go for it.
“How did you get away?” she asked. “The ropes were cut, but I’d checked you for knives. I’d put yours in the pack, which was out of reach. I checked it this morning and you hadn’t opened it. So you had a knife on you somewhere. One that I missed.”
She had the sudden thought that someone could have crept into camp and released him, but she dismissed the idea. She knew in her gut Quinn had gotten away all by himself. He’d managed to outsmart her and to do it all while she was sleeping.
Even more annoying, he’d left his jacket draped over her, as if she needed protection from the elements.
“How could you have missed a knife?” he asked, his eyes bright with humor. “You gave me a very thorough and very enjoyable search. If you’d like to check me again…” His voice trailed off.
She ignored the suggestion and the teasing tone of his voice. “Where’s the knife?”
She half expected him to insist she come find it. Instead he flipped up the collar of his heavy military-issue shirt, and pulled out a short blade. Not a knife…just the blade.
Of course, she thought, impressed by the ingenuity. No one paid attention to stiff collars. The points were supposed to be that way. All Quinn would need to do was a little shift and shimmy to get his hands in front of his body, then the blade would be within easy reach.
The possibilities intrigued the hell out of her. “What else do you know that I don’t?”
Instead of making a smart-ass response, Quinn stood. “This has been great,” he said.
She rose and walked toward him. “Wait. I really want to know.”
His gaze never left her face, yet everything changed. The teasing was gone, as was the humor. Instead, bone-deep weariness invaded his expression. He knew things, she thought as she involuntarily took a step back. He’d seen and done things no man should experience. His life was about a whole lot more than simply getting people out of places they shouldn’t be.
“I’m not playing,” she said. “I want to learn what you know. I’m a quick study.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Your skills would help me with my work. I want to be better.”
“Aren’t you good enough to get the job done?”
“Yes, but I want to be better than good enough. I want to be the best.”
“There is no best.”
Of course there was, she thought. There always was. She worked her butt off to make sure it was her most of the time.
“I’ll pay you,” she said.
He smiled then. “Thanks, but I’m not interested. Take care, D.J.”
And then he was gone. He simply walked out of the tent without looking back.
She watched him go and decided right then she was going to get him to change his mind. She didn’t know how, but she would convince Quinn Reynolds to teach her what he knew. She would be stronger, faster, smarter, and finally the ghosts would be laid to rest.
Two days later D.J. still hadn’t come up with a plan. What on earth would a man like Quinn want that she could give him? She’d paced most of the night, and when that hadn’t cleared her mind, she’d awakened early for a three-mile run. Now she prowled her back room, pausing occasionally to jab at the punching bag in the corner.
“I can see you’re in a temper this morning. Want to talk about it?”
D.J. turned toward the voice and saw Rebecca Lucas standing in the doorway of her workout room. She held a thermos in one hand and a pink bakery box in the other. D.J.’s spirits lightened immediately.
“Danish?” she asked, heading toward her friend.
“Of course. Don’t I always bring Danish?”
“You’re a good woman.”
“I know.”
Rebecca led the way to the main office, where she set the box on the front desk and opened the thermos.
“So what has you all crabby this morning?” she asked as she poured coffee into two mugs. “If you were anyone else, I would swear it was man trouble.”
“It is, but not the romantic kind.”
Rebecca handed her the coffee. “Too bad. You need a man in your life.”
“Right. That would be as useful to me as inheriting a toxic waste dump.”
Rebecca tisked softly as she poured more coffee for herself, opened the bakery box and pushed it toward D.J.
D.J. grabbed a napkin, then a cheese Danish. The first bite was heaven. The second, even better. She slowly chewed the flaky, sticky, sweet pastry.
Rebecca took one for herself and nibbled daintily. As usual, all conversation ceased until they’d each downed at least one Danish and felt the kick-start, blood-sugar rush of refined carbohydrates and frosting.
D.J. finished first and licked her fingers. Rebecca dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.
They couldn’t be more different, D.J. thought affectionately. Rebecca was all girl, from her long, curly hair to her wardrobe of soft, flowing, floral-print dresses. She wore foolish shoes, delicate jewelry and wouldn’t be caught dead in town without makeup.
“You’re looking at my dress,” Rebecca said when she’d finished her Danish. “You hate it.”
“No. It’s great.”
D.J. studied the light-blue flowers scattered on a white background, the lace at the edge of the collar and the tight, puffy sleeves, while trying desperately not to wince.
“I just don’t understand why you have to dress so…girly.”
Rebecca took another Danish. “We don’t all need to look as if we’d just come from a sale at the army surplus store. Olive green isn’t my color. Besides, Austin likes how I dress.”
End of argument, D.J. told herself. If Austin mentioned he would like the rotation of the earth changed, Rebecca would set out to see what she could do to make that happen. She adored her husband past the point of reason. D.J. found the situation palatable only because Austin was a good man—weren’t those few and far between?—and he loved his wife just as completely. D.J. believed down to her bones that if someone tried to hurt Rebecca, Austin would rip that person into stamp-size pieces.
Rebecca looked her over, making D.J. aware of her camouflage pants and heavy boots.
“You’re expecting a war later?”
