of electricity—a warning. His dark eyes were hard, implacable. She and this fed were going to butt heads.
“Have you heard from the kidnappers?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
Three other men left the van and came toward the house. All were carrying equipment in black cases.
“We need to set up,” Agent Burke said.
She held open the front door as they trooped through. “You can use the office. It’s down the hall to the left.”
Ignoring her words, he went past the staircase to the dining room with the long oak table. “This will do.”
She hated the way he disregarded her suggestion, not even acknowledging her. Biting her lower lip, she held back her protest when his men pulled the chairs away from the table. Without a word to her, they opened their cases and began spreading out equipment—all kinds of electronics and computers.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “We could use some coffee.”
His arrogance astounded her. “I’ll bet you could.”
“I take mine black.”
The last straw. No way would she be relegated to the position of fetching coffee.
“Listen to me, Agent Burke.” She struggled to keep from snarling. “I called in the FBI. As far as I’m concerned, you owe me an explanation of what you’re doing.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You,” she snapped, “work for me.”
Chapter Two
The razor edge in her voice caused Burke to turn and face this slim-hipped woman in cowboy boots. Anger blew off her like a hurricane.
“This is my ranch. My house.” Her tone was sharp but controlled. “I insist upon being treated with respect. I’m not your errand girl. I don’t bring you coffee. I don’t tidy up after you. And I demand to know what’s going on.”
She looked like a teenager, but there was nothing girlish about her temper. Carolyn Carlisle was a mature and formidable woman.
He peered into her eyes. They were fascinating, with green irises so pale they were almost transparent. She stared back at him, hard and determined, as she waited for his answer.
“What do you want to know, Carolyn?” He purposefully used her first name to establish that he was the professional and she was a civilian.
“Well, J.D…” When she countered immediately with his first name, he almost grinned. This woman didn’t miss a beat.
“Actually,” he said, “I go by Burke.”
“Okay, Burke. I want an explanation of all this equipment you’ve scattered across my dining room table. But first, I want to know your plans.”
“Here’s the deal, Carolyn. I don’t have time to hold your hand and make sure you’re happy with our investigation. I didn’t come here to make friends.”
“Understood. But you need my help. Things are different on the ranch than in the city. People are different.”
As far as he was concerned, a criminal was a criminal. Their motivations and methods might change from place to place, but the underlying stupidity and cruelty were a constant. “This is a crisis situation and I’m in charge. That’s the way it rolls. Get used to it.”
Her fascinating eyes narrowed. “Get used to what?”
“I give the orders.”
“Then we have a problem. I don’t take orders. I will, however, respond to requests made with respect.”
“You want me to say please and thank you?”
“That’s a start.”
Her smile was infuriating and at the same time attractive. Even sexy. If they had met under different circumstances, he might have pursued her. But not here. Not now. As a hostage negotiator, he knew better than to become emotionally invested. The survival rate for kidnap victims held for ransom within the United States was less than forty percent. Nicole’s abduction probably wasn’t going to end well.
The phone on the table rang. “This could be the kidnappers.”
Carolyn’s bravado vanished. “What do I do?”
“It’s on speakerphone,” Burke said. “If it’s the kidnappers, you need to keep them talking and demand to speak to Nicole.”
He pressed a button and gave her a nod.
“Hello,” she said. “Carolyn Carlisle speaking.”
“Yes, ma’am. This is Wentworth. I wanted to give you an update.”
Her tension relaxed. “I have you on speakerphone, Went-worth. I’m here with the FBI. We’re waiting to hear from the kidnappers.”
“Who is he?” Burke asked.
“One of the security guards my brother hired. Wentworth is at the hospital with the wounded man, Jesse Longbridge, the owner of the security company.” She turned back toward the speaker. “How is he?”
“In critical condition,” said the voice on the phone. “His heart stopped during surgery. He hasn’t regained consciousness, but he’s breathing on his own.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Carolyn asked.
“It’s touch and go, ma’am.”
She wrapped her arms around her midsection as if literally holding herself together. To Burke she said, “Jesse saw the kidnappers. He can identify them as soon as he wakes up.”
If he wakes up. He leaned toward the phone. “We appreciate the update, Wentworth. This is Special Agent J. D. Burke of the FBI. Can you call in another man from your security company?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I want two of you at the hospital, keeping an eye on Jesse Longbridge. He’s a threat to the kidnappers and they might come after him.”
“We’ll keep him safe, sir.”
Burke recognized the crisp attitude. “Are you former military, Wentworth?”
“Marine Corps. Two tours of duty in Iraq as a medic.”
There was no need for further conversation. Burke had complete confidence in Wentworth’s ability to keep the witness safe. The first lesson for a Marine was never leave a man behind. “Carry on, Wentworth.”
“And thank you,” Carolyn added before he hung up.
He figured that the veneer of politeness she insisted upon was
