six years,” she said, glancing toward the hot-looking man who was getting her to think about sex a whole lot more than she had in ages. Well, she could think about it all she wanted. But the only action around here would be the impending demise of the anarchist group if it presented the kind of threat she believed it did.
“Did you live in Missoula before you went to college there?”
“Yes.” She knew her voice sounded curt with that answer, but he was now edging too close to topics she refused to discuss. Like her childhood and background. Sex? Hah. She was now being turned off by this man thanks to his chosen topic of conversation.
They passed three other rows of identical cabins before reaching the much larger one that served as the reception area and offices. She pulled into a space nearest the exit gate and parked.
To preclude Jock’s continuing her interrogation, she decided it was time for one of her own. “So tell me about Alpha Force,” she said.
His craggy, handsome face seemed to shutter, but only for an instant. Then he smiled. “I’m sure you’ve been told that we’re a covert military group, and we can’t discuss our methodology with anyone, either other military personnel or civilians.”
“But in a situation like this, where I know you’ve been picked out particularly because of whatever it is you do to look into what’s going on here—”
“So did you always know you wanted to go into law enforcement?” His tone was smooth, but his expression was both wry and warning.
He wasn’t going to tell her anything.
Well, she wasn’t going to tell him anything, either, unless she was sure it would help her cause.
Another car pulled through the gate and parked close to the office. Kathlene pretended to study it.
That was when she saw Ralf approaching on foot from the direction from which they’d driven.
Good. This conversation was clearly over.
* * *
Ralf was now ensconced in the backseat. Although Kathlene turned the car toward town as they exited the motel’s entrance driveway, she told Jock she would drive them farther along this road on their return—past the entry to the formerly abandoned ranch where the people she believed to be anarchists now lived and multiplied.
“That’s where we’ll do whatever recon we decide on later,” she said. “But I figured I’d get you started by showing you the town and innocently drive past the area on our return to your motel room.”
“Thanks,” Jock said. “That’ll work. And I’d like you to tell us everything you know and suspect so Ralf and I will be able to do our job here.”
She heard between the lines. They thought they were going to exclude her.
They weren’t.
Right now, as promised, she headed toward town.
As she drove down Main Street, she chatted about Cliffordsville, the shops they passed, the nature of the place before the anarchists had started appearing. They drove along a well-stocked commercial area, with stores ranging from name-brand casual clothes to a men’s suit outlet to a variety of restaurants from fast-food to nice, sit-down dining.
Main Street was pretty much a straight line, with a few traffic lights to allow drivers to pull onto it from the myriad side streets, some of which were also commercial, and others led to residential areas.
They didn’t drive far enough down it to reach the County Administration Building, City Hall and the Sheriff’s Department. The official part of town sat on the outskirts of the business area.
Kathlene liked Cliffordsville. A lot. She had made it her home.
Unlike Missoula, where she had grown up, it held only good memories for her—at least before.
Nothing controversial.
Not till recently, at least.
But her mind veered in different directions from all she was talking about. She was determining how she was going to take a stand and make it clear to Jock that she would participate in the investigation. Period.
“Where do you live?” Jock asked out of the blue. They had just turned down a side street so she could show them some of the closest residential areas—but she hadn’t intended to show them her house.
A jolt rocked through her body nonetheless. She knew he wasn’t asking to come home with her, yet the idea suddenly heated up her insides as if he had suggested they engage in some down and dirty sex.
Damn. She’d already convinced herself not to feel turned on by this man—hadn’t she? She wanted them to be comrades in arms, conspirators in figuring out what was really going on in that odd and growing encampment outside town.
She knew what would turn her off. Fast.
“I own a house in the same general direction we just turned,” she told him as casually as she could muster. “It’s in a small residential neighborhood within the city limits, though. The cabins where you’re staying are in an area considered to be outside town, although still within Clifford County, which means they’re within the sheriff’s department’s jurisdiction.” She paused. “As I said before, I’ll be spending time with you at your cabin. That’ll help us look like the old friends we’re supposed to be. I’ll also accompany you if you go camping. That way, I’ll be able to help in your surveillance.”
There. The gauntlet had been thrown down once more, but this time she had given a cursory reason why she should be with them at least part of the time as they worked.
Jock said nothing. But as Kathlene reached Main Street again and stopped for a traffic light, she looked over at him.
He seemed to be staring out the windshield, but his large hands were fisted in his lap. What was he thinking?
She had a feeling she wouldn’t like it. But she was dying to know.
* * *
The woman was trying to drive him nuts—and not just because she was so hot that he didn’t really want to keep his hands off her. But he would. Sex would only complicate things even further.
She had to keep her nose out of what Ralf and he were doing. Hell, Jock knew she had no idea about the facts.
First of all, when he did his surveillance of the supposed anarchists’ camp, he wouldn’t look like he did at the moment.
No. He would look a lot more like his cover dog, Click. The dog Ralf had gone to check on in the cabin next door before they left their motel.
Click must have been fine, or Ralf would have stayed behind. Or at least said something.
Jock glanced quickly into the backseat. Ralf remained there, of course. Looking all nice and neutral—and interested. But staying out of the conversation.
A good thing? Maybe. But it might be better if his aide participated. Even took over for him. Ralf was good at being discreet, keeping things calm.
Keeping
