*


“Excuse me,” Sky said when the curtain slid back and Loren crowded into the small space in front of the shower stall. “Naked here. Taking a shower.”

“I know you’re naked,” Loren said. “I noticed that quite a while ago.”

The bathroom was little more than a closet, with a small toilet, a pedestal sink barely big enough for a quick rinse angled in one corner, and a two-by-two foot shower where you’d have to turn around to get both your front and your back wet. With Loren in the space along with her, Sky was forced to back up against the painted plywood wall to make a little breathing room. When Loren took a step closer, the miniscule space between them disappeared. Loren’s jeans rubbed against her thighs, the unexpected friction as tantalizing as a caress. She felt herself swell, get wet, and her nipples tightened. She stared into Loren’s eyes. “What are you doing?”

Loren braced her hands on either side of Sky’s shoulders and pressed a little closer. She liked the look in Sky’s eyes—a little wary, a little angry, a little aroused. She liked the way Sky’s lips deepened to a ruby red and swelled as if waiting for a kiss. She decided not to make her wait. She kissed her. “I think I’m taking advantage of you.”

Sky flattened her hands against Loren’s shoulders, but didn’t push her away. “I’m not the being-taken-advantage-of kind.”

Loren’s eyebrow arched. “No? Well then, maybe I’m just indulging myself. I said you were beautiful. That was an understatement.”

“Loren,” Sky murmured, “if you don’t get out of here in the next twenty seconds, this game is going to get very serious.”

“That’s what I was hoping.” Loren dipped her head again and kissed her. She wanted to drink her fill. She want to plunder—to fill her hands, her mouth, with warm flesh and sweet flavor. If she gave in for just an instant to those wants, she feared how far she would go. Where she would stop. If she could stop. She pulled herself back from the brink. Fought for breath. “Nineteen seconds.”

Sky reached deep for control. She struggled not to grip Loren’s T-shirt and tear it off. She wanted Loren naked. She wanted Loren inside her. “Go.”

Without a word, Loren left. Sky stepped into the hot shower and closed her eyes. She hadn’t gotten what she wanted, but she’d managed to get what she should want. Somehow without her being aware of it, those had become two different things, and Loren was the cause.

Chapter Twenty-three


The two guards on duty were not the same ones who had been there the last time Cam questioned Jennifer. They obviously knew her, as they gave her ID only a cursory examination.

“Anything unusual reported in the last few days?” Cam asked.

The younger of the two guards, a husky, freckled blond who looked as if he’d be right at home on a Midwestern farm, turned to a computer and brought up a file. He scrolled through it quickly and swiveled back to face her. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” He shrugged. “Actually, nothing much at all has happened.”

“No visitation requests?” Cam didn’t expect there to be any, but sometimes the simplest things could be overlooked. Again, the guard shook his head. “I’d like to see the video feeds for the last thirty hours.”

“Sure thing.” The guard gestured to an adjacent chair, and Cam took off her topcoat and laid it over the back. By the time she sat down, the guard had pulled up a video file.

“The controls will come up with the mouse,” he said and went back to his work.

“Thanks.” Cam positioned the mouse over the lower left-hand corner of the screen and clicked the play icon. The white-walled cell, lit as brightly as an office in daytime and looking about as coldly impersonal, came into view. Jennifer Pattee sat on her bed with her back to the wall and her knees drawn up, her arms folded around them. The timestamp said 0500 the previous day.

The prisoner didn’t look particularly distressed. She was given daily access to a shower and a change of clothes, and she’d obviously been making use of the privilege. Her hair was washed and combed, her pale gray jumpsuit was clean. The faint circles under her eyes suggested she might not have been sleeping entirely well, but the casual observer would not automatically recognize her as a prisoner. Cam fast-forwarded and noted the times at which Jennifer’s meals were provided. Jennifer took each tray, sat on the side of her bed, and methodically consumed all the food, her expression never betraying any reaction to how it tasted. She simply ate as if it were her duty. And perhaps it was. Fueling up to be ready for the fight to come. Whoever had trained her had anticipated this, and while Cam appreciated the necessity of preparing soldiers to withstand hardships, she could not fathom teaching children those lessons. But despite her abhorrence for what Jennifer likely experienced as a child, Cam had no sympathy for the woman. Jennifer was a criminal, and she had been ready to kill any number of individuals to make her statement.

The lights in the cell never went off, and a few hours after the third meal, Jennifer lay down on the bed and pulled the covers up to shield her face. Fast-forwarding, Cam noted she slept for almost six hours before waking. She suspected Jennifer had a very precise inner clock, as did most highly trained field agents. Jennifer then washed up in the tiny sink and stretched out on the tile floor to exercise. For exactly one hour. Cam timed her.

Nothing in any of the tapes indicated Jennifer’s resolve was weakening. Cam hit Stop and stood. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” the guard said, diligently injecting enthusiasm into his voice as if trying to convince her he wasn’t bored by his assignment. On the other hand, maybe he welcomed the low-stress post.

The older guard, a taciturn balding man, guided Cam through the maze of hallways to the familiar interrogation room. A few moments later, he escorted Jennifer, once again shackled at the wrists, into the room. Despite the fact that Jennifer was no real physical threat, Cam said nothing while the guard secured Jennifer’s restraints to the table. She wanted to reinforce Jennifer’s complete helplessness, to remind Jennifer she was a captive and completely at the will of her captors. Namely, Cam.

“I thought we’d finish our conversation about Idaho,” Cam said.

Jennifer regarded her steadily. What hadn’t shown in the video was the gleam of absolute fervor in her eyes. She might be a captive, but her devotion to whatever cause sustained her was unflagging. “I wasn’t aware we were having a conversation.”

Cam smiled. “It was a bit one-sided. I was hoping today you might be more communicative.”

“I have nothing to say to you except to remind you that you can’t keep me here without representation. It’s against—”

“About that,” Cam said softly, leaning forward, encroaching on the limited personal space the length of Jennifer’s chains afforded her. “You are a terrorist. You have no rights. You forfeited those rights when you decided to attack the government that protects them.”

For the briefest instant, shock dulled Jennifer’s eyes. Fear doused the flames of her fanaticism. Just as quickly, her expression became completely blank, as if she had shuttered every emotion. She had been trained not to respond to threats, physical or emotional, but even the most rigorous training could not obliterate the involuntary responses buried deep in the animal brain. When threatened with extermination, every animal would run or fight. Cam wanted to force Jennifer into doing one or the other.

“On the other hand,” Cam said casually, as if she were having a conversation with a trusted friend, “I’m in the position to make your life much more comfortable. I’m sure there are people who are worried about you. People you’d like to contact. Friends.” Cam paused. “Family.”

Again, Jennifer attempted to control her responses, and she was very, very good. But her pupils widened and constricted just enough to signal she’d experienced a surge of adrenaline at the suggestion of making contact with those close to her. Jennifer undoubtedly functioned in some sort of subunit, a terrorist cell isolated from the larger group—and she was waiting for them to find her.

“Do you really expect them to come for you?” Cam laughed and waved a hand around the room. “In a place like this? And just how do you expect that to happen?”

“Do you honestly expect me to tell you?” Jennifer made no attempt to hide her disdain.

“Not in so many words.” Cam checked her watch. “I have a plane to catch to Boise.” She looked up, caught Jennifer’s stare. This time Jennifer failed to hide her hatred. “I’ll tell Angela Jones you send your best.”

“I don’t know Angela Jones,” Jennifer said flatly.

“No? You probably know her by another name. One of your school friends, I’d wager. And I’m sure there are others who know your name and hers. How many homeschooled children do you think went on to higher education from Idaho? The information is there, Jennifer. We’ll find it.” Cam stood. “And when we do, we’ll find your leader.”

“I hope you do,” Jennifer said vehemently. “Because he’ll kill you.”

Cam was much better at controlling her emotions than Jennifer, and her satisfaction didn’t show. But she had her confirmation. Jennifer and Angela were connected, and she was headed in the right direction.

She leaned forward, her palms flat on the table, her body looming over Jennifer’s. “I sincerely hope he tries.”


*


The trip to the motel for Sky’s scant belongings didn’t take very long. On the way back, they stopped at the bar to pick up Loren’s bike. When they returned to Loren’s shop, Loren disappeared into the garage, and Sky put away her things on an empty shelf in the cubbies. The sound of an engine revving in the garage told her Loren was tuning up the bike for the seven-hundred-mile trip to Reno. At least they were heading south where it might be a little warmer.