Cold Pursuit - Carla Neggers [62]
“So it was.”
“He was a good man, but he never gave people something for nothing.” Elijah’s eyes, with their piercing Cameron blue, settled on her. “I figured he owed you.”
“If he did, it was in his own mind, not mine.”
“Maybe so.”
Jo wasn’t about to tell him about his father’s vision of the children they’d never have; that part of their conversation was between her and Drew. But she couldn’t help wondering how much her response to Elijah last night—the taste of him, the feel of his body hard against hers—had to do with her visit with his father. For the past seven months, she’d been thinking about Elijah in a way she hadn’t before Drew Cameron had turned up at her Washington apartment.
But such thinking wasn’t going to get her anywhere, and she dropped her arms from her chest. “Take your rifle and go home, Elijah. I need to get back inside. My hair’s turning to icicles.”
“Cold morning for a shower in a barely heated cabin.”
“At least there is a shower, although sometimes it’d be nice to have a tub.”
“I have one at my place if you ever—”
“Thanks.” She cut him off quickly. Today, she’d promised herself, would be different. Her life was complicated enough right now without kissing her neighbor and one-time lover. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You could always borrow my bathrobe if you didn’t bring one with you.”
“No way do you have a bathrobe, Elijah.”
He looked amused. “You don’t think so?”
She opened the cabin door, sorry she’d brought up the subject. But he didn’t move, just stood there with his rifle still on his shoulder. She frowned at him. “What are you doing?”
“Picturing what kind of bathrobe you have.”
“I don’t own a bathrobe.”
It was the wrong answer. He grinned at her. “Even better.”
“Go drink a gallon of coffee, Elijah. You need it.”
But his grin faded, and he said seriously, “Put a pot on. I’ll be back in ten. I need to talk to you about your new best friend in Washington.”
“My new…” Jo took a breath. “Charlie Neal? Elijah—”
“He’s fine. Has a hell of an imagination. Coffee, okay?”
He headed back through the trees to his house, and she shut the door hard behind her, wishing she weren’t even a little attracted to him. But she was a lot attracted, not so much a shock as a pointed reminder of why she should have resisted coming back to Black Falls.
Assassins.
Only Charlie.
Jo shook her head over coffee with Elijah in her cabin. They sat at the table with the vase of lilies Charlie had sent her. “He has an active imagination. He reads, plays video games and has fantasy airsoft firefights. He doesn’t sit in on White House briefings.”
Elijah gave her a steady, measured look that reminded her he was an experienced Special Forces soldier. “So, you don’t know anything about assassins?”
“If I knew anything about an assassination team at work in Washington or Black Falls or anywhere else, I wouldn’t be sitting here having coffee with you and talking about a sixteen-year-old kid—even if he is the son of the vice president. Charlie doesn’t believe his father or any of his father’s friends are targets, does he?”
“We didn’t get into it.”
“Elijah…” She got up with her coffee mug. The cabin felt warmer, but she doubted it was. “Does he think I’m here undercover?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Anything’s possible with Charlie. He’s manipulative and very smart.”
“He’s not so smart that he didn’t talk himself out of that airsoft prank, but he’s smart enough to have sent you flowers.”
“It’ll take more than flowers for me to warm back up to him.”
“Nah. You like that kid. You’re a soft touch, Agent Harper.” But as he rose to his feet, Elijah’s tight expression suggested that Charlie Neal had gotten to him, too. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Where are you going?”
“Out the front door. The only door, I should say.”
“You’re familiar with search-and-rescue protocols. If you plan to find Nora and Devin, the best starting point is to figure out where they were last seen and to interview the people who’ve talked to them most recently—friends,