Conard County Spy

“What?” Trace asked jokingly. “No torrid affair?”

“I’m not sure I could carry that off without actually having had one.”

Julie’s honesty was touching, but her statement fell into the room almost explosively. He tried to lighten the moment when he saw her cheeks start to color. How many women still blushed? he wondered. “We could always have one now.”

He gave her a few seconds to stare at him wide-eyed, then he laughed. “Just joshing you. I mean, sure, I’d love to, but under the circumstances, it wouldn’t be wise.”

Not when someone was trying to kill him. Not when he might have to leave at the drop of a hat. He had limits, and taking advantage of a woman was a hard line for him. He had few hard lines left, and not crossing them was all that kept him from feeling he was simply scum.

Then she stunned him. “What makes you so sure it wouldn’t be wise?” she asked pertly as she slid off the bar stool. She headed for the bathroom, saying she’d be back in a minute to work on the story.

For the first time, Trace wondered if he’d wandered into a new kind of quicksand.

* * *

Be sure to check out the rest of the Conard County: The Next Generation series!

Conard County Spy
Rachel Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

MILLS & BOON

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For all my readers who help bring Conard County to life, and many thanks to Ashley Granger who volunteered the use of her name for a character. Hope you’re pleased, Ashley.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

The hotel room was opulent, befitting an important man, one on a diplomatic mission for his country. But there was not a diplomatic discussion taking place within its confines. Deadly business was on the table.

The gray-haired man sitting near the window in a very expensive tailored suit looked at the dossier in his hands. He appeared to be extremely fit and when he moved, did so with fluid ease.

The man who faced him was decades younger, dressed in much less expensive garb suitable to a government clerk. He was also a little nervous, no matter how calm he tried to be. He was the cover for the people helping the older man. They both knew it. They both also knew it could end badly for this young man if this meeting became known to the wrong people.

The gray-haired man had a lot of experience judging people, and he knew that this one knew only what he needed to in order to complete this task. “So this is the one who betrayed me? Trace Archer?”

“Yes, sir,” said the other. “We told you that several months ago.”

“Where is he now?”

“We sent him on his way to recuperate away from here. We’re tracking him.”

“So you know where he is?”

The younger man nodded. “What he did put you in great danger, General. My superiors understand.”

“My man did a poor job of taking him out in Bulgaria. It will be harder here.”

“It will be cleaner here. You know we value you highly. But if something happens to him on his trip, no explanations will be needed from anyone. That’s how we all want it.”

The general put the dossier aside and went to stand at the window. “In Ukraine, the situation is very delicate. Now it is even more delicate because of this man.”

“I know.”

The general doubted the younger man knew even that much or had any real understanding of the complexities here. He was simply doing his job. “I will not trust this to anyone else. That failed last time. So this time you will get me close to him.”

The younger man hesitated. Apparently this had not been in his brief. “General, the risk...”

“There will be no risk. I am here on a diplomatic mission, yes?”

“But that won’t protect you if...”

“There will be no if. This man has threatened my life, my family, everything I have worked for. I must know he is taken care of, see it with my own eyes.”

After a moment of hesitation, the younger man agreed. “As you wish.” Clearly he had been told not to disagree with the general.

“I would expect no less. I have worked with you for many years, first from my position in the Russian army, and now in Ukraine. You owe me.”

“Yes, sir.”

The general smiled for the first time. “Soon we will resume our mutually beneficial relationship. Once I remove the traitor.”

Chapter 1

Trace Archer hesitated on the porch. The address was correct, but he hadn’t been expecting such a large house. It rose two stories on a street that would be shady in the summertime, but on this cold March night boasted leafless branches. Probably close to a hundred years old.

In fact, he didn’t know what he had been expecting and wasn’t remotely certain what he was doing here. And even though an old friend lived here, he doubted he’d be welcomed.

As he was standing there hesitating, a woman popped out the front door. Covered by winter clothing, her figure was obscured, but in the porch light he couldn’t miss the long, shiny auburn hair, and when her gaze settled on him, he could tell her eyes were an unusual green, undimmed by the poor light.

“Well, hello,” she said, pausing.

He must be at the wrong place. John Hayes had shown him a photo of his wife once, and Ryker Tremaine had married her after John died. This woman didn’t match the photo at all.

“Sorry,” he said automatically, shifting a little to ease the everlasting pain in his arm and hand. “I must have the wrong house.”

He couldn’t mistake the appreciation in her eyes as her gaze swept over him. He wasn’t sure what she was appreciating, considering that, like her, he was wearing a heavy winter jacket.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said. “I don’t live here. Who are you looking for?”

“Ryker Tremaine.”

“Right house,” she said, then before he could respond she turned and threw the door open. “Hey, Ryker, you’ve got a friend out here.”

“Bring him in,” came a familiar but muffled voice from inside.

The choice taken out of his hands, Trace followed the woman inside, entering a warm, pleasant foyer. Gleaming dark wood surrounded him and a staircase led directly upward. It made him feel like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit the picture.

“I’m Julie, by the way,” the green-eyed woman said, stripping off her gloves and offering her hand. “Julie Ardlow.”

Trace shifted uneasily. He still wasn’t used to all the limitations of his injury and had to make a conscious decision to offer his gloved left hand to shake hers. He saw the way her eyes widened, then saw comprehension dawn. Well, it wasn’t as if he could hide it indefinitely.

Then he heard heavy footsteps from the back of the house, and Ryker appeared. Trace experienced a sense of shock. In all the years he’d known Ryker, never had he seen the man look this relaxed, and right now he had a faint smile around his mouth. As he saw Trace, that smile vanished, and he once again looked like granite.

“Well. I’ll be damned,” Ryker said.

“I can leave,” Trace replied. “I was just in the area...”

“No,” Ryker said slowly. “No. Julie, you still need to run?”

Julie looked between the two men. Trace could almost sense her calculating whether that was a dismissal or an invitation to stay.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “School tomorrow and all that. See you, Ryker. Nice meeting you, whoever you are.”

“Sorry,” he said. “The name’s Trace.”

She cocked her head a little, smiled slightly with a mouth that seemed to beg for a kiss, then headed back out the front door. Neither man moved until it closed behind her.

“I heard you were sidelined,” Ryker said. “Didn’t expect you, though.”

“No reason you should. I wasn’t expecting to show up here, either. If it’s a problem, I’ll leave.”

Ryker shook his head a little. “I’ll tell my wife you’re here and make some coffee. Just...no lies, okay? There’ve been enough of them.”

Trace didn’t have to imagine those. He lived them. But he did wonder what lies the man was expecting. Between them, there didn’t need to be any. When Ryker waved him into the living room, he unzipped his jacket partway with his good left hand, then sat on the battered burgundy gooseneck chair.

Seldom had he ever felt more out of place. What had brought him here, anyway? A desire to find out if life after the job was possible? Ryker seemed to be making it, but then it hadn’t been that long.

This whole house smelled of baby, he noted. Powder and sour milk. He almost smiled thinking of the huge transitions Ryker must be going through. Nothing about this would resemble being a field operative.

At last Ryker returned with coffee for each of them. “The baby’s been fussy the last couple of days. A cold. My wife’s going to try to catch some sleep, so it’s just us.”

That was fine by Trace. The devil of it was, he’d brought himself here and now didn’t have a damn thing to say.

“How bad is it?” Ryker finally asked.

“I won’t be working in the field anymore.” The least of it in some ways. Being crippled was harder to deal with than a change of jobs.

Ryker settled on the couch and crossed his legs loosely. “Sorry, man.”

“Not so sure I am.” This visit was pointless. He honestly didn’t know what he’d expected to find here in Conard County, Wyoming. Answers to questions about a future he was having trouble facing? He needed a shrink for that, not an old friend. Maybe he should just congratulate Ryker on his new life and get the hell out.

“You going to be staying in town for a while?” Ryker asked.

Was that a suggestion he leave? Trace couldn’t tell, but then Ryker had always been difficult to read. “I wasn’t planning to. I just wanted to drop by.”

Ryker nodded slowly, still watching him. “Where will you go next?”

“Damned if I know. Does it matter?”

A faint frown flickered over Ryker’s face. Then he sighed. “Yeah, Trace, it matters. Word I get about you isn’t good. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, you and me, but I’m hearing things. You got trouble on your tail?”

“I’m not sure. No one’s sure.”

Ryker stood up then, and now there was no mistaking his reaction. “You brought that trouble right to my door? To my wife and baby?”

“I’ve been careful. No one knows where I am right now.”

Ryker paced three steps quickly before turning and stabbing his finger at Trace. “You came here. Who told you how to find me?”

“Bill.”

“Bill. Damn it all to hell.”

Trace stood up, battling to ignore the savage pain in his right arm. “Consider me gone. No one knows I’m here.”

“I know and Bill knows. That’s one too many. Why the hell did he tell you?”

“I don’t know. I’m just rambling.”

“With a tiger on your tail?”

“Nobody knows that for certain. And frankly, I don’t believe it.”

This was a side of Ryker that Trace wasn’t used to seeing. Usually the man went into overdrive to help a buddy. Now he was in a different mode, a lion protecting his pride. This had been a huge mistake. He put his coffee down. “I’ll leave now, R.T. Gone tonight.”

“But to where?”

“Who cares?”

Ryker scowled at him. “I do, damn it. They shouldn’t be cutting you loose like this.”

“I’m a liability now. Obviously.” Nothing like facing the cold, hard truth.

Ryker shook his head. “Sit down, drink your coffee and shut up. I need to think.”

An eternity later, Ryker settled and faced him again. “You got a number of IDs? Some that they don’t know about?”

“A few. I’ve been using different ones everywhere I go.”

Ryker nodded. “Use one of them tonight. Check into the motel on the edge of town with it. Stay low.”

“And then?”

“I’m going to talk to the sheriff here.”

Everything in Trace rebelled. “You can’t tell him...”

“I can tell him enough. He’s a good man to have on your side. But one thing you are most definitely not going to do is come back to this house. Got it?”

“Yeah.” Trace practically snapped the word.

“Stay tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll leave.”

Ryker shook his head. “Trace, you’re hanging in the wind. You can’t do that until you die. So shut up and get that room. We’ll talk again tomorrow once I figure out some things.”

* * *

Julie Ardlow decided not to head straight home. Instead she went to Maude’s City Diner and ordered a latte to drink while she went over her kindergarten students’ pictures. The exercise was designed to do two things: associate a printed color name with the actual hue, and work on fine motor skills by drawing inside the lines. Each child’s first name had to be crayoned at the top. Beyond that, she didn’t care how much they added their own inventions to the simple picture, but she often enjoyed them.

The papers all said ball and purple at the top. As long as the ball was purple and was reasonably neat, she didn’t care what they colored the other items or how much they added. The kids seemed to enjoy it, and she had a stack of self-sticking stars and smiley faces to decorate each one with. At this point in the year, most were engaged in simple reading, so she measured their progress, especially in fine motor skills. A big improvement over the beginning of the year.

And they all made her smile. The boys’ drawings were often decorated with simple rocket ships or planes. The girls’ with flowers or smiling stick figures. Not always, though. Tommy Wells had added what looked like a snake or a dragon to his. Gloria Chase, defying stereotypes as usual, had drawn a big boat on hers.

When she finished with them, she pulled out another stack from her bag. Word matching this time, simple ones they had all learned to read aloud, drawing a line between the ones that matched in separate columns. Following directions, pattern recognition, reading, and...in one case, one student’s work indicated some clear dyslexia. That had been brought to the school’s attention, and Jason was getting extra help. She gave him a big smiley face and a gold star anyway. She never wanted to discourage a child.

She felt a cold blast of air behind her and heard the bell over the door ring. She looked over and saw that guy she had met at Ryker and Marisa’s house earlier. Something about him awoke her sexual radar, but she didn’t know why. Maybe because he was new to town? It had been a few years now since she had last felt the desire to even date. And over a decade since her only serious relationship.

He had the kind of face that would probably fit in anywhere, yet still had a strong appeal. Dark hair, eyes a medium brown, a good jaw. And the steel she had once seen in Ryker. Except this guy looked as if something was seriously wearing on him.

When his gaze scraped over her, she knew he recognized her, but he started for another table with his coffee anyway. Unable to resist, she waved him over. Somebody new in town. He probably wouldn’t be here long and he knew Ryker, which made him safe enough. She wouldn’t mind a little diversion.

His reluctance was obvious as he crossed to her booth. “I’m interrupting,” he said immediately, nodding at the papers spread in front of her.

“A welcome interruption,” she replied. “No point having your coffee all by yourself. Grab a seat.”

Again, that hesitation. What was with this guy? Usually men didn’t resist her invitation to coffee. Not that she asked many of them. She’d spent her entire life in Conard County, and she knew all the men. No interesting stories there. She figured she was going to end her days a spinster because she was already bored with the limited local selection of available bachelors.

He slid into the booth across from her, and she didn’t miss his wince.

“You’re in pain,” she said bluntly.

“Yeah. Injury.”

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t answer beyond, “It happens. So you teach?”

“Kindergarten.”

“Lots of smiley faces there.” Which brought a faint smile to his face. “You make them color inside the lines?”

She hated that question. “It teaches fine motor coordination. These children are all learning to print the alphabet and their numbers. It’s a good exercise, staying in the lines. But no, I don’t make them do that all the time.” She eyed him. “You play inside the lines?”

“Depends,” he answered.

Why didn’t that surprise her? Julie thought wryly. Ryker clearly hadn’t expected to see him, and since they knew each other... Well, she’d already discovered Ryker didn’t always play inside the lines. “Will you be visiting for long?”

“That remains to be seen. I may leave in the morning.”

“A rolling stone, huh?”

“At the moment.”

Julie studied him frankly. It was clear to her that this man had been through some kind of wringer, and he seemed tense, as if holding still wasn’t comfortable for him. The pain? Or something else? “I gather you know Ryker, but did you ever meet his wife, Marisa?”

Trace shook his head. “I haven’t had the pleasure. She must be something to have settled him down.”

“She’s something, all right. She’s also my lifelong best friend.”

He got the warning, she saw with satisfaction. She had no idea what Ryker had done before he arrived in this town, just as she had no idea what Marisa’s late husband, Johnny, had done. All she knew what that it had caused Johnny’s death, and she didn’t want this guy and whatever secrets he bore to put Marisa in danger.

“So who do you work for?” she asked, pulling her papers together. She could finish the word-match problem later.

“State Department.”

Ah, she’d heard that before, from Johnny and Ryker. She wasn’t half buying it, but she knew better than to say so. “A lot of traveling?”

“Quite a bit.”

“Traveling for vacation is one thing. Traveling all the time for work is another. I don’t think I’d like it.”

“Depends,” he said. “When you stay in one place long enough, you get immersed in a different culture. Lots of new perspectives.”

In that instant, she decided she liked this man. That was an intelligent outlook. “You know, I went to Jamaica a few years back, and I was on a tour bus.”

He arched a questioning brow and waited.

“There was a couple from this state, sad to say, who started badgering the tour guide about Jamaica’s drug problems and whether they were worse because of the race of most Jamaicans.”

She watched, waiting. For an instant Trace seemed to freeze, then he just shook his head.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “For the first time in my life, I wished I were from somewhere else. I stopped to apologize to the guide when we disembarked. My point is, as ugly people, they probably didn’t get any new perspectives.”

“Not everyone does,” he agreed. “Some people never leave their comfort zones.”

“I imagine you do.”

His brown eyes narrowed slightly. “Often. Why?”

“Just a casual response to your comment about different perspectives.” She summoned a smile and decided to back off. This guy was what Marisa had once called a box of secrets. Just like Johnny and then Ryker. Since he wouldn’t be around long, it didn’t matter, and it sure wasn’t courteous to try to discuss things that might make him uneasy.

Secrets. She almost sighed. She’d grown up in a town where almost nothing was a secret for long, but she’d seen the toll Johnny’s secrets had taken on Marisa. Now there was Ryker, and she sometimes wondered but never asked how he and Marisa had crossed that bridge. All she knew for certain was that they had somehow.

Still, the idea of a guy with secrets was out of the ordinary, something new and shiny in a town she loved but sometimes felt was apt to bore her to extinction.

Except for her students. She looked down at the papers in front of her and reminded herself that they were all the newness and shininess she needed. With them, nearly every day brought wonderful surprises.

“I love teaching kindergarten,” she remarked, swimming out of the shoals into safer water. “Kids that age are so fresh, and everything is new and wonderful to them. They often astonish me and remind me that life can be magical.”

“No bad stuff?”

She looked at him again. Was this guy jaded, or was something else going on? She couldn’t imagine. “Well, occasionally I have a child who knows things far beyond his or her years. Things no child should have to deal with.”

“But you can help?”

“Sometimes.”

Then he smiled, a genuine smile, the first he had given her. It made her feel a sexual tug all the way to her core. “That must be a great feeling.” He edged out of the booth. “It’s been a pleasure, Ms. Ardlow. Can you point me in the direction of the motel?”

She hesitated, then thought, Why the heck not? “I can lead you there if you want to follow. It’s on my way. Just let me gather up my papers.”

“You want another coffee?”

She glanced up and found him still smiling. “Sure, latte with two sweeteners. Thanks.”

“I’m getting some to take with me. No problem.”

She watched him walk back toward the counter where Maude, the diner’s owner, glowered as usual. The man had an easy stride, as if he were in great shape except for that arm of his. Curious.

Then she gathered her papers into her folders and slid them into her backpack and wondered if she’d ever learn any more about Trace. Ryker probably wouldn’t tell her a thing. That man was a serious clam. Not that it mattered. Trace would probably be gone with the morning sun.

She collected her coffee from Maude, who gave her an extra frown, probably because she was associating with a stranger. Julie replied with a broad smile. Annoying Maude was the easiest thing in the world. Sometimes Julie even enjoyed doing it.

Trace pushed the door open with his back, his good left hand holding a tray with three coffees of his own. She guessed he wasn’t planning to sleep tonight. She bit back an offer to help, sensing it wouldn’t be welcome, then stepped out into a night that ought to be hinting at the approaching spring but instead seemed to be warning that more winter waited around the corner.

She pointed out her car, then went to climb into it. Trace needed a couple of extra steps, putting the coffee on top of his car while he opened the door, then reaching in to settle the tray on the passenger seat. He’d had some practice at the juggling act, she thought as she wished her car would hurry and warm up.

She pulled out of the parking space and waited for him. Soon he was behind her, and she led him down the main street to the edge of town, where a truck stop brightened one side of the road and the La-Z-Rest Motel sagged on the other side. She tapped her brake lights a couple of times and saw him flash his headlights once in response before he turned into the motel.

She continued her way along an unnecessarily circuitous route to her apartment. It had been out of her way to lead him to the motel, but she was glad to do it. He struck her as an interesting man.

Too bad he wasn’t staying. She could use a little adventure.

* * *

At the motel, Trace checked in under the ID of Tom LaCrosse and soon had a room, paid for in cash. Once he’d dragged his duffel inside, he popped two of the pain pills the doctor had prescribed. He took them only when he didn’t need to drive and felt it was safe to doze a bit. Tonight was safe. Tomorrow, who knew?

Regardless, the three coffees he’d just bought would keep him from getting too drowsy to wake up.

He ditched the winter jacket, thinking that he had to find a coat easier for a man with only one working hand. He was adept enough at buttons now and could zip up his pants, but that damn jacket was a pain. Getting the zipper to work with only one hand after he’d opened it all the way defied him, but pulling it off over his head didn’t work, either. That procedure left him sweating and too close to passing out.

The pain of the gunshot wound would ease with time, he’d been told, although he’d never get the function back in his hand. Not all of it. He’d reached the point where he didn’t care if it ever worked right again if it would just shower him with the mercy of not hurting as if it were caught in a meat grinder.

Shed of his clothes, he climbed into the sweat suit he preferred for sleeping and turned on the TV at low volume. He guzzled coffee and waited for the meds to start their work. A few hours of milder pain would be welcome, but nothing completely erased it.

Ryker hadn’t exactly surprised him, now that he thought about it. The man was out of the business, he had a wife and child to worry about, and he could hardly want someone like Trace showing up.

But the thing was—and this bugged the devil out of Trace—nobody at the agency was sure that he might be in trouble. All the intelligence networks, all the people gathering every little tidbit, could come up with only one thing: someone had tried to find him under his real name. Something only a few people should know. The secrecy around him had somehow been pierced.

So who and why? It might be nothing. But it left him, as Ryker had so succinctly put it, blowing in the wind. The agency wanted him to keep moving until they learned more, so he’d been doing exactly that, until he was utterly tired of it.

He shouldn’t have come here. Ryker was right about that. Whether someone was after him didn’t matter. If there was even the slightest chance, he should never have risked exposing Ryker’s family. Maybe the pain was affecting his decision-making, because this was a dumb one.

But as the buzz from the meds began to hit him and he stretched out on the bed, another part of him was glad he’d come. He’d enjoyed his eyeful of Teacher Julie. He wondered if she had any idea how that claret sweater brought out the red in her hair and the green in her eyes. Or if she even guessed how it had revealed her breasts as she’d leaned forward against the table.

Maybe not, but he’d appreciated every single minute of the view. Still, she was not for him. How much sweeter could you get than a kindergarten teacher who lived in a world of smiley faces and foil stars? She deserved the kind of man who would stay for the long haul, and he was no stayer.

Even if they found out no one was after him, he still wouldn’t be right for that woman. He didn’t want to cast his shadows over her bright little faces and shiny stars. Everywhere he went, he cast shadows. He knew that.

He just hoped he hadn’t cast one over Ryker.

As the pills set him free enough to doze, they also set his imagination free. Images of Julie Ardlow swam in his mind’s eye, images of undressing her, sensations of touching her, exploring her. The unparalleled moments of entering her hot, wet depths and claiming her.

Just dreams. Sometimes dreams were all a man had left. Sometimes they were the last safe place he could go.