Читать книгу Special Assignment: Baby - Debra Webb - Страница 8

STILL TIRED FROM yesterday’s cleaning frenzy, Sabrina smiled for her son and ruffled his silky brown hair. He gurgled and cooed, his gray eyes sparkling as he bounced up and down in anticipation of his mother scooping him up.

“Sorry, sweetie, Mommy has something she has to do this morning.” She hated to leave him, but she sure couldn’t take him with her to the compound.

Ryan protested, jerking against the brightly colored sides of his playpen.

“I don’t like the idea of you going out to that place, Sabrina,” Mrs. Cartwright said softly, her aged voice as heavy with worry as her faded blue eyes. “I’ve heard some pretty disturbing rumors about what they’re doing out there.”

Sabrina folded her arms over her middle and turned away from the concerned gaze that studied her too closely. She’d known Mrs. Cartwright forever, and she trusted her completely. “I don’t know what else to do. They’ve offered to let me help with home schooling some of the younger children.” She shrugged. “It’s just for a couple of hours a day.”

The older woman moved to her side and ruffled Ryan’s hair as Sabrina had only moments ago. He babbled his approval at the attention. “But you already work too hard,” Mrs. Cartwright argued. “You don’t need another job.” She shook her head and gazed up at Sabrina. “Especially not at that place and one that doesn’t pay. You should be with your son.”

A weary sigh slipped past Sabrina’s lips. How could she explain that she didn’t have a choice in the matter? “It’s the only way I have of keeping an eye on Charlie. He won’t listen to anything I say anymore.”

“He’s a good boy, Sabrina,” Mrs. Cartwright protested. “He’s just missing a father figure in his life. He’ll come around.”

Sabrina scrubbed a hand over her face and blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. “I know. But, God, couldn’t he have looked anywhere but to Neely?” She prayed that her elderly friend was right and that Charlie would come around…soon.

“Lots of folks considerably older than Charlie are following the man.” Mrs. Cartwright sighed, the effort heaving from her thin chest. “Joshua Neely seems to have what they’re looking for, as frightening as that sounds.”

Instantly, Court sprang to Sabrina’s mind. How could he fall for a guy like Neely? It just didn’t make sense to her, no matter what his excuse. Sabrina had a sneaking suspicion that Court wasn’t being completely honest with her. How could he just up and walk away from the FBI? He had been in love with the whole damned super-agent mystique. He sure hadn’t been in love with her. She suppressed the old hurt that accompanied that thought.

Her gaze drifted down to Ryan. Having given up on his mommy rescuing him from his red-and-blue prison, he now sat playing with his spongy stacking blocks. Court may have broken her heart, but he had given her the one thing that got her through each day—her son. His birth had coincided with the realization that hard financial times were ahead, not to mention Charlie’s plunge into adolescence and his subsequent rebellious behavior.

Ryan made life bearable. She would protect him from the hurtful games adults played. No one—not even Court—would hurt her son. Sabrina would see to that.

“I have to get going.” Sabrina bent down and dropped a kiss on her baby’s sweet head. She forced a smile for her elderly friend. “I’ll be back around lunchtime.”

Mrs. Cartwright followed Sabrina to the door. “Be careful, Sabrina.” She smoothed a hand over the tight bun she’d twisted her gray tresses into. “I worry about you, you know.”

Taller than most women, Sabrina leaned down and gave Mrs. Cartwright a quick hug. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, I’m tougher than I look. Just take good care of my little boy.” Besides, Sabrina didn’t add, with her long legs she could probably outrun most of the men she knew—Joshua Neely and his cohorts included.

Mrs. Cartwright waved goodbye from the door as Sabrina backed away from the house. She drove to the end of the dirt road that served as a driveway to the Cartwright place and then pointed her old truck in the direction of the militia compound. Sabrina glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. How long had it been since she had bothered with makeup? Two years, an impatient voice reminded her.

“You’re pathetic, Korbett,” she accused.

Not only had she dabbed on a touch of makeup, she’d taken the time to French-braid her hair. A haphazard ponytail was her usual hairdo. Sabrina huffed her disgust. To make matters worse she had scrounged around until she found her best pair of jeans and her one almost-new blouse she saved for wearing to Ryan’s pediatrician appointments.

She scowled at the road before her. So what was wrong with wanting to look her best? After all, she was going to a job of sorts. There would be other women there who would probably be dressed similarly. Just because she took a little more care than usual today didn’t mean she’d done it for Court.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered.

Truly pathetic.

Sabrina braked to a stop in front of the gate leading to the compound. She kept her gaze straight ahead as the armed guard—Jed Markham, a man she had known her entire life—inspected her truck inside and out. She clenched her teeth at the fury that unfurled inside her. A twelve-foot-high chain-link fence, topped with concertina wire, protected the compound from intruders. Four manned observation towers stood in strategic locations. The place looked like a military base prepared for war. The hard-core followers, like the one circling her old truck now, even wore military garb.

Jed waved an arm and the gate slowly opened in front of her. “You can pass,” he barked.

“Didn’t find anything suspicious, huh?” Sabrina asked, baiting him sweetly, with a matching sugary smile. “I guess I hid that bomb better than I thought.”

Jed simply glared at her as he worked the wad of tobacco in his mouth until he could spit.

Sabrina rolled her eyes and drove on through the gate. She parked near the meeting hall, which also held the two classrooms, and climbed out into the brisk morning air. Fall was right around the corner. Then winter would be here before she knew it. She dreaded the bad weather to come. If Charlie didn’t come back home to help her—she would not think that way. She would win him back…somehow. She had to make him see that men like Neely were only taking advantage of the good intentions of the people here. She just hoped she wouldn’t be too late.

“Morning, Sabrina,” Lorie Beecham called out as Sabrina made her way into the classroom. “We’re sure glad to have you. We’ve got two new students this morning.”

Sabrina surveyed the dozen or so children in the room. How could people bring their innocent children to a place like this? She resisted the urge to shiver. Someone had to stop Neely before something bad happened.

But who?

Her thoughts went automatically to Court. She forced his image from her mind. She had to remember that he was a part of this now….

He was one of them.

COURT APPRAISED Joshua Neely’s office as he waited for the man to show up for their scheduled meeting. The young man who served as Neely’s personal assistant or secretary of sorts had insisted that Court have a seat and wait since Neely was expected back momentarily. But Court didn’t want to sit. Instead, he paced, surveying Neely’s framed mementos.

Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined one wall. Law books filled most of the shelves. According to the intelligence Court had on Neely, the man held a degree in political science as well as law. The office furnishings were an odd blend of typical middle-management style and more elegant oak pieces probably donated by enamored followers. The only disturbing elements were the newspaper clippings of high profile cases between other militia groups and the federal authorities, framed and hanging on nearly every available inch of wall space. Then there were the banners proclaiming Neely’s position on the law of the land. True Freedom Lies in the Heart of the Sons and Daughters of this Great Land. We Shall End the Oppression.

Court caught himself before he shook his head. Between the rally and a mostly sleepless night in the barracks with a group of particularly fervent followers, he was edgy this morning. Two weeks of hanging out at the Watering Hole, a hangout where one or more militia members could always be found, had finally paid off yesterday. Court moved back to the desk and dropped into one of the available chairs. The undertones in Neely’s speech at the rally and the intense reaction of those present had seriously unsettled Court. This wasn’t the first group of this nature he had investigated, but this one was certainly the most enthusiastic. Yet, it was something more that had him so uneasy. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

There was nothing wrong with enthusiasm, but it was the man who garnered the reactions that disturbed him, he decided. Court couldn’t quite label his suspicions just yet, but a bad scenario was forming in his mind.

Anybody around when that scenario reached fruition would likely be caught in the fallout.

The taste of Sabrina, sweet and warm, abruptly filled his mind, startling Court. The kiss he’d stolen from her had haunted what little sleep he’d managed last night. He had purposely forgotten how pretty she was. Even as a kid, all arms and legs with a honey-brown ponytail that hung to her waist, Sabrina had been too appealing for her own good. She and Court had grown up together on the Double K, and she’d spent most of her days following him around. By age twelve she’d had herself a serious case of hero worship. Only a year older, Court hadn’t minded. Even now the sound of her laughter, the memory of the way those dark chocolate eyes twinkled made him want to smile…made him regret.

Court snapped himself from that pointless line of thinking. That was a different life and he wanted no part of that past. Without success, he tried to blink away the image of how she’d looked when she found him at her door. Flushed, her skin glistening with perspiration from the work she’d obviously been doing in the barn. Though she was still tall and thin, there was something different about Sabrina. Court frowned, trying to pinpoint the subtle change. She was softer somehow, but every bit as lean and strong as before. Sabrina Korbett was only a couple of inches shy of his height of six foot two. He smiled at the thought that he’d never known her to be afraid of anyone or anything. Not even when she should have been…afraid of him, that is.

Court passed a hand over his face and swore at his inability to keep his mind off the woman he’d spent half a lifetime trying to forget.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long, Court.”

Court pushed to his feet as Joshua Neely, followed by his first lieutenant, entered the office. “No problem, Joshua.” He accepted the man’s hand and shook it. “I’ve been reading.” Court gestured to the framed newspaper articles.

Neely nodded, his expression grave. “A sad history of the oppression. I fear it will take extreme measures, perhaps even terrorist-type activities to ever make the government understand that we will no longer lie down and allow them to march over us.” He indicated the man at his right. “Have you met Thad Ferguson?”

Court extended his hand in Ferguson’s direction. “Raymond introduced us last night.”

Ferguson squeezed Court’s hand in blatant challenge but said nothing. Court smiled and returned the gesture twofold, then released the other man’s hand and turned back to Neely. Court felt Ferguson’s glare on him for several more tense seconds. If the man wanted a pissing contest, Court was ready to oblige.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen.” Seemingly oblivious to the tension between the two men, Neely settled into the high-backed swivel chair behind his desk. “We need to get to know one another a little better.”

Adrenaline stung as it flowed swiftly through Court’s veins, putting him on alert. Forcing his tense muscles to relax, he settled back into his chair. “What would you like to know that you don’t already?” No point in beating around the bush. Neely had questions. Court could only hope that his cover remained intact.

“I spoke to Mr. Cornelius in Richmond,” Neely began, then rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers.

Slipping into anti-interrogation mode, Court forced all thought from his mind. He leveled his gaze on Neely’s. “Has Mrs. Cornelius recovered from her bout with pneumonia?”

Neely smiled. “Fully.” He leaned back into his chair, his hands clasped in front of him. “Mr. Cornelius was most impressed with your horseman talents…as well as your marksman skill.” Neely lifted one dark brow. “He raved about your ability to size up a situation and take quick, decisive action. Said he’d never seen anyone track the way you could. Apparently the two of you went hunting quite regularly.”

“As often as possible,” Court agreed noncommittally. Elmo Cornelius was an uncle to a fellow agent Court had worked with for years. Elmo had jumped at the chance to play a part in Court’s cover.

“Mr. Cornelius was rather distressed with your sudden decision to leave his employment. He’s still looking for a worthy replacement,” Neely offered, his gaze expectant.

“After the Falls Meadow incident, things changed,” Court explained. “I realized when the feds murdered those folks for simply standing up against unfair gun control that I had to do something. I hadn’t forgotten the ideals of the Sons and Daughters, and I felt compelled to come home to my roots. To stand up for what was right.”

Neely glanced at the framed article that retold, from the media’s point of view, the bloodbath of Falls Meadow, Virginia. The feds were the bad guys as usual. No one cared that antigovernment elements were springing up everywhere these days. Most were harmless, but some represented a danger to themselves and the surrounding community. It was those few who made it tough for everybody. The unfortunate incident at Falls Meadow had coincided time and locationwise for Court’s cover.

“You want to fight back? To avenge the wrong done to those people?” Neely prodded.

Court pinned him with a look that alluded to much but gave nothing conclusive. “I want to make a difference.”

One of those practiced smiles spread across Neely’s face. “You feel it, too, don’t you, Court?” He nodded his approval. “I thought as much. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I feel very strongly.” About bringing you down, Court added silently. Every instinct warned him that Neely was dangerous. A snake in the grass, Court decided, coiled up and hissing a tune that mesmerized its victims.

“We need you, Court,” Neely said with quiet determination. “These people need you. You’ve received the calling, and I’d like the honor of guiding your journey. You have something special to offer us, I can feel it. We invite you to serve our cause in a position of leadership, Court Brody, as destiny has so clearly chosen.”

“I’m ready.” Court stood and stretched out his hand to the man behind the desk. “I accept your invitation, Joshua.”

Neely rose, clasped Court’s hand and shook it firmly. “Amen, Brother Brody, welcome to our cause.”

AFTER A MORE EXTENDED TOUR of the facilities the compound offered and two and one-half hours on the firing range to observe training procedures, Court lagged behind the rest as they headed toward the dining hall. Yet another surprise had awaited him on the firing range, a large number of recruits were young boys. Most were accompanied by their fathers, some were with their mothers. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised by the sheer number of kids involved, but he was just the same. It rattled him clear to his bones. Those kids could have been him and his brothers.

Stalling in the middle of the quadrangle, Court surveyed his militant surroundings. This was no place for children. The idea of any of the children he’d seen today being hurt or worse made him sick to his stomach. He had to put a stop to Neely. Whether the man was connected to the Black Order, a multi-national terrorist group, or not, Neely was a danger to these people. Court felt pretty confident that these folks only wanted to stand up for their beliefs.

“Court! Court Brody!”

Court whipped toward the adolescent voice that called out to him. A boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen, with brown hair clipped high and tight, and dressed in camouflage fatigues, sprinted in Court’s direction.

Did he know this kid? Grinning widely, the boy skidded to a stop directly in front of him.

“I’ll betcha don’t remember me, do ya, Court?” His brown eyes twinkled, vaguely familiar. A sprinkling of freckles fanned over his nose and cheeks.

One corner of Court’s mouth quirked up at the kid’s unabashed enthusiasm. “You got me.” He chucked the boy’s shoulder…the same way he used to do to Sabrina when they were kids. “Want to give me a clue?”

“I’m Charlie Korbett, Sabrina’s brother,” he replied, as if Court should have known without any reminders. “I remember you from the funeral. My sister told me all about you. She said y’all used to ride horses, climb trees and do all kinds of things together.”

A twinge of unease pricked Court. Had Sabrina told her kid brother about the FBI? It sounded as if she’d told him most everything else. He snapped his fingers and made a sound of disbelief. “Man, I should have known that. I guess you’ve just gotten so grown up that I didn’t recognize you. And I have been gone a long time.”

“Yeah, I know,” Charlie put in quickly. “Sabrina told me you were off doing some important job.”

Court tensed. “She told you about that, huh?”

Charlie nodded with the same vigor that he spoke. “Uh-huh. But she doesn’t talk much about you anymore.” His expression clouded. “Not since the funeral.”

One by one Court’s muscles relaxed from their fight-or-flight stance. “It’s good to see you again, Charlie.”

His freckled face brightened. “I’m glad you’re here, Court. Maybe you can get Sabrina off my back.”

Across the quadrangle Sabrina stopped dead still. Her worst fears were realized when she saw Charlie talking to Court. She hadn’t had a moment alone with her brother to warn him to keep his mouth shut about Ryan. And now it was probably too late. She had to think of something and do it—fast.

Charlie grinned up at Court, his face beaming with pride.

Really fast.

“Charlie Korbett,” Sabrina said in her sternest voice as she marched toward the two. “Why didn’t you come home last night?” She refused to look at Court. She’d seen far too much of him yesterday. Enough to keep her hot and bothered all night long. Enough to make her downright steamy today.

Charlie glared at her, a flush rushing up his neck and across his cheeks. She’d embarrassed him. Sabrina swore silently. That sure wouldn’t win her any points with her little brother. But keeping her secret was the most important thing at the moment.

“What do you care?” He hurled the words at her like missiles intended to wound. He hit the mark.

“Charlie, I—”

“You don’t care about anything but Ryan. Why don’t you just leave me alone.”

Fear paralyzing her, Sabrina could only watch as Charlie stormed away, his long, skinny legs eating up the ground. He’d mentioned Ryan. She tried to breathe, but the air wouldn’t flow into her starved lungs.

“Teenagers are like that,” Court offered, his calm, whiskey-smooth voice vanquishing the ugly, screaming silence left by Charlie’s abrupt departure. “They always blow up at the people they love most.”

Sabrina all but staggered with the burst of oxygen that suddenly filled her chest. She jerked with the reality that Charlie had given away her secret. The ground seemed to shift beneath her feet. Her stomach roiled. Court would ask about Ryan next.

“Brin, are you all right?” Court was right in front of her now, steadying her swaying form.

She looked into those gray eyes staring at her with such concern from beneath the brim of his hat and something akin to a sucker punch jarred her to the core. Awareness glittered in those silvery depths, but no questions, no accusations. Relief, so profound, washed over her that she swayed again. He hadn’t picked up on Charlie’s comment.

Thank God.

“I’m fine.” She pulled out of his hold. Warmth simmered where his palms had closed over her bare flesh. “I have to find Charlie.” She started to go, but Court stayed her, the strong fingers of his hand once more curling around her arm. She didn’t want to feel this.

“Let him go,” he urged softly. “He’s angry right now. He needs to cool off. I can talk to him, if you’d like.”

Sabrina’s jaw fell slack. The very idea. “You never hung around long enough before to help out, why bother now?” Damn. She hadn’t meant to say that.

Nevertheless, like Charlie, her words hit their mark. Court’s wince was hardly more than a facial tic, but she saw it. How could she have said those precise words? They were steeped with far too much of what she felt deep inside, they gave away too much.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I didn’t hang around, but I never promised you I would.”

She had to get away from him. They didn’t need to have this discussion. Not now. Not ever.

“Let me go, Court,” she demanded. “I have to find my brother. Believe it or not, some people take their personal responsibilities seriously.”

His fingers tightened insistently as he pulled her closer, but it was the lead in his eyes that made her pulse leap with an inkling of trepidation.

“I would never have guessed you for one to hold a grudge,” Court rasped tightly. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “I don’t recall twisting your arm that night. After all, I had just buried my mother. You came to me, remember? And we were both adults. It wasn’t like the first time when we were just kids.”

Fury swept through Sabrina at his words. How dare he break it down to such a simple level! There was absolutely nothing simple about what happened that night.

“You needed me, and I was there,” she managed to grind out, despite the trembling now rampant in her body. She sucked in a harsh breath and tried to calm the equal measures of anger and sexual awareness twisting inside her. How could she still be so drawn to him?

He pressed her with a glare that wilted the last of the starch from her shaky bravado. “You don’t think I appreciate that you were there for me that night, Brin, is that the problem here?”

She jerked against his hold one more time, her fury renewing itself, shoring up her resolve, at his inability to see what was so very clear. “Have you ever thought that maybe a time came when I needed you, and you weren’t anywhere around for me?”

He closed his eyes. He was so close that his warm breath feathered across her lips. Sabrina shivered in spite of herself. Why had she said that? She had to get away from him before she said too much.

His lids fluttered open and that silvery gaze was cluttered with what looked like regret. “What do you want me to say, Brin? I did what I had to do. I couldn’t stay. I thought you, of all people, understood that?”

“Let me go, Court.” Sabrina stumbled back a step at the intensity of the remorse in his eyes. She didn’t want to see it. She wanted to keep believing that he hadn’t cared and still didn’t. It was the only way she could justify her own actions. “Just let me go.”

“We need to set things straight between us, Brin.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Too late.

She yanked her arm free of his touch. “Stay away from me,” she warned. “And stay away from my brother.”

He cocked one sandy-brown brow. “That’ll be pretty difficult since you keep showing up around here and your brother seems to be a part of the movement,” he suggested with that old Court confidence. His stance had already eased into that sensual, predatory male posture that had always made her heart pound in her rib cage. Just like it did now.

“I’m helping with the children,” she said when she found her voice. “They needed another teacher. And my brother is a kid, he doesn’t realize what he’s doing.”

“Then, I suppose we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

Sabrina swallowed and backed away another step. “Don’t think you can pick up right where you left off, Court Brody,” she warned, ire surging through her. “I’m not the foolish girl I used to be.”

One side of his mouth hitched up in a heart-stopping, sexy gesture. “I never thought you were,” he assured her in that low, husky voice that made her insides quiver.

“I have a life now…one that doesn’t include you,” she retorted, aiming for a direct hit to his enlarged ego. He ignored it.

A frown line suddenly formed between his eyebrows as if he’d just remembered something important. “By the way, who’s Ryan?”