They had gone straight from the hospital to the airport, Jason hustled out the back by Special Agent Jonnie Gould while Sam—playing decoy—had strolled out the front. Right there was a pretty clear indicator Sam had known which way Jason would ultimately jump on his proposal. The plan was already in place: Jonnie ready to move on Sam’s go-ahead, Jason’s bags packed and waiting for him at the airport.
Until he’d seen the uniformed police officer standing watch outside his hospital room, Jason had managed to downplay the seriousness of the threat against him.
Maybe he hadn’t wanted to know. All this cloak-and-dagger stuff on his behalf probably should have been reassuring, but…not so much. He was torn between unease over the realization there was a credible threat and frustration that no one seemed to think he could take care of himself.
He got it, of course. George had spelled it out for him. The Bureau was understandably skittish about the health and safety of an agent with both a high media profile and political family connections. Jason served as a kind of poster boy for the new inclusive and culturally diverse environment the Bureau was hoping to foster.
Sam was saying, “It’s been a long day.” His large, capable hand gripped Jason’s elbow as though he thought Jason was liable to keel over any moment.
Jason was not about to swoon away on Mrs. Kennedy’s beige shag carpeting, to be eaten by poodles, but he did want to lie down and be quiet for a while. Like immediately.
“Is the guest house ready?”
“Everything’s ready.” Ruby’s gaze returned to Jason’s almost surreptitiously. Like she feared to be caught staring? His heart sank. Oh, right. The fact that he looked a little like Ethan. Or was it more than a little?
“I made chili, if you’re hungry,” she added.
Jason’s stomach seemed to curl into itself and knot. He murmured politely and noncommittally.
Sam translated without effort. He said briskly, “We’ll get settled, and I’ll be back.”
As the door to the main house closed behind them, the dogs threw themselves against it in yip-yapping fury.
The cold, crisp night air steadied Jason. He drew in a couple of woodsmoke-scented breaths. The moon hanging above them, shining into every dark corner of the farmyard, was commemorative-plate-sized. The stars too were so big, they looked garishly ornamental.
They walked across the creaking wooden deck, and floodlights blazed on, illuminating their rental car and what looked like a smaller house, a dairy barn, a poultry shed, and a farm utility building. A tumbleweed the size of a cow rolled past and vanished into the shadows.
“This is where you grew up?” Jason asked as Sam helped him down the steps. Between his sprained ankle and his stiff knee he was feeling a spry thousand years old. He’d seen mummies that could move faster.
“God no,” Sam replied fervently. “I grew up in Cheyenne. Her parents were from around here, and she had this idea she wanted to move back and recapture her roots, so I bought her this place.”
“Is it a working farm?”
“Terrifying thought. No. She grows a few vegetables and keeps a blind pet donkey and a flock of chickens. That’s plenty.”
The ground was hard and frosty as they crossed the yard to the smaller house. Sam stooped, felt around in the eye socket of a bleached buffalo skull, sighed, and drew out a key. “She hasn’t changed the hiding place in ten years.”
Jason smiled faintly, waiting as Sam unlocked the door and let them inside.
He was too tired and in too much pain by then to take much notice of his surroundings, but he could feel that the heat had been turned on. The rooms were comfortably warm and smelled like cinnamon-scented candles. It was a nice little guest house. Hardwood floors, eggshell-white walls, taupe furnishings. There were no pictures, but a couple of Federal-style mirrors offered dispiriting glimpses of his hollow-eyed and battered face from every angle.
“The bedroom’s back here.” Sam steered him on. “I use the second bedroom as an office.” He added grimly, “I always stay out here when I visit.”
“She seems nice.” Jason was simply answering Sam’s tone. He had no idea how Sam’s mother seemed in the two minutes it had taken to be introduced, but that’s what you said in these circumstances. Granted, he didn’t really have a lot of experience in these circumstances. He’d never been brought home by a boyfriend to meet the parents or parent. Had never had any interest in such things.
“She’s a handful,” Sam said in that same stern tone, and Jason gave a tired laugh.
Sam glanced at him in surprise. His gaze softened. He said lightly, “Sure, but don’t turn your back on her, West. Mark my words.”
He pushed a partially open door wide. “Here we go.”
There was probably other furniture in the room, but all Jason really noticed was the bed, which was queen-size and, beneath a fluffy white duvet, strongly resembled a square and sturdy cloud.
Sam guided him to the bed, and aggravatingly, by now he needed that helping hand. “Take it easy for a minute. I’ll get our bags from the car.”
Jason nodded, sat down on the edge of the duvet, which felt cloudlike too. “God.” He fell back and was engulfed in downy whiteness.
“Are you hungry?”