“I get it,” Connor said. “Like I said, I’m just trying to make a living, like everybody else. Let me buy you and your friends a beer.”
“We don’t need your charity,” said the dark-haired guy. He stalked away, his friends trailing behind.
Stacy leaned closer to Connor and spoke softly. “Way to defuse the situation,” she said.
“I had enough of fighting in the army.” His gaze met hers again. “Want to dance some more?”
She made herself push away from him. “I wish I could, but I’d better go. I’ve got an early morning.”
“Can I get your number?”
She shook her head. “Probably not a good idea. I’m not going to be here long. But thanks.” She started to move away, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. He smelled like herbal shampoo, beer and woodsmoke.
She walked briskly away, not looking back, hoping he wouldn’t try to follow. She had learned a few interesting things about Connor Donaldson tonight, but the one thing that came through loud and clear was that he was exactly the kind of man she would like to be with.
Out of the question, of course. What had he said about choices—someone was always going to end up unhappy.
January 3 broughtno new snow, so little mitigation was needed on the slopes. Which meant Connor got to sleep in until 6:00 a.m. Alone. Last night at the bar he had wondered if things would work out differently. Stacy had approached him like awoman going after something she wanted but had backed off so quickly he’d been left a little dizzy. But he’d never claimed to understand women—or people in general, for that matter.
In any case, today he needed to push Doug to allow him to inventory the magazine and figure out exactly what had been stolen—not just make an educated guess. Maybe there were more voids in the stacked-up boxes. Maybe whoever had broken in had hauled away a truckload of explosives, not just a few boxes. The thought made him sick to his stomach and propelled him out of bed and into the shower.
At SkyCrest, he met with the other patrollers and handed out assignments. Farley had a runaround in the snow with Anders’s black Lab, Darth, and Brian Weeks’s golden retriever, Daisy, before settling into his kennel with a chew toy. Connor was on his way toward Doug’s office when his radio chirped. “I need you here in my office,” Doug Elam said.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“You’ll see when you get here.”
Connor made his way past the ski lifts and shops to a high-rise amid a cluster of hotels and condos. He took the stairs up to Doug’s office on the sixth floor, ski boots clattering loudly on the uncarpeted risers.
When he entered the corporate office, Doug’s secretary waved him through. “They’re waiting for you in there.”
Who is ‘they’?Connor wondered as he pushed open the heavy door.
Doug, dapper as ever in a Nordic sweater and gray slacks, his dark hair slicked back, sat behind his big desk, in conversation with a woman with long brown hair like a silk curtain around the shoulders of her cherry-red sweater.
As Connor stepped into the room, the woman turned to look at him. Stacy Macrae’s expression was unreadable, but the sightof her hit him like a cannonball in the gut. What was she doing here? Had she accused him of something?
“Connor, this is Special Agent Stacy Macrae with the FBI,” Doug said.
Connor heard the words, but they didn’t make any sense.
Stacy smiled at him. “It’s good to see you again, Connor,” she said.
He tried to speak, but words wouldn’t come out.
Doug looked from one to the other. “Do you two know each other?” he asked.
“We ran into each other at the Trail’s End last night,” she said.
“You didn’t tell me you were a fed.” Connor finally found his voice.
“I find that information really colors people’s first impression of me,” she said. “And I really wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.”
“What was that all about, then?” he asked. “Last night.”
“I was just getting a feel for this place, seeing if I spotted anyone I recognized.”
“All those questions about the protest group.” It had struck him as an unusual conversation starter, but the protest signs were all over town, so he had accepted she was merely curious. He rapidly reviewed the conversation in his head, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “You wanted to know if I sympathized with them. Did you think I was one of them?”
