Frozen Memories. Cassie Miles

Every woman did.

      Whether Spence was a sleazebag or the straight-and-true man of her dreams, he had come for her. She owed him a rescue. But how? This would have been so much easier if she’d had a gun.

      She stepped out from behind the trees and waved her arms over her head. When she called out to Spence, her voice was nothing but a feral growl. When she tried to amp up the volume, her efforts vanished on the wind.

      But somehow he heard the harsh sounds she was making. And he responded. Breaking into a jog, he covered the distance between them so quickly that she had to peer around him to see what the pastor and the thug were doing. Just standing there? Neither of the men moved more than a step.

      Spence caught hold of her upper arms. “What are you doing outside?”

      No time for talk. “Give me your gun.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “The guy you’re with.” She choked out the words. “And the pastor, too. They’re traitors. Lock them up.”

      “I can explain.”

      “He left me to die.” How could she make him understand? “He was one of the men in the van.”

      “I’ll explain everything. For now, you’ve got to trust me.”

      “No.” Her voice was firm. Her instinct was strong. She didn’t owe an automatic bond of trust to him or anyone else.

      “His name is Trevor,” Spence said. “He’s FBI, working undercover. I talked to his handler in Quantico.”

      “What?”

      “Trevor made sure you were left alone in the van so you could escape. He didn’t know what their next orders would be, and he wanted you out of danger.”

      She didn’t understand. “Is he part of Trudy’s family?”

      “Her nephew.”

      “Why was he with those other men?”

      “Undercover,” Spence said. “He’s working undercover.”

      He motioned for Clarence and the other man to join them.

      Still unsure about whether she should accept this Trevor person as an undercover agent, she narrowed her gaze. It seemed awfully coincidental that Trevor and his bad guy cronies had landed near Aunt Trudy’s house.

      Trevor reached toward her for a handshake. “I’m sorry, Angelica.”

      She held back, not ready to be friends, not willing to let bygones be. She forced her voice to an almost-normal level. “Why did you choose the cabin with the green door?”

      “You’re going to make me work for this apology.” He flashed the lopsided grin that some people might call charming. “Can we walk toward the house while I talk?”

      “Not yet,” she said.

      “Okay, here’s what happened. I was contacted by one of the bad guys, Lex Heller.”

      “A computer programmer,” Spence said. “He’s on our short list of suspects.”

      “He wanted me and the three other guys—Larry, Moe and Curly Joe—to take care of you.” He flashed another smile, clearly his best feature. “When I say ‘take care of,’ I mean exactly that. We were instructed to keep you from harm. To hold you in a safe place until he contacted us.”

      So far, he was making sense. “Continue.”

      “I could see you were waking up and wanted you to have a fair chance to escape. So, I suggested the cabin near Uncle Clarence’s place, and I called him to warn him.”

      “Which is why I never called 911,” Clarence said. “I couldn’t very well have the sheriff show up and take Trevor into custody.”

      “You lied to me,” she said.

      “And I’m sorry.”

      “What if I’d been more seriously injured?” she asked.

      “I would have called an ambulance. I’d never put your life at risk,” Clarence said. His blue eyes were intense. His beard puckered around his mouth. “You believe me, don’t you?”

      She did. “You’re not a bad person, Pastor. And I understand why you didn’t want to betray your nephew.”

      “Am I forgiven?” Trevor asked.

      She grabbed his glove and gave a firm shake. “For now.”

      * * *

      SPENCE SCOOPED ANGELICA off her feet and started to carry her toward the cabin. He liked her nearness, the intimacy and the way she felt in his arms. She was firm but not hard. No six-pack abs. No buns of steel. Her body had a feminine softness, a gift of nature that could never be achieved in a gym.

      “Put me down.” She lightly punched him on the chin. “What do you think you’re doing?”

      “Keeping you from getting your feet wet.”

      She stuck her legs straight out. “I have my good boots, thanks to you.”

      “We’re almost there.” He strode forward toward the cabin. Nuzzling her earlobe, he whispered, “I’m just trying to pay you back.”

      “I missed something.” Her lips were inches from his. Her poor, tired eyes were bloodshot. Her skin was reddened and chapped. But she was still beautiful. She croaked, “You owe me?”

      “In spite of frostbite, you charged out into the cold to save me.”

      “I should have been armed.”

      “I’m glad you weren’t.”

      “Why?”

      “If you’d gotten your paws on a gun, Trevor would have paid the consequences.”

      “Not if he followed my orders.”

      She didn’t look anywhere near as dangerous as she actually was. Angelica qualified as a sharpshooter in pistol and in rifle, which meant her accuracy was over 90 percent. Her hand-to-hand combat skills weren’t as good, and Spence was grateful for that. He didn’t have to endure a Vulcan death grip every time she got riled.

      As they approached the porch at the front of the cabin, she said, “It’s hard for me to be authoritative when you’re carrying me, but I have a few demands.”

      He climbed onto the porch and allowed her legs to swing down. “Shoot.”

      “Whenever possible, I need to be carrying a weapon.”

      He agreed. “If you’d been armed last night, do you think you could have gotten away from the kidnappers?”

      “Don’t know,” she muttered. “Can’t remember what happened.”

      “I’m with you on this. We’ll have to figure out some way for both of us to carry firearms while we’re inside the NORAD complex. It’s a weapons-free zone.”

      “You’re the superspy. You’ll come up with something.” She tapped him in the center of his chest with her forefinger. “My next demand is that you treat me like any other partner. No hugging, no carrying, no kissing...unless we’re alone...and I give consent.”

      “That road goes both ways,” he said with a grin. “So don’t be rubbing up against me or making kissy faces.”

      “Oh, please, I don’t do that.”

      “We’ll see.”

      Clarence and Trevor clomped onto the porch beside them. Trevor handed her an unexpected gift.

      “Your cell phone,” he said.

      “A thousand thanks. I never thought I’d see this again.”

      “It was with you