Sheltered. HelenKay Dimon

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Sheltered - HelenKay Dimon


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she’d been poking at them. Either way, she appeared to possess the type of intel he needed.

      In cases like this, with the adrenaline still pumping, the simple truth tended to work, so he went with it. “There were orders to bring you in.”

      “From?”

      He had a feeling the call came from high up, but he couldn’t pinpoint it yet. “I don’t know.”

      If possible, her frown deepened. “Of course you do. Who told you to come after me?”

      That explained it. She still viewed him as attacker, not rescuer. “No one. I overheard men talking at the compound and got here first to warn you.”

      “Compound.” She scoffed. “The place almost sounds nice when you say it that way.”

      Not what he’d seen. Sure, on the surface, everything ticked along fine. The camp operated as a retreat. Cabins lined up in a serene wooded area. Communal gardens and shared meals in a dining hall. Staff had the option of living in less private bunkhouses a few hundred feet from the main area, behind the yoga studio.

      It all seemed peaceful, the perfect place for people who were tired of being plugged in and those sick of government regulations or city life. But on the inside something festered. Groups of men would leave for hours at a time. The gun range had a steady stream of customers. So did the makeshift village built on the back of the property. The one where people practiced drills storming houses and learning how to fight off attacks.

      But none of that worried Holt like the sheer amount of firepower he’d seen brought onto the property. He recognized the crates and couldn’t come up with a single reason a retreat that featured yoga would also have grenade launchers.

      Corcoran had been sent in after information leaked. But finding former members proved difficult. People went there and stayed, which had government officials thinking cult. That was what Holt had expected on this assignment, but now he knew better. New Foundations had the makings of a homegrown militia.

      He stepped carefully with Lindsey now, hoping he’d finally found a thread he could pull to bring the place down. “Apparently you ticked off someone at the retreat.”

      “You have no idea.”

      But he wanted to know. With her, he guessed the direct question might not get the job done, so he verbally walked around it, hoping to land on the information he needed. “Were you a member?”

      She tightened her grip on the gun. “For now, I think I’ll ask the questions.”

      The woman played this well. He admired her refusal to get sucked in. “Why do you think I’ll agree to that?”

      “You are in my house. You dragged me out of bed, stripped down and—”

      “Fine.” Round One to Lindsey. “Go ahead.”

      Using the hand with the gun, she motioned for him to sit down on the couch. “What’s the Corcoran Team?”

      He settled for leaning against the armrest because he had a feeling he needed to be up and ready to fight with this woman. “Can’t tell you that.”

      She stood right in front of him, close but not close enough for him to grab the gun or get a jump on her. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she’d been trained. And if he was right that she’d spent some time at the retreat and lived to talk about it, her survival instincts might rival his own.

      “Are you with the government?”

      “With?” He knew what she was asking but didn’t know if she knew.

      “An FBI agent or something.”

      The out waited right there and he took it. “Or something.”

      She sighed at him. Threw out one of those long-suffering exhales that women did so well when men ticked them off. “I feel like we’re going backward here.”

      “We’ll get to all that, but first we’re going to contact the police.” He should have made the call as soon as the attackers left.

      “No.” That was all she said. A curt denial.

      People generally didn’t question his orders. Probably had something to do with his size and no-room-for-debate scowl. His sister said he’d inherited the look and demeanor from their dad. Holt knew that wasn’t exactly a compliment.

      “Excuse me?” He kept his voice deadly soft in an attempt to telegraph his mood to her.

      Her eyebrow lifted. “Oh, I’m thinking you heard me.”

      This woman didn’t scare easily. He had to admit he found that, along with everything else about her, smoking hot. The not-backing-down thing totally worked for him.

      Not that he had time for anything but work, which led him right back to his point. “We need to file a report.”

      “We know who attacked. You just confirmed it. You came here to stop it...I guess.”

      Her refusal to get that point had his temper spiking, but he didn’t let it show. He never let it show. He didn’t need the West Point education and years in the army after to teach him how to remain calm. For him, playing this game amounted to common sense and he could pull off outward disinterest even while his insides churned. “The people at New Foundations can’t know I’m onto them.”

      “Why?” Her tone now rang with interest, as if she were trying to fit the pieces together in her head.

      “I’m working undercover, which means you can’t say anything.” He’d already blown that one, but since she hadn’t shot in him in the head he believed he’d made the right call.

      “Who would I tell?”

      That wasn’t exactly his point. “I have no idea.”

      She hesitated while her gaze toured his face. “Let’s talk about the undercover thing for a bit.”

      Yeah, enough sharing. “After we call the police.”

      She shook her head. Looked even more determined to shut down his plan. “The police around here protect the people who run New Foundations. They have some sort of relationship that keeps the camp in business.”

      Holt got that. There would need to be some sort of quid pro quo for the retreat to operate in such an information vacuum. At least he hoped so. “I’m counting on that.”

      Her stance eased and some of the tension tightening her shoulders disappeared. “You lost me.”

      A quick once-over glance told him some of her fear had subsided. The glance also tugged on his concentration. Her pajamas, the lack of a bra...he noticed it all.

      He forced his mind back to the conversation and off her body and that face...man, she was killing him. “We have one hope of keeping you safe.”

      “What’s that?”

      “Me.”

      She treated him to a second sigh, this one longer than the first. She also put her gun down on the table at the end of the couch. “I knew you were going to say that.”

      No need to spook her, so he didn’t make a move or even look at the gun, even though it sat just inches from his thigh. “If they think we’re dating, I become more helpful.”

      “How?” The skepticism in her voice slammed into him.

      He gritted his teeth as he tried to ignore the attitude. “You stay protected.”

      “Why wouldn’t they just grab me?”

      A fine question, which led him to one of his own. “Why do they want to?”

      “Don’t know.” She folded her arms across her midsection. “Ask them.”

      “Are you always this difficult?” She was almost as prickly as he was when it came to holding back


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