That moment in time when the final limo appeared in the warehouse six years ago, and an American couple stepped out. The woman, her features aristocratic, dark blonde hair pulled back from cool, composed features. Dressed in silk slacks, a pristine gray blouse, and black pumps she looked completely out of place among the rougher military wannabes she met with. Her partner had been a few inches taller, black hair, unassuming, almost plain. And Jacob had recognized both of them.
The couple had been at the American ambassador’s party where Jacob had met Sallie, or Kyra as she’d been introduced. They were both part of the ambassador’s staff. They’d seen him with Sallie, seen him dancing with her, walking with her in the garden. And the woman was CIA.
As the department heads were let into Sallie’s office, the memories trickled back into his head, one piece at a time, like puzzle pieces. One part here, one part there. Faces, names, the knowledge that the investigation into Forefront hadn’t gone anywhere because it had been betrayed from the inside, by a trusted source. By the same woman looking so cool and composed as she and her partner greeted Forefront’s generals.
The agent could know who he was, probably did know. Using the camera feature on the phone he carried, Jacob had hurriedly snapped pictures. As he took the final one, it was in that moment that one of the men patrolling the building caught him. The battle to stay alive then had come with a single thought. If he didn’t kill the traitor and he died instead, then Sallie would never be safe. She’d be taken, tortured, just on the off chance that she might know something.
The shoot-out that ensued had sent a bullet into one of the containers of chemicals positioned close to the couple and too damned close to him. When it went off, there was that moment that he saw that fragile, feminine body torn to pieces before he was thrown through the air like a child’s forgotten toy.
His last conscious memory was thinking that the woman he’d fallen in love with wouldn’t be safe if he didn’t survive. And he’d been pretty damned certain he wasn’t going to survive.
He focused on Sallie, every muscle in his body tensing to move into action. The phone he’d taken the pictures on hadn’t been found, he knew that and he didn’t trust the hope that it had been destroyed. Thankfully, he hadn’t taken any pictures of Sallie on it, either. But, without the phone, there had been no evidence of the male half of that couple, and he knew that body hadn’t been found. And the man had seen Jacob with the ambassador’s lovely staff member. A woman he would have known was Ambassador Dougal’s stepdaughter.
Revenge.
They’d come after Sallie, pushing her to find him, or for him to find her. To bring them together and destroy them both.
They’d use her, torture her, kill her, all in the name of vengeance.
Watching her as she dealt with each of the eight department heads, his heart filled with so much emotion and savage determination that it was all he could do to keep from jerking her from that damned desk and rushing her out of the building and back to his ranch. He wanted her surrounded, protected from so much as stubbing her toe.
Nothing could happen to her. He couldn’t lose her again.
He’d spent six years tormented by images of her, by the dreams he’d lost and the woman he’d given his heart to.
He’d be damned if he’d lose so much as another day with her.
chapter eighteen
Sallie worked her way through each department head, saving Roy Davison for last. Between the store, lumber, ranching materials, feed and granary, and hunting and fishing supplies, Dillerman’s was a sprawling undertaking that sat right outside town. There were eight department heads as well as their assistants, and they were responsible for the running of each section of the business, under Sallie’s direct supervision.
She’d tried to keep from restraining them, taking Stanley Dillerman’s advice that the team he’d put together worked best when allowed to do their job without micromanagement. Which suited her fine. She’d been more concerned with surviving at the time. But the months had passed, she’d faced a Jacob that hadn’t known her, Tara, Lily, and Shay had made their way past her defenses, and even those damned Culpeppers had managed to gain her affection.
Somehow, over the three years she’d been in Deer Haven, the store had become important to her as well. She’d had no family, no lover, no children. Her future was iffy, and even her name wasn’t completely her own. The store had become her focus instead.
She hadn’t micromanaged, but that didn’t mean she didn’t keep her eye on everything going on in every part of the business. With Tara’s help, she knew every strength and weakness of each department head as well as what was going on in their departments at any given time. Hence the knowledge that Davison seemed to be deliberately allowing the feed count to slip dangerously low as often as possible. The problem had been there before Sallie’s arrival and only increased after she’d been given the position of manager.
Once she’d heard from the other department heads, she turned to him.
“Roy?” She arched her brow, keeping her expression cool, composed.
He was built like a bully, but managed for the most part to keep it contained at work. At the moment, the cautious glances he kept directing to Jacob assured her that he was only keeping it contained now out of fear.
“Yeah?” he answered, the tone just shy of belligerent.
“I had to make an emergency order of feed and other supplies last night because your counts were far below what’s needed. This is the third time in the past six months,” she pointed out, sitting back in her chair and watching him closely.
She was aware of Jacob, his body tense, prepared.
“My counts were fine.” Davison’s craggy face settled into a sneer, his narrow gray eyes spiteful as he flexed his shoulders.
He was built like a pit bull with a shock of graying brown hair that always looked greasy and an expression that never failed to border on insolence.
“Your counts weren’t fine,” she told him, keeping her voice calm, even. “Three emergency orders in six months cut into profits for Dillerman. That makes me look bad and it just pisses him off.”
Triumph shadowed Davison’s face, accomplishment.
“I warned him you didn’t have the balls to keep profits up.” He grunted. “Maybe he’ll listen next time.”
It had been deliberate.
She’d wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but she’d known. She’d known since taking the job that he not only resented her, he hated her.
She nodded slowly. “I talked to Stanley Dillerman before coming in this morning. Collect your belongings when you leave here. You’re fired.” She nodded to Tara, who placed an envelope with his name on it on the table beside his chair.
Snatching it up, he tore it open and read the short note Dillerman had authorized Sallie to prepare for him. With it were all hours owed in the form of a check.
Davison’s face went brick red and the sneer he’d been holding back curled at his lips as he turned to watch Jacob move in closer to her.
“Brave with him here, ain’t ya?” A snarl pulled at his lips as he rose to his feet. “That’s okay, bitch. Dillerman will screw you next.”