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“Fair enough.” He nodded his head and took a step back. “I think we got off to a bad start. How would you feel about a do-over?”
Jordan chuffed a laugh. “Only if it’s somewhere far away from here.”
“Working on that. In the meantime, will you come back to camp with me?”
Well, damn.This was the Travis who’d charmed her at the bar. The question was, why was he trying so hard? She was totally at his mercy. A seed of suspicion grew and must have shown on her face.
“Let’s clear the air about one thing. I’m not planning to jump your bones. Our sleeping arrangement is only to conserve body heat. Not that I don’t find you attractive. I think that’s already proven.” Another grin carved a dimple next to his mouth and made him look about seventeen.
Jordan rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop her cheeks from heating at his bluntness. “Really? My memory is that you could have had all this last weekend.” She swept her hand down her body to indicate the dubious prize she’d offered him. “You didn’t seem attracted to me then.”
“That’s not why I bugged out, and you know it.”
She was sorry she’d brought up their first meeting. The last thing she wanted was Travis coming on to her to prove his masculinity. As far as she was concerned, he’d had his chance. Jordan put her fingers across her lips as though she’d said too much. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you gay?”
“What? Hell no!”
Jordan laughed as she brushed by him and headed toward the campfire. Obviously, he no longer wanted to talk about it, which was precisely the result she’d expected.
The moon escaped its cloudy cover for a moment and bathed the forest in blue light. Was it the moonlight or Travis’s presence that made her feel safer?
I’m gonna go with the moonlight.
The fire Travis had left unattended was only a heap of glowing embers, and he quickly raked them together, piling on more wood. Soon, the flames blazed again, beating back the shadows. Jordan stood close enough to feel the warmth on her face, her arms tightly wrapping her coat closed against the cold. He removed his gun from its holster and laid it with hers on the edge of the emergency blankets. Then he sat within reach of the weapons, his back against the rock face, legs crossed casually before him, and patted the ground at his side.
He’d said he would explain everything. Though Jordan doubted it would change her mind about Alex, she sat beside him and waited for him to begin. She would listen, hoping for proof he was telling the truth. Maybe he worked for the FBI, or maybe he was crafting his story as he went, leading her further down a dangerous path for some nefarious reason. She couldn’t just believe him because her heart told her to, could she?
“Why did you make me come with you?”
It appeared he’d been waiting for her to speak first. “I told you the truth when I said I overheard Alex giving Brody orders to arrange a fatal accident for you. You didn’t trust me, and I didn’t have time to convince you, so I decided to take you by force and explain later. Believe it or not, I’m trying to save your pretty little neck.”
“From Brody and Kyle, and I appreciate it, but—”
“From your boyfriend.” His tone dripped with disdain.
She shook her head. “See, that’s where you lose me every time. It was just a date. A lame one, and the last one, but I don’t believe Alex is a cold-blooded killer. I’d be safely home by now if you hadn’t dragged me from that tent.”
“Killing a person and hiring someone to kill for you are fundamentally different, but the guy that orders the hit is just as guilty as the one who pulls the trigger. Maybe more. And you’re wrong. You would be dead by now.” His words dropped like lead and robbed her of the ability to breathe normally.
For several seconds, Jordan gaped, wanting to defend Alex, but something made her hold back her opinion. Maybe it was because she couldn’t shake the image of Alex greeting Brody like an old friend. That didn’t mean Alex would wish her dead—the idea was ridiculous. But she would never convince Travis of Alex’s innocence. For reasons only he knew, Travis had made up his mind.
Suddenly, she needed to know what those reasons were. “What are they hiding up there?”
“The group is on the domestic terrorist watch list. Brody’s job involves building bombs, stockpiling arms, and training his militia. Alex’s uncle, Joseph Halstead, bankrolls the operation, recruits members, and chooses their targets. Intel is they’re preparing for an attack in the next couple of weeks. We don’t know when or where, but people will die in the name of white supremacy unless the FBI stops them.” Travis drew in the dirt with a stick while he spoke.
“You’re not serious? Alex couldn’t possibly be involved with those people.” The words burst from her lips before she could snatch them back.
Travis was nothing if not serious, but he had to be mistaken. Alex wasn’t a racist. Why would he ask her out if that were true? Sure, her skin was nearly white, but Alex had been in her home where photographs of her African American father, Ghalen Hayes, took center stage in practically every room. Besides, everyone in their town had known her dad. Anyone in the small farming community who owned a horse, a cow, or a pet—which was pretty much everybody— had frequented her father’s feed store. How could Alex not know?
“Your boyfriend is involved up to his eyebrows. Brody takes orders from Alex and his uncle. The FBI believes Halstead’s group is holding an Oregon state senator’s son hostage.”
Jordan’s gaze darted to his, remembering something Alex had said in passing. “What’s his name?”
“William Mann.”
“Liam Mann?”
“You know him?” Travis leaned forward, waiting for her answer.
