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Trevor opened the back door and nodded at the agent standing there. He crossed the parking lot and entered the building behind Sam’s friend’s office. Sam followed Trevor, concentrating on getting away without notice.
Trevor led the way, striding confidently without running, and looking side-to-side but in a way that seemed casual, not worried. They passed doors emblazoned with a variety of business names, then left that building, and crossed the street. They entered another multi-office building and exited to an alley. The lights flashed on a silver mid-size SUV parked in front of the door. Trevor climbed into the driver’s seat, and Sam crossed to the passenger side. The side windows were extra dark and the seats comfortable, if a bit worn.
Trevor pulled away from the building and wove through Marcus, generally heading south. Then they got on the highway, crossed the Bitterroot River, turned off the highway, and gradually drove toward the Bitterroot Mountains. Every person they saw seemed suspicious, and every vehicle, too. Leaving the traffic behind, they bumped across dry back roads. They stopped at a fancy gate with metal horses running across it, a code pad waiting. Trevor checked a piece of paper and entered a code.
They drove down a long asphalt driveway toward an enormous post-and-beam house with stone foundations and a slate roof. “Wow. Who owns this place?” Cattle grazed in the distance, and a herd of elk trotted away on the other side of the drive.
“A friend of one of Wiz’s people. We’re not staying in the main house but in an old ranch hand bunk house. It’s a rental, set up for families with kids who want to rough it without actually roughing it.” Trevor chuckled, the first smile she’d seen that day. “There’s a family managing the ranch, but they’ve been asked to leave us alone.”
They passed the mansion, leaving the blacktop behind, and rolled down a smooth gravel road, then between fenced pastures toward a long, one-story log cabin. The timbers were dark with age and the style old; the cabin might even be original to the ranch. Surrounded by tall pines and a barbed wire fence, it fit into the landscape.
Trevor stopped at a typical green ranch gate and entered another code. He drove around the back of the cabin, then backed into a carport. “Grab your stuff.”
Sam got out and joined Trevor at the tailgate, getting her backpack and helping him with grocery bags. They entered the cabin, Trevor flicking the lights on. A kitchen with butcher block counters over Shaker-style cabinets took up the corner on the right, with an open door at the far end. To her left, two sets of bunk beds, the bottom bunks holding full-size mattresses, the uppers twins, sat along the wall, with another door beyond. In the middle of the room, a light wood dining table for eight and a modular sofa set faced a TV mounted to the wall next to the front door.
They dropped the groceries on the counter and explored the rest of the cabin. The door at the far end of the kitchen was a simple bathroom with a shower-tub combo. At the other end of the structure, the door led to a small but nicely appointed master suite. A log queen-size bed dominated the bedroom, and the main bath had a double sink, toilet, and shower. Another door exited out the back of the cabin into a fenced area holding an empty copper tub big enough for two. “Nice.” Trevor turned to go back inside.
Sam turned, too. “Hope we can stay long enough to use it.” After the confrontation and escape, her entire body ached with tension. Returning to the kitchen, she unpacked groceries, putting yogurt, coffee creamer, and lunch meat in the refrigerator.
Trevor stacked non-perishables on shelves above the counter. “You can have the master, and I’ll take one of the bunks. They’re big enough for me.”
“If you insist.” Sam wasn’t going to argue. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a nap. I didn’t sleep well last night, and the scene this morning was exhausting.” She closed the refrigerator door and grabbed her backpack.
“Sam, wait.” Trevor put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry about everything. But don’t worry, my parents will take good care of your mom.”
Sam turned, dislodging his hand, but didn’t look at him. She couldn’t handle pity. “I know they will. I’ve been hoping she’d leave, but their extreme beliefs make it almost impossible. Women are property. Even punching bags, although I don’t think my father started that until recently, and I think it’s minimal, or she’d be dead already.” Her sorrow burned into fury. “She’s become a shadow of herself, physically and mentally. If I’d realized how fragile she’d become, I’d have been watching closer and confronted him sooner.” She scowled at the floor. “I’m sure he’d have taken a swing at me, then I could have had him arrested.”
“Or he might have killed you.” Trevor grasped her upper arm firmly. “You can’t help your mom if you’re dead.”
She yanked out of his hold. “I know that. I work with abuse cases all the time. I wouldn’t have gone alone.” She walked away, needing some time alone. She had to avoid him, or she’d take the comfort he wanted to offer. Then it would go too far, and she’d be back in a relationship. She needed emotional stability before she could make decisions about Trevor.
Trevor blew a raspberry. “Oh yes, you would have. Too brave for your own good.”
She closed the master bedroom door behind her, carefully not slamming it, and plopped on the bed. She put on a good show, but she was a fraud. A failure as a lawyer and even more as a daughter. Most of the women she helped returned to their abusers, and she hadn’t realized her own mother was a victim of physical abuse, too, because she was selfishly protecting herself.
She should have known, but ever since her father’s attempts to control her in college, she’d avoided them. She only saw her mom casually at the grocery or drug store. If her father was around, they only ended up arguing, and she knew he took his fury out on her mother. But she hadn’t realized he’d gotten physical. While desperately trying to help other women, she’d failed her own mother—completely.
And worst of all, she had no tears left. Just guilt and dread. And the fear that falling for Trevor was a trap.
Chapter eighteen
Trevor glared at the closed door. Sam would spiral deeper and deeper into her guilt, but he had no cause to invade her privacy. They weren’t a couple, no matter how much he wished otherwise. She’d made that clear, and he’d respect it, even though it hurt. She still had feelings for him somewhere, but forgiving him was probably an impossibility. He’d been cold and cruel and hadn’t made up for his behavior.
He returned to the kitchen; comfort food might help. He dumped cans of tomato soup into a pot and turned on the burner. Grabbing the bread, cheese, and butter, he slapped sandwiches together and put a skillet on the stove. Actions meant more than words. Moms around the world showed love with food, so he could too. Grilled cheese and canned soup was the limit of his culinary ability, but his respect and devotion were unbounded.
After the butter popped, he turned the heat down and plopped the sandwiches in the skillet, then stirred the soup. Setting the table, he poured a glass of Sam’s favorite sparkling water, plus plain water for himself. He flipped the sandwiches and poured the soup into bowls, then went to the bedroom door. He knocked softly, then louder. “Sam, come get lunch. You need food.” She hadn’t eaten anything earlier, just swallowed coffee like her life depended on it. Her stomach probably sloshed with acid, churned by her emotional upheaval. “Come on, Sam. Eat, then you can rest or soak in the tub.” He knocked again. If nothing else, the delicious scent of browned butter ought to call her.
“Fine. Give me a second.”
Sam’s exasperation made him smile; mission accomplished. He returned to the kitchen and cut the sandwiches diagonally. The cheese had melted perfectly, and the bread was only slightly scorched on one edge. He’d call it a success.
The door opened, and Sam joined him at the table, wearing black leggings and a forest green fleece. Dark circles below her gorgeous green eyes betrayed her exhaustion. She drank deeply. “Thanks.”
He smiled. “Anytime.” While he wanted to plead his case, he held back. She was too emotionally spent to endure more. Besides, talking wasn’t working—his actions would have to convince her. He crunched into his grilled cheese and she picked up a spoon. They ate in silence, Sam gazing out the window.
After they finished, Trevor cleared the dishes and got Sam another drink. “The plan is to stay here three nights. The estate has decent commercial security, and there’s a satellite internet setup in the SUV, so we’ll be able to work. Aviss may join us at some point, but most likely, she’s going to stay in Marcus and pressure the Marcus City Bank board. She believes that threatening to make their suspicions public will be enough for them to either start their own investigation or invite the OCC to investigate. She’ll push for the second, of course.”
Sam snorted. “After the way she handled our fathers, the board will be pushovers. They’ll fold like a house of cards.”
