The Risk Series: A Bree and Tanner Thriller

Chapter Three

“When I was eight years old, I was invited to participate in a computer coding class provided for free by the charity Communication For All. My father died when I was just a baby and my mother worked really hard just to make ends meet. There were no finances for tutoring or extra lessons. Everyone, including my elementary school teachers, knew I needed to be challenged, but no one knew how to do it. By eight years old I had already figured out more than what most of them had learned in their computer science degrees.”

Bree ran a hand over her eyes, then stared at the laptop screen in front of her on the kitchen table at Tanner’s ranch house.

Gregory Lightfoot, one of the federal prosecuting attorneys for Michael Jeter’s case, had been working with her two or three times a week for the past month on her witness statement for the prosecution.

Gregory was located in Dallas, where the federal trial against Jeter would take place. Eventually Bree would have to go there, but for right now they were working via teleconferencing. Her testimony in Jeter’s trial in a couple months would play an important role. The case against the members of the Organization was very complicated and intertwined.

Bree wanted to help ensure the conviction of Michael Jeter, but this part wasn’t the way she wanted to go about it.

She let out a sigh. “I just don’t understand why I have to go back so far into my personal Bethany Ragan history. Why can’t we just focus on me talking about the crimes I can prove Jeter and the Organization committed, and how I brought them down?”

As far as she was concerned, Bethany had ceased to exist once she’d gotten away from the Organization.

Gregory’s face filled her screen. “Because what they did to you and your mother will be the nail in the coffin. Terrorist activities can sometimes be vague in a jury’s mind. But picturing little eleven-year-old Bethany being tortured in order to get her to cooperate? That’s the sort of thing that will guarantee a conviction.”

“Right.”

But did it matter that she didn’t want to relive that? That there were times when she could still hear her own bones snapping in her dreams? That she could still remember what it was like to hold her mother as she vomited up blood from the beatings the Organization inflicted on her?

“Let’s just focus on Michael Jeter,” Gregory said. “Let’s leave the more painful stuff out for today and focus on when you first met him.”

Gregory didn’t understand. It was all tied to Jeter. He’d been the face of her nightmares for nearly a dozen years. There was no separating him from the horror of what happened to her, even if most of it hadn’t actually happened by his hand.

She attempted to focus.

“I moved up the ranks at Communication For All pretty quickly. At the time my mother didn’t realize that the free courses were being utilized by the Organization to discover children who had natural hacking abilities. We just thought they were giving kids in poorer neighborhoods a leg up.”

“And when did you meet Michael Jeter?”

“I’d been inside the Organization for over a year before that happened. He didn’t get involved with the classroom programs in any regard except the highest possible levels. He met maybe one child per year.”

“And you were that child?”

Bree nodded, glancing away from the screen. “Yes. I’d aced every class and test they’d given me. I was already living on the Communication For All compound with my mom, and honestly was a little bored.”

She could still almost perfectly remember the day she met Jeter. His office had been on a high floor in a Chicago skyscraper. She and her mother had grinned at each other all the way in the ride up the elevator.

“What happened at that meeting?” Gregory asked, yanking her out of the memory—one of the last clear good ones she had of her mother.

“I was brought into his office. It had unbelievable views from the window, and I wanted to look out them. But Jeter told me I had to do a test first before I could.”

On the other end of the screen, Gregory jotted something down. “And what was the test?”

“To most people it would’ve looked like a computer coding game. That’s how Michael presented it to me.”

Thinking about it all now, with such hindsight, was difficult. If she hadn’t wanted to show off so much, impress the bigwig in the fancy suit with the grandiose office, how much different her life would’ve turned out.

“I almost missed the true test,” she finally murmured. “I was so used to everything coming so easily to me with computers that I almost missed the Trojan horse Jeter had put inside his little game.”

The defect had been placed deep inside the coding, and couldn’t be fixed with a simple rewrite. Almost the entire program had to be refitted, and had to be done quickly and creatively because of the countdown the system was on.

“He was testing to see how I could adapt. He wanted to know what I would do when a system’s walls started closing in around me. If I could think outside the coding box.”

“And how did you do?”

“I passed.” She said it with a shrug like it was no big deal.

It had been the hugest of deals.

She would never forget the look in Jeter’s eye when she completed his little coding puzzle and turned the laptop back around toward him with time to spare.

Until that moment she’d been nothing to him. Just another kid who, with the right guidance, would probably grow up to do pretty advanced programming, or maybe even start her own business.

But once she’d turned the laptop back around to him and he’d seen what she’d done, she had become something much different to him.

Much more interesting.

From that day forward, until the day her mother had finally broken them out, there wasn’t a single day that Bree could remember that didn’t have Michael Jeter in it.

“Were you aware of his illegal activities at the time?”

She let out a sigh. “I was eleven. And for the first time being challenged to my fullest potential. To me, it was all a game. In the beginning at least.”

“And when did things take a turn for the worse?”

She stared at the screen, almost unable to focus on Gregory’s friendly face. She tried to force words out of her mouth—once, twice—but they wouldn’t come. Panic bubbled inside her.

All she could see was Michael Jeter.

All she could hear was his voice.

All she could feel was when her leg had been broken at his command.

The room began to close in on her, the past threatening to swallow her whole.

“Hey, freckles.”

Tanner. She felt his hands on her shoulders, his strong thumbs moving gently up and down the back of her neck.

The terror faded. He was here and would help hold her demons at bay. She leaned her head back against his abdomen.

Without taking his hands off her, Tanner crouched down so Gregory could see him in the screen.

“Hey, Tanner.”

“Hi, Greg. Looks like we might need to take a break for tonight.”

Frustration floated over the lawyer’s features. “Being able to talk about this on the stand will make a difference in the case. Bree’s already written it all out, so it’s just a matter of being able to say it.”

Tanner’s voice was calm but firm, and his fingers never stopped rubbing her neck. “You read it, so you know what sort of trauma we’re talking about. You’re going to have to be more patient. Bree will get there, but it’s going be on her timetable and nobody else’s. And besides, if she decides she doesn’t want to talk about all this, you’re going to have to find a workaround. You’ve got plenty of other stuff.”

Bree rubbed her eyes. She should be able to do this. “I’m sorry, Gregory...”

He held up a hand. “No, Tanner is right. You shouldn’t push yourself too hard. God knows you’ve done enough to take the Organization, and Jeter, down.”

“Some days it’s easier to process the past than others.”

“Well, like Tanner said, we’ve got plenty to go on even if we don’t include details from your childhood.” Gregory’s voice dropped, and he gave her a sympathetic look. “But what he did to you so very clearly proves he’s a monster. If we can use that to our advantage, I think we should.”

Bree gave a tight smile and a nod, standing up and walking away from the table, as Tanner talked a few more moments with Gregory. She moved over to the front living room window, wrapping her arm around her midsection. She couldn’t see anything in the darkness—dark came early here in the heart of winter—but her mind could perfectly envision the beauty of Tanner’s ranch and the Rocky Mountains behind it. But right now the beloved scenery didn’t help.

She knew Michael Jeter was a monster. She just didn’t know if she could bear to relive it all.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, and she leaned back into Tanner’s strength once again. He didn’t say anything or ask her to try to voice her feelings. And she loved him more for it.

“Seems like it’s always one of our pasts coming back to haunt us,” she finally said.

Just a few months ago, it had been someone from Tanner’s past trying to hurt them. Now it seemed like it was back to being Bree’s turn.

His arms tightened around her. “You stuck with me through my monsters. You can be damn sure I’ll be doing the same for you with yours.”

“I know it happened so long ago and I shouldn’t let it affect me now.” She’d always thought herself so strong since she’d managed to survive on her own, but maybe that wasn’t correct. “I’m not really a survivor. I’m just a victim on the move. I haven’t really faced any of it.”

“You’re damn well not a victim, so I don’t want to hear any of that talk.” Tanner turned her in his arms so they were facing one another. “Just because you don’t dwell on it doesn’t mean you haven’t faced it. So what if your mind balks at the thought of sharing the most horrendous details of your life with complete strangers. Nothing wrong with that.”

“The thought of having to talk about this while Jeter is sitting right there in front of me? I’m just not sure I can do it.”

He pulled her more firmly against his chest, tucking her head under his chin. His big body seemed to surround her on every side. It was almost impossible not to feel like he could defeat any foe for her when he held her like this.

“I’ll be there with you every second you’re on that stand. You won’t have to look at him, you’ll look at me. I may hate that bastard with a passion for what he did to you, but I’ll always be thankful that, because of him, you ended up in Risk Peak.”

He was right. Michael Jeter didn’t have any control over her now. He was in jail, awaiting trial, and soon would be in prison. Probably forever. She didn’t want to give Jeter any more of her time. Any more of her life.

She twined her arms around Tanner’s neck. This was what was important. This man who meant everything to her. “Make love to me, Captain Hot Lips.”

He grinned at her nickname for him. “My pleasure.”

Immediately she found herself lifted by the hips and pressed into the window she’d just been looking out of.

There was no place for the ghosts of the past when all she could think about or feel was Tanner’s strong body pressed up against hers.

This man had been her only lover, and it was just fine with her if that was the case for the rest of her life. She couldn’t imagine she would ever find the same passion with someone else. And had no interest in trying.

Her head fell to the side, exposing her neck as those talented hot lips made their way down her jaw and onto her throat. She didn’t even try to hide the whimper that escaped her when his hand slid up the outside of her thigh and hooked her leg over his hip. It brought them in direct contact with each other.

There was nowhere else she’d rather be than right here with him. She let out another little moan, pulling him closer.

“If you don’t stop making those sounds, we are very definitely not going to make it to the bed,” he said against her throat.

“Maybe I don’t want to make it to the bed.”

With a moan of his own, he reached down and grabbed her other leg so they were both wrapped around his waist.

They both let out a hiss at the build of the friction, the heat, the passion that was always just a breath away between them.

And no, they didn’t make it to the bed.

Chapter Four

When Bree woke the next morning Tanner was already out of bed, which wasn’t unusual—the man loved to wake with the dawn. She smelled coffee in the kitchen and padded from the bedroom to pour herself a cup.

Her heart stuttered in her chest as she caught sight of Tanner sitting in the rocking chair directly outside the window she’d been gazing out last night. He had a cup of coffee of his own resting on the porch railing.

When he’d been recovering from his stab wounds months ago they’d discovered that sitting out on the porch in the morning—even if it was only for a few minutes—helped settle his mind and get him ready for the day. His PTSD symptoms, a result of being held and tortured by a gang nearly four years ago now, were much easier to manage if he was able to take this quiet time in the morning.

She’d been wrong last night. She’d thought it had been her mind’s image of the land that had comforted her. But really it had been this image—Tanner looking out at the land that was so much a part of him him—that her mind had clung to. A strong, rugged man facing the strong, rugged land was the most breathtaking thing she’d ever seen.

She wrapped herself in a blanket and walked over and opened the door. His dazzling smile let her know she was more than welcome. She was almost to him when his arm just snaked out and wrapped around her waist, yanking her the rest of the way into his lap. His lips were cold against hers as he kissed her. She yelped and giggled.

“Good morning.”

She wondered if her heart would do somersaults in her chest every time she heard his deep voice rumble in the morning.

She hoped so.

She fitted herself more firmly against him, curling her legs up onto his for warmth. His arms tucked her against him, pulling the blanket around her to keep her warm. A couple minutes later Corfu, the dog Tanner had given her months ago when she’d been heartbroken with loss, came wandering out of the barn and sat down contentedly at Tanner’s feet.

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of this view,” she said, sipping on her coffee as he rocked them both.

His arms tightened around her. “Really? I would’ve thought you would want to see the world. Journey to all the places you never got to go because the Organization was hunting you.”

“I will. There’s lots of time to get to all those places.” She smiled. “I’m not as old as you, you know—the Grim Reaper is not quite ringing my doorbell just yet. I’ve got plenty of time to see the places I want to see.”

She expected him to tickle her or rub her back at the old-age comment, but he didn’t.

Finally she nudged him. “Did I wear you out too much last night? Got you coming to grips with your own mortality? Do I need to go get your walker?”

Now she definitely expected him to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and take her back to bed. Tanner might be ten years older than her, but he was definitely one of the fittest and most able-bodied people she knew. Their difference in age had never really been an issue.

“My job doesn’t leave me a lot of time to journey the world,” he finally said.

She tried to scoot back in his lap so she could look in his eye, but he kept her tucked up against him. “Well, I’m not planning on quitting my job and becoming a nomad. Now more than ever I want to be in Risk Peak.”

“Because of the shelter?”

“New Journeys.”

“What?” he asked.

“It’s funny that you would mention traveling and journeys because that’s what Cass and I decided to name the shelter in the grant proposal. New Journeys. That’s what it is for so many of these women. A new start. A chance to go somewhere they’ve never been.”

“It’s a great name. And the new building...” He faded off.

Once again she was struck by his lack of enthusiasm. It was like he wanted to support this new change, but something was holding him back.

“I know it’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m up to it.”

“Believe me, I never doubted that you were up to it,” he said.

She broke away from his hold and leaned back so she could look into his eyes. “Then what? Obviously there’s more to what you’re thinking.”

He took in a deep breath. “Just, someone is going to need to live there, full-time, right? I thought you might want that.”

She could feel her brows furrow as she tried to take in what he was saying. She’d been living here at the ranch since he’d gotten out of the hospital three months ago. It had started as her being here because he needed someone to help him recuperate. But, just like Tanner’s mother had predicted, there’d been no talk of Bree ever moving back out again.

Until right now.

But maybe Mrs. Dempsey had been wrong. Maybe Tanner was ready to have his space back. Bree hadn’t made any plans to live at the New Journeys building—she and Cassandra had already found a young, single mother who would make an excellent facilitator for the building. They’d approached Marilyn even before applying for the grant since neither Bree or Cassandra would be able to live at the shelter full-time.

Or so Bree had thought.

She knew Tanner loved her, and she loved him. But they’d never really talked about any specifics of how their relationship would play out long term.

“I—”

“Love doesn’t—”

They both started speaking at the same time, then both stopped.

“You go,” he said. “Love doesn’t what? Say what you need to say.”

Bree shrugged. She didn’t want to make this awkward, although that seemed to be her superpower. “Love doesn’t always mean marriage and settling down and having kids. I know that. I don’t expect that.”

It was what she wanted, sure, but she didn’t need a ring or a white dress to know that Tanner loved her.

She looked more closely at his face and realized she had said something very wrong. His features weren’t cold, but they definitely lacked the warmth and welcome she’d always had from him.

She swallowed hard, a ball of dread forming in her belly. “Tanner, I’m sorry. I said something wrong, didn’t I?” Damn her inability to process emotions like other people. “I love you.”

Some of the cool melted from his brown eyes. He brought his thumb up and trailed it down her cheek. “I know you do, freckles. And I love you. I want you to be able to do all the things you want to do.”

There was nothing she wanted to do without him. “There are things I want to do, but—”

Tanner muttered a soft curse as his phone began buzzing on the porch rail next to his coffee.

“Hold that thought,” he muttered as he grabbed the phone. “I’m on call so I have to take this.”

The way she’d already butchered this conversation it was probably best for them to completely restart it anyway.

“I’ll go inside and start breakfast,” she muttered, getting off his lap. He looked like he wanted to argue but the phone buzzed again so he just nodded.

Good. Maybe she could figure out how to fix what she was trying to say.

* * *

TANNER GRABBED HIS phone as he watched the woman he loved, the same woman who just said that love didn’t equal marriage—bundle herself into her blanket and walk inside the house.

That talk hadn’t gone the way he’d planned.

He hit the receive button with far more force than necessary. “Tanner Dempsey.”

“Tanner, it’s Richard Whitaker.”

“Hey, Whitaker. I thought you were taking some vacation time and heading back to Dallas. Are you in Grand County already?” Whitaker was the other deputy captain of the Grand County Sheriff’s Department.

“No, I actually just got off the phone with Sheriff Duggan. I’m going to be taking a little more leave, helping out here. Dallas has a serial killer, Tanner.”

Tanner winced and gave a dry laugh at the same time. “You always did complain there wasn’t enough action around here.”

“Believe me, this particular case is more action than I ever wanted to deal with.”

It almost seemed like the man was asking for his help. “You calling me for backup?”

Tanner couldn’t imagine many scenarios where he would be tremendously helpful for a murder investigation in Dallas.

“We do need help. In a big way.” Whitaker’s voice was strained. “This is personal for me. One of the victims was a girl from my old neighborhood.”

Tanner straightened. He and Whitaker might not have always seen eye to eye, especially since a few months ago the man had thought Tanner was responsible for three murders, but Tanner would still do whatever he could to help him.

The fact that Whitaker was calling him at all spoke volumes.

“Richard, what do you need?”

“Actually, I need Bree. We’re on a strict countdown—literally—and she may be the only one with the computer skills we need. The killer is sending live footage of the victim, and that’s the only thing we’ve got to go on.”

Tanner swallowed a curse. “That’s messed up.”

“I know. We’re going to have another girl dead within a few days if we don’t get someone in here who can think outside the box when it comes to tech stuff. I trust Bree, and we both know there’s no one better in the world.”

The only other possible person as good as Bree was currently waiting in jail in the city where he’d been assigned federal trial.

Dallas.

Tanner let out a curse. “You know Michael Jeter is being held in Dallas, right? I don’t like the thought of bringing Bree into the same town as him, even if he is in a cell.”

“I know, man. And trust me, if I had anyone else to ask, I would do it. We’ve got good computer people here, and they’re stumped. We need the best.”

That was Bree.

Tanner rubbed his eyes. Until Jeter was in actual prison, and not just a county jail cell, Tanner wasn’t going to breathe easy, even from here. Bringing Bree closer to Jeter went against every protective fiber in his being.

But he also knew Bree. Knew she would never agree to hide from the possible risk of Jeter, even after her near panic attack last night just thinking about him, if lives were at stake. If Bree could help she would want to.

“Okay, I know she’ll want to help. I’ll get her to you.”

He listened as Whitaker provided details about flights that day. Tanner would get Bree to Dallas. But he damn well would be staying glued to her side.