“Hi,” I said when she knocked on the cabin door and I invited her in.
“Hi.”
“You look nice.” Her cheeks flushed and she thanked me. When I offered her something to eat or drink, she refrained from both. I’d cracked open a beer right before she arrived and poured it into a glass.
“Thanks for coming over,” I said, motioning for her to take a seat on the sofa.
“Is whatever you’re about to tell me something bad?” she asked.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s more fact than bad.”
Flynn folded her hands on her lap. “Okay.”
“Nine years ago, I watched three agents die when they were gunned down during what should’ve been a routine op.”
Her eyes were wide. “I’m so sorry.”
“When it happened again and the agency’s response didn’t make any sense to me, I began an investigation of my own. What I discovered was there were too many similar happenings.”
“I’m just going to get a glass of water,” she said, standing.
“I won’t go on if this is making you uncomfortable.”
“It isn’t that. I just need a drink.”
“I can’t tell you how often I say the same thing when this topic of conversation comes up.”
She smiled and sat down on the sofa after setting her glass on the coffee table. “Go on. I’m sorry I interrupted.”
“As I was saying, the agency’s response baffled me. In each case, the mission during which the agents were killed was swept under the carpet as if it never happened. Which, of course, made me suspicious. Cope was my handler at the time, so I eventually went to him, and for several years, he and I conducted an investigation outside of the agency and without the agency’s permission.”
“Is that why you were arrested?”
I shook my head. “No, that was a planned part of the mission, one intended to throw the real double agent or agents off in the hope they would act again and we would catch them.”
“Did that happen?”
“To a certain extent, yes. What we discovered right before we arrived here at your family’s ranch is that while many of the people who were involved had been arrested, there were still more out there who haven’t been.”
“Okay.”
“Stella is an investigative journalist who may have a lead on the rest of the players. We’re here because it is a safe place for us to continue trying to find the rest of the perpetrators as well as figure out what was behind the deaths. With every day that goes by and we don’t do that, more agents’ lives are at risk.”
“And you feel personally responsible for that.”
Her intuitive response didn’t surprise me. “That’s right, and there are times when it consumes me. It’s impossible for me to separate myself from this mission in order to have what anyone might consider a normal life.”
I turned my body so I was facing her. “Do you have any questions so far?”
“Not really. I’m used to Buck not being able to talk about his work.”
“This is more about me personally than work, Flynn. I want you to understand why I’ve been inconsistent with you. I think you’re very pretty, you’re intelligent, and I enjoy spending time with you.”
“But?”
“I have no business getting into any kind of relationship with anyone.”
She scooted forward on the sofa.
“Please don’t leave.”
She nodded but didn’t scoot back.
“I’d really like for us to be friends. I’d like to spend time with you when we’re both not working, but I need you to understand that friends is all we can ever be and that has nothing to do with how much I may want more.”
“I really need to go.” When she stood, I saw tears in her eyes. I stood too and pulled her into an embrace.
“I’m sorry. I truly am. I’d like to say that once this is over, I may be able to think about relationships, but I sometimes wonder if it will ever be over.”
Flynn took a step back and wiped her tears. “I feel like a real idiot for crying.”
“Don’t. I cry too.”
She smiled. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
“Whoever your next relationship is with, he will be a lucky man.”
When she scoffed, I figured now wasn’t the time to ask why.
“I meant what I said about us being friends. If you need someone to talk to or just feel like hanging out, I’d like to see more of you.”
“I’d like that.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because…I’m going to have a couple of days off and was wondering if we could plan some things.”
“Like what?”
“How do you feel about horseback riding?”
She laughed. “Feel about it? That’s like asking how I feel about walking or breathing; it’s just something I do.”
“I never have.”
“I could make arrangements for you.”
“Will you be with me?”
Flynn rolled her eyes. “Yes, Paxon, I’ll be with you.”
Going off the ranch was harder because of my detail, but we were able to schedule dinner after our ride the next day. The one where I made an absolute jackass out of myself. My self-deprecation over not being able to control the horse—the most mild-mannered one they had, according to Flynn—resulted in her getting the giggles more than once.
“Would you mind if we went somewhere a little farther away to eat tonight?” she asked when we returned the barn.
“Not at all. Where are you thinking?”
“There’s a drive that goes from Crested Butte over Kebler Pass toward Aspen. There’s a restaurant near the top in a place called Redstone. It’s also a beautiful drive.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We left at four even though our reservations were at six, just so we could take our time and enjoy the scenery. Ink and one of the other contractors went with us.
“This is the largest grove of aspens in the world,” Flynn said when we drove beneath the miles-long canopy
