If I Should Die

His heat-filled embrace sent her pulse racing. His hand went to her waist, under her sweater, pushing at the small of her back, holding her as close as he possibly could without bringing her into his lap. His mouth became aggressive, as if wanting to imprint the kiss on her, to kiss her so thoroughly that she wouldn’t be able to forget. Lucy held him tight, shivers of desire running through her, a need to keep Sean close.

He turned her head and kissed her jawline, all the way to her ear. A faint moan escaped her chest and he put his hands on her face, his forehead pressed against hers. “I’m not mad at you, Lucy. I was never mad. I love you.”

“I-” Her chest tightened. Tell him! Tell him you love him. “I’m not mad, either.” Her voice cracked.

His phone rang. Before he answered, she saw disappointment in his eyes.

He let her go. “It’s Patrick.”

Sean walked Noah through the mechanics of his Cessna, shared some of its quirks, and closed with, “Any questions?”

“I was an Air Force pilot for ten years; I think I can fly a little Cessna.”

“She’s not a fighter plane,” Sean said.

“I’ll take good care of her.”

Sean didn’t miss that Noah glanced at Lucy, who’d watched the flight “lesson” with a bemused expression on her face.

“When are you returning?”

“Tonight,” Noah said. “Considering what’s been happening, you need all the help you can get.” He handed Sean a file folder. “Here’s everything you need to get in to see Paul Swain.”

Though Swain was in a state penitentiary, Noah had contacted the FBI liaison and smoothed the way for Sean.

“I appreciate it,” he said. It wasn’t the first time Noah had pulled strings for him, and he didn’t particularly like feeling indebted to him.

Sean took Lucy’s hand. “Be careful, Luce.” He pulled her into a hug. She stiffened, just a bit, but he didn’t let her go. She’d never been comfortable with public displays of affection, and usually he respected her feelings, but this time he wasn’t pulling back. He kissed her long enough to make sure Noah Armstrong understood that Lucy was off-limits.

When he stepped back, she touched his cheek softly and said, “You be careful, Sean Rogan. I’ll be surrounded by FBI agents in a military-controlled building. You’re marching back to the lion’s den.”

“I’ll watch his back,” Patrick called from where he stood leaning against the hood of the rental truck.

“Take care of each other,” Lucy said. “I expect you both to be in one piece when we get back tonight.”

Sean watched as Noah and Lucy climbed into his plane and Noah started the preflight check. He gave Sean a thumbs-up when he got clearance from air traffic control, and drove the plane toward the small-craft runway.

Sean leaned against the truck next to Patrick, watching until the Cessna disappeared in the sky. Patrick said, “You’re jealous.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Patrick laughed. Sean didn’t. He strode to the driver’s door and pulled it open, slamming it behind him. Patrick followed. “I’ll admit, I like it.”

“I thought you were my friend.” Sean turned the ignition and drove too quickly from the field.

“I am. But in the three years I’ve known you, and all the women you dated before Lucy, not once did I see you jealous.”

“I’m not jealous of Noah Armstrong.”

But dammit, Patrick was right. He was jealous.

“It’s a good thing.”

“You’re sick. Besides, I thought you wanted Lucy to dump me for someone like that Fed.”

“I did.”

“Asshole.”

Patrick laughed. “You don’t listen. When you called me last night and asked me to bring Noah here this morning to fly your plane to Albany with Lucy, I realized that maybe you have changed. It’s been obvious for months that you don’t like Noah, and I think it has less to do with the fact that he’s a Fed and more to do with the fact that he’s Lucy’s friend. To call him for help shows a rare humility, but more important, tells me that you would do anything to protect my sister, even ask for help from the man you’re afraid is your rival.”

“Well,” Sean said. “I don’t think I’ve heard you talk so much bullshit at one time. Rival? Hardly. That would mean Lucy is undecided, and she’s not.”

“I know. She loves you.”

Just because Patrick said it so matter-of-factly didn’t make Sean feel better. Because she’d never told him, and in fact he did consider Noah a rival. Because whether Patrick, or Lucy, or even Noah knew it, Noah was attracted to her. That Lucy liked and respected Noah contributed to it. And that was bad for all of them, no matter how Sean looked at it.

But if there was any silver lining to this epiphany of Patrick’s, it was that he had finally dropped his opposition to Sean dating his sister.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Sean and Patrick entered the sheriff’s office just after nine a.m. Saturday morning. Sean was supposed to be at the prison for his visit with Paul Swain at one that afternoon. He hadn’t wanted to wait, but the cogs of the prison bureaucracy ran on their own time. Especially since Noah had moved heaven and earth to get Sean, who wasn’t a cop, a private Saturday visit with Swain.

Detective Sergeant Kyle Dillard came out of his office to greet them. After introductions, he escorted them to his office and said, “I left a message for Deputy Weddle to come by, but I haven’t heard from him.”

“Probably skipped town,” Sean mumbled.

He and Patrick sat in the chairs across from Dillard’s tidy desk. On the wall behind the detective were several commendations from both the St. Lawrence County Sheriff and the Philadelphia Police Department. “You’re from Philly?” Sean asked.

“Born and bred. Came here to get away from big city crime. Found out that small town violence can be just as bad.” Dillard poured coffee into a mug from a thermos on his desk. “Did you get the copy of Weddle’s report I emailed last night?”

“He’s either a liar or an idiot,” Sean said. “And I noticed he didn’t report the sniper who shot at us yesterday.”

“Sniper?”

Sean nodded and leaned forward.

“There was a body in the mine. Lucy didn’t make it up; she wasn’t scared and seeing things. She’s identified the body as Special Agent Victoria Sheffield out of the Albany FBI office.”

Dillard leaned back in his chair, but his expression was both grim and suspicious. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I wanted to talk to you face-to-face. After dealing with Weddle for two days, I don’t trust him. And from what I’ve heard from people in Spruce Lake, he’s been on the take for years.”

“You’ll have to put some names to those accusations,” Dillard said.

Sean shook his head. “Not yet.” He assessed Dillard as a straightshooter. “Are you familiar with the Swain family?”

Dillard nodded. “I was part of the joint task force that took down Paul Swain. Nine people went to prison. If I thought Swain was still running things in Spruce Lake, I would have called in the Feds. One thing I can say about that place-they take care of their own. Someone like me-I wouldn’t get anywhere.”