But he was ready for whatever tortures she had in mind.

When at last she straddled him and he lifted her hips, lowering her onto him, his hands smoothing up over her stomach and breasts, she gasped as if it was the first time.

Everythingchanged.Shecouldn'tholdbackandsaw thathecouldn't,either,notanylonger.Shewantedspeed and heat and ferocity, and he responded in kind, his strokes hard, fast, relentless. She ended up on her back, taking all of him she could get, and when she was filled up,spillingover,hecameatheralltheharder,againand again. Her release washed over her, endless, and her cries seemed to echo across the isolated meadow. She knew she was spinning out of control and didn't care.

But he didn't stop. He was slick with sweat, his heart beating rapidly against her, and when he came, she thought she would die.

Her vision blurred, and a treacherous mix of love and raw need ripped through her.

She'd promised herself never again. And here she was.

Later, Ty slipped down the ladder and tossed another log on the fire. He debated sleeping on the couch, but Carine would take it the wrong way. Or so went his rationalization as he climbed back up the ladder and into bed with her. She had a mountain of quilts and blankets. He thought he'd suffocate. He peeled one off and threw it on the floor with their clothes.

"Gus says we never returned the snowshoes he gave us for a wedding present," she said sleepily.

"Only Gus would give someone snowshoes for a wedding present, and we did return them. He tried to send them back to the manufacturer. He said they were tainted."

She rolled onto her side, pulling the covers up over her breasts. "I don't have to marry you, Ty, but I can't- I can't just be there whenever you decide you want me there."

"I know."

"And you-it's not right for you to be there whenever I want you."

"Right."

"Ty?"

He smothered her urge to talk with a kiss. It seemed like the right thing to do, and in a minute, she was the one kicking off blankets.

Twenty-Three

Val talked Hank into going out for coffee. They took her car, but she asked him to drive, because she was too damn nervous and barely knew her way around Washington, D.C., on a good day. For all she knew, her caller was around the corner with night-vision goggles, watching her every move. Maybe he was a law enforcement officer. The CIA. Military intelligence. Maybe she was out of her mind.

Plus, she had an unloaded Glock in her glove compartment, and she couldn't reach it if she was the one driving. And she'd seen in the movies-when you kidnap someone, you make them drive.

Except she wasn't kidnapping Hank. Really, she thought, sitting next to him. She was just going to ask him to drive her to Cold Ridge. Or not? Should she pretend she'd never gotten that bizarre call?

He had on a sweater and a lightweight suede coat.

It'd be colder in New Hampshire, but he'd be fine. She'd resisted the impulse to drag out her winter coat and instead pulled on a denim jacket. Jeans, turtleneck, sneakers, denim jacket-she looked perfectly normal, even if she felt as if she should be locked up somewhere.

"Where to?" Hank asked, mercifully oblivious to her wild thoughts.

She chewed on her lower lip. Should she tell him about the call? Or just make up some story about why she wanted him to drive her to Cold Ridge?

"Val? What's wrong?"

He was frowning at her, absolutely one of the best-looking men she'd ever met. And kind. So kind. It was dark on her street, not busy. A beautiful Saturday night in Washington. She and Manny should be at the movies. Eric-even if her life was normal, Eric would be in Cold Ridge. But that's what he wanted.

Hank pulled out into the street and headed to the main intersection and onto a four-lane highway of strip malls and chain restaurants. He seemed to sense something was up. He was so quiet, just glancing at her occasionally out of the corner of his eye. Val almost started crying. She couldn't believe what she was about to do. "Hank, I can't stand it," she said. "I-I need to see Eric. He didn't sound that great the last time I talked to him. If I leave now, I can be there by morning. But I can't- I'm too out of it to drive."

"Do you want to take the shuttle? I can drive you to the airport."

"No." She shook her head, not knowing what the hell she was doing. Why not just tell Hank everything and let him help her figure it out? He was a retired air force major. He'd performed combat missions. He was a damn senator. A Massachusetts Callahan. He knew everyone. He had connections. "Never mind. There's a place where we can have coffee down the street."

"Val, I know this has been hard on you-"

Her cell phone rang, and she jumped, gasping in an exaggerated startled reaction. She answered it, her hands shaking violently. She could feel Hank's narrowed eyes on her.

"You have him?"

Again it was that toneless voice. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Do you have him?" the caller repeated calmly.

Hank slowed to a crawl on the busy Arlington street. "Val, who are you talking to?"

"I hear him." But there was no note of satisfaction in the caller's tone. "Good work. Bring him to Cold Ridge. It's your only chance, Val. Do you understand me? Your only chance. Manny's only chance. Do what you have to do. Just get Senator Callahan to Cold Ridge."

Her hands were like ice, her fingers gripping the phone as if it might suddenly fly itself out the window. She moaned in despair and frustration. "Don't you get it? I can't drive all the way to New England with a senator!"

Hank slammed on the brake and snatched the phone out of her hand. "Who the hell is this?" He listened a moment, then handed the phone back to her. "Get rid of him. Understood?"

She nodded, although she was past understanding anything.

"Cute trick," the caller said. "I told him I'd only talk to you. Val, be strong. I'm trying to help. The only way I can help is if you bring Hank Callahan to Cold Ridge tonight."

"But-"

"I know it sounds scary and strange." This time, she thought she sensed an undercurrent of friendliness, caring, in the otherwise unchanged voice. "But once I can reveal what I know, once you have the whole picture- both you and the senator will thank me. In the meantime, you must follow my instructions to the letter."

"If I don't?"

"Then you'll bear the responsibility for whatever happens. Good or bad. I'm being honest with you. I have the means to help your husband, but only if you're willing to do your part." A pause, calculated, she thought, to further unnerve her. "Mrs. Carrera, please don't mistake me. Some very bad people are after your husband."

"It's something like ten hours to Cold Ridge." She avoided looking at Hank next to her, felt her stomach muscles twist, aching, acid rising up in her throat. "We can take the shuttle and be there in a couple of hours."

But the caller didn't even hesitate. "You know that won't work. Too many air marshals. Drive all night. It'll be okay. Just do as I say. I'll call back when you're farther north and tell you where to bring the senator."

"What if I call the police the second I hang up? What if Hank does?"

"If either of you contacts the police-if you tell anyone-all bets are off, and you'll have to live with the consequences."

He hung up, and Val gulped for air, not thinking as she yanked open the glove compartment and fumbled for her Glock. She pulled it out and pointed it at Hank, who just stared at her, his jaw set, his teeth clenched. He wouldn't know it was unloaded."Val, for Christ's sake."