Page 52 of Colton’s Secret Identity

“Are you freak—” Her blood boiled as she glared at Dylan.

“Hold on.” Cal held up both hands, and pointed at her. “We’ve found out more from Slim’s daughter. Paloma wasn’t in communication with them as her entire goal was to take you and Hawk out. Even though Paloma knew what you were doing, Veronica, she never had an inside look at this task force, doesn’t know that Hawk isn’t a trafficker, the kingpin rival to Slim. She assumed you were providing sexual favors to Hawk in order to gather more police intel. Unless you gave her any information about Dylan, aka Hawk, when you met with her at Pixie Hair Salon?”

“No, I told her nothing, definitely never any specifics.” Veronica swallowed hard, fighting tears of sheer anger at Dylan for trying to eliminate her role on the task force. Even with her cover blown, she knew more about Rex and Bulldog, had had more interaction with them, than Dylan. At the very least she’d be able to provide support from the comms vans that looked like florist’s trucks.

“We’re going to meet with Rex ahead of his meeting with Slim, then.” Dylan wouldn’t look at her. “Hawk and Monique, that is. I’ll tell Rex that he’ll stand a better chance with Slim if I’m there with him.”

Cal nodded. “Yes. The Honda Pilot you’re using now is the latest model and for a good reason. It’s hybrid, so you can run on the battery when you need to go in undetected. Veronica, you’re still on the clock, but you are going to have to go back undercover again as Monique for Rex’s and Bulldog’s sakes. I assume you still have your wig?”

“Of course.” She and Cal exchanged a glance in which she saw understanding, steadfastness and maybe compassion. She snorted. He more than anyone here besides her knew what a pain in the butt his younger brother could be.

The steel-gray sky served as the backdrop for the gold, red and orange leaves that remained on the deciduous trees that were visible from the highway. The autumnal display had decreased in its intensity with each mile closer to the border. Northern North Dakota lost the last of the deciduous leaves two to three weeks earlier than Red Grove, farther south.

Dylan drove, dressed again as Hawk in blue jeans, a Sherpa-lined leather jacket and the cowboy boots he enjoyed wearing but not so much when he could be called upon to chase down Rex, Bulldog or even Slim.

Veronica, aka Monique, sat in the passenger seat, her brunette pixie firmly in place as well as the grim line of her crimson mouth. He missed Veronica already.

Get used to it. This case would be over in a blink and they’d never see one another again. The thought should bring him more relief than angst, but it didn’t.

He cast a quick glance at Veronica. She had the back of her head to him now as she took in the panoramic view of the increasing rolls of hills and, in the far distance, mountains.

The last ninety minutes had been mostly silent and he knew it was his fault that their easy professional rapport was a thing of the past. Of their past. His gut had sunk the minute those words came out of his mouth at the task force. Sure, he’d been concerned for her safety—still was, in fact—but he’d put his worry to bed when he reminded himself that Veronica would handle whatever threat came her way. Why the hell had he opened his mouth? And why was he still wound so freakin’ tight over her well-being? He hadn’t worried about her for over five years. Okay, maybe not on the regular.

He shifted in his heated seat, pointed at the sky. “Those look like snow clouds to me.”

“Mmm.” Not much, but she did retrieve her phone and make quick taps on the screen.

“Checking the weather?” He tried to bridge her anger as casually as possible.

“Yep. There’s a storm heading our way. Those clouds are the very beginning. Heaviest snowfall will be overnight.”

“Well, we’ll be at their cabin well before then.” As if to underscore his observation, their exit appeared and he turned his signal blinker on. It was only another half hour to where Rex and Bulldog had holed up after the Frisky shootout. Their plan was for Hawk to approach the cabin while she remained behind, ready to shoot either Rex or Bulldog on sight if needed. But hopefully, Rex would agree to a more civilized meeting, if Dylan, aka Hawk, could convince him that he needed Hawk to confront Slim with minimal risk to his life.

The road wound off the highway and merged with a two-lane road. They were plunged into a forest almost immediately, making it easy to believe the open skies and rolling land they’d left minutes earlier didn’t exist.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been on this road.” He navigated the serpentine road as it alternated between hugging a mountain wall and twisting through the shadowed forest.

No response. Cal had made it clear, several times, that the call to meet Rex and Bulldog would come at any time. Having worked countless undercover ops gave Dylan the belief that they could also be waiting days for Rex to make his move. It was going to be a long, tense wait if he and Veronica didn’t clear the air.

“Look, Veron—”

“Save it, Dylan. Let’s just get through this, okay? Let’s finish it. We’ll bring Rex, Slim and all of the ring to their knees. Then you go back to California and I go back to my peaceful life.” She spoke methodically and without an ounce of emotion.

It was as if her verbal snipe had been waiting on the tip of her tongue.

“I’m surprised the venom in your words hasn’t burned your tongue.” He’d survived through fighting his damnable attraction to her, being stalked first by Rex and then Slim’s daughter—lest he forget the mountain lion—so he’d take sparring with her, no problem. Anything was better than her blasted, icy silence.

“Tell me one thing, Dylan. Where were you going to leave me so that I couldn’t participate in the takedown? Were you going to just not show up at my apartment, or is there some place around here you still plan to leave me?”

Zing.

“That’s fair.”

“Damn right it’s ‘fair,’ unlike you selling me out in front of our colleagues.” She crossed her right leg over her left thigh, and for the first time in the drive faced him. She wore suede, laced-up calf-length boots that had pom-poms at the end of the laces and forest-green leggings instead of her usual Monique short skirt and stiletto boots.

“You going to be able to run in those boots?”

“Keep to the subject, Dylan. Did you ever plan to work with me for the entire op? Were you making a show of working with the task force?”