Stolen(2)

Thursday, October 24

12:00 P.M.

Denver, Colorado



The jolt of touchdown, the roar of the plane’s wheels grinding against asphalt, and the oily smell of exhaust woke FBI Special Agent Atticus Spenser. But it was the sound of a soft, familiar voice murmuring beside him that made him want to open his eyes. Savoring the anticipation, he resisted the temptation.

“‘In wildness is the preservation of the world,’” Caity whispered.

“You’ve sure got a way with words,” he said appreciatively, stirring in his seat.

“Not me. Henry David Thoreau.”

“‘He’d be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly.’” Spense would never be as classy as Caity, but he did his best to impress.

“Walt Whitman?” She sounded pleased with him.

Too bad he had to let her down. But hey, it was still a classic. “Nah. It’s a line from ‘Rocky Mountain High.’”

Her laugh sounded like a pretty bell. “The John Denver song?”

“Best I could do off the cuff.” He’d waited as long as he could stand it to open his eyes. Now, from beneath sleepy lids, he took in the profile that made him feel like he was nineteen again and just about to dive off Acapulco’s famed La Quebrada cliffs—only for that, he’d been prepared. The waves beneath the rocks rose to a safe depth mere seconds at a time, which is why he’d studied and practiced a full year before taking that life-and-death leap. But when it had come to Caity . . . he’d just jumped.

With her exotic dark hair, surprising blue eyes, and sexy, full lips, Dr. Caitlin Cassidy was beautiful by anyone’s standards. But he’d known plenty of smoking hot women, and none of them had ever mesmerized him the way she did. He couldn’t explain why he was willing to risk anything to be with her. What he did know was that so far the fall was exhilarating.

Though he could hardly take his eyes off her, Caity’s attention seemed fixed elsewhere. She stared out the window, fingers pressed against the scratched, plastic pane as a terminal, topped with white fabric peaks, came into full view. The Denver airport had been designed to remind visitors of both the snow-capped Rockies and Colorado’s Native American history. No doubt Caity had been recalling her beloved mountains when she’d quoted Thoreau.

Hard to believe how much things had changed in just a few short weeks. The last time Spense and Caity had flown into Denver, she’d sat with her back ramrod straight, her jaw clamped, and her hands fisted miserably in her lap—anticipating a tense reunion   with her mother. Today, her eyes were bright, her body relaxed, and her smile eager. This time, Caity had things all squared away with her mom. Now he was the one with a black cloud hovering above his head—a devastating piece of family news he had yet to deliver.

At the Bureau’s behest, he and Caity had boarded the first flight from Dallas to Denver, and that meant he hadn’t had a chance to touch base with his mother in Arizona after finishing up their last case. But that was his problem. He didn’t want anything to diminish the gleam of happiness in Caity’s eyes. “You glad to be home?”

“I wish it weren’t under these circumstances, but yes.”

Said circumstances were another assignment—an important one. But fortuitously, Caity’s mother lived in Boulder, just about thirty minutes down the road from Denver. So they hoped to sneak in a short visit or two while they were here.

Her gaze lighting on him at last, Caity said, “The year we moved to Colorado was the worst year of my life.”

Not hard to figure why. That was the year she’d turned eighteen—the same year her father had been executed for a murder he didn’t commit. She and her mom had fled from Phoenix to Boulder to escape the gossip and the harsh memories, but her father’s ghost had dogged their steps. Caity’s mother, Arlene, had coped with his death by denial—whereas Caity had raged against the injustice, creating a distance between them that had once seemed too far to bridge. But now, thanks to Caity, and yes, thanks to him, too, her father’s name had been cleared. The Cassidy women had finally put their differences aside and were hoping to forge a new and improved relationship.

“It’s the first time in years I’ve felt as though I’m coming home. I can’t wait to see Mom.”

The sincerity in Caity’s voice made his throat grow tight, reminding him that the news he must deliver to his own mother would change her world forever. The prospect sat like a concrete block on his chest.

Perhaps sensing his thoughts, Caity reached over and squeezed his hand. “Spense, I’ve been thinking . . .” Her voice died out as though she was reluctant to broach the subject. “Since you can’t go to her, why don’t we fly your mom out here? She can stay with mine in Boulder.”