“Yes.”
“So how did you get around the USDA?”
“We bribed the vets. They faked the screening results. Everything was fine until several employees at the processing plant got sick.”
“Sick, how?”
“Undulant fever. Human infections occur through exposure to an animal’s infected blood and tissue. Influenza-like symptoms develop. High fever, aches and pains, fatigue. It’s not usually fatal.”
“Not usually?”
“One of the workers, an older man with a pacemaker, he developed endocarditis. Inflammation of the inner lining of the heart. He died several weeks after exposure.”
“So what does any of this have to do with Summer?” Jamie demanded.
“One of the vets. Louis Dunlop, he kept records. Sent us a copy on a memory stick. It contains proof of the herd’s infection. He wanted more hush money. Summer found the flash drive and took it with her when she left. Marla was convinced she’d use it to expose us.”
“Let me get this straight,” Cody said. “You’re being blackmailed by a veterinarian over tainted cattle that killed a plant worker, and Summer found the documented proof?”
“Yes! We just wanted the flash drive back. I swear. We had no intentions of harming her.”
Liar.They hadn’t planned to let her go. She knew it for a fact. Why? She searched the hole in her brain for a connection, and a memory niggled at her. An older woman. Mid-forties. Short brown hair. Friendly smile.
Sara? Clara? No. She shook her head, or at least she tried to. Claire? Yes. Claire. The Silver Buckle’s personal vet. Dead. A freak accident involving one of the horses. On the ranch. Last fall. Summer had gone to the funeral with the rest of the staff. All but one. Garret, Marla’s right-hand man, had been a notable absence.
“Claire Rogers,” she wheezed, opening her eyes to a blurry world. She blinked to clear them, and Jamie’s face slowly came into focus. Well, his eyes did. He was wearing a mask under his tactical helmet, the bottom half of the fabric pulled down to expose his lips.
Jeez, even in the dim light of the cabin, he looked sexy in head-to-toe black, his combat gear making him appear even larger than normal.
“What about her?” he asked, leaning closer while he ran his hands over her head and neck, immobilizing her when she tried to turn her face toward the room. “Look at me, Summer.”
She did, and he blinded her with the pen light he produced from somewhere nearby. She would’ve knocked his hand away, but she couldn’t lift her arm. “Pupils are normal,” he said as the light disappeared, and she saw red dots float across her field of vision.
“Who’s Claire Rogers?” Adam asked, and she turned her head in his direction. His identity also concealed by a mask; she recognized him by his posture. Back straight. Shoulders down. Muscles held in tense readiness.
On their knees in front of him, Marla looked like she wanted to claw someone’s eyes out, while John appeared ready to choke on his own vomit. A few feet away, Garret lay in a pool of blood.
“She was the Silver Buckle’s veterinarian,” Summer replied, conviction strengthening her voice. “I think they killed her.”
“You stupid little bitch!” In a rage, Marla sprang to her feet. “How dare—”
In about one second flat, Jamie had his gun in his palm, the barrel of the Glock trained on her heaving chest. “Take one step closer, and you don’t walk out of here, Governor.”
“Who the hell are you people?” she cried, her composure finally cracking.
“We’re Summer’s family,” Adam said, indicating she should get back on her knees with the end of his rifle. “You fuck with her. You fuck with us.”
CHAPTERFORTY-FOUR
Cozyand warm in the back of the idling truck, Summer listened to Jamie’s heart. Cradled in his arms, her head on his chest, she let the steady beats soothe her. He’d removed his protective gear and insisted she sit in his lap while Adam questioned her away from the Wagners.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again, guilt riding heavy on her shoulders. “I never meant to—”
“Stop,” he ordered, kissing the top of her head before tucking the blanket tighter around her legs. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
She’d told them everything. About John’s unwelcome advances. About him chasing her into Marla’s office where she’d knocked the tray off the desk. About how and why she switched the memory stick for the Lego in her pocket, a useless move to protect herself considering her abrupt dismissal and rapid departure.
“Okay, I’m in the closet,” Zander said, his voice coming through the speakerphone. “What am I looking for?”
