Deadly Promises (Tracers #2.5)(81)

Robles shot Gage a look that seemed to say, “Help me out here.” When Gage didn’t throw him a lifeline the old man stood up from the table.

“Dissertations don’t matter in the scheme of things, Dr. Quinn.” He picked up his gray fishing hat and arranged it on his head. “Given the way you spend most of your professional time, I would think you’d know that by now.”

Kelsey stood silently, her expression a mixture of frustration and acceptance. She knew she’d lost.

“When the students arrive in the morning we’ll start packing. I want all the equipment loaded by ten.” Robles nodded at Gage. “Good night, sir. I thank you for keeping an eye on my field supervisor this evening.”

The incensed look on Kelsey’s face as he left the camper was comical, but Gage didn’t dare laugh. He kept his expression carefully neutral as she slammed around the kitchen.

“This is bullshit,” she muttered. “If I were a man, this wouldn’t even be up for discussion.”

“Yeah, but you’re not a man,” Gage felt compelled to point out. “And he’s right. This isn’t a safe place to be right now. Ultimately, Robles is responsible for everyone here, and you can’t expect him to take risks with their safety.”

“I’m responsible for my safety.” Kelsey waved her wooden spoon at him. “I’ve got my own private security detail. How much safer could I get? And I still haven’t finished my work here.”

Gage pulled two soup bowls from the crate where she kept her dishes. He was starving, and he was pretty sure she was in no mood to wait on him. “You were too busy getting mad to listen. Robles didn’t say anything about you leaving. He was talking about the field school.”

Kelsey rested a hand on her hip and watched him ladle soup. “You’re saying I should continue helping Sattler?”

He put the bowls on the table and sat down. “Eat,” he ordered. “And no, I’m not saying you should do anything. But I know you’re going to. I know you’re invested in this thing, and you’re not going to leave until you’ve finished. I plan to stick around until that happens.”

She watched him warily, then joined him at the table. “You’ll really stay?”

“I said I would.” He scooped up a bite of beef stew. It tasted incredible, and he knew he’d never be able to look at the MRE version with quite the same gusto.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“I’ve got some rules, though.”

“I knew it.”

“We’re moving you into town, starting tonight. You can get a room at the lodge. And you’re only going to work during daylight hours. And no driving alone. You can pack after dinner.”

He held her gaze as anger flashed in her eyes. This woman didn’t like taking orders. Too damn bad. He wanted her in town, in an actual building, behind an actual door, not camped out in this piece of shit RV.

Gage needed a break from this place, too. If he had to spend another night in that sleeping bag that smelled like her, all the while knowing she was curled up, soft and warm in that bed just a few feet away, he was going to start howling at the moon.

Gage considered himself a disciplined man, but he didn’t have nearly the willpower he needed to spend another night alone in Kelsey Quinn’s sleeping bag. He’d already slipped up once today by kissing her at the creek bed. It had been pure impulse, a gut reaction to something he’d seen in her eyes. It had also been a mistake.

“What?” Gage asked, as she gave him a peevish look.

“I’m just thinking it’s no wonder you’re a lieutenant. You’re very comfortable giving orders. Reminds me of Joe.”

Gage watched her get up and take a pair of beers from the minifridge. He realized he knew very little about her background besides the fact that she was his CO’s niece.

As she sat down, he twisted the caps off both beers and slid one to her. “I take it you’re from San Diego?” he asked.

“Not originally, why?”

“You said you were close to Joe, so I just assumed.”

“We moved down from Seattle when I was nine. After my dad died.” She eyed him over the rim of her beer and seemed to read his mind. “Car accident,” she added.

Shit. “That must have been…” He shook his head. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it’s okay.” She turned her bottle on the table. She didn’t look upset to be talking about it, just… resigned, as if the pain had been processed a long time ago. “It was my birthday. He’d driven up to Bellingham to pick up my present.” She glanced up at him and rolled her eyes. “It was a puppy. I’d been begging my parents for months. My dad found a litter of Weimaraner puppies for sale, so he was on his way to get one when a logging truck hit him.”

Gage didn’t say anything. But as he looked at her he knew he’d been wrong. The pain was still very real, she’d just learned to mask it.

“That must have been rough,” he said, knowing exactly how inadequate that sounded.

“We got through it. But I’ve always felt guilty, you know? Like I caused it.” She looked up at him and her expression was thoughtful. “Do you ever wonder how your life might be different if you could go back and change just one thing?”