quaintly called the bathroom.

Avery turned back to Chrystal, who, at this point, was the more agreeable of the two. "How long do you think it will take to

get to Coward's Crossing?"

"You aren't gonna make it before nightfall," Chrystal answered. "What with all the rain, those little roads got all washed out."

John Paul was opening the door but paused when Kenny shouted, "Hey, wait a minute. You ain't gonna take my gun, are you?

I've got to have something for protection, being out here with just the missus."

"Let it go, Kenny," Chrystal said. "George never got a permit for that thing."

Kenny's face turned red. "Why'd you have to open your big mouth and bring that up?"

"She would have wanted to see it," Chrystal argued. "They always do."

"Who's 'they'?"

"FBI." She pronounced each letter as though it were a profanity.

"What?" Kenny screeched. "You're saying that gal's FBI?" His eyes bulged at the news.

Mark groaned. "Ah, man, we're gonna get busted."

Ignoring the drunk, John Paul closed the door in Avery's face and asked softly, "You're an FBI agent?"

Uh-oh. One quick glance at his expression, and she inwardly cringed. He looked so offended that she didn't think it would be a good idea to explain it all to him now. Maybe later, she thought, when he was asleep.

"Answer me," he demanded. "Are you an FBI agent?"

He wasn't going to budge until she responded. She swallowed, then whispered, "Sort of."

Then Chrystal, who, Avery decided, really did have a big mouth, said, "She told me she left her ID in the car, but she'd go get it

if I wanted to see it."

"I'm leaving," Avery announced. She used every ounce of strength she possessed to push John Paul out of her way so she could get out the door.

He didn't move an inch. "We'll be talking about this later."

She waited until he stepped back, then brushed past him. Childishly wanting to have the last word, she muttered, "No, we won't."

The SUV fantailed out of the lot onto the dirt road when John Paul floored it, the tires spitting up pebbles and dirt clumps. He headed toward the river and was driving like a lunatic.

"Slow down," she ordered.

He eased up on the pedal while Avery went over the directions. "I should have asked Chrystal to give me a guess as to how

many miles Coward's Crossing was from the store."

"We're going to be hiking," he said.

"I'll keep up with whatever pace you set."

"We'll see. Tell me, what did the woman on the phone say?"

She repeated the conversation and added, "I demanded to talk to Carrie, but she said that wasn't possible."

He shook his head. "And yet you still believe your aunt's alive?"

"Yes, I do. I think the woman wants to keep Carrie around… for a little longer anyway." She didn't have a valid reason for

why she felt that way. Maybe it was just desperate hope on her part. "You know what I don't understand?"

"What?"

"Why are they going to so much trouble if they want to kill me? Why make it complicated? There was ample opportunity to ambush me on the way to the spa, before you were even involved. It would have been so much simpler." She slapped her forehead. "Of course. They didn't know I was going to drive to the spa. When I missed my flight, they had to improvise. You

were another complication. You were hanging around the spa asking questions. Now it makes sense."

She shook her head. She must be tired. It took so long for her to figure it out. She closed her eyes for a moment and thought

about the phone call again.

"The woman… she's having fun."

"I'm sorry?"

"I could hear it in her voice. She was excited, even when she was hissing at me and calling me stupid. She doesn't want this

to be over too soon. She wants to drag it out." She thought it over for a long minute and then said, "She likes giving orders, and

as long as we play her little game, or treasure hunt, as she called it, she might prolong it even more."

He drove as fast as the dirt roads would allow while she gave him directions. Avery kept replaying the conversation in her mind, analyzing what little data she had. It was so frustrating.

John Paul interrupted her. "Okay, Avery. It's later."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said it's later, and we're going to talk about it now. Why the hell didn't you tell me you were an FBI agent?"

"You made it very apparent you didn't particularly like the Bureau."

"Yeah? When did I do that?"

"When we were in the manager's office at Utopia, you called your friend Noah. I heard you tell him to bring in the troops."

"And?"

"And then you told me they'd mess up the investigation. When I pressed you on your attitude, you became quite hostile. Besides…" She could feel herself blushing. "I'm not really an agent, not yet anyway."

He slowed the car. "Yeah? Then why are you telling people you are?" He shook his head and said, "Who in his right mind

would want to impersonate an FBI agent?"

Avery hated being put on the defensive. God, he was such an obstinate, opinionated jerk. "I don't usually tell people I'm an agent.

I just told Chrystal, in hopes of gaining her cooperation. Unlike you," she added, "I don't use coercion and brute force to get what

I want."

John Paul ignored the criticism of his tactics. Why fix what wasn't broken? Brute force had always worked. "I do what I'm good at doing. That's my motto."

"Watch out," she warned as he turned the corner and nearly ran into a deer. John Paul hit the brakes and swerved off the road, narrowly avoiding the animal. The car rocked and bounced but held the ground.

It was too dangerous to try to maintain a high speed. He slowed the car and said, "ChrystaPs right. We aren't going to make it before nightfall."

"Think positive."

"Why?" He sounded genuinely perplexed.

"Maybe we'll get a decent road soon," she said.

They drove around another sharp curve. Down below to the west was a road that looked well traveled. He decided to go for it.

"Hang on," he said as they started down the hill. The slope was steep, and he had to be mindful of jagged rocks.

Avery flattened her hands against the seat as they bounced along.

"So," he said, "were you lying about having a badge?"

"I have credentials in my backpack."

"But you're not an agent?"

"No."

"Then what the hell are you doing with credentials?"

"I do work for the Bureau. I'm just not a field agent."

"That's good."

"Why? Because you hate the Bureau?"

"No, because you're not any good at it."

"How would you know what I'm good at?" she said. Lord, he was irritating. Every time he opened his mouth, he said something that rubbed her the wrong way. No man had ever been able to get under her skin the way John Paul did.

"You don't have the instincts," he said. "And before you get all hot and bothered and argue, answer a question for me, and be honest."

She folded her arms and frowned at him. "What?"

"Did you anticipate that Kenny might have a loaded weapon under that counter? Did you even for a split second consider the possibility?"

"No."

"There you go."

"I haven't been trained to be a field agent. I didn't go through the academy."

"That's no excuse. You've either got it, or you don't. You've got some good moves," he added. "The way you kick-boxed that kid was impressive. But you'd still make a lousy field agent."

She refused to comment on his assessment.

"What exactly do you do for the Bureau?" he asked.

John Paul could see the blush was coming back. She was either embarrassed or so mad at him her face was turning a fire red. She sure was pretty. Ah, hell, where had that come from? He had no business thinking about such things, especially now that he knew she represented everything he detested.