Page 22 of Close Protection

"Like a mantra you repeat to yourself?"

"Like a reality that keeps people alive."

Ivy shifted on the sofa, the leather creaking beneath her. The firelight caught in her honey-blonde hair, now freed from its professional ponytail and falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She'd shed her blazer, revealing a simple black turtleneck that accentuated the elegant line of her neck over her collarbone, to her breasts—a detail Julia forced herself not to notice.

"So what exactly is our situation?" Ivy asked, her analytical mind clearly needing a framework to process their circumstances. "Beyond 'isolated cabin, professional killers.'"

Julia completed her circuit, returning to the kitchenette where she'd laid out the meager supplies from her emergency pack. "We're off-grid, which means minimal digital footprint. Satellite phone for emergencies only. Detective Rivers will bring additional supplies tomorrow morning—essentials from your secure storage, proper provisions, communication equipment."

"And after that?"

"We maintain position until the grand jury." Julia began organizing the supplies with methodical precision. "Three weeks, possibly longer depending on scheduling."

"Three weeks." Ivy's voice was quiet, contemplative rather than combative. "Just you and me in this cabin."

The simple statement hung between them, loaded with implications neither seemed willing to address directly. Julia focused on arranging protein bars by expiration date, a meaningless task that gave her hands something to do while her mind worked through security protocols.

"The bedroom is yours," she said, switching subjects. "I'll take watch rotations from here."

Ivy glanced toward the single door leading off the main room, then back to Julia. "You need to sleep too, Detective."

"I'm trained for extended operations with minimal sleep."

"Of course you are." Ivy's tone held a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion. She rose from the sofa, stretching subtly—another movement Julia pretendednot to notice. "At least tell me there's running water. I'd kill for a shower after traipsing through the wilderness."

"Basic amenities work. Limited hot water from the propane tank. Pressure's decent." Julia gestured toward the small bathroom door. "Towels in the cabinet under the sink."

Ivy nodded, then hesitated. "Do you have anything I could sleep in? Since my luggage is apparently a security risk."

The question was practical, reasonable, and somehow deeply inconvenient. Julia unzipped her backpack, extracting a neatly folded black t-shirt—standard department issue for physical training—and a pair of running shorts with a drawstring waist.

"It's all I have until tomorrow," she said, holding them out.

Ivy crossed the room to accept the clothes, her fingers brushing Julia's in the exchange. The brief contact sent an electric awareness through Julia's system, a response she immediately cataloged as inappropriate and irrelevant.

"Thank you." Ivy's voice had softened, the sharp edges of her earlier frustration temporarily blunted by the simple kindness. "Foreverything, I suppose. Getting us here safely."

Julia nodded once, unable to formulate a response that wouldn't reveal more than she intended. Professional distance was her anchor in unfamiliar waters. She clung to it with the desperation of someone who had glimpsed an alternative and found it terrifyingly appealing.

As Ivy disappeared into the bathroom, Julia released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The sound of the shower starting—water rushing through old pipes—provided a steady background noise that partially masked the thoughts tumbling through her mind.

She moved to the windows again, drawing back the curtain just enough to scan the perimeter. The forest was a wall of darkness beyond the small clearing, shadowed trees swaying in the mountain breeze. No sign of pursuit, no unnatural lights or movements. Yet.

Knox's people would be strategic, methodical. They'd lost the trail temporarily, but they wouldn't abandon the hunt. Julia knew their type; she'd worked with enoughformer military and specialized law enforcement to recognize the patterns. They'd regroup, analyze, formulate a new approach. And when they did, she needed to be ready.

The satellite phone vibrated on the counter. Morgan's code: two short bursts, one long.

"Scott," she answered, keeping her voice low.

"Perimeter check clear," Morgan reported without preamble. "Decoy operation successful. Chief has Knox's primary team chasing ghosts in the eastern district."

"And the leak?"

"Working on it. Chief's compartmentalizing information, feeding different details to different units. When Knox's people show up, we'll know which well was poisoned."

Julia processed this, mentally mapping the department's hierarchy and likely vulnerabilities. "Any trace on the helicopter?"

"Negative. Unmarked, no flight plan filed. But we're monitoring air traffic in the sector. They try that approach again, we'll have advance warning."

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