by Rebecca Deel
“Don’t you want to go to Macy’s funeral?” Trent asked.
“Her parents are transporting her body back to Illinois tomorrow. They don’t want a service in Otter Creek. They told me not to come to her funeral. I think they blame me for her death.”
Simon scowled. “Why? You didn’t hurt her.”
“If they talked to Chris before he disappeared, then they know Isaac blamed me. Maybe they believe Isaac had grounds for his statement.”
“They’re wrong.” Trent’s voice was flat.
Liam walked into the waiting room. His eyebrow raised as he approached the small group. “What’s up?”
“Someone thinks we’re worth killing.” Simon coasted his hand up and down Zoe’s back, offering her silent support and comfort.
A snort. “That’s nothing new.”
“This time, someone put money where his mouth is by offering a bounty for our deaths.”
Liam stilled. “How much?”
“One million each.” The corners of Trent’s mouth lifted. “Apparently, you aren’t worth much.”
“Do Josh and Nico know?”
“Not yet. I just received word from Maddox five minutes ago about the contracts.”
“I’ll call them on the way to the Murray farm. They need to beef up security around Piper.”
A nod from their team leader. “You better get going. Daylight will fade in the next two hours. You’ll need every minute to find the shooter’s location.”
He faced Simon. “We’ll take care of things here. Keep your head in the game. A mistake out there will have deadly consequences.”
“Yes, sir.”
Twenty minutes later, Simon parked near the knot of police cruisers and a crime scene van in the ranch’s south pasture. Being out here was bittersweet. He loved the ranch and missed it like crazy while he was gone. Standing in this beloved place in the wake of his father’s shooting muted his joy at being home. The violence he dealt with on missions shouldn’t taint his sanctuary.
He motioned for Zoe to remain in the SUV while he and Liam scanned the area. Standing out in the open made them easy targets for a shooter. Simon didn’t see any reason to enlighten his girl to the fact that he and Liam were using themselves as bait to draw out the shooter instead of waiting for him to take aim at her.
One of the policemen separated himself from a small group standing a short distance away and walked toward Simon and Liam. He held out his hand to Simon. “You have to be Don’s son. You look just like him. I’m Ray Chisolm, the detective assigned to your father’s case.”
The detective, in his early forties, had a firm grip. “Simon Murray. This is Liam. The woman in the SUV is Zoe Lockhart. She’s with me.”
“I understand from the chief of police that one of you is a military-trained sniper.”
“That would be me,” Liam said. “I can help you pinpoint the shooter’s position when he shot Mr. Murray.”
“We could use the help,” the detective admitted. “One of the department sharpshooters came out and gave me an estimate on the location. I can’t find any indication the shooter was in that area,” he said, frustration evident in his voice.
“Do you have the coordinates?”
Chisolm rattled them off. “I need a location before the rain hits at midnight.”
“I’ll do what I can to help.” Liam eyed him. “I’ll need to utilize my sniper rifle. I’d rather not be shot by your men.”
“I’ll inform the others.” He activated his radio and passed along the information to the officers working the scene and searching the hillside for signs of the shooter. Once he’d received acknowledgments of his order to stand down and allow Liam to do his work, Chisolm turned back to Simon and Liam. “Okay?”
With a nod, Liam strode to the back of the SUV and lifted the hatchback. A moment later, Zoe joined the men.
Simon glanced down at her feet. He should have thought to get her a pair of boots. She wouldn’t have a problem traversing the pasture in her running shoes. The hills around the farm would be more of a challenge. Tactical boots would have been handy.
“Ms. Lockhart can stay with me while you and your friend tromp through the hillside,” Chisolm offered.
Flicking a glance at him, Simon shook his head. “She stays with me.”
“You know the area around here is rugged.”
“Zoe will be fine.” He’d make sure she was. What he wouldn’t do was let someone he didn’t trust implicitly protect the woman who was slowly stealing his heart.
The detective looked skeptical, but didn’t argue further with him.
Liam returned with a pack on his back and rifle in his hand. He also carried Simon’s pack. “What time was the shooting?” he asked Chisolm.
“Between 10:45 and 11:00 this morning.”
“Simon, I need to know where the bullet hit your father for my calculations.”
He sent a text to B.J. The reply came a moment later. Simon showed the text to his partner.
The operative nodded, pulled out his phone, and walked a short distance away.
“What’s he doing?” Zoe asked.
“Checking the atmospheric conditions at the time of the shooting. We need to know the wind speed and direction to come up with an accurate guess.”
“Does your friend have a kill book?” Chisolm asked.
Simon’s eyes narrowed. “He keeps a record to improve the next shot he has to take to protect innocent lives. He might even be called on to save your life one day, Chisolm.”
The detective held up his hand. “No offense intended. I’m curious. I’ve never met a sniper.”
Relaxing, Simon said, “He’s one of the best in the business. I’ve worked with two others in his class. Their skills are legendary in the military. There’s no one I would rather have protecting my back than Liam, though.”
“I understand you have friends who came to Hanover with you.”
“My teammates,” he clarified. “We work for Fortress Security.”
Chisolm stilled. “The black ops group.”
“You’ve heard of us.”
“Who hasn’t?” he muttered. Uneasiness filled his eyes as he glanced from Simon to Liam and back.
“Did you and your buddies decide if we’re the good guys or the bad guys?”
“Opinions are evenly split. You’re mercenaries.”
“Operatives. We specialize in hostage retrieval and counterterrorism.”
“What’s your job?”
“I train bodyguards for PSI, the bodyguard training school for Fortress, and I’m assigned to a black ops unit where I serve as Liam’s spotter.” Among other tasks the good detective wouldn’t approve of.
A muscle in Chisolm’s jaw ticked. “You must be a good shot.”
“Are you accusing me of shooting my father?” Although his tone was mild, Simon’s emotions were volatile. “Let me set your mind at ease, Detective Chisolm. I was in Otter Creek, Tennessee at the time my father was shot. I have dozens of witnesses who will vouch for my whereabouts, one of whom is Zoe.”
The detective shifted his attention to Zoe. “Ma’am?”
“He hasn’t left my side in days, Detective.” She wrapped her arm around Simon’s waist and leaned into him, giving Simon much needed support. The detective took in their body language without comment, his expression blank.
Liam walked toward them. “Got it. Ready?” he asked Simon.
“Almost.” Simon turned toward the detective. “Do you have a business card?”
The other man fished one from his pocket.
He glanced at the number and committed it to memory, then flipped it over and scribbled his own number on the back. “I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”
“There isn’t much cell reception out there.”
“I’m aware. I grew up out here, remember? We use sat phones. We won’t have a problem. If you leave the area and assign other officers to maintain a perimeter, inform them of our presence. I’d prefer no
t to be shot in front of my girl.”
“Like that, is it?”
Simon smiled for the first time in minutes. “I know a class act when I see one. I’m not about to let Zoe Lockhart get away.”
Her head whipped his direction. Did she think he’d let her go now that he had a real chance with her? How many other women would have tolerated the danger she’d been subjected to at the beginning of a relationship without walking away? He knew now that Zoe Lockhart was strong enough to go the distance with him. They had a shot at a life together. But did she want that as much as he did?
His heart skipped a beat. A life together? Simon drew in a careful breath and faced the truth. He was in love with Zoe. The question was, what was he going to do about it? For her own sake, he should back away and let her go. He wasn’t going to. Simon was too far gone over Zoe.
“Earth to Simon,” a male voice said.
He glanced at his teammate, scowling. “What?”
“There you are. Nice to know you’re paying attention to me and the lady.”
“Sorry. What did you say?”
Liam rolled his eyes. “Come on. Let’s get moving.”
Cheeks hot, Simon clasped Zoe’s hand and followed Liam to the edge of the pasture. Zoe didn’t comment on his inattention. She was too busy studying the surrounding area, which he should be doing instead of studying her.
“This area is beautiful, Simon. You must miss it.”
“I used to dream about the pasture and surrounding hills when I was in some of the worst cesspools in the world.”
“You don’t anymore?”
“Nope. Now I dream about you.”
Her breath caught. “Simon.”
He squeezed her hand. “It’s the truth.”
“We’re a matched pair, then, because I dream about you at night, too.”
“Perfect. Must mean I don’t have any competition.”
A choked laugh sounded up ahead. Although it wouldn’t do any good, Simon glared at the back of his teammate’s head, then focused his attention on the surrounding area. One of his favorite places on the ranch, he’d spent long hours out here. Simon couldn’t count the number of times he and his brothers had camped out under the starry sky, told ghost stories, and made themselves sick on S’mores. He loved the rugged landscape where hidden pockets of beauty lurked if you knew where to look. He owed his father for teaching him to see beyond the obvious.
Ten minutes later, Liam stopped to check his phone. He turned toward Simon when he and Zoe caught up to him. “Based on the location of the wound, wind speed, and direction, the shooter set up somewhere in this area.” He handed over his phone with a highlighted map of the hillside.
After sending a copy of the image to his own phone, Simon handed Liam’s phone back to his partner. “Zoe and I will take the right side, you take the left. Watch your step out here. We have rattlers and rock slides.”
“Fantastic,” Liam muttered.
They separated and Simon guided Zoe toward the right side of the hill. At first, the hillside rose in a gentle climb. Within two hundred feet, the terrain grew steep.
He turned to Zoe. “The climb will be more difficult from here on out. Walk behind me and hold onto my pack strap. I’ll help pull you up the hill.”
“I can make it without help.”
“You can,” he agreed. “You’ll make the climb with less slipping and sliding if you hold onto me. Next time we hike, I’m getting you a pair of tactical boots. You’ll have better traction. Running shoes are great for running, not for hiking up a steep hillside.”
“I’ll take you up on the offer. Do they have pink camo boots?” she teased.
With a chuckle, Simon turned his back to her and felt a slight tug on his pack as she wrapped her hand around the strap. “Ready?”
“Let’s go. I’m thinking about a steak and baked potato for dinner. The sooner we find the shooter’s hide, the faster I get dinner. I’m counting that meal as our next date.”
Although he was skeptical that Zoe would actually eat the steak, he appreciated her attempt at levity. As the light faded, Simon grabbed his small flashlight and continued up the hill.
Fifty feet ahead, he noted signs of recent passage. Disturbed earth, bent grass blades, broken bush limbs. He frowned. Whoever came this way hadn’t tried to conceal his presence. The depth of the footprints and stride length told him he was looking for a male about six feet weighing in at 230 pounds or so.
Simon followed the trail into denser brush. Sweeping the small beam of his flashlight along the ground, he noticed black droplets leading further up the hill.
He knelt and touched one of the droplets. The substance was tacky. Simon sniffed and caught a whiff of iron. Blood.
Simon shifted the flashlight to his left hand and pulled his Sig from the holster at his thigh. “Stay behind me,” he murmured to Zoe. He moved further up the brush-covered rise, keeping to the shadows as much as possible.
Ten minutes later, he stopped and listened, senses on alert. He’d heard something, but what? Simon waited, pleased that Zoe didn’t ask questions. She remained motionless at his back, close enough that he could shove her to the ground to protect her if necessary and far enough away not to impede his movements.
A low moan drifted on the night breeze. Definitely not an animal. Simon turned off the flashlight, shifted his attention thirty feet to his left, and waited for his eyes to adjust to the starlight. “Don’t move until I come back for you,” he whispered as he nudged her under the branches of a tree and motioned for her to crouch at the base. She was concealed in shadows and would be overlooked unless someone looked directly at her or she moved and drew someone’s attention.
“Be careful.”
He cupped her cheek briefly before refocusing on his task. He slipped the small flashlight into a pocket of his cargo pants. With careful steps, Simon shifted into denser cover, breaths slow and steady. This was what he’d trained for. Hunting down the enemy was in his blood and, with Zoe only feet away, Simon had more incentive than ever to get to the bottom of what was going on.
A rustle of leaves to his left drew his attention. Simon paused at the edge of a small clearing. Another restless movement caught his eye and he spotted a prone figure wearing combat boots similar to Simon’s. While he watched, the figure inched further up the slope, seeking higher ground.
Weapon raised and ready, Simon edged closer to his quarry. The man crawled into an area of the clearing illuminated by starlight. His jaw clenched and his hand tightened around the grip. “Don’t move.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The injured man on the ground froze. He turned his head slowly in Simon’s direction. “Help me,” he pleaded, his voice and breathing ragged. “I’ve been shot.”
“I can see that. You armed, Hollister?”
The trainee shook his head. “They thought I was dead and took my weapons.”
Simon’s gaze raked over the younger man. “I’ll need to confirm that for myself.”
Hollister’s mouth gaped. “You don’t trust me?”
“About as far as I can throw you. Keep your hands exactly where they are or you’ll have another bullet wound to add to the two you already have.” Simon crossed the remaining ten feet between them and ascertained for himself that Hollister told the truth. Once he was sure the injured man wasn’t a threat to Zoe, Simon went back for her and brought her to the clearing.
He slid off his pack and dug out his first aid kit. “What are you doing on my family’s ranch, Hollister?”
“I came to help.”
“Help who?” Simon handed his flashlight to Zoe and motioned for her to hold the light for him to see Hollister’s injuries. He widened the rip in the thigh of the other man’s left pant leg and winced at the still-bleeding gunshot wound. A through-and-through. Looked like the same situation in his side as well.
“The Barones.”
Simon paused a moment, then dived back into his med kit for QuikClot and compres
sion bandages. He called Liam. “I found Hollister. He’s been shot in the side and leg. I could use a hand patching him up until the EMTs get him out of here.” He rattled off the GPS coordinates.
“I’m not far from your position. Be there in five.”
“Copy.” He slid the phone back into his pocket.
Hollister groaned. “Why doesn’t my phone work out here?”
“No cell reception. Fortress operatives use sat phones. We work in a lot of places with no cell reception.” The trainee gave a hoarse chuckle as Simon examined the side wound and whistled. “You’re lucky to be alive. A few more centimeters to the right and you wouldn’t be.”
“Yeah, lucky me.”
“Tell me about the Barones.” Simon ripped open a packet of the white powder and dumped it into the wound on Hollister’s side. The trainee swore a blue streak until he caught Simon’s scowl.
He glanced at Zoe. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“The Barones?” Simon prompted as he applied the bandage.
Hollister hissed at the pain of the wound closing, then said, “They want you and McCoy dead.”
“Why?”
“They said you made up information to get the old man convicted of stuff he didn’t do.”
“How do you know about our business with Matteo?”
“They told me and Isaac.”
“And you believed them?” He rolled Hollister mostly onto his stomach and dumped another packet of QuikClot into the exit wound. This time, Hollister growled low and harsh, jaws clamped shut. After applying the bandage, Simon tugged down the trainee’s shirt and positioned him on his back again. Treatment of the leg wound would have to wait until Liam arrived. Simon was out of QuikClot.
“I thought I could trust them. I went to school with them, sir.”
A soft whistle sounded and Liam pushed through the brush into the clearing a few seconds later. He knelt beside the trainee. “You look the worse for wear, soldier.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I took care of the wound on his side. While you work on his leg, I’ll call Chisolm and get some help up here.”