Holly half-smiled at Rodgers’ comments while scanning the rows of docks. So many people out on a Sunday afternoon, she thought.
She heard Wes say, “We need to find something, we need a break.”
Both men stopped walking, and Holly pulled up behind them. The sun was bright, bouncing off the water and making her eyes water behind her sunglasses. But a sudden glint caught her attention.
Her heart thudded. A gun! She wasn’t taking a chance that she’d been wrong. “Wes! George! Down!” She turned to look at them while reaching into her purse to get her gun out. They were both standing with their backs to her, looking at Cullen’s boat. Wes turned and reached for her.
George turned to scan the same area she had.
The crack froze them all. Holly stared at Wes. Oh God, was he hit? No blood bloomed anywhere on him that she could see. Her mind raced.
George said, “Well, damn,” and sank to the ground.
“What the hell!” Wes roared, dropping the hand he’d been reaching for Holly with and squatting down next to George.
“Gunshot.” Holly’s reactions kicked in. She already had her gun in her hand. She took up a protective stance, trying to keep her body between the two men on the docks, and the area she thought the gunshot had come from. She couldn’t be sure where she’d spotted the glint of sunlight off metal as the shooter had raised the gun. It had all happened so fast and a good part of her reaction had been training and instincts. But she thought it was one or two docks over.
She scanned her gaze over everyone, trying to spot the gun. Close by, people realized something had happened and were quiet. A few voices were calling out, “What was that? Did a boat hit?” An older couple appeared on the deck of their boat nearby.
Holly couldn’t find any sign of a gun. Where was the shooter? Her heart banged against her chest, blood roared in her ears, but her mind was crystal clear. “Wes, where is he shot?”
“Back of his left shoulder. Lot of blood. I don’t think the bullet went in, but it tore an ugly gash.”
“It’s fine. Help me stand,” George said.
She kept scanning, looking for the danger. She saw a speedboat roaring away. Was the shooter on that boat? To Wes, she instructed, “Do not let him move! Both of you stay down!” She was not going to let the shooter finish the job.
Someone from her left shouted, “Oh my God!” Someone had opened the dock gate and people rushed in.
Holly turned. It was two men in their fifties. No gun. “Call nine-one-one and report a shooting. We need an ambulance. Now.”
The man who had spoken stared with a blank face. But his companion snapped into action. He pulled out a phone and started talking.
Holly heard the man say into the phone, “A man has been shot.” Nodding to herself, she knew that would get the police here with lights and sirens. She turned back to watch the crowd and keep her body between danger and Wes and George.
But she knew the shooter was gone. It was just too freaking perfect. A crowd of people, and she’d bet no one saw the gun. They wouldn’t expect it, and it all happened so fast, the shock would blur the details.
And the shooter would get away.
Fury pounded at her as more people approached, sickly curious about the man who had been shot. Voices reached her.
“Wife caught him cheating…”
“Business deal gone bad…”
She shut it out and asked, “Wes, how is he?”
“Okay.”
It felt like hours had passed as she tried to keep the situation under control and safe, but she knew it had only been minutes. She could hear the sirens approaching. “Wes, get George’s gun and put it in my purse. I’m pretty sure he has a piece on his ankle. Get the holster, too.”
“Smart,” George said from the ground.
“Always,” Holly shot back, feeling the weight of Wes slipping George’s gun into her purse as the sirens screamed closer. Deputies were the first ones through the gate. Holly turned, quickly identified herself, and gave the gun in her hand to the closest deputy.
It was a safety precaution. The cops acted first to ensure everyone’s safety, then sorted out the details later. She’d get her gun back once they had a read on the situation. She filled them in. “We were accompanying the victim to look at a boat he was interested in buying when he was shot. I didn’t see a shooter, but it seems to have come from one or two rows over.”
One deputy took careful notes while paramedics worked on George. They said that when George had turned at Holly’s warning, he prevented the bullet from plowing through his back and chest. Instead, it had dug a groove through the back of his upper left side.
Had someone tried to kill George? Why? To torment Wes? Or had they tried to kill Wes and missed?
“I’m not taking drugs.” George sat on the couch in Wes’s living room. His face was pale and drawn tight.
“Don’t be stupid,” Wes yelled at him. “The doctor said to take the pain pills every four hours!” He shoved the bottle of pills in George’s face.
Monty whined and ran over to Holly. He sat down by her leg and whined in his throat.
Holly rolled her eyes. Men. They were both pissed off. Add to that George’s pain from being shot and stitched up, and Wes’s fear for his friend, and they were both acting like little boys in the middle of a temper tantrum. They’d stand there all night and yell at each other to keep from thinking about what could have happened.
She pushed off the edge of the fireplace, bent over, and picked up Monty. He licked her face. Ugh. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she stalked over to Wes and snatched the pills from him.
Wes turned to glare at her.
She shoved the dog into his arms. He had no choice but to take the dog. Monty immediately burrowed into Wes’s arms, trying his best to make Wes pet him.
Satisfied that the dog would keep Wes quiet for a minute, she opened the bottle and poured out two pills. Then she set the bottle down on the table behind her and picked up the glass of water. When she was ready, she fixed her gaze on George. “You can either take these like a good boy or I’m going to shove them down your throat.” She leaned forward to stare at his pain-filled eyes. “You are in so much pain, you can’t even lift your arm. Don’t screw with me, George, I’m not in the mood.” She held out the pills.
He blinked once, then said, “You’re a piece of work, Hillbay.” He took the pills.
“Yeah yeah, gutter mouth, I know.” She put the glass of water into his right hand. “Just take the pills so we can get to work.”
Wes stood at the end of the couch with Monty in his arms and snorted.
George ignored Wes and handed her the water back. “We?”
She knew George’s goal was to help Wes. Then he didn’t have any more goals. She wasn’t about to let Wes lose his friend. “You think one little bullet is a reason to slack off? We need to figure out who knew we were going to be there on the docks. And what they didn’t want us to find.”
He reached beside him to pick up a pillow. “Detective Rodgers and Cullen’s mom knew I would be there.”
Holly took the pillow from his hand and walked around the back of the couch, and Wes, since he was standing there. She met his gaze, and saw his relief that George had taken the pills. She reached out and put her hand on the bulge of his bicep. Then she went behind George, tucked the pillow behind his neck and head, and said, “His mom lives in Oregon, I don’t see how she could have told anyone that matters in Goleta. Who did you pick up the keys from?”
He rolled his eyes up to her. “Clerk at the police station.”
She sighed and walked around the couch. “Okay, so I suppose word could have gotten around. I’ll do a little research on Cullen’s mother and see what I can find.”
“I’ll give you what I have. His parents’ names are Jed and Peggy Vail. Father’s a boat mechanic. Cullen left home young, came to California to make it big.”
“Got it. I’ll see if there’s some trail
that might have tipped off the shooter that we were at the boat.” She looked at Wes and saw that Monty had fallen asleep. The dumb dog. Wes turned around and walked past the gurgling fish tank into the library, where she assumed he would put Monty in his bed.
“What did Rodgers say?” George asked.
She looked over to see the pain lines were easing on his face. “She said it looked like a nine millimeter bullet that cut a path through you before burying itself in Cullen’s boat. They dug two just like it out of Cullen. When they test it, they’ll see it came from the same gun.” It was past eight, and dark outside. They had spent time giving statements and at the hospital while George was sewn up and disinfected. They never did get onto Cullen’s boat since Detective Rodgers immediately took control of the boat again as part of the investigation into George’s shooting.
“They’ll never find the shooter.” George closed his eyes.
Holly shifted her gaze to Wes as he walked back into the room. He looked nearly as bad as George. Watching your friend get shot qualified for a bad day.
Wes ran his hand around the back of his neck. “If you hadn’t called our names…”
“Good instincts,” George muttered.
It was her job to be alert and rely on her instincts. She changed the subject. “George, do you know if Helene, Nora, or Maggie own a gun?”
“Maggie. For two and a half years since she was mugged at an ATM.”
“Concealed?”
He was slower to answer. “No.”
The drugs were kicking in. She looked back to Wes. “Do you have a guest room with a bed?”
He nodded.
George said, “Are you going to threaten me again?”
Holly grinned at Wes but answered George. “Do I need to?”
George opened his dark eyes. “I kind of like it.” He sat up and got to his feet.
She liked George. He was a no-bullshit guy, and from what she could see, a loyal friend to Wes. He’d gotten shafted by the bad guys and forced out of the job she suspected he had loved. But he didn’t wallow in pity. Shit happened and he dealt. “Then you’ll love me in the morning before I’ve had coffee.” Holly planned to stay the night. She’d called her brothers to bring Jodi and Kelly over.
He chuckled and headed down the hall. Wes followed him. Holly went into Wes’s kitchen and looked in the fridge with the vague idea of making them something to eat.
“Hungry?” Wes moved up behind her.
She looked back over her shoulder. “I thought you might be. I can make something if you’re hungry.”
He put his arms around her and settled his chin on her shoulder. “You can cook?”
Keeping her gaze on the fridge, she said, “How do you think my brothers, dad, and I managed to keep from starving?”
“Donut shops?”
She had to fight a smile. “I can shake and bake with Betty Crocker any day.”
“I don’t know if that was a mixed metaphor or just blasphemy.” He turned his mouth to the delicate skin on her neck. “I’ll be happy to feed you, Hillbaby. If you’re hungry.”
Desire raced through her. “Not now. George is…” She shivered when he dragged his wet tongue around to her collarbone. “Wes!”
He lifted his head to her ear. “Thank you. You saved George’s life today. I was right there with you and I have no idea what tipped you off.”
Instincts that she trusted. “Dumb luck.”
Wes reached past her for a package of chicken and handed it to her. “I’ll start the barbecue. You wash and season these.” He pulled her back and shut the door.
She put the cold package of chicken on the counter and asked, “You want to cook all that chicken?” It was a super-sized package of chicken thighs—enough to feed a small army.
“Yes. We’ll eat the leftovers tomorrow.” He went out onto the deck.
Holly found a large platter, washed the chicken, and nosed around until she came across seasoning that she liked.
Wes came back in. “Wine, soda, or beer?”
She turned from the chicken, looked at him, and felt a sudden tightness in her chest. It was hard to get a full breath. Damn it, she liked him. He didn’t try to change her. “Uh, whatever you’re hav—” Wes’s doorbell cut her off.
Holly hurried into the living room, where she’d left her purse by the fish tank, and got out her gun. Wes was already at the front door looking out the peephole.
“Recognize who it is?”
Wes heaved a huge sigh. “Who else? Your brothers, with the girls and someone else I can’t quite see.”
Curious who the other person was, she yanked open the door—“Dad!”
“Dad?” Wes repeated behind her.
Before Holly could recover, her dad pushed Joe out of the way and engulfed her in a bear hug. “Hey, Princess. I hear you’re having all the fun without me.”
She felt hot tears sting her eyes. Just his voice could do that. When her mom left, Holly had cried herself to sleep many nights. One night, her dad came home early from a long shift and heard her. He came into her room, scooped her into his arms, and told her that her mother hadn’t deserved her. She had seen tears in her dad’s eyes then and she knew she had to be strong for him. But she never stopped loving her dad’s hugs, his rough voice, or his insistence that she was his princess. She’d never made him cry again until the night in the hospital when they’d all learned she’d never have children.
Careful of the gun she still held, Holly hugged him back. “I told you about the case, Dad. But you were fishing with your buddies.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Your brothers tell me you’re dating a guy.” He turned his gaze to Wes. “Would that be you?”
Wes stepped forward and held out his hand. “Wes Brockman, and yes, sir, I’m dating your daughter. She’s also working on a case for me.”
“We’re not dating.” She shot a killer glare at her brothers. “Wes, this is my dad, Eric Hillbay.”
Wes said, “Come on in. I was just getting ready to put chicken on the barbecue.”
Kelly shifted from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at Wes. “I’ll help. Do you have potatoes, Wes? Or rice? Oh, I know, baked beans—do you have some cans of baked beans? I can doctor them up if you have molasses…” Her voice slid away as she headed toward the kitchen.
“I brought beer and potato chips.” Seth hefted a couple plastic grocery bags.
Holly closed the door as they all piled into the kitchen. She looked down at the gun in her hand. She should probably shoot someone, but she wasn’t sure who. Her brothers were usually at the top of her list, but Wes was strong competition.
They were not dating. It was just sex.
Chapter 17
“I’m going to see if George is awake and take him some food.” Kelly started putting together a plate of chicken.
Wes shut the refrigerator door where he’d been getting out a second round of beer and soda. Setting the bottles and cans on the counter, he put his hand on Kelly’s shoulder.
She flinched.
He felt for her. She’d been scurrying around all night, cooking beans, serving chicken, and picking up empty plates. She was nervous and making herself sick. “Kelly, honey, I’m not mad at you. You had good reason to trust Nora with the key to the store.”
Her shoulder shook. “I’m sorry, Wes! I mean, Nora is your team mom, and she’s so nice, I—”
Damn. He took the plate from her hands and hugged her. “I know. I’m not sure if Nora’s involved. But I’m not mad at you, okay?” He looked down at her head bent into his shirt.
She shuddered and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away.”
He pulled her face up. “I know you are. But you have to know you can tell me anything, okay?” He wanted Kelly and Jodi to come to him if they needed help. They were young and away from home. Two smart, pretty, and nice girls. He’d kill anyone who hurt them.
She nodded.
“Go wash your face, the
n see if you can get George to eat.” He let her go.
She asked, “George is going to be okay, right?”
He clamped his jaw, and had to force himself to relax his hands. “Yes. The wound hurts, but it basically just needed a whole bunch of stitches and some time to heal. That’s it.” He’d been trying not to think about what it felt like when he’d heard that shot and seen George slide to the ground—like he lost a brother. If he had a brother.
She studied his face, then said, “I’ll get him to eat after I wash my face.”
When he turned around to grab the beers, he saw Holly standing there. She looked…odd. Like she’d seen something that made her mad or sick or sad. “Hey, you okay?”
She walked past him holding a bowl. “Yes, I’m just getting more chips.” She picked the bag up and dumped them in the bowl.
A thread of anger started inside of him. “You saw me hugging Kelly. You can’t think—”
She turned around. “I don’t. I think you treat her like a little sister. Like family. You need a family of your own. Which means I have a job to do so you can make that happen.” She picked up the bowl and walked outside.
He watched Holly for a second, relieved that she didn’t think the worst of him. And yet, there had been something distant or regretful in her voice, something that had slid around her protective shoulder chip. But she was coming to trust him, and in time she would realize she was safe with him. Safe enough to share her truths with him and trust that he would guard them, not hurt her with them.
He grabbed the beers and soda for Jodi off the counter and went outside.
Jodi got up and took the soda. “I’m going to read for a while.”
“You and Kelly will be all right sleeping in the third bedroom?” The girls had brought with them their stuff, and the overnight bag Holly had packed to go to Riverside. “The couch in there folds out into a bed.”
“We’ll be fine. ’Night, Wes.”
“Get some sleep. You’ll be able to go home to your own apartment soon.” He walked out to Holly and her family gathered around the table by the fire pit in time to hear Holly catching her dad up on the case.
The Sex On Beach Book Club Page 21