Imminent Danger (A Counterstrike Novel Book 3)

by Jannine Gallant

  “If I don’t spot him in the next five minutes, I’ll come back. I have a feeling the local cops will want to take us in to get statements, provided they don’t shoot us on sight, what with the dead body and all.”

  “I’ll call Senator Jennings to let him know his daughter is safe. A few words from him should help smooth things over.”

  Amy looked up at him and wiped a hand across her face. “You know my dad?”

  Brody turned off his transceiver and gave her a quick smile. “We’ve been working with him to find you.”

  While her face was pale, and her hands trembled, she didn’t appear to be in shock.

  “Did those men hurt you?”

  “I have bruises on my arm where one of them grabbed me, but mostly I was just scared. They said they’d kill me if I didn’t cooperate, so I did what they told me. I knew my dad would pay the ransom.”

  “You were smart not to anger them.” At a muffled ring from his pocket, Brody frowned. Not his phone. The cell he’d found in the park.

  “I’m going to step outside for a minute. Try to relax. Your parents will be here shortly.”

  He hurried out the door, stepped over the body of the kidnapper, and pulled the plastic bag from his pocket. Using the tips of his fingers, he slid the phone out and swiped to connect. “Yes.”

  “I recognized you in the parking lot, Mr. Grant. Not that we were ever formerly introduced.”

  Brody clenched his fist and stared out at the street as the first of three patrol units rolled into the lot with lights flashing. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Not to be cliché, but I’m your worst nightmare. You interfered in my business, and because of you, someone I care about is dead. Believe me, payback will be a bitch.”

  The phone went dead. Zipping the cell back into the bag, Brody returned it to his pocket. Heart thumping, he raised his hands in the air as the cops ran toward him.

  Chapter Three

  Demetri Thanos sat in a nondescript white sedan on the street some distance from the burial in progress in the Flushing Cemetery. Today, his second cousin was being laid to rest, yet he didn’t dare attend the service. He trained his binoculars on two plainclothes detectives standing at the back of the group of mourners. The only cops visible, but he suspected there were more scattered throughout the graveyard. Just waiting to pounce if he showed his face.

  He wasn’t that stupid.

  Amy Jennings had tentatively identified him from an old mug shot, and her kidnapping had been added to the long list of crimes on the warrant for his arrest. He hadn’t avoided prison this long by being careless, and the cops didn’t know half the transgressions he was responsible for. They hadn’t pegged him for River Grant’s murder, one of his first ventures into kidnapping, and now the boy’s father had shown up on his radar once again. Brody Grant, the man they called Wolf, was behind Counterstrike. This was the second time his team had thwarted him, and both times he’d barely escaped. His cousin hadn’t been so lucky.

  The situation had become untenable, and he intended to do something about it. If he cut the head off the beast, the body would soon whither. Which meant reaching out to an old acquaintance. His lips curved in a grim smile as he imagined her horror when she answered his call. A voice from her past she’d hoped never to hear from again.

  After they lowered his cousin’s casket into the ground, he started the car and drove away. No reason to hang around and court trouble. Battling midday traffic, he arrived at his Manhattan apartment—sublet under an alias to be undetectable—and climbed the stairs to the fifth-floor unit. Avoiding elevators had become a habit, one that helped him stay in decent shape, despite the fact he was pushing fifty.

  After dropping his keys on the entry table, he walked into the living room and took a seat in the leather recliner facing a view of the East River and pulled out his cell. He scrolled through his contacts until he found the one he wanted and tapped to connect.

  “Hello.” The voice sounded uncertain, probably because she hoped she was mistaken about the number that had appeared on her screen.

  “It’s been a while.”

  Breathing, short and choppy, filled the silence. “Why are you calling me? I helped you once. I don’t owe you anything more.”

  “That’s not a very friendly attitude.” His jovial tone hardened. “I need some information. Based on what I could dig up, it appears Brody Grant has no one meaningful in his life, other than his parents and co-workers. I’m certain that can’t be the case.”

  “How would I know? He’s divorced, and I haven’t seen him with any special woman. He doesn’t socialize much, at least not when he’s in Marblehead. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

  Anger began as a slow burn in his chest. “You’d better find a way to be useful, or I’ll make your life extremely unpleasant.”

  “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” Her voice rose. “Leave me the hell alone, Demetri.”

  He sat silently for a minute, letting her fear escalate. “You know that isn’t going to happen until I get what I want.”

  More harsh breathing erupted before she finally spoke. “Arden was here last week.”

  He sat up straighter in his chair. “His ex-wife? Why?”

  “Just to pick up something. They aren’t back together.”

  “Are they still friendly?”

  “I suppose so. Their divorce was never contentious. More like painful for both of them.”

  “Interesting. Where is the ex-Mrs. Grant living now?”

  “In Northern Vermont. Why does it matter? They rarely see one another. Why do you care about Brody at all? You got what you wanted from him years ago and ruined his life. Leave the man alone, for God’s sake.”

  “Why isn’t your concern.” He ignored her impassioned plea. “Give me the name of the town. I could find out for myself, but you don’t want to irritate me unnecessarily, do you?”

  After several long seconds, she responded. “Arden lives in Whitetail Crossing.”

  “How utterly bucolic. I’ll be in touch if I need anything else, and you’d better take my calls.” He hung up and stared out the window as he ticked over the possibilities in his mind.

  Maybe Brody Grant had a weak spot, after all.

  * * * *

  Arden stuck the address label on the box containing the final honey order, added it to the stack on the table, and wiped her hands down the sides of her jeans. Tomorrow, she’d run into town to mail the packages and shop for groceries.

  Leaning against the kitchen sink, she glanced out the window. The afternoon was bitterly cold but sunny. Deep snow filled the woods around her cabin, and Tamarack Lake was frozen solid. Still, it wouldn’t be much longer before the ice began to crack. Hints of spring were already in the air as the days lengthened. She’d take advantage of the clear weather and get some exercise before her sister showed up for their regular Tuesday tea.

  After changing into waterproof pants, topping her sweater with a down jacket, and putting on boots, she whistled for her dogs. The two huskies jumped down from the couch and strolled into the kitchen, tails wagging and silly doggy smiles on their identical black and white faces.

  “Do you want to go for a walk?” When the pair ran to the back door to sit with their noses practically pressed against the wood panel, whining in excitement, she laughed. “Let me put on my gloves and hat and get my snowshoes.”

  A couple of minutes later, they made their way around the lake, stomping through six inches of fresh snow, with Heidi and Hero leading the way. The distant rumble of an engine caught her attention, but with the unpredictable way sound carried through the hills, she couldn’t be sure how far away the vehicle was. Turning, she squinted into the sun but couldn’t see anything. With a shrug, she kept going.

  Her cell service here at the lake was sketchy at best, so surprise visitors showed up now and then. Anyone who had a reason to track her down would leave a note. And if it was her sister arriving early, Ellie would make herse
lf a cup of tea and wait.

  The huskies tore off in pursuit of a squirrel, and Arden pressed onward. The only sound in the forest was her own breathing, an occasional faint bark, and the squeak of snow beneath her snowshoes. Reaching the far side of the lake, she whistled, and a minute later her dogs appeared with no sign of their quarry. Thankfully, the squirrel had escaped. She scratched their ears when the pair nudged against her as the cold air burned her lungs. Taking a break to catch her breath, she welcomed the euphoria that came with physical exertion.

  She hadn’t lied to Brody the previous week when she’d told him she was doing just fine. But she hadn’t been completely truthful, either. Sometimes loneliness gripped her so hard she was afraid it would crush her soul. Her only real solace was experiencing nature in the raw. The rugged beauty of stark, bare limbs mixed with snow-coated evergreens thrusting upward toward the brilliant blue sky in a pristine world of glistening white. She wasn’t so alone when she was part of such grandeur.

  Just as she turned to head deeper into the woods, the sharp crack of a rifle reverberated in the silence. Pieces of bark flew as a bullet lodged in a tree a foot from her head. Arden blinked, certain she’d imagined the near miss, despite the evidence. Both dogs barked like lunatics, and when Heidi shoved against her leg, she went down hard into deep snow. Her ears rang with the echo of a second shot. Feathers floated in a cloud around her from the hole ripped through her jacket.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” She screamed and scrambled into the trees on her hands and knees, grabbing each dog by the collar to hold them down. “Freaking idiot!”

  Breathing in short gasps, Arden lay in the snow with Heidi and Hero flanking her. They’d stopped barking and only emitted agitated whines now and then. Finally, her heartrate slowed as silence settled around her and the cold seeped into her bones. It wasn’t hunting season. Anyone shooting at game in the spring was breaking strict laws, and the fines were steep. Hopefully the moron had gotten a scare when she’d shouted, realized he’d nearly pegged a person instead of a deer, and left the area.

  The rumble of an engine seemed to confirm her theory.

  Pushing up out of the snow, her legs trembled as she took a few steps. Tears burned behind her eyes as reaction set in. Her peaceful world had been shattered. Too angry and shaken by the scare to find any enjoyment in her walk, she headed for home.

  Each footstep seemed like a dozen, and Arden was exhausted by the time she reached her cabin. As she removed her snowshoes, a flash of sunlight off a windshield pierced through the trees. She waited, hands clenched into fists at her sides, while the car approached on the access road. If the hunter had returned, she would give him far more than a piece of her mind.

  But it was her sister’s Volvo that appeared around the final bend. Some of the tension drained out of her as Ellie got out of the car and waved.

  “You’re early.”

  “Is that why you looked so pissed off when I pulled up?” Her sister pushed away the dogs when they jumped on her and gave her a hug. “You were scowling something fierce.”

  “You’d be angry, too, if you missed getting shot by inches. Come on inside.”

  “You’re kidding?” Ellie closed her sagging jaw and followed her into the house. Her sister was two years her senior, and the family resemblance was strong. They had the same green eyes and delicate features, though Ellie’s hair was a darker blond. She wore it shoulder length instead of in the single long ponytail Arden favored.

  “Explain!”

  Arden walked over to the stove, lifted the kettle, and filled it with water. “Some asshole poacher saw movement across the lake and took a shot at me. Do I look like a deer?”

  “No, but with that black jacket, maybe he thought you were a bear. You’re losing feathers, by the way.”

  “A bullet ripped my sleeve open.”

  Ellie dropped onto a chair at the table, and her face lost some of its color. “Jesus. I thought you were exaggerating about how close he came to hitting you. My God.”

  “Yeah. I’ll probably have gray hair because of that fool.” Arden took off her jacket and inspected the jagged tear. “Maybe I can patch it.”

  “Or get a new jacket in fluorescent orange. You’re sure it was a hunter? I don’t think any game is in season right now.”

  “I don’t know who else it could have been. Teenagers out shooting at squirrels? Whoever it was must have been drunk or high or both.”

  “It’s Tuesday. Kids would be in school. I did pass one of those big diesel pickups, belching fumes near the end of your road.”

  Arden dropped the jacket on top of the washer by the back door and frowned. “Did you see who was driving?”

  “No. The windows were tinted, and the sun was in my eyes.”

  “One of my neighbors drives a black diesel truck, so it was probably Jim.”

  “This one was green.”

  When the kettle whistled, Arden poured water into two mugs. “What kind of tea?”

  “Vanilla.”

  She took two bags out of the container she kept on the counter and dropped them into the cups. After putting a few snickerdoodles she’d baked the day before on a plate, she carried everything to the end of the table not covered by mailer boxes.

  “So, now that we’ve gotten my recent trauma out of the way, what’s new with you?”

  Her sister’s eyes brightened. “I landed a new account to completely redo the interior decor for one of those huge houses on Lake Champlain. Kind of anticlimactic when compared to dodging bullets, but I haven’t had a job this big in a while.”

  “Congratulations. That’s great.” Arden took a sip of her tea. “How are the girls?”

  “Excited about their spring ballet show in April. I hope you’ll be able to come.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.” The look in her sister’s eyes made Arden’s stomach clench. As much as she preferred not to talk about it, she knew what Ellie would say next.

  “We missed our tea last Tuesday. I tried to call, but your reception is crap. I’d ask how your trip to the coast went, but I can pretty much guess.”

  She’d let Ellie’s call go to voice mail while driving back from Marblehead. She hadn’t been in the mood to talk. “River’s birthday is never easy for me. I saw Brody at the cemetery. Actually, we had lunch.”

  “How is he?”

  “Working too much.” She held the warm mug between both hands. “The man is driven. It can’t be healthy.”

  “Why? Did he look haggard? Pale? Like he isn’t eating right?”

  Arden’s whole body heated as she thought about how Brody had looked. Strong. Sexy. Tempting. Maybe she needed to start dating more often. She and Brody may have had irreconcilable differences, but none of them had been in the bedroom.

  “No. He takes care of himself physically. It’s his emotional wellbeing that he ignores.”

  “Says the pot about the kettle.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

  “What? I have a life. I stay busy as a bee.” She pointed at the pile of boxes. “Pardon the pun, but with the way orders are coming in, my honey reserves may not last until the temps warm and the bees start producing again.” When Henry, her big tabby, strolled into the kitchen and jumped up on her lap, she rested her hands on his back. His loud purring filled the room. “Anyway, I’m surrounded by love.”

  “Of the four-footed variety.” Ellie studied her for several long moments. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so tense if you got laid once in a while.”

  “Whitetail Crossing isn’t exactly brimming with eligible men. The last one I broke down and agreed to date spent a half-hour describing the beautiful fish he’d caught the day before. I’m pretty sure he thought the trout was prettier than me.”

  Ellie grinned. “Then he must be blind or stupid. Granted, your choices here are limited. Come spend a weekend with me in Stowe, and I’ll set you up with one of Kirk’s unmarried friends.”

  “There’s a reason your husband’s buddies are single.
Professional ski bums who don’t have any interest in growing up aren’t my type.”

  “Neither are workaholics like your ex. What is your type? You’ll be thirty-two in a few months, and you’ve holed up in this cabin, rarely socializing and acting like your life is over for far too long. It’s time to come out of your shell, Arden.”

  Knowing her sister was right, she had no comeback. Brody had been her type. They’d laughed and loved and made so many plans for the future—until River’s death had changed them both and torn them apart.

  “You know I only want what’s best for you. I love you and want you to be happy.” Ellie reached out to cover her hand where it rested on the cat. “I don’t like seeing the sadness that’s always in your eyes.”

  “You’re probably right. Time alone has helped heal some of my wounds, and I needed that, but lately the solitude has been . . . oppressive. Still, I have my business and my animals. Getting away isn’t easy.”

  “Sometimes I think that’s intentional on you part. But I won’t nag you.” She sipped her tea. “Have you talked to Mom and Dad recently?”

  The conversation turned general, and by the time Ellie left, Arden had nearly forgotten about the shots in the woods. After putting on her old purple jacket and boots and letting both dogs out, she went to the shed to feed and water the rabbits and chickens. The solid structure was well insulated and cozy with the clucking of the hens. Her rabbits hopped out of their hutches to have their heads scratched, and Arden spent some time curled up on a hay bale, stroking their soft coats.

  On her way out of the shed, she checked the bee hives in their protected spot on the side of the building to make sure the openings hadn’t iced over. The whole colony was huddled inside around their queen, staying warm and feeding on honey. Before she reached the cabin, Hero and Heidi ran up to greet her.

  “Where have you two been, huh?”

  She rubbed their ears and took them inside with her for the evening. This was her world. Snug. Safe. Comfortable. It was her own fault if she didn’t have much human companionship. She’d made her choices and lived with them—no regrets. Not many, anyway. Her old life was over, and she’d done what she needed to survive.