by Julie Miller
Holden nodded. “Tell Dispatch. And tell them to send backup fast.”
Holden was flying down the curving interstate highway at well over ninety miles per hour. But the vehicle behind him was gaining on him fast enough that he could make out the individual headlights now. On a black vehicle. “How the hell does this guy—?”
The first shot hit a rear taillight and Cruiser leaped into the front seat. “Damn!”
Holden swerved as the big dog caught his shoulder.
“Easy, girl. It’s all right.”
He righted the car but nearly swerved again. “No, no, no! Get down!”
Liza was pushing the seat all the way back and urging the greyhound down into the space already occupied by Bruiser. Liza pulled her legs up and moved farther back in her seat, moved higher.
The second shot pinged off the bumper and earned a deep bark from Yukon. “If he comes up here, too…”
“Get down, boy!” Liza reached back between the seats and grabbed Yukon’s collar. “Get down!”
The third shot shattered the back window and Liza screamed. Holden ignored the sting of flying glass that peppered the back of his neck. “Are you hit? Liza, are you hit!”
“No! Yukon was already down on the seat. We’re all good.” She pushed herself up on one elbow on the console. “You’re bleeding.”
“They’re just cuts.” Holden pressed the accelerator all the way to the floor. “I’ve had enough of this bastard. Take the wheel.”
“Are you kidding? We’re flying!”
“Take the wheel!” He unhooked the Glock at his belt. “Come on, baby, this is what I do!”
“But it’s not what I…”
By the time the next shot had taken off his right sideview mirror, Liza was steering. She straddled the console and stretched her left foot over onto the accelerator, while he rolled down the window and iced his nerves.
“Be careful. Oh, God.”
Her prayer disappeared in the rush of wind that whipped past his head as he turned in the seat and stuck his gun out the window. He ducked back in as he caught a flash from the side of the vehicle behind them. The perp was shooting out his side window. Driving with one hand. Making steering corrections every time they hit a curve or he fired a shot.
“Make it easy for me, why don’t you.”
“Kincaid? I see the Lee’s Summit lights up ahead. We’re going to hit some traffic.”
“Keep her steady, Parrish.”
He crept out the window again, bracing his arms against the car frame to help keep the buffeting force of the wind from shaking his aim. Holden lined his eye up along the barrel, inhaled his breath and held it.
Headlight or driver? Couldn’t get a clear sight on the driver. Headlight. No. Tire.
“Taking the shot.”
Boom.
The car behind them jerked to the left and then flipped, rolling once, twice, a third time over the grassy median until it landed upright and skidded a good thirty feet, cutting up chunks of grass and dirt before it slammed to a stop on its fractured wheels.
Holden slid back into the car and holstered his gun. He took over driving but could hold Liza’s arm and balance her while she climbed back over the seat and took her place between Cruiser and Bruiser in the back. He eased his foot off the accelerator and slowed them to a more normal speed.
But before he released Liza’s arm, he pulled her back toward him. “Come here.”
He turned his head and stole a sweet, deep, life-affirming kiss that left him as flushed and hot as the blush on her cheeks, before releasing her and turning his attention back to the road.
“Nice driving.”
“Nice shooting.” She pushed the dogs aside and finally fastened her seat belt. “You’re not going back to see if he’s all right?”
Holden arched an eyebrow in disbelief at the question. “I want as much distance between you and that bastard as I can get. Call 9-1-1 again. Give them the mile marker and notify them of the crash. Tell them I have Little Red, and I’m taking her to a secure location.”
Chapter Nine
Liza welcomed Holden’s broad chest at her back and his strong arm looped around her waist as he rang his brother’s doorbell. She was secure and sheltered, but there was an edginess radiating through his stiff muscles that made her wonder if she’d dreamed the caring man who’d held her while she slept.
He pounded on the frame beside the screen door. “Come on, Ed. Open up!”
Even though she hadn’t seen a single car behind them once they turned off the highway and headed east through a little bedroom community and onto a gravel road that took them to this out-of-the-way acreage, Holden had insisted that she wait for him to escort her to the screened-in front porch of the gray stone house.
From the moment that first bullet had shattered her peaceful home, he’d gone into cop mode. Holden Kincaid was sexy and funny, one hell of a kisser, and he had a beautiful, mesmerizing voice whether he was crooning a lullaby or soothing her terrors with soft, meaningful words. She’d known he was a tough guy because of the guns and the uniform and the attitude, but she’d never truly seen the warrior in him until tonight.
He’d lost a good friend without shedding a tear. Shot to kill a man twice with an icy detachment. It had been downright scary to see the Jekyll-and-Hyde transformation between the man who’d put aside his own hurts to comfort her securely in his arms, and the man who stood behind her now with his gun drawn and his body positioned as a shield between her and whatever dangers still lurked in the predawn darkness.
The dogs were happy to be on solid ground and so was she. Her knees still felt more like gelatin than muscle and bone after the faceless home invasion and that wild car ride through the southeastern corner of Kansas City. But she felt as if she’d been to war, in her dreams and in her reality, and she was physically and emotionally drained.
Is that what Holden was feeling? Whatever risky, passionate emotions he’d shared in that last kiss while they were speeding down the highway, they were all bottled up inside him now. The loss of his smile and that edgy repartee that usually zinged between them added another layer of guilt onto the weight she already carried inside her soul.
Holden pulled her in tight as he knocked again. “Edward!”
The inside door swung open. Liza’s breath caught in her throat and, no matter her reservations, she instinctively retreated against the wall of Holden’s chest as Edward made a fantastical first impression right out of an English novel. The black screen of the storm door and the dim lighting inside intensified his brooding, unsmiling face, marked by scars and needing a shave. His hair was dark and unkempt, and his pale gray eyes glowed like a cat’s in the shadows.
“You are on my hit list, little brother.” His gravelly voice was quite unlike Holden’s rich, seductive tones. He pushed open the screen door and stepped aside to let them enter. “Come on back to the kitchen. I made coffee.”
She supposed she could overlook his morbid sense of humor if the man was going to offer them shelter for a few hours. Holden caught the door and nudged her in ahead of him while Cruiser, Bruiser and Yukon darted past and immediately set about investigating their new surroundings with their noses. “Thank you for letting us come.”
Her effort at a cheery greeting fell on deaf ears. “Are those dogs?”
Um, yes. While Holden locked the front door, she evaluated his brother’s expression and quickly decided that Edward Kincaid wasn’t lacking any mental faculties, just some manners. “You don’t like dogs?”
His gaze followed the dogs instead of looking at her. “My daughter always wanted a pet.”
“Oh.” This man had a daughter? A child lived in this remote, undecorated place? Surprise aside, some of Liza’s trepidation about Edward dissipated. She’d been two years old when her parents had gotten the first pets she remembered—a calico cat named Purr, then an apricot poodle named Bobbi. She’d lived with something furry and four-legged ever since. “There are animals at
shelters all over the city, waiting to be adopted. Some with dispositions that are perfect with children. At the clinic where I work, we even have this bull terrier who…”
Holden cleared his throat. When he caught her eye, he was shaking his head no, warning her to drop the subject.
Right. Not everyone appreciated a canine companion. “I can tie them up on the front porch if you want.”
Edward finally looked her in the eye. She saw sadness in his, not aversion or disdain. “They’re cool. Unless one of them stakes out my carpet.”
“They won’t.” Being housebroken had always been rule one in her pack.
He nodded, resting both hands on his cane now, though she couldn’t see any outward sign of injury like a cast or wrapped ankle beneath the hem of his dark jeans. “So you’re the woman who saw my father’s murder.”
“Don’t start, Edward.” Holden stood beside her now, and even though he draped his arm behind her shoulders, she couldn’t quite shake the chill that rippled down her spine. “It’s been a long night.”
Edward looked up at Holden, then studied Liza’s face once more. His mouth crinkled into something she thought must be his effort at a smile. “Don’t worry, Liza. My bark’s a lot worse than my bite these days.”
She had a feeling both could be equally dangerous. She stepped away from Holden’s supportive, yet strangely cool touch. “I have partial amnesia regarding what I saw that night.” She swallowed hard. This wasn’t any easier to admit the second time around. “But I’m working on recovering my memories. I promise, I will do everything I can to help you. There were witnesses who stepped forward when my parents were killed. Because of them, the men responsible are now serving life in prison. I want to do the same for your family. When…when I can.”
“You don’t have anyone?”
She’d been braced for an entirely different question from that raspy voice—something more along the line of accusation or condemnation. Liza wasn’t quite sure what he was asking. “I have my dogs.” She glanced up at Holden. “And your brother. For now.”
If Edward Kincaid had slapped her, she couldn’t have been more surprised when he stepped forward and wrapped one arm around her shoulder in a hug. There was some deeper meaning being communicated here that she wasn’t privy to. For some reason, she got the idea that this odd, unlikable man…liked her.
He tugged at the shoulder of the flak vest she still wore as he pulled away. “I think you can take this off while you’re in here.” When he’d released her entirely, he nodded at Holden. “He’ll do right by you.” He winked. “Or I’ll kick his ass.” The strange interchange ended and Edward limped toward the airy white kitchen at the back of the house. It appeared to be the only room where he’d turned on enough lights to see the decor. “I need coffee. Come on, little brother, let’s talk. You didn’t give me much to work with when you called, but I think I’ve got a plan.”
“Will you be okay, Liza?”
“Go on.”
But when she reached down to release the straps that held her flak vest in place, Holden’s fingers were already there. They brushed against each other and an electric current arced between them. Liza pulled away, an instinctive reaction to a nightmare’s touch, to the cold grasp of a dead man begging her to remember the truth. Or was it just a cautious reaction to a very warm, very real man who suddenly seemed like a stranger to her?
Holden’s hands stilled. “Is something wrong? Look, I know Edward comes across like the Grim Reaper at times, but inside he—”
“Hush.” Liza pressed her fingers to his lips to stop the unnecessary apology. When his blue eyes unshuttered and locked on to hers, she slid her hand along his stubbled jaw to cup his cheek. “You’re the one I’m worried about right now. I’m sorry about your friend. And I’m sorry Detective Grove got hurt. I know it doesn’t mean much, but I will remember. If it takes me a lifetime, I promise I will tell you who killed your father and your friend.”
Holden raised his large, nicked-up hand to cover hers, and she saw a glimpse of her Dr. Jekyll again in his wry smile. “It means everything.”
She would have stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him then, or wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.
But Edward turned on a living room lamp. “The clock’s ticking, brother. You coming?”
As the shadows left the room, she saw Kevin Grove’s dried blood caked beneath her fingernails. “I guess I need to wash up.”
Holden pointed to a convergence of three doors off to the side of the main room. “It’s the one on the left.”
She pulled off the flak vest and laid it on the couch beside his before turning toward the bathroom.
“Liza?” His soft voice stopped her. His hands on her shoulders turned her. His fingers threaded into her hair and pulled her up into a needy kiss. She wound her arms around his neck and held on, held her body as close to his as she could get. He kissed her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, and then he found her mouth and kissed her again. It was bruising and hot and grieving and assuring all at once. And when he pulled away, the Holden she knew—the Holden she loved—was there in his eyes again. “We’ll be all right,” he promised.
Liza nodded, then pushed him toward the kitchen and went in to scrub her hands.
He might not want the love that had blossomed in her heart and was growing with every passing minute. He might not even want the passion, after a time. But she wanted to ease his hurts and regain his trust and own it for a lifetime.
And the only way to do that was to one day be able to tell him who’d killed his father.
JUST OVER AN HOUR LATER, sunrise was creeping over the horizon as Holden closed the back hatch on Edward’s Jeep. They’d packed a tent, sleeping bags, a fresh box of ammo for both his Glock and rifle, and a few day’s worth of food and supplies for people and dogs alike.
“Here are the keys.” Edward dropped a spare set into Holden’s hand and patted the vehicle’s fading green paint. “Try to bring it back in one piece. I’ll take care of the Mustang.”
Holden nodded his thanks. “You’ll call Mom and tell her where I am? What’s going on?”
“As vaguely as possible, but yes.”
“She’ll worry if I can’t call her.”
“I know.”
A breathless laugh sparkled in the morning air, turning the brothers’ attention to Liza, who was playing a rousing game of fetch in the side yard between a windbreak of trees and the house. Her hair was the same coppery color as the oak leaves, and the damp morning chill and the robust exercise had whipped her cheeks into a rosy color. She threw a big stick and Bruiser and Yukon went charging after, while Cruiser was content to sniff the ground near Liza’s feet.
It was a beautiful, normal—perfect—scene that Holden thought he could watch every morning of his life.
“I see what’s to like.” Edward hooked his cane over his wrist and leaned back against the vehicle, crossing his arms in front of him.
“Are you talking about the dogs or the woman?”
“Seems like they’re a group package.”
“They are.”
Holden leaned against the side of the Jeep, matching Edward’s stance. This was the brother he’d grown up with. The mentor and friend who’d taught him almost as much about being a man as their father had. He’d lost that friend on a tragic afternoon nearly two years ago—lost him to grief and the bottom of a bottle.
If there was any good thing that had come from their father’s death, it might be that the loss of one good man had led to the rebirth of another. It might be a long time before Edward would ever risk his heart again—it might be never—but as far as Holden knew, since John Kincaid’s funeral, Edward had stayed sober. Whether it was a testament to their father’s memory, or Edward was truly beginning to heal, he didn’t know. He was just glad to have some small bits of his brother back.
He only wished that the circumstances for their visit had been different, and that he could foresee more mornings like this
one. But this was the only day he should be worrying about right now.
Holden pushed away from the Jeep and refocused his mind around the mission he had to accomplish—keeping Liza alive. “If we leave now, we can be at the camping area by nightfall.”
The plan he and Edward had discussed was to hide out for a day or two in the woods along the Black River in southeast Missouri where they used to go fishing with their father and Bill Caldwell. “Stick to the back roads,” Edward advised. “You know them. Try to find a spot in or near Johnson Shut-Ins State Park.” The park itself had been closed due to a break in the wall of the Taum Sauk Reservoir that flooded the Black River Valley. “They’ve got flood damage repairs made, but they won’t officially reopen the park until spring or summer. So you won’t have any tourists to contend with. And if it stays this chilly, you may not even have any locals. There’s a sheriff down in that area I worked on a case with. I called and gave him the Jeep’s license number—nobody will stop you or ask for ID or a park fee while you’re down there.”
Holden nodded. “Thanks, Ed. I’ll let you know when we get there and call Grove in the morning to make sure Plan B is set before I bring her back in.”
“Watch your back, little brother. And watch hers. She cares about other things more than she thinks about taking care of herself.”
Was that what her promise and sympathetic touch had been about earlier? Some vow to take care of him, no matter what it cost her? An uneasy decision lurked along the edge of Holden’s thoughts. Was Liza’s eyewitness testimony worth the risk to her mental health or even her life? She’d sounded like she’d be willing to make that sacrifice.
But would he?
Would he be content with answers if something happened to Liza? Or would losing her cripple him the same way losing what Edward loved had crippled his brother?
Love. There was that word again. Right when he thought he’d cleared the emotions out of his head and could concentrate on the job he had to do.