“Exactly how long have you been bodyguarding my sister, Mr. Bulldog?” she asked.
“It’s just Bulldog. He’s been working with me at the hospital two weeks, Bobby,” Dylan said irritation in her voice. “I just called you because I told Chloe I was going to first thing this morning. Bulldog and I were up until two last night with the cops. I need to get some more sleep. Just wanted you not to worry. Please promise me you won’t worry. If anything happened to you or the baby because I told you this—”
The catch in her sister the surgeon’s voice wrapped around Bobby’s heart. Bright, beautiful and tenderhearted, that was Dylan.
“I’m tougher than you think, little sister.” Bobby patted her tummy. Everything felt just fine, well, except for the worry and anger for Chloe coursing through her. No need to tell Dylan that, though. “The baby and I are just fine. You get some sleep. Since you have your own bodyguard I won’t worry about you today.”
“Love you, sis,” Dylan said.
“Love you, too, sweetie…and Bulldog?”
“Yes, ma’am?” he answered, and Bobby swore she heard a smile over the phone.
“Anything happens to her, I’m holding you responsible.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Get some rest, you two,” she said, finally ending the call.
“Wes, this is Gage. You still want a job here, you call me back ASAP,” her husband growled into the phone, then dropped it onto his desk. He glared at it, then focused his attention on her. “What the hell was he thinking, keeping this from us?”
As much as she wanted to give into her anger, too, she knew Wes had good intentions. “Think about it, sweetheart. Chloe didn’t tell us probably because of the wedding. Wes figured it out since he was the one spending so much time with her those few days. Then the wedding happened. You and I left for our honeymoon. Then something happened and rather than worry us with the news the moment we got back in town, Wes decided to see what he could do. Then the blizzard hit.”
Gage leaned back in his chair. “You’re telling me you’re not pissed about this?”
“I didn’t say that. I understand the timeline of events have kept Wes from telling us what was going on. I’m angry, too, just not at Wes.”
“You’re mad at your sister.” It wasn’t a question.
“Of course I am. This whole thing didn’t just pop up. Certainly not this week, and not three weeks ago before the wedding. I’ve talked with her almost daily her whole life. This, this stalker has been in her life a lot longer than a few weeks. This is just like Chloe.”
“Uhm, Sheriff?” Earl said, standing between their desks.
“Just a minute, Earl,” Gage shifting sideways in his chair. “What do you mean it’s just like Chloe? Does she often have stalkers?”
Bobby pressed her lips together, shooting him a don’t-be-ridiculous look. “Of course not. No, she simply has always been so blasted independent. Used to drive me crazy when she was a teenager.”
“So, your sister should be held accountable for not letting anyone know some crazy person is stalking her, but Wes, a supposed trained law enforcement agent, isn’t?”
“Mrs. Deputy?” Earl interrupted their discussion again.
“We’ll be right with you, Earl.” Bobby smiled at the man and his sweet new title for her, but she wasn’t done making her point to her spouse. “What I’m saying is, it isn’t out of character for Chloe to try to hide something from me if she thought it would worry me. Whereas, whatever happened this week to put my sister further in harm’s way, Wes—trained law enforcement agent,” she threw his words back at him, “recognized the need to remove my sister to a place of safety.”
“Without informing you, her sister or me, his boss about the situation or their whereabouts?” Gage asked with one brow arched.
God, he was going to love what she was about to say.
“You do have a point. He should’ve let us know.”
He nodded in that I’m-always-right way of his.
“However, in his defense, we can both agree things have been a little wild the past forty-eight hours, right?”
Slowly he pushed himself out of the chair, strolled all loose hipped her direction and lowered his mouth to hers. “Yes, we can,” he said, when he leaned back to stare into her eyes.
A throat cleared near the door.
Earl. They swung their gazes his direction.
“What can we do for you today, Earl?” Gage asked, sitting one hip on the corner of Bobby’s desk and motioning the older man closer.
“I’ve got a question.”
“Go for it,” Gage said.
“It’s not still deer hunting season, is it?”
Something in the way he stated the sentence rather than asked it, struck Bobby funny. Gage, too, since he drew his brows down in question with a quick puzzled glance her way.
“No, it isn’t, Earl. Why?”
“Saw somethin’ a little odd this morning, then.”
They waited for him to continue. Finally, Bobby asked. “What did you see, Earl?”
“Well, you know that new waitress over at the Peaches ’N Cream? The tall, lanky red-headed one?”
“Hannah?” Bobby asked.
“Yep, that’s the one. She was out before dawn. Carrying a rifle bag with her.”
“A rifle bag? Like a hunting rifle bag? You’re sure?” Gage asked.
Earl scratched his whisker-covered chin. “Could be a huntin’ rifle. Cept I saw her a couple times practicin’ shootin’ out in the woods last fall. Didn’t look like a regular rifle. More like a sniper rifle.”
A sudden wariness crept over Bobby. Gage must have the same feeling because his whole body seemed to tighten up where he sat.
“How do you know it was a sniper rifle, Earl?” he asked.
“Seen them before. Back in the war. Had a good friend who was the unit’s sniper.” He paused, but looked like he had more to say.
“What else?” Gage finally prompted.
“Well, she was dressed all in white. Like those soldiers in World War II up in Norway were. Saw that on a documentary with Pete one night over at the café,” Earl said, explaining how he knew about the camouflage.
“Any idea where she might be headed with all that?” Gage asked, sounding way calmer than Bobby felt.
Earl shrugged. “Suppose the same place I saw her practicing last fall.”
This was worse than pulling the truth out of an errant schoolkid.
“And where would that be, Earl?” Bobby tried to sound patient, but feared she already knew the answer.
“Out by Deputy Strong’s place.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Crouched on the porch, Wes peered around the corner of the house, scanning the horizon for any sign of the shooter.
Nothing. No movement. Nothing that stood out among the woods and the white snow.
Where were they?
The whimper of Wes’s wounded friend carried through the near silence of the snow-covered forest. Best he could tell Wöden was somewhere northeast of the cabin. Was he hurt so badly he couldn’t move?
The door beside him creaked open a fraction.
“Do you see him?” Chloe asked.
“No, and I told you to stay inside,” he answered, not taking his eyes off the drive and the snowy forest beyond it.
“What’s your plan?” she whispered, ignoring his orders to stay safely inside the cabin.
Good question.
Smart move would be to get Chloe to Westen, freeing him up to come back and track down the shooter. Deal with them and find Wöden. Hopefully before his four-legged friend died.
Problem was, he didn’t have a clue who was shooting or where they were. By the sound of the rifle fire, it was a high speed, long distance shot. Which meant they had a scope. Any movement from the cabin would put them in the line of site.
“I need to get you out of here,” he whispered.
“What about Wöden? We can’t leave hi
m out there wounded, bleeding and alone.”
He’d once considered her a high-maintenance woman. Self-indulgent. Ego-centric. The fact that she was more worried about the wolf-dog than herself spoke volumes to the woman’s moral compass and just how wrong he’d been. Defending her younger sister at all costs. Pro-bono work for the defenseless. Caring for strays, like Wöden—and him.
Which was exactly why his priority was her safety.
Damn. Why did he choose a house so far away from town? If he lived in town, help would already be on its way. Now they were trapped and no one knew they were here. No one except Bulldog and Dylan—Dylan who was supposed to call Bobby this morning.
“What time is it?” he whispered, turning to meet Chloe’s gaze.
She looked in the direction of the clock on his oven. “Seven-fifteen,” she said, fixing an inquiring look at him.
“How punctual is Dylan?”
“Unless she’s in surgery or an emergency has come up, she’s usually pretty on time. You think she’s called Bobby by now? We could call Gage.”
“We could, if I hadn’t gotten distracted last night and remembered to charge my phone,” he said with disgust at his own stupidity. “Thing was dead this morning. I put it on the charger right before I handed you your coffee.”
“That leaves us getting to the SUV and going for Wöden.”
Wes studied her face. No trace of panic. Calm. Cool. Ready to do whatever it took to get them out of this.
“I’ll go first,” he said. He noticed she’d already put on her coat, no need to wait for her to get ready. “Once I’m inside, I’ll move it as close to the porch as I can, and cover you. Okay?”
“Got it,” she said, scooting out the door beside him. Then, before he could move, she grabbed his arm, pulling him closer and plastering her lips on his in a hot wet kiss.
“Be careful,” she said as they parted. “I’m not done with you, yet.”
With one last scan of the tree line edging the clearing to the right of the cabin, he gripped his gun in one hand and started down the porch steps. He slid on the last one, landing sideways, just as the sounded of gunfire echoed through the air. A hole blew in the left front tire of the SUV.
Wes scrambled back up the steps, pushing Chloe inside the cabin in front of him.
“Shit.” Crouching near the window, he tried to see where the shot had come from. “Wish the bastard would show his face.”
“Are they in the forest?” Chloe asked, for the first time there was a tremor in her voice.
Damn, he hated that. She should never be afraid.
Wes shook his head. “I have no idea where they’re at.”
“So, we’re trapped here, then?”
“Not really,” he said, already forming a plan. Hopefully whoever was out there hadn’t had time to really scope out his place or the area.
“What do you mean, not really?”
“Follow me and I’ll show you. And keep down.”
Taking her hand, they moved through the cabin towards the bedroom in a crouching duck-walk. Inside the room, he closed the door, but motioned for her to stay down.
He went to the closet door, pulled out his black go-bag and set it to the side and re-holstered his gun.
“When I bought this place, I was still paranoid someone from the agency would want to retire me permanently. First thing I did was make an escape route.”
Chloe shrugged. “Not surprising, consider who you were working for and what happened on that last mission,” she said, as if it was no big deal and everyone made an escape route in their homes.
Wiggling his fingers along the side of one floorboard, he pulled up the panel he’d cut out of the wood slats and set it aside. “You’re going to go first, okay? Just drop down below the house. It’s not a big drop, maybe four feet. Stay there and wait for me. The stones around the east, south and west sides of the house will hide you from sight until I come down.”
“What about the north face?” she asked, already crawling up to the hole.
“Tore most of those stones out to make the exit easy. Covered the whole back side with evergreen boxwood plants. Ready?”
“You’ll be right behind me?”
“Right on your tail, counselor,” he said with a wink.
Holding her hand, he helped her into the hole and held on until her feet touched the ground. She ducked down and moved away from the hole. Next, he dropped his go bag—the bag he kept packed with clothes, weapons and ammo, basic first-aid stuff, his passport and a few food items, just in case he had to bug out or the agency decided to coerce him back into service—into the hole. It disappeared as Chloe dragged it to the side with her.
A window shattered in the front of the house. Whoever it was, they meant to force him and Chloe out the front. Too damn bad. He had other plans.
Finally, he dropped into the hole. Reaching for the rope he’d tied to the bottom of the wood panel, he pulled it closed. Crouching down, they crawled crab-walked to where the bushes hid their exit. His gun once more in his hand, he slipped through the spot where two boxwoods met. Chloe handed him the go bag, then joined him.
“Where to?” she whispered in his ear.
Before he could answer her, more gunfire sounded, followed by breaking glass. His SUV or the house?
“What’s the matter, Chief?” a voice called from the distance. “Afraid to come out and face justice for your actions?”
“Who’s that?” Chloe asked.
Wes shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You gonna hide inside like you hid in the jungle and let your men die?” the shooter yelled.
More gunfire sounded, this time hitting the generator to the west side of the house.
“We need to move, Chloe. If they hit the gasoline tanks by the generator, this whole place could blow.” He grabbed the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Follow me and stay close.”
Still crouching, he started marching north through the knee-deep snow, knowing the river and the forest curved from the west side to the north. Chloe followed on his left hip, away from his gun hand. Damn, he loved a smart woman.
The snow made their escape slow, but he took solace in knowing it also slowed down the shooter. He wished he could hide their tracks, but there was no time.
He just prayed he could get Chloe to a safe spot, before whoever was after them caught up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Why would Hannah be going out to Wes’s place with a sniper rifle?” Bobby asked. “And what does it have to do with Chloe’s stalker?”
There was only one reason Gage could think of for anyone to be dressed as Earl describe the waitress, armed with a rifle, and headed out to Wes’s place in this weather. And it wasn’t good.
“This may have nothing to do with Chloe’s stalker, sweetheart,” he said, walking back to his desk and his phone.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He dialed Wes’s number again. Damn. It went straight through to voice mail again. “We know the stalker was at Chloe’s place sometime after the blizzard hit. Hannah lives here. Has lived here for months. How would Hannah and the stalker know each other?”
“So, you think Hannah is going out there for another reason? Maybe something from Wes’s past?”
That was one of the things he loved about his wife, she might be worried about her sister, but her logical brain was already headed down the same track as his.
His phone rang. Reaching for it, he hoped it was Wes. It wasn’t.
“What’s up Harriett?” he asked without preamble, hitting the speaker phone option. Clint’s office nurse was a woman of few words and didn’t like small talk of any kind.
“Gunfire over by Wes’s place,” she said.
“You’re sure it was at Wes’s place?” he asked, already headed for his coat.
“First shot surprised me. Thought it might be a fool out hunting. Repeated shots? Not likely. All near his place.”
“I’m headed there now.”
He didn’t have to say goodbye. She’d already disconnected. “Bobby, call Daniel and Cleetus. Both should be on their way here, have them divert over to Wes’s place. Give them a heads-up to the situation and to wait a mile down the road for me.”
“I’m coming with you,” Bobby said, grabbing her coat off the back of her chair.
Oh, hell no.
She had her coat on by one arm sleeve when he caught her by the free elbow. “Bobby, you need to stay here,” he said as gently as he could, considering how fast his heart was pounding at even the idea she and their unborn child would be near gunfire and freezing temps.
“She’s my little sister, Gage.” Bobby stared up at him with such anguish in her dark brown eyes that he almost gave in. Almost.
“I know that, sweetheart. And I promise I’ll do everything I can to bring her home safely to you.” He brushed an errant lock of dark hair off her face. “But I can’t do that to the best of my abilities if I’m too busy worrying about you,” he dropped his hand to her stomach, “and this little person’s safety.”
It took her a moment, but finally she nodded, making a twisted-lip pout at him. “You’re right. I’d only be a hindrance. Go. Go, get my sister.”
He gave her a quick kiss, then grabbed a sat phone from the station where they sat on his way to the back door. “Tell the guys to bring the ones they used yesterday. Cell towers may not be up in that area since we can’t reach Wes on his phone.”
“Got it. Be safe.”
As he stood by the weapons locker and took out an assault rifle, he paused to look at his wife. Already on the phone, she was completely fixated on her tasks. If she were still upset about being left behind, she wasn’t giving in to it. Something in him relaxed and his heartbeat slowed to normal again, allowing him to focus on the problem.
Beyond her, Earl seemed to be hovering near the door, not quite knowing what to do with himself. The man needed a mission and Gage had just the one for him.
He motioned the older man to follow him out the back.
“What’s up, Sheriff?” Earl asked as Gage opened his truck and set the rifle in the rack in back.
Close To Danger (Westen Series Book 4) Page 22