Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls)

by Melinda Leigh

  Mac opened the door. “This is a very private club. Mostly former military types. For the retired set, it’s half firing range, half social club.”

  Fluorescent lights brightened the reception area.

  “Mac! Hannah!” A giant, ridiculously fit man of about sixty vaulted over the counter. The overhead lighting gleamed off his bald head. He slapped Mac on the shoulder. “Hannah practices regularly. Where the hell have you been?”

  “Around,” Mac said. “You know I prefer a blade.”

  Craig lifted Hannah off her feet with a hug. A wide grin split her face as she returned the embrace.

  Mac gestured to Stella. “Craig, this is Stella.” He didn’t provide her last name or occupation, which she appreciated. She wanted to remain low profile.

  Her slim hand disappeared in Craig’s as they shook, and she didn’t miss the older man’s quick, approving wink.

  Mac put a hand on her back. “Craig served with the Colonel. We’ve been shooting here since we could walk.”

  “Maybe before,” Craig said. “I heard the Colonel passed. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” Mac studied the cinderblock wall for a few seconds before gesturing with his handgun. “I need to figure out if I can still shoot this thing.”

  “I’m sure you can.” Craig crossed his arms. “Not as well as Hannah, but then, she was always my star pupil. If you’d only apply yourself a little more.”

  “Story of my life.” Mac laughed.

  “Go to it.” Craig waved them toward the door and stepped back. “You have the place to yourselves for now.”

  Mac guided Stella into the range. The big room was bare bones: concrete floor, cinderblock walls, wooden partitions.

  Craig followed them in, doubled up on ear protection, and leaned against the far wall.

  Entering the indoor range, Stella tensed.

  Mac put a hand on her arm and leaned close. “None of your cop friends are here. You can relax. Why don’t we hang out and watch Hannah for a while? It’s usually pretty entertaining.” He steered her toward the back wall.

  Hannah handed out earplugs, loaded her weapon, and lined up in front of a target. She pulled the trigger. Hannah fired away, emptying her magazine into the paper target. She pressed a button and brought her target in. Seven shots, dead center. She replaced the target and sent it back. “You’re up, Mac.”

  Mac gave Stella a questioning look. She nodded.

  “Want to make it interesting?” Hannah stepped back. “Maybe a little wager?”

  Mac snorted. “Not even tempted. You’ll have to hustle someone else.” He took his time with his shots, and his cluster was more than respectable, but Hannah could practically draw a smiley face.

  Several men wandered in. Some lined up at stalls and practiced. Others hung back to watch Hannah, who moved her target back farther and farther. In the next thirty minutes, she accumulated a crowd of admirers, some of whom were now placing side bets or bringing alternative guns for her to try. Hannah kicked butt with everything she touched.

  Mac gestured for Stella to take his place.

  Though she’d relaxed while watching Hannah, sweat broke out under Stella’s arms and her heart kicked into gear as she stepped toward the stall. She wiped her hands on her jeans, and then unholstered her weapon. She took her stance. Her body stiffened, her arm feeling wooden as she aimed and fired.

  “Your hand is drifting as you shoot.” He stepped up behind her, lined his body against hers, and slid one hand along her left arm. His other hand strayed to her hip.

  OK. So that was distracting.

  Stella glanced back at him. Mac nodded to the target. With his hand steadying her arm, she squeezed the trigger. The air stank of gunpowder, and shots rang on cinderblock as she emptied the magazine. Four shots later, she pulled her target in. The first few shots were left of the human outline, but one by one, each shot moved a few inches to the right.

  Mac pointed to two shots in the target’s chest. “Those’ll do.”

  Her first decent shots in months! Pleasure flooded her chest as she reloaded and emptied another magazine into the target. Even better. She could do this. Her career wasn’t over.

  She flung her arms around Mac’s neck. “Thank you.”

  He smiled down at her. “Before today, this wouldn’t have occurred to me as the perfect date.”

  “Well, it was. You have no idea how relieved I am.”

  A half hour later, Mac, Stella, and Hannah went out into the parking lot. The rain had stopped, but moisture hung in the air.

  “I can’t believe it’s actually more humid than before the rain. Thunderstorms are supposed to relieve a heat wave.” Hannah opened her trunk and put her weapon in the gun safe. “That was fun. Thanks for calling me.”

  Mac tucked his gun at the small of his back. “I’m going to hold on to mine for a while.”

  Hannah kissed his cheek. She tapped her hand on his jaw. “You need to shave.”

  Mac laughed. “I shaved once this year. That was more than enough.”

  With a roll of her eyes, Hannah left.

  “Thank you again. I needed that.” Stella slid her arms around Mac’s neck and kissed him. Mac tapped his temple. “It’s all a head game. All the crazy drills my father made us perform—and the sheer insanity of some of them would make you squirm—did one thing for all of us. They gave us confidence. He taught us that we could do things we never believed possible. He pushed us so far out of our comfort zones, we needed GPS to find our way back.” He reached over and rubbed her shoulder. “You can do it. I just saw you. When do you have to test?”

  “Soon.” Relief faded to worry.

  “Just remember, when you watch all those guys at the range, that my sister can outshoot all of them. And don’t think she can’t fire in a live action scenario. The Colonel did plenty of live-fire drills with us.”

  Stella was horrified. Military recruits died in live-fire drills. Mac and his siblings had been children.

  “Oh, yes he did.” Mac nodded.

  “That’s crazy.” She shook her head. “They should call Hannah The Gun Whisperer. She’s amazing.”

  “She was always that way. We all had our special skills. Grant was our strategist; Hannah the marksman.”

  “What about you?”

  “I can find my way anywhere.” He scanned the woods around them. “It’s like I have a built-in compass. I can’t explain it.”

  “Raised by wolves?” she joked.

  “Practically.”

  “And Lee?” she asked softly.

  Mac sighed. “Lee was awful at everything physical. He was a scholar. The Colonel had no business sending him into survival training drills.”

  “How did he get through them?” She imagined a skinny boy, suffering through tasks when his siblings all excelled.

  “The rest of us carried him. Lee more than made up for it in adulthood,” Mac said. “He was the touchstone while the rest of us wandered as far away from Scarlet Falls as possible.”

  “Sounds like he was lucky to have the three of you.”

  “I never really thought about it quite like that, but I guess he was.” Mac was quiet for a few seconds, as if this was a new thought. Then he smiled. “I’m hungry. What do you have planned for the morning?”

  “I have to see if forensics could pull prints from that envelope I found under Missy’s closet.” Stella couldn’t imagine the money was Missy’s. So who was she hiding it for?

  “Then what?”

  “I’m not sure.” She checked the time. Seven-thirty. “I’m supposed to catch up with Brody and Lance at lunchtime. We have to review tips that come in on the hotline. I also have to pick up Gianna from dialysis and take her to the station to sign a statement. What about you?”

  “I have an old contact that is very in tune with the local criminal scene,” Mac said.

  “And?”

  Mac shrugged. “I could take pictures of your suspects and see if anyone in his gang recognizes them. Pl
us, Freddie knows things.”

  “A gang? That doesn’t sound safe.”

  He lifted a palm. “Safe is relative. He already knows I’m in town.”

  “These are those dangerous associates you talked about before.” Stella poked a finger in his chest. “Don’t think I’m letting you go there alone.”

  “I can’t take Grant. He’s too important to the kids. They already lost one father. I won’t put him at risk.”

  Discomfort stirred in Stella. “You aren’t any more expendable than your brother.”

  “Maybe.”

  Did he really think he was less valuable than his siblings?

  She propped a hand on her hip. Under her irritation, fear slithered. She felt more for this man than she’d planned, knowing he was likely not going to stick around Scarlet Falls. Mac spent more time in South America than the US. If—when—he left, she would be heartbroken. But she couldn’t bear losing him to a drug dealer’s bullet. He’d gotten lucky in Brazil. How long could his good fortune hold out? “There’s no maybe about it. Your family needs you.”

  I need you.

  The words in her head stayed there. She wouldn’t guilt him into staying. It had to be his decision, but she wanted him to choose Scarlet Falls.

  To choose her.

  He stepped back, out of reach. “I’m used to working alone.”

  “Get unused to it.” Stella headed for the car. “I’m going with you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Like hell.” Mac grabbed Stella’s shoulder and spun her around. He would not put her at risk. “Freddie will smell cop on you in a second.”

  Her chin went up and her eyes blazed. “I’m dressed down.”

  He skimmed her jeans, T-shirt, and running shoes. Her black hair fell in waves past her shoulders. She didn’t need the pistol, badge, or handcuffs. She wore cop like a uniform. “It’s not the clothes.” It was her eyes. They were flat and sharp, not missing a thing. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “You’re kidding, right.” She folded her arms over her chest.

  “No.” Mac swallowed. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I appreciate the chivalry, but it’s not necessary.”

  “This has nothing to do with chivalry.” He closed the gap between them. “I’ve been attracted to you since the first second we met, but what I’m feeling for you now is more than I’d expected. This wasn’t what I planned.” The deep connection he felt with Stella both excited and scared him.

  He kissed her hard on the mouth, and the stunned expression on her face said she hadn’t expected what was developing between them either.

  She blinked, surprise shifting to stubbornness. “I feel the same way, which is why I won’t let you go alone.”

  He put a hand to the back of his skull where tension throbbed.

  She cupped his cheek. “This isn’t a one-way street. You don’t get to care about other people and not let them feel the same about you.”

  “But—”

  She pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Either you let me go with you, or I’ll call your brother. Putting yourself into an unnecessarily dangerous position isn’t fair to me or to Grant or Hannah. You matter.”

  “Grant isn’t getting dragged into this.” Mac wouldn’t allow any danger to touch his family.

  “I wasn’t suggesting Grant take my place. But he’d be able to talk you out of whatever you’re planning.” Her eyes locked on his. “I’m going with you.”

  Mac had a choice. He could skip the whole visit with Freddie. He and Stella could continue to follow leads through official channels. But if he had the chance to prevent another girl from being hurt, how could he not try? Once he learned Rabbit had bolted, Freddie would pay Mac a visit. Next time maybe he wouldn’t spot the tail. Maybe he wouldn’t be prepared. The thought of Freddie’s gang showing up at his cabin—or worse, at Grant’s house—gave him the shakes. A confrontation was inevitable, and Mac would rather be the initiator.

  He could lie to Stella and go alone anyway. But that felt wrong in a thousand ways.

  “You’ll stay in the car.” He glanced at her cruiser. “Not that car. We’ll have to rent one.”

  “We can use my Honda.”

  “All right.” Mac raised his hand to his face and covered her fingers. “But you have to promise to do what I say.”

  The cocky lift to her brow shouldn’t have turned him on, but then everything about this woman cranked his testosterone into overdrive.

  “Unless you’re in danger,” she said.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “OK.” But Mac wasn’t happy with her refusal to commit.

  “Where is this friend of yours?”

  “He used to operate out of the rail yard, but that location got too popular with the homeless. He’s under the power lines by Hidden Lake.”

  “I’ve never been there.” Stella opened her phone and pulled up a map of the area.

  Mac manipulated the image and pointed at a patch of green. “It’s here.”

  “Where?” Stella squinted at the display.

  “It’s called Hidden Lake for a reason.”

  Stella opened her car door. “Let’s change cars and get out there. I want to be back by lunchtime.”

  In the driveway, they parked her police vehicle, and Stella locked her purse and badge in the trunk. She transferred her AR-15 to the Accord. “Just in case.”

  “Don’t let anyone see that.” Mac wasn’t planning for Freddie to ever set eyes on her. “It will only cause trouble. There’s no shooting your way out of that gang. You’ll be ridiculously outgunned, and they have enough ammunition to turn your car into a colander.” Tension clamped down on the nape of his neck. “Maybe we should forget this whole plan.”

  Stella tucked her long hair behind her ear. “I need some evidence to tie Noah Spivak to the murders, or he’s going to get bail. I’m not entirely convinced he killed Missy and Dena, but I don’t want him on the street.”

  “All right.” He held out a hand. “Why don’t you let me drive? I know where we’re going.”

  She handed him the keys, and Mac got behind the wheel. He shifted to grab the seat belt. Something poked him in the leg. He reached under and found one of Stella’s hairpins. “Do you shed these things?”

  “Sorry. They’re always falling out.”

  She reached for it, but he closed his fist around it. “I’ll hold on to it. For good luck.” He tucked it into his pocket.

  “You’re weird.”

  “No doubt.” But the pin reminded him of their night together, and what Stella looked like when she let her hair down.

  A half hour later they bounced along a dirt road. Mac hadn’t been out to Hidden Lake in years, but he remembered the basic terrain. He stopped the car next to a fire tower, nosing the vehicle behind a patch of shrubs for concealment. Fifty feet ahead, a metal gate blocked the road. An electrified fence prevented him from walking around. “You can wait here. There’s a clearing around the bend. I’ll walk into camp.”

  Overhead, the sky teemed with heavy clouds, and the wind whipped with an approaching storm.

  Stella scanned the area. Her lips pursed. “I can’t see anything, and cell coverage is weak out here. How will I know if you need me?”

  “If I’m not back in thirty minutes, call for backup.” He kissed her and got out of the vehicle. “It’ll be fine. I know Freddie.”

  But Mac didn’t feel as confident as his words sounded as he slipped through the gate and set off down the dirt road. The gate was probably rigged with an alarm that went off in the camp. They would know someone was coming.

  Usually being in the woods calmed him. But electricity hummed in the air, and adrenaline buzzed in Mac’s veins. He’d left Stella at the fire tower because he wasn’t sure how Freddie was going to receive him. The last time they’d connected, Freddie had owed him. But that debt had been paid. Now they were even.

 
He paused at the edge of the clearing. This early in the morning, most of Freddie’s men would be sleeping. Their clients tended to be night people. But Mac had no doubt guards were on duty. His shoulder blades itched. Eyes were on him. No question.

  A sturdy cabin and several sheds occupied the clearing. Behind the buildings, the approaching storm whipped the lake’s surface into tiny whitecaps. Three mammoth SUVs were lined up in front of the cabin.

  All looked suspiciously like the one that had followed him.

  Mac stepped out of the shadows.

  “Stop.” A man in cargo pants and a muscle tank looked comfortable with the assault rifle pointed at Mac’s chest.

  He raised his hands. “I’m not armed. I know Freddie.”

  The man jerked the barrel toward the cabin. “We’ll see about that.”

  A second man stepped out from behind a huge oak tree. He gave Mac a cursory pat down. Mac knew better than to bring a handgun into the camp, but he’d hidden the Colonel’s KA-BAR in his boot. It wasn’t as accessible as he’d like, but they’d have to look hard to find it.

  A half dozen men emerged from the cabin and sheds to congregate on the pine needle carpet. Freddie’s son, Rafe, stood a head taller than the others. Despite the heat, he was dressed in slim, European-cut jeans and a tailored black shirt. His blond hair was tied off his chiseled face.

  Mac caught his gaze. Once, Rafe had been his closest friend. “I see you’re still dressing like a fancy-pants.”

  “And I see you still need a new wardrobe.” Rafe took two steps and gave Mac a shoulder-slapping hug. Rafe’s face went serious. “What brings you here, Mac?”

  “I came to ask you a favor.”

  Looping an arm over Mac’s shoulders, Rafe steered him away from the other men. He lowered his voice. “What do you need?”

  Mac pointed to his pocket, then slowly withdrew the two pictures. “Do either of these men look familiar?”

  Rafe barely looked at Adam Miller’s photo. “Never seen him before.” He touched Noah Spivak’s mug shot with the tip of his finger. “This one is a crazy motherfucker. He’s with that white supremacy militia group, WSA.”

  “WSA?”

  “White Survival Alliance. They’re preparing for an invasion or some shit.”