Stuffing a pair of gloves into his pocket, he slipped out of his car and rounded a nearby house. Staying behind bushes, trees and buildings, he managed to reach the white house without being seen.
Voices—his wife’s and a man’s—drew him to a side window. Sheer curtains obscured his view, but he managed to glimpse the back of her head. The man was short with a thick mass of white hair.
His wife waved something green in front of the man’s face. Money, no doubt. She handed it to him.
He pressed his ear as close to the window as he dared. His wife’s familiar voice filtered through the wall.
“Next time she calls, you ask her where they’ve hidden it. Understand?”
Hidden what?
He wished he could make out more of what they said. They both disappeared from the room, then the door opened. He flattened his body against the house, sidestepped around the back.
When he heard the sound of a car driving off, he peeked around the side in time to see her leave. He slipped on his gloves and circled to the front door. Unfortunately, it was locked.
Making sure the area was deserted, he knocked then clasped his hands around his back and waited.
The white-haired man opened the door and gave him a wary smile. “Can I help you?”
He planted his foot inside the door. “I think you can. We’re going to have a talk.” Shoving the man backward, he entered the house then shut the door behind him. The cash his wife had handed over sat in the center of the desk.
The man cowered against the wall. “What do you want from me?”
Removing the .22 from his belt, he made the old man take him into the kitchen and sat him at the small table.
“The woman who just left here, the one who handed you that stack of twenties in the other room, I want to hear all about her. Understand?”
The man bobbed his head. “Yes. Anything you want.”
“Good.” He smiled. “Let’s start with your name.”
“A-Art. Art Stephens.”
Although he much preferred that same terrified expression on his wife’s face, he had to admit, he liked having the power to make a grown man cower in fear. “Now, tell me why she came here. And start at the beginning. Be honest and you’ll live to see another day.”
Stephens seemed to actually believe him. But he could hardly allow the old fool to tip off his wife, or maybe even the law. No, he’d have to die tonight. As soon as he extracted the information he needed, the old man would expire. Not as if he would have had a lot of years left anyway. Like with his wife’s parents, he’d be safer with this one dead.
He didn’t enjoy killing, although he knew he’d relish watching his wife’s face as she drew her last breath. And Jones. He’d save that bastard for last.
* * * * *
When they arrived at the Second Amendment Gun Range, Kelsey felt like a leopard spot on a zebra. The place reeked of cheap air freshener and metal shavings. She tasted rust just from breathing the air. Several overhead fluorescent fixtures bathed the place in a sickly gray hue. The sound of muffled gunshots every few seconds made her jump.
Two nearly identical men—each as big as a grizzly bear—eyed her curiously. They stood behind a glass counter filled with assorted handguns.
“Afternoon, Mo,” Jason said. “Bo.”
Both men grunted a greeting, but their eyes never left Kelsey’s.
“Any bays free?” Jason asked.
“Yup.” Bo or Mo shifted his gaze to Jason. “One or two?”
“We’ll share.” He pointed behind the counter. “Give me five of those targets and a hundred rounds of thirty-eight reloads.”
After he paid for the ammunition, Jason led her to a door with a big sign on it that read Ear and Eye Protection Required Beyond This Point.
He unzipped the gym bag he’d brought and handed her a plastic-wrapped pack of foam rubber plugs. “Put these in your ears.”
He took out a pair for himself, then slipped on some plastic goggles. “Your glasses will work fine.” Pulling open the door, he led her inside.
Everything from the walls to the floor to the ceiling was concrete gray. The room was broken into six stations, each separated by a partial wall. Jason took her to the second one and showed her his gun. “Safety lesson first. Never point it at anyone unless you mean to kill them.”
She swallowed hard, but paid close attention as he enumerated a long list of precautions. When he’d finished, he hooked one of the paper targets to a clip hanging from what looked like an old-fashioned clothesline. He moved a toggle switch on the wall and the target sailed backward several yards. Positioning his hands on the gun as he’d showed her, he lifted it to eye level and shot the bad guy on the paper right between the eyes. He fired several more times, always hitting the kill zone.
“Your turn.” He loaded bullets into the empty slots then placed the revolver in her hands. Even though she’d always taken an anti-gun stance, she had to admit she found the cold steel strangely reassuring.
She drew in a deep breath and held the weapon in front of her. Jason stepped behind her, reached both arms around her and demonstrated how to line up the shot. How could she concentrate with him pressing against her? His breath heated her neck, sent gooseflesh sprawling over her skin. A shiver of desire sucked the air out of her lungs.
He tightened his arms around her, adjusted his feet. “What are you waiting for?”
“I’m just making sure my aim is good.” Tamping down the insistent flames of passion, she positioned her index finger over the trigger and supported her right hand with her left to steady the revolver. Squinting, she stared through the notch at the end of the barrel then fired.
She hadn’t expected the backward kick the gun gave, but she wasn’t exactly sorry when she stumbled against Jason’s barrel chest.
Clasping her shoulder, he pointed to the target. “Good first shot. Try holding your weapon a little firmer. Looks as if you injured him, but he’s not dead yet. Let’s go for the chest.”
Concentrate on what you’re doing!
Easier said than done. Her mind swam with sensations. Jason’s strong arms around her, his clean smell, the vibration of his deep voice against her body. She adjusted her stance and studied the target. All she’d managed to hit was the bad guy’s arm. “Okay. I can do this.”
“Only takes some practice. And remember to count your shots so you always know how many you have left. You never know when that information can save your life.” His jaw moved closer against the side of her face. Stubble scratched her cheek and all her concentration flew out the door.
She remembered the rough feel of his skin rasping over her naked breasts and her erect nipples. Lust burned inside her.
Why did he have to smell so damn good? “Um, mind if I try it alone?” As much as she enjoyed the feel of him so near, she knew she’d never master this with him touching her.
“Sure. No problem.” He stepped away.
She immediately mourned the loss, but focused on her shooting. Moving into position, she raised the weapon and lined up the sight with her target. When she squeezed the trigger she knew right away she’d hit the kill zone.
“Perfect.” Jason gave her a big smile. “Again. Keep shooting until you run out of rounds.”
She fired until she emptied the gun. Leaning against the ledge, she studied the target. All the shots had made their mark. Turning to face Jason, she beamed and squared her shoulders. “Not bad for a beginner, huh?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you lied about this being your first time.” He took the revolver, reloaded it then immediately unloaded it. “Now your turn.”
When he gave her the gun, she inserted the bullets exactly as he had. “Good. Now let’s try that fancy shooting again.”
By the time they returned to Jason’s house, Kelsey had confidence she could shoot the gun Jason loaned her like a pro. But she wondered if she had it in her to kill another human being.
Elvis greeted Jason with
wet kisses. He grabbed hold of the dog’s collar and led him toward the back door. “Sorry, buddy. I’m afraid you can’t stay for this.”
Returning a minute later, he set his hands on his waist. “Okay, let’s say you can’t get to your gun and I’m not around to protect you. I’m going to teach you a few moves to defend yourself.”
She rolled her eyes. “I feel like Barbie to your G.I. Joe. I’m not completely helpless, you know.” Her bravado sounded good but in truth, having Jason nearby felt annoyingly reassuring.
“Yeah, whatever. Just pay attention.” He touched a finger to the upper part of her forearm. “This is a nerve bundle. When it’s hit hard, you can incapacitate someone.” He chopped his hand to the spot and a sudden jolt of pain made her wince.
“Ouch! That hurt.” She rubbed her skin, incredulous that he’d hit her so hard. Nausea swirled in her stomach for several seconds, then abated.
He folded his arms across his chest and lifted an unsympathetic eyebrow. “I barely touched you. It’s important that you take this seriously and know how hard you’ll have to strike your assailant.”
“I am taking it seriously.” Gritting her teeth, she sliced an annoyed stare at him. “Let’s move on, shall we?”
He shrugged. “As long as you’re not too injured.”
Pasting on an exaggerated smile, she ignored his sarcasm. “I’m fine. Although that will probably bruise later.”
“I doubt it. But if it does, it’ll match the one on your other arm.”
His smirk only made her more determined to continue with the lesson. Soon as she could, she’d turn the tables and use one of his tactics on him.
“There are about thirty good targets on the body that will immediately stop an attacker.” He pointed to his forehead. “Striking any on the head or neck will give you more bang for your buck. Those are most likely to cause death or at least unconsciousness. Once you incapacitate your assailant, you run like hell.” For the next hour he demonstrated all the ways she could stun or even kill someone.
Worn out from the workout, Kelsey sank into a chair and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “I bet you were kicked out of more than one sandbox when you were a kid. You play awfully rough.” She sagged against the cushions, staring up at Jason. The man hadn’t even broken a sweat.
He clasped his hands and grinned. “Don’t you feel better now that you know how to fend off an attacker?”
She did, but she’d never admit it to him. Between the gun lesson and the self-defense class, she now had confidence that she would at least have a fighting chance against someone who tried to hurt her. “I guess.”
“Something else you need to practice.” He pinned her with those damn sexy green eyes. “The most important thing for you to learn is to be aware of your surroundings. Know who’s nearby and pay special attention at times when you’re most vulnerable, like when your hands are full.”
“Okay. I’ll try.”
“Do more than try.”
She knew he was right. How many times had she walked through a parking lot at night with her arms loaded down with packages? She’d have made an easy target if someone wanted to harm her.
When her cell rang, Jason grabbed her purse and tossed it to her. She felt around for the phone, pulled it out and answered.
“Kelsey Marie Ackerman, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
Her mother’s admonishing tone dragged her mood down like an anchor. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry I forgot to call you back, Mother.”
Jason snickered nearby, but she couldn’t muster amusement to match his.
“Something’s going on with you and I want to know what it is.” Her mother let out a pained sigh. “If you won’t tell me, Mason and I will have to fly out there and find out for ourselves.”
The mere thought sent a panicked shudder through her. “No, Mother. That’s not necessary.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and sank deeper into her seat. “All right. I’ll tell you, but you have to promise me you won’t overreact.” She glanced toward Jason, watched him pour himself a glass of water. He held his cup toward her, offering her some. She shook her head.
“I’m promising nothing,” her mother said. “What the heck is happening there?”
Kelsey spilled the details of Margaret’s murder. Then she waited through a long moment of silence for her mother to digest the news. “Are you with me?”
“How awful for Margaret. Maybe you should come here. In case the killer comes back looking for you.”
Kelsey shook her head. “No, Mother. I need to be here.” She refused to speak to her mother about Jason or his involvement. That would only lead to a host of new questions. “I have…police protection.” The white lie stabbed at her, but she dared not open herself to a barrage of questions about him.
“Well thank heavens for that.”
“Yeah. In fact, an officer is here now, so I’ll have to get off the phone. I wouldn’t want to be rude.”
“For goodness sakes, Kelsey. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been avoiding speaking to me.”
“I promise as soon as this thing is finished, when the man is caught, we’ll have a nice long conversation, okay?” She crossed her fingers, hoping her mother would accept her story.
“Fine.” She released a long-suffering sigh. “I suppose that will have to do.”
Kelsey avoided Jason’s probing stare after she shut her phone. She didn’t care to talk about her less-than-warm feelings toward her mother.
He crossed the room to the breakfast bar then sat on a stool and picked up the papers she’d left there. “What’s this?”
Glancing at him, she drew in a relieved breath at the change in subject. “A newspaper article.” She wished she had the energy to make it over there, but she didn’t. “It’s about a rare volume of Shakespeare plays stolen from a small museum in Birmingham, England in nineteen eighty-nine.”
He sat up taller. “And you think this is our book?”
“According to the story there are only three of them still in existence and the other two are spoken for. At least they were at the time.” She hesitated before telling him the rest, unsure of how he would react.
“And?”
“Well, it seems they made an arrest, but had to let the suspect go since they didn’t find the book in his possession and couldn’t substantiate their case. The suspect was an antiques dealer who spent part of the year in Coventry, which happens to be about twenty miles from Birmingham.” Hadn’t he told her his uncle had dealt in antiques? She wondered what sort of relationship he had with his uncle, hoped they hadn’t been close.
Understanding flashed in his eyes. “Uncle Percy.”
“Mm hmm. What I don’t understand is why he stashed it in a storage unit with ordinary books. And why he never sold it.”
His creased brow made her wonder if the information had upset him.
“Maybe he tried to sell it and couldn’t. It’s not so simple to unload a hot item like that. And remember, he had dementia. He may have boxed the books in a moment of confusion.”
She considered his explanation. “And willed the items to you and Jenna in a moment of clarity?”
“Maybe. I can’t believe that sweet old man might have been a thief.” He moved off the stool and started pacing. “When Jenna and I were kids, he was like an Auntie Mame character. He’d breeze into town, take us out for ice cream or to the Everglades for an airboat ride. And he always wore one of those scarf things tied around his neck, even when it was a hundred degrees out.”
“You mean an ascot?”
He nodded. “I guess we really didn’t know much about him.” He stopped moving and looked at her. Closing the distance between them, he felt his face grow taut with tension. He sank to his knees facing her and took her hand. “I’m so sorry that all this came crashing down on you and your poor friend, Margaret.”
She cupped his cheek in her hand and he leaned against her touch. “Why do you put all this blame
on yourself? Sometimes things happen and it’s not anyone’s fault.”
Dropping his head, he squeezed his eyes shut for an instant and she sensed all the guilt he carried.
“Why, Jason?”
“I’ve let people down. One nearly died and one…”
She stroked his face and kissed his lips. “It’s okay.”
He stood, crossed to the window and propped his hands on either side of the frame. “I was the oldest, always expected to take responsibility for Jenna and…” He sighed. An air of pain surrounded him.
“And what?”
“My dad worked as a cop and my mother was principal of an elementary school. They drummed it into my head. Watch your sister and brother. Make sure they don’t get hurt.”
Brother? Jenna had never mentioned another brother.
“Jeremy had just turned a year old and had recently started walking. The three of were playing in the backyard.”
Kelsey’s heart squeezed and tears filled her eyes. She had a feeling she knew where the story would end.
“Jenna asked me to push her on the swing. I don’t know how long I did. Maybe five minutes. Then I realized I hadn’t seen our little brother for a while. I turned around and Jeremy had disappeared.”
“Oh, Jason!” She rushed over to him, pressed herself against his back and felt him stiffen. “You were a child with a grownup responsibility. You don’t have to continue, not if it’s too painful.”
“He drowned in our pool, Kelsey.” He wouldn’t face her, but the pain resonated in his hoarse voice. “All my fault.”
“No.” Tightening her arms around him, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Accidents happen, Jason.”
“I couldn’t take it if any more harm came to you because of me.”
She rested her head on his back. “Nothing’s going to happen.”
He turned toward her and the anguish etched on his face broke her heart.
He’d also mentioned someone who almost died. She took his hands, sensing his need to be free of that burden too. “Tell me the other thing that happened.”
Tropic of Trouble Page 12