Nightfall

by Laura Griffin

  A flash of metal caught Holly’s eye. Several guns had slid out when the cargo doors opened. She spotted something big and black and mean-looking. A nickel-plated pistol. And a pair of handguns that looked just like her dad’s.

  Rat-tat-tat.

  Holly leaned sideways awkwardly and picked up one of the handguns. She had no idea if it was even loaded, but at least it was something. She looked at her surroundings. The empty road offered no cover. There were some woods to her right, but that was where the shots were coming from.

  Holly glanced at the road again and decided to risk it. She struggled to her feet and darted across the highway.

  ***

  The flutter of movement caught Colin’s eye as Holly sprinted across the road.

  Rat-tat-tat.

  He heard a high-pitched yelp as she dove into the ditch.

  Christ, what was she thinking?

  “Holly, stay down!”

  Colin steadied his arms on the hood of his truck and took aim at the shooter’s hide. He nailed the tree, but the bullet didn’t penetrate.

  A flash of muzzle fire to the left. Shit, he’d moved. Colin lined up another shot and hoped to hell Holly would stay low.

  Bang.

  Another hail of gunfire, and Colin knew his truck was quickly turning to Swiss cheese. This guy was using heavy artillery. He was making his way to the Suburban, too, because his Tahoe was clearly out of commission. Colin knew the shooter’s plan, because it was the same plan he would use if he were stranded out here with a fleet of feds on the way—he was going to make a dash for Colin’s vehicle, kill anyone who got in his way, and hightail it out of here. It was a good plan—and backed up by machine guns, it was a great one. Colin was down to two bullets—not even a spare magazine because he was in one of the ranch vehicles instead of his truck.

  Rat-tat-tat-tat.

  This storm of bullets was directed at Holly, and Colin felt a swell of anger.

  “Holly, keep low!”

  The gunfire shifted toward him. Glass shattered on the side of the Suburban.

  “Turn yourself in, Slater! Every fed in the state is converging on this location!”

  It was an outright lie. Colin’s team was fifteen minutes away, and it consisted of two people. Unless they got their hands on a helicopter—highly unlikely—they wouldn’t get here in time. Meanwhile, the real cavalry was in Missoula, plotting another sting operation that was never going to happen.

  Two rounds. Colin considered his options. He could slink away from the Suburban, and Slater would probably be deep into Canada by nightfall. Or Colin could try to stall him and hope for backup.

  He glanced at the ditch where Holly was hiding. A hush fell over the woods. The only sound was his own heartbeat.

  Had she been shot? Was she dead right now or bleeding out in the ditch while he stood here less than fifty feet away?

  A flash of green. Score! Slater had given away his location—which was much closer than Colin expected.

  But now, Colin had the advantage. He had two shots left, and he intended to use them.

  ***

  Holly lay on her side in the snow, contorting herself into a pretzel. She had to get her hands in front of her. Without her hands, she was defenseless. She squirmed and strained, doing her best to keep her head down as she frantically attempted to squeeze her legs through the loop of her arms.

  Another burst of gunfire had her heart leaping into her throat. Colin. The fact that he didn’t return fire couldn’t be good. He was either out of ammunition or wounded.

  Bang.

  Rat-tat-tat.

  Bang.

  And then nothing. Only silence.

  Holly held her breath, waiting for something—anything—that would indicate which man was still standing.

  A car door squeaked and then slammed. She heard a noisy growl as someone gunned the engine. Tires squealed as the Suburban sped away.

  “Holly!”

  And then he was there, in the ditch with her. He tugged loose the gag.

  “God, you’re bleeding. Are you okay?” He had a pocketknife in his hand and reached to cut her bindings.

  “What happened? Is he gone?” Holly jerked her hands free and scampered to the top of the ditch. She peered down the road, where the white Suburban was shrinking from view.

  She grabbed the pistol from the ground and scrambled to her feet. “Quick! He’s getting away!”

  “Holly, look at me! Are you hit?”

  She squinted down the barrel and fired. The truck veered left sharply. It careened off the road and flipped into the ditch.

  “Holy shit! You hit him.” Colin looked at her with disbelief. Then he glanced at her gun “Where did you get that thing?”

  Holly’s answer was drowned out by a noisy whump-whump overhead. They both looked up as a helicopter suddenly appeared above the treeline.

  “Who’s that?” she yelled above the noise.

  Colin turned and smiled at her. “Reinforcements.”

  Chapter Five

  Holly added the last snapdragon to the vase and stepped back to study her work. Not bad, considering. At least the customer hadn’t wanted roses. They were the ultimate Valentine’s cliché, and Holly liked it when men asked for something with a little more flair.

  The cowbell on the door rattled and Holly shivered at the icy blast of air.

  “I’ll be right with you.”

  “Take your time.”

  She whirled around at the familiar voice. A wave of excitement washed over her as Colin stepped up to the counter.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

  He looked her up and down with that glint in his eyes she’d been thinking about for months. “I was in town.” He glanced around the tiny shop, which was wall-to-wall bouquets. “Just thought I’d drop in, see if you were busy.”

  He stepped closer, and Holly’s pulse picked up. He was wearing the leather jacket she remembered. His hair was a bit longer, but he’d shaved recently. For her? The possibility made her nerves flutter.

  The corner of his mouth curled up in a smile. “Are you?”

  “What’s that?” She walked around the counter and tried to wipe the grin off her face. She heard a noise behind her and knew her sister had come into the showroom.

  “Are you busy?”

  “Well, it’s February thirteenth, so… yes, we’re a little busy.”

  “I can finish up, if you need to take off.”

  Holly turned to see Heather standing in the doorway with her arms folded over her chest. Obviously, she recognized Colin—probably because Holly had mentioned him a time or ten during the past several months.

  Heather disappeared into the back room and emerged with Holly’s purse and coat.

  “Thanks.” Holly took her things and there was an awkward moment as Colin helped her into her coat. He held the door for her and they stepped out into the bitter chill.

  “So.” Holly looked up and down the street. It was only five, but already getting dark. She shoved her hands in her pockets. “You were just… in town?”

  “Not really.” He set a brisk pace beside her as they headed for the corner. Did he want to go to a bar? A restaurant? She didn’t care—she was just happy to see him. He’d been in contact since the day of Sheriff Slater’s arrest, but it had all been very businesslike.

  This felt different.

  “So, you weren’t really in town, you just…?” She looked up at him expectantly.

  “I came to see you.” He stopped walking, and warmth flooded her as he gazed down at her with those dark brown eyes. “I wanted to give you something.”

  He took her hand and folded something into it. She looked down at her palm.

  “A bullet?”

  “The shell casing from the bullet that missed you. Well, one of them, anyway.”

  She looked up at him, puzzled.

  “The sheriff took a plea. He’s going to testify against Lopez in exchange for
a lighter sentence. Slater isn’t going to trial, so you won’t be asked to testify.” He stepped closer and the look in his eyes made her heart thump faster. “You’re no longer an official part of my case. It’s not even mine anymore. I’ve been re-assigned.”

  “So, you came here to—”

  He leaned down and kissed her. She felt a jolt of heat as his fingers combed into her hair and she tasted his mouth for the first time. He was hot and strong and—amazingly— as hungry for the kiss as she was. He had been waiting, too. She could tell by the way he pulled her against him and didn’t hold back. Holly didn’t, either. She melted right against him and held on tight. He smelled even better than she remembered and an entire winter’s worth of longing crackled to life inside her. He’d come all the way here. For her. And the idea of that was almost as intoxicating as his kiss.

  He pulled back and gazed down at her. “I’ve wanted to do that for months.”

  She smiled. “You have?”

  “Ever since I watched you stand in the middle of that road and take aim at that tire. It was an amazing shot.”He took her hand. “You’re an amazing woman, you know that?”

  Her smile turned into a grin.

  “So, if you’re not busy tonight—”

  “I am.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed him. “I’m busy with you.”

  Keep reading for a sneak peek of EXPOSED, Laura Griffin’s newest novel in her New York Times bestselling Tracers series.

  From EXPOSED

  By Laura Griffin

  Maddie Callahan’s newest clients seemed to have everything—youth, looks, money—which was precisely why she doubted their marriage would work. But she kept her opinions to herself as she snapped what she hoped was the final shot of the day.

  “That should do it for the church backdrop. So, we’re all set?”

  “What about the footbridge?” The bride-to-be smiled up at her fiancé. “I can post it on the blog with our engagement story.”

  “Whatever you want, babe.”

  Maddie stifled an eye roll and turned to check out the park. It wasn’t overly crowded—just a few people walking dogs—but their light was fading.

  “I know it’s getting late.” Hannah held her hands together like a prayer and looked at Maddie. “But could we get something real quick?”

  “We can if we hurry,” Maddie said, collapsing her tripod and looping her camera strap around her neck. She waited for a break in traffic and led Hannah and Devon across Main Street to the park, where she deposited her equipment beside the lily pond. She glanced around, cataloging the details of the composition. The wooden footbridge formed a low arc over the water. Sunlight glistened off the pond’s surface, creating a shimmery, storybook effect that Maddie had taken advantage of before. As one of the few natural backdrops in this congested college town, the park was a good place for wedding photos—or in this case, engagement shots. Normally Maddie liked using it, but this appointment had run way over schedule and she was anxious to get back to the lab. She opted to skip the tripod and keep this quick.

  Maddie composed the shot as Hannah arranged her future husband behind her. In matching white dress shirts, faded jeans, and cowboy boots, the couple’s look today was what she thought of as Texas preppy. Hannah settled their clasped hands on the side of the bridge, putting her two-carat diamond on prominent display.

  “How’s this?” she asked.

  “Perfect.” Maddie snapped the picture. “I think I got it. Just a few more and… that’s it. You’re done.”

  Both pairs of shoulders relaxed. Devon looked at his watch, clearly relieved to be finished with what he probably thought was a marathon photo shoot. He had no idea what awaited him on his wedding day.

  Hannah turned and smiled up at him. “Do I have lipstick on my teeth, sweets?”

  He grinned down at her. “No. Do I?”

  Maddie lifted her camera one last time as he reached down to brush a lock of hair from his fiancée’s face.

  Click.

  And that was the money shot. Maddie knew it the instant she took it. The ring wasn’t in the picture, but she hoped they’d order a print anyway. Maybe they’d put it in a frame on their mantel, where they could glance at it occasionally and be reminded of the genuine fondness they’d had for each other before the years set in.

  And, really, what more could anyone ask of an engagement picture?

  Her mission accomplished, Maddie collected her equipment.

  “How soon can we see something?” Hannah asked as she joined her on the grass.

  “Oh, I’m guessing—” Maggie checked the time. It was already 5:40. “I should have these posted to the site tomorrow—plenty of time to pick one for Sunday’s paper.”

  The bride-to-be looked crestfallen. “You mean not by tonight?”

  Maddie took a deep breath. She counted to three mentally. Yes, her day job paid the bills, but freelance work was the icing on her cake. And that business relied heavily on referrals.

  “I’ll do my best,” she said brightly, even though it meant turning her whole evening upside-down. And that assumed she wouldn’t get called out for some emergency. “I can probably get you something by midnight. If I do, I’ll email you the password for the gallery.”

  “Thank you! I really appreciate it. Everyone’s dying to see how these turn out.”

  Maddie wasn’t sure who “everyone” was, but she managed to keep a cheerful expression on her face as they exchanged good-byes. Then she hitched her tripod onto her shoulder and trekked across the park.

  Her stomach growled as she headed for the garage where she’d parked. She cast a longing look at the sandwich shop on the corner. Food would have to wait. She needed to get back to the lab and send out half a dozen files before she could possibly call it a day.

  She ducked into the shade of the parking garage, avoiding the stairwell in favor of the ramp. The blustery February wind had died down, and the air was thick with car exhaust. Maddie hugged the concrete wall so she wouldn’t get clipped by a driver rounding the corner. She reached the third level and spotted her little white Prius tucked beside a pickup. She dug the phone from her purse and checked for messages. Her boss, her sister, her boss, her boss.

  Shoes scuffed behind her. The skin at the back of her neck prickled. Maddie paused and pretended to be reading something on her phone as she listened.

  Silence.

  Her pulse picked up. She resumed her pace.

  More footsteps.

  She whirled around. No one. She clutched the phone in her hand and darted her gaze up and down the rows of cars. She searched for anyone lurking, any ominous shadows—but she was alone.

  Almost.

  Anxiety gnawed at her as she surveyed her surroundings. It was light out. The streets below hummed with traffic. Still, she tightened her grip on the tripod. She tucked the phone in her purse and felt for her pepper spray.

  In the corner of her eye, movement. She pivoted toward it and registered two things at once: man and ski mask. Fear shot through her. Maddie swung the tripod around like a baseball bat as the man barreled into her, slamming her against the pickup. The tripod was jerked from her grip and clattered to the ground. Hands clamped around her neck. Maddie punched and bucked as fingers dug into her skin. She tried to scream. No air. Gray eyes glared at her through the holes in the mask.

  She smashed the heel of her hand into his face and felt bone crunch. He staggered back. Maddie jerked sideways. He lunged for her, grabbing the collar of her jacket. She twisted out of it and bolted for the stairwell.

  “Help!” she shrieked, yanking open the door. She leaped down the stairs, rounded the landing, leaped down more. Her butt hit concrete, but she groped for the railing and hauled herself up. Hinges squeaked above her. Her pulse skittered. Footsteps thundered over her head.

  “Someone help!”

  But they were alone in the sound-proof shaft. Another landing, a door. She shoved it open and dashed through. She searched desperately for people, but
saw only rows and rows of cars. Another door. Light-headed with terror, she pushed it open and stumbled into an alley. On her right, a passageway lined with Dumpsters. On her left, a gray car parked at the mouth of the alley. Someone was inside.

  Maddie rushed for the car. It lurched forward. She halted, stunned, as it charged toward her like a rhino. Maddie sprinted away from the door and the car. Behind her a door banged open. The engine roared closer as she raced down the alley. The noise was at her heels, almost on top of her. Panic zinged through her like an electric current as her arms and legs pumped. The car bore down on her. At the last possible second, she dove sideways behind a Dumpster and felt a great whoosh of air as the car shot past. The squeal of brakes echoed through the alley.

  Maddie darted through the space between the back bumper and the Dumpster. She raced for the street. Despair clogged her throat as she realized the distance she’d covered. Where was the ski mask guy? The people and traffic noise seemed impossibly far away. She raced toward the mouth of the alley as fast as her burning legs could carry her.

  The man jumped from a doorway. They crashed to the ground in a heap of arms and legs and flying elbows. Her skin scraped against the pavement as she kicked free of him and scrambled to her feet. He grabbed the strap of her camera and her body jerked violently. She landed on her side as a fist pummeled her and pain exploded behind her eyes. She managed to roll to her knees as another blow hit her shoulder. She fell forward, but caught herself on her palms and kicked backward, desperate not to end up on the ground under him.

  She struggled for her feet, but her vision blurred and the strap was like a noose around her neck. The vinegary taste of fear filled her mouth. He heaved his weight into her, smashing her against the wall. The strap tightened again. Maddie gripped it with her hands. She tried to buck him off, but he was strong and wiry and determined to get her into a headlock. His arm clamped around her throat. She turned her head to the side and bit hard through the fabric of his T-shirt. The grip loosened for a moment and she twisted free of the strap, the arms, the fingers clawing at her. Adrenaline burst through her veins as she realized this might be her only chance.