At Close Range

by Laura Griffin

  Loyalty was different, though. And it was his ironclad loyalty to Drew, his determination not to break an unspoken promise, that held Scott in check when every instinct was telling him to zero in on what he wanted and go after it hard.

  Scott walked between two juniper trees and spied some rocks near the ledge. He halted. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He stepped closer to study the formation, then turned and studied the moon-drenched valley spread out before him.

  Here. He could feel it.

  He crouched down. For a moment he remained perfectly still, just listening and absorbing and trying to get a feel for the place. He dipped his head down and looked through the rocks that created a nice V shape while providing cover. He looked across the valley at the flicker of emergency lights.

  It was perfect, and he could imagine the shooter setting up right here with the sun over his shoulder and a clear line of sight to not just the cabin but the road in front of it. The location had all three elements of a good position. Vegetation provided concealment from view, rocks provided cover from potential gunfire, and the shooter had good eyes on the sector.

  Scott gazed across the valley, picturing it, until a hot, murderous fury started flowing through his veins. He let it. He didn’t suppress it or try to control it. He let the feeling flow because it filled him with determination for what he needed to do. This thing had gone way beyond any other case he’d ever worked, and it was personal now.

  Scott took a deep breath. He scanned the area and listened closely. No distant footsteps or voices or cars, only the faint hissing of wind through the rocks.

  He switched his flashlight to low mode and kept it close to the ground as he examined the area. He spotted it right away.

  Arrogance.

  In the form of a brass shell casing left on the ground. Scott methodically scanned the surrounding dirt and grass and discovered five more casings.

  He took a latex glove from his pocket and pulled it on. He studied each casing for a moment and selected two, leaving the others for someone else to find, if they ever did.

  He dropped the casings into an evidence envelope and tucked it into his pocket. Then he checked his watch.

  He’d been gone two hours, and Dani was probably ready to castrate him. Which solved one of his problems.

  He stood up and looked across the valley at the lights on the distant road as he thought about what he’d learned tonight. Before, he’d sensed it, but now he knew for sure.

  Whoever was doing this was trained, and he was funded, and he was ruthless.

  And he wanted Dani dead.

  CHAPTER 17

  Mia stroked her hand over her belly as her son gave another little kick. They’d decided to name him after Ric’s grandfather, but secretly she’d been calling him Pele.

  “Everything okay?”

  She glanced at Ric, who was watching her intently from his place beside her on the sofa. “Fine. He’s just active tonight.”

  Ric took her hand and squeezed it as he searched her face for more.

  “Relax,” she added.

  But he didn’t relax, because he was a master at reading people. And he knew damn well she wasn’t giving him the full story, at least not anymore. They’d had two false alarms—two panicked, middle-of-the-night trips to the hospital—and after the last one Mia had promised herself she wouldn’t mention anything until she was absolutely certain.

  She snuggled closer and leaned her head on Ric’s shoulder. They stared at the television, even though neither of them cared about the baseball game.

  “Thanks for being home. I know you’d rather be working.”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, I know you think you should be working.”

  Ric didn’t deny it. He had been going in early and staying out late for days. He often got restless about his murder cases, but this one was particularly stressful, especially since the fire death in the neighboring county had been linked to the double homicide at Woodlake Park. Even though Ric wasn’t in charge of the investigation, Mia knew he felt responsible, and that if it hadn’t been for her and the baby, he would be in New Mexico right now following up on the best new lead.

  Ric’s phone rattled on the coffee table and he let go of her hand to reach for it. The name HARPER flashed on the screen.

  “Hey, I just texted you back. How’s it going?” Ric listened for a moment and leaned forward. “What?” His shoulders tensed as he listened to whatever Dani was telling him. He seemed to be hanging on every word.

  Maybe there had been a break in the case, and the investigation would wrap up soon. Was that too much to hope for? That her husband might be present at the birth of their child without being distracted by murder and mayhem?

  “Are you all right?” A pause. “You sure?” Ric glanced at Mia, and the expression on his face told her something was very wrong. “What did Reynolds say?” Ric listened a moment, and by the way his mouth tightened, Mia could tell he didn’t like his lieutenant’s response, whatever it was. Ric didn’t think much of Reynolds and had been much happier working for Don Harper, Dani’s father.

  Ric combed his hand through his hair. “This is big. I should call Rey, get his take on it.”

  Mia arched her brows at that. Ric’s brother Rey was an FBI agent in San Antonio, and he specialized in violent crimes.

  What on earth had happened in New Mexico?

  Ric shook his head, and Mia knew what he was thinking, what he’d been thinking since yesterday afternoon when this lead had come up. He wanted to be in charge of this thing. He wanted to pursue every lead and interview every witness and personally deliver every bit of evidence to the lab. But instead his young protégée was in charge, and as much as Ric liked her, he hated not being in control.

  “Okay, keep me posted. And watch your back.” He hung up and stared down at his phone.

  “What happened?”

  “Dani interviewed that witness.”

  “The college professor?”

  “Yeah. Five minutes later he was killed.”

  Mia grabbed his arm. “What? How?”

  “Car bomb.”

  “What?”

  Step by step, he took her through the account Dani had given him over the phone. Most of it, anyway. Mia could tell he was leaving out some details.

  When he finished talking, she stared at him in shock. “A sniper? You can’t be serious.”

  Ric scrubbed his hand over his face, clearly shaken, and she knew that he was totally serious. And she also knew what he was thinking. He regretted not being there, which made Mia feel sick.

  “But . . . is Dani okay? Is she somewhere safe, for God’s sake?”

  “She’s safe.” Ric shook his head. “At least, I think she is. Scott Black is with her.”

  “What is he doing there? I thought he was a suspect.”

  “He’s not.” Ric was on his phone now, composing a text message to someone, probably his brother.

  “But I thought—”

  “Well, officially he is, but we’ve pretty much cleared him. It looks like he was framed.”

  Mia stared at Ric as he tapped out a message. Tears welled in her eyes, and she cursed her stupid hormones. She felt a surge of fear for Dani and for Scott. And for Ric, too, because he was neck-deep in this mess, whatever it was, and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  Ric finished typing and hit SEND. Then he looked up. “I have to go in.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sorry.” He leaned over and kissed her, resting his hand on the baby. “You know I’d much rather be here with you.”

  “I know.”

  He must not have believed her, because he kissed her again, longer this time, reminding her of all the creative ways they’d found to make the nights go by when she had trouble sleeping. When she’d first gotten pregnant, she’d worried her expanding body might be a turnoff for her husband, but that hadn’t happened at all. Her pregnancy seemed to be an aphrodisiac. She savored Ric’s
kiss, wishing she could pull him into the bedroom to continue it.

  Finally he pulled away, and the obvious frustration in his eyes made her feel somewhat better.

  “I’ll be home soon as I can.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  • • •

  Dani wasn’t in her room.

  Scott stood at the door, cursing her refusal to follow simple instructions. He rapped again, harder this time, just in case she was tucked into bed and ignoring him. But the lights were out and the room was silent, and a peek through the gap in the curtains told him what he already knew.

  She’d left.

  He’d told her to stay in her room, and so she’d done the exact opposite, purely to piss him off. He scanned the surrounding area, but didn’t spot her among the clusters of people congregating beside the pint-size swimming pool in the motel courtyard. He didn’t see her in the parking lot of the convenience store, either, or at the gas station across the street. He glanced at the vending machine near the stairwell, but she wasn’t there, either.

  Scott gritted his teeth as he checked his phone. She hadn’t texted him since the brief missive he’d received two hours ago: WTF??

  Yeah, he could say the same to her. What the fuck was she thinking? An unknown number of extremely dangerous people wanted her dead, and she needed to keep a low profile. Instead she’d gone off somewhere, probably to buy junk food. It was totally reckless. But it was intentional, too. Scott had pissed her off, and she was lashing out.

  He took a deep breath and walked away, and only his complete faith in Dani’s temper kept him from worrying. Wherever she was, she was probably fine, just mad. She’d get over it.

  Scott let himself into his room and dumped his bag on the bed, which looked just as saggy and uninviting as when he’d left. He needed food. Badly. But he had a few things to take care of first, such as the blistering-hot pain in his shoulder. He tossed his jacket over the chair, then took off his holster and T-shirt and went into the bathroom to check out the wound.

  It had scabbed over pretty well, but it still hurt like a bitch and he needed to clean it. He soaked a washcloth with water and managed not to howl as he rubbed the scab away. He poured some hydrogen peroxide over it, then dabbed it dry and spent a few minutes sealing the wound with superglue—a handy technique he used in less-than-ideal circumstances, which described pretty much all circumstances in Afghanistan. When he was done, he dipped his head down and guzzled some water from the faucet. More than anything else right now, he could have used a cold beer. A hot woman would have been nice, too, but he wasn’t going to go there.

  He washed his face and thought about Dani. Where the hell was she? And how hard was it to follow one simple command?

  The people partying upstairs turned up the bass, and he shot an annoyed look at the lightbulb trembling in its socket above the sink. He was dog-tired, and it was going to be a long night.

  He turned off the water as someone pounded on the door with what definitely sounded like a woman-size fist. Relief poured through him, followed by some tight, suffocating emotion that made it hard for him to breathe.

  Another round of thuds, and he went to answer the door.

  “What the hell?” She strode right past him and turned around. “I called you three times.”

  “I had my ringer off.”

  “Where were you?” She turned around again, not waiting for an answer. She picked up the plastic bag on his bed and poked through the first-aid supplies, then tossed it down. “Huh?”

  “The nearest pharmacy is forty minutes away.”

  She gave him a Get real look. Then she swooped down on his backpack on the chair and started unzipping pockets.

  “You were gone two and a half hours.” She rooted through all the front pockets, then unzipped the main one. She rummaged through his gear and glared up at him. “Where is it?”

  “Where’s what?”

  She muttered something he didn’t catch as she continued to search. Scott folded his arms over his chest and watched her. She’d cleaned up. She had on formfitting yoga pants and she’d swapped out the businesslike shirt for a tank top with thin little straps. No bra, he couldn’t help but notice as she bent over his backpack.

  “It’s illegal, you know.” She finished with his pack and moved on to his leather jacket.

  “What’s that?”

  “Removing evidence from a crime scene.” She searched through his empty pockets and tossed the jacket away. She looked around, then glared up at him with frustration. “So, how was it out there?”

  He arched his eyebrows.

  “I’m guessing pretty crowded by now? ATF show up yet?”

  “No idea. I was at the pharmacy.”

  “Don’t insult me, Scott.” She pointed a finger at him. “I know you, remember? And I know you went after those slugs, so cut the bullshit.”

  Scott gazed down at her. She had no clue how hot she was, her cheeks all flushed with anger as she jabbed her finger at him. He couldn’t stop staring at her nipples in that shirt, but she was too caught up in her rant to notice.

  He had to get her out of here.

  “Stealing evidence from a crime scene is serious. Cops get fired for that sort of thing.” She threw her hands up. “But, hey, what do you care? Rules don’t apply to you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Bullshit! You don’t want to involve me. You want to protect me from danger and treat me like some civilian.” She stepped closer and planted her hands on her hips. “I’m a detective, in case you haven’t noticed. And this is my case you’re jeopardizing.”

  He sank down on the bed and started unlacing his boots. “Hey, you mind? I need to shower and get this wound cleaned.”

  “Yes, I mind! I mind being lied to. I mind that you’re shutting me out of my own investigation and treating me like I’m stupid.”

  He pulled off his boots and chunked them against the wall.

  She was right. He was shutting her out, but it had nothing to do with her intelligence. Or his respect for her as an investigator. His problem was that he didn’t want to compromise her ethics by pulling her into something that was definitely questionable if not outright illegal.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  “Well, what?” He stood and folded his arms over his bare chest.

  “Are you really going to stand there and pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

  He heaved a sigh.

  “I let you in on this investigation against my better judgment. And then you ditched me and went behind my back.” She shook her head. “What the hell is wrong with you? How could you do this? I trusted you. I thought—” She stopped short. Her mouth fell open. She stared up at him for an endless moment, and something in her look made the back of Scott’s neck prickle.

  “What?”

  Her arms dropped to her sides, and she shook her head. “Oh my God.”

  Now it was his turn to glare at her.

  “I get it now.” Her cheeks flushed and she closed her eyes for a moment. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You intentionally picked a fight because I scare you.”

  He just looked at her.

  “This whole thing scares you.”

  “Right.”

  “No, I am right. This whole weird thing with us”—she waved her hand back and forth between them—“it totally freaks you out.”

  Scott sighed. “Are you done psychoanalyzing me? Because I’m dead on my feet here, Dani. I’m tired and I’m dirty and I’m hungry as fuck, and I’d like to clean up and go get some food before everything closes.”

  She stared up at him and nodded slowly. Then she turned and walked toward the door, and he felt a pang of yearning. Relief, too, but mostly yearning. He clenched his teeth and managed not to say anything as she reached the door. She secured the latch at the top. Then she stepped to the window and pulled the curtains together.

  She turned around, and his heart gave a wil
d kick as she stepped toward him. She held his gaze as she crossed the room, and when she stopped in front of him and tipped her head back, the look in her eyes was unmistakable.

  “Daniele . . .”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “What?”

  • • •

  He wanted her.

  She could see it in his eyes. But she wanted him to say it.

  Daniele. He was the only one who ever called her that. To everyone else she was always Dani, or Dani Girl, or Danno, all those buddy names that kept her firmly in the friend zone. But to Scott she was Daniele. Not always, but sometimes. It was as though he saw something no one else did, something sensual and feminine that everyone else missed.

  She watched his gaze heat as she got so close her breasts almost touched his chest. The room was dim, but a wedge of light from the bathroom fell over them, and she could see every detail of his face, from his dark layer of stubble to the muscles bunching at the side of his jaw. She let her gaze drift down to check out his sculpted pecs and well-defined abs. A rush of nerves went through her and she reached out to trace her fingertip over the dark line of hair above his jeans.

  He caught her hand in an iron grip. “Daniele.”

  “What?” Her response came out breathy and innocent—not like herself at all—but her heart was racing as she tried to project confidence she didn’t feel. She ignored the pain, as well as the clear signal that he wanted her to back off.

  Because he didn’t really want that. She eased closer, brushing the tips of her breasts against him, and his grip on her wrist tightened.

  “This is a bad idea.” His low, dangerous voice sent a shiver through her. “Didn’t your brother warn you about me?”

  “No.”

  “I’m warning you.”

  He sounded adamant. But the way his eyes glinted down at her told her he wasn’t fully convinced.

  She slid her free hand around his lean waist and went up on tiptoes. Slowly, she pressed a soft, openmouthed kiss beneath his collarbone. His breath came out in a hiss, and she kissed him again, this time sliding her tongue over his skin. He tasted salty, and his body tensed as she trailed featherlight kisses across his chest and dipped her fingers into the back of his jeans.