"I texted Keely as soon as I hung up on you and gave her an SOS," Tara added softly. "I'd silenced my phone. I couldn't afford to draw the guy's attention. When he couldn't find me and headed back toward the front lot, I trailed him. I only confronted him when I realized who he was and he threatened me with a gun. Then I saw—" Tara's words tapered off and she shuddered.
Price cuddled her closer, letting her know he had her back and that she wouldn't deal with the aftermath alone.
"Saw what?" Calum asked as he looked from Tara to Price.
Dan, who'd been a silent observer since the Nightwalker brothers had knocked on Price's door, took it upon himself to explain. "When Tara saw the body of a woman Horner had raped and murdered."
Price hadn't thought the grim faces of Tara's brothers could grow any darker, but they had. They knew what finding Maisie's body had done to their sister mentally and emotionally.
Dan continued, his narrowed gaze still on the Nightwalker men, "I still haven't heard an answer as to when you boys actually knew about Miller escaping."
"Fucking Feds," Aidan spat out, his high cheekbones flushed with anger. "Yeah, well, the Feds didn't tell me or my brothers about Miller's escape until earlier this evening. I called Tara as soon as I hung up with the FBI. First thing all three of us thought was the sniper on Saturday could've been Miller. He had more than enough time to get to Idaho. We were also on the road for Idaho when I phoned Tara. No way were we letting the monster near our sister again."
Dan cursed. "Fucking Feds is right. The FBI should've called my office to say 'Hey, Sheriff Morgan, an escaped killer who's vowed to kill Tara Nightwalker, a member of your community, could be heading your way.' I'll be having a word with the Boise FBI office."
Price would like to be included in that conversation.
"How in the hell did Miller escape?" Trey asked as he sat down in a leather club chair and pulled Fee onto his lap.
"More importantly where did he escape from?" Ren moved to where Keely sat on the sofa next to Price and Tara, sat, and pulled Keely against his side.
Aidan gestured to the sofa facing theirs. "May we sit?"
"Sure." Price turned to Dan. "You might as well sit too, buddy. Sounds as if there's a story we need to hear."
Dan nodded and took the other club chair in the seating arrangement in front of the fireplace.
After the brothers sat, Aidan took the lead once more. "Miller was at the Federal Court in Missoula for an appeals hearing on his conviction." He glanced at Tara. "The Feds did tell you he was appealing, right?"
"Yeah, but I didn't know he could get of prison to do so. Why was he even there?" Tara asked, her voice sounding strained. "For chrissakes, Aidan, he'd been convicted of three counts of murder on a Federal reservation, multiple counts of kidnapping, sexual assault, assault and battery, and a shit ton of lesser offenses. He had three life terms plus an untold number of other years, all to be served consecutively. He should've been rotting in prison. "By the end, her voice was high and thin and she was hyperventilating.
Price took her face between his hands and captured her gaze. "Breathe, sweetheart. Slow deep breaths. With me. In. Out. In. Out."
When she was breathing normally again, he asked, "Okay now?"
Tara nodded. "Sorry, it just drives me crazy that he still…"
"Shh. It's okay," Price murmured. "No apologizing. The fucker should never see the sky again as far as I'm concerned." He turned to Aidan, "So why was he there?"
Aidan shrugged, a look of disgust on his face. "He has a right to counsel and he's representing himself. There was some sort of scheduling conference with the appellate court's magistrate. The magistrate required all counsel to be present in person."
"Sounds as if we need to look into the magistrate," Ren said. "With the seriousness and violence level of Miller's crimes, they could've done the scheduling conference using videoconferencing."
Aidan nodded. "Yeah, that's what we think, too."
Ren looked at his wife. "Keely, you up for checking out the magistrate's background?" He looked at the brothers. "What's his name?"
"Judge Alan Malkin," Calum clipped out.
"Ooh, yeah." Keely rubbed her hands together. "I'll know what his favorite snack was in kindergarten by the time I'm done."
Aidan snorted. "Don't need to go back quite that far. I can already tell you the asshole is a bigot and hates Native Americans."
"Well, spoil my fun," she pouted, "but I'll see if he had any influx of money that can't be accounted for elsewhere."
"So what happened after the conference?" Price took one of Tara's hands in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"He was being transferred from the courthouse to the airport to take him back to the supermax federal prison in Florence, Colorado," Aidan said. "The prisoner transport van was attacked. The driver and the guards were all killed. A Good Samaritan who stopped to help the guards was also killed."
"Do they know who helped him escape?" Price asked.
Aidan just growled.
Calum cast a wary side eye at his older brother before replying, "Miller was a member of a white supremacist group. We're guessing they did it or hired it done. They call themselves WMDB. White Men Don't Bow. Just another white-male-centric group that doesn't like anyone whose skin tones are too toasty or brown or black."
"Come on, Calum," Flynn added. "They also don't like uppity women, libtards, Jews, Muslims, and anyone who tries to take their guns from them."
"So, if I can link Malkin to that group, he'll go down as a co-conspirator guilty of murder." Keely had her phone in her hand. "If he is, I'll find the proof and we can nail his ass."
Tara fidgeted in his arms. "What's wrong?" he asked.
She looked at him and then at the others. "Yeah, Miller was in that group, but the prosecutors told me he wasn't one of the leaders. So why break him out? They had to know it would put a focus on them and the FBI would turn up the heat on their organization. After his conviction, Miller was touted as a martyr for the cause. They've been playing it up on social media and using it to recruit."
Keely hummed under her breath as she scanned her screen. "Yep, Tara's correct. Miller is being lauded as a hero. And the prosecutors got it wrong," Keely added. "The FBI had to know Miller's role, since I found their group's hierarchy and a partial membership list on the Southern Poverty Law Center's site. One of the SPLC researchers wrote an article detailing that Miller was the one who planned all their money-making schemes. Without him, they're just a group of wing nuts with some guns and a lot of hatred. With Miller, they had lots of money and everything money could buy."
Ren's wife looked at Tara, respect in her eyes. "With you outing Miller's crimes and testifying against him, all that was gone. The Feds confiscated his computers. Once they had his computers, they found the group's funds and froze them. You frick-fracking messed up their gravy train."
"So, his buddies broke him out so he could do that for them again," Trey concluded. "But why would Miller endanger it all to come after Tara? He has to know he'll get caught again or dead."
"No." Tara's soft voice claimed their attention. "Miller doesn't think that way. He sees himself as invincible." She swallowed hard and held onto Price's arm.
"But he's not." Price gave her a gentle squeeze. "You defeated him." He was damn proud of her strength and courage. She was an amazing woman.
"Yeah," Tara shrugged, "and Miller will see that loss as a one-off. He'll think 'I'm out and I beat them,'" she pointed out. "If his ego hadn't gotten in the way, if he hadn't gotten greedy, he'd have killed me after he bragged about the Native American women he'd killed and where he'd buried them. But he didn't kill me. He sold me. He figured I'd die on the slave ship. But I didn't die. I got away and freed up even more witnesses against him. So, in the end, he wasn't invincible. He vowed to kill me. His ego won't accept anything less."
Flynn snorted. "Miller always did like to talk, to brag, about his conquests, his possessions, his military r
ecord. You name it, he'd talk about it or have an opinion."
Tara nodded, shivers ran over her body in waves. Price pulled an afghan from the end of the couch and placed it over her, anchoring it with his arms. "Better?"
She leaned against his broad chest. "Yeah. Thanks."
"No, thanks needed, sweetheart." He kissed the top of her head and then looked at her brothers. "So, the fucker is a malignant narcissist. A sociopath."
"Yes," Aidan nodded. "During the trial, the Feds put a couple of psychiatrists who tested Miller and interviewed him extensively on the stand. Miller is one sick puppy."
"And he blames me for his downfall." Tara sighed. "Guess I'll have to take him down again."
"We'll have to take him down," Price said. "You've got me and a team now.
"Are you sure you want to take on this trouble?" She looked up at Price.
"Dammit, Tara, why would you ask me that?" Price narrowed his eyes, then bit out, "You think I'd let you face this alone like some yellow-bellied coward?"
"No…no, you aren't a coward. It's just I have a lot of baggage."
"I've got strong shoulders. I can bear any weight you're carrying." He cupped her chin and looked into her eyes. "Got that?"
"Yeah." Tara stroked the hand holding her face. "Got it."
Price took her hand in his. Taking their joined hands to her lap, he ran his thumb over the back of her hand, soothing her, soothing him.
Tara turned to look at the others and finally at Dan. "He'll come after me, Dan. We can get him then. So we need to plan."
"Oh, fuck, no. We're not using you as fucking bait." Price looked at Dan. "Don't even think of it, buddy."
"Píítaa," she slid a finger along his clenched jaw, "relax. Not bait. We're a team, remember?"
Price nodded. "Damn straight we are."
"So, if we work it right," Tara said. "I'll merely be a lure. Bait implies getting eaten. I don't intend to get eaten. When I'm not working, I'll be here with you, and you'd never allow Miller to get that close to me."
"That's for damn sure," Price said. "But going back to work? The park lands and wilderness areas are so wide open, so many places for an ambush, you'd be a sitting duck. Tara—"
Tara placed fingers over his mouth. "We'll discuss that later…but just know I refuse to hide."
So brave, his firefly. But then he hadn't fallen in love with a weak woman.
Price captured the hand covering his mouth and nipped the tips of her fingers. "Hell, yeah, we'll discuss all that…later. But be aware, I won't have you intentionally placing yourself in danger."
Aidan snickered. "Good luck with that, buddy. My sister is stubborn as a mule."
Yeah, he'd noticed that about her during the days he'd trained with her. The woman didn't know the meaning of the word "quit." But in this instance, he hoped to make her see sense. Just the thought of Miller getting ahold of her again, after what she must've endured at the monster's hands, made him crazy.
"Price," she whispered. "I'm stubborn, not stupid. And, yeah, I'm scared. He's the fiend in all my nightmares. But he took my freedom, my control, from me once, and I can't…won't let him take it from me again."
He understood that, he did, but—aw, hell, he couldn't be just another man who took her control away even to protect her. He touched his forehead to hers. "We'll figure something out."
Even if he had to take leave from SSI and do her patrols with her. They had time to figure it out since Fee would most likely not allow Tara to do anything more strenuous than walking until the wound healed over.
"Thanks, píítaa."
The smile she gave him made him happy.
Her stomach gurgled and he grinned. "I think we need to feed you."
"I could eat." She heaved a sigh. "I never did get to eat my burger and fries. And if my doc says it's okay, I really would like a beer."
"Your doctor says one beer only," Fee said as she struggled off Trey's lap. "Sorry, I don't have a burger and fries, I have some chicken noodle soup simmering on the stove courtesy of Scotty, a pot of my famous New Mexico-style green chili, and some homemade rolls courtesy of DJ's mom, plus cookies that Keely brought for dessert, does that sound good?"
"Sounds amazing." Tara looked at her brothers. "I bet if you asked nicely Price's sister would feed you guys also, so we can sit and discuss on how we're going to figure out who the sniper was on Saturday."
"What?" Aidan asked. "It's clear it had to be Miller. Sisttsí—"
"Big brother," Tara's tone was chiding, "it wasn't Miller on Saturday and I'll explain why. But first, ask Fee if she'll feed you, so we can talk and eat."
Price figured that tone and the wry amusement in Tara's eyes would be aimed his way over the coming weeks, months…and years, if he had his way. Just as he had a lot of experience with women's emotions and habits since he had three sisters, Tara had the same, but opposite experience in dealing with men. Yeah, meeting Tara and being with her was meant. He made a vow never to botch this relationship up.
"Ma'am, may my brothers and I join you for some food? Please?" Aidan asked Fee.
So, Aidan wasn't a total hard ass. Price's lips twisted. He needed to get better acquainted with Tara's brothers and fast, since he figured it might take all of them to keep his gutsy little firefly safe.
"Sure." Fee grinned and waved a hand at the large kitchen island that Price had built to seat twelve since he hated formal dining. "Sit."
When all had settled around the island with bowls of soup or chili and baskets of the rolls with butter and jam placed in the center, Price turned to Tara who sat on the stool next to his. She was close enough he could feel her arm brush his as she reached for her spoon. "You don't think the sniper on Saturday was Miller. Why?"
"Because he missed. From what Ren and Tweeter said, the sniper was a slob who left the damn casings, plus cigarette butts and other trash with his DNA and blood on them. He wasn't a professional in any of the sense of the word."
When no one said anything, she added, "Miller was well-trained ex-military, as are most of the assholes in WMDB. They would've policed their ordnance. They never would've left anything with their DNA or blood on it if they could help it. These guys don't want to get caught. They want to kidnap women, use them until they're tired of them—"
Price heard the hitch in her breathing and kneaded her lower back.
Accepting his comfort, Tara leaned her head against his upper arm. "—and then sell them into slavery so they can buy more guns and big boy toys." Her hand trembled as she dipped her spoon into the soup and stirred. "Miller also doesn't smoke. So, the sniper wasn't Miller and most likely not any of his white supremacist gang of thugs because I'm sure in his sick mind, he needs to kill me himself. Okay?"
Price wasn't happy that her breathing had been tight and her hand shook, but he couldn't do much more than be there to support her. But as far as he was concerned, her conclusions about the Saturday sniper were golden, because she knew Miller better than any of them. He could tell Ren and Dan agreed with her summation.
Her brothers had stone-cold expressions on their faces. He expected they knew Miller as well as or better than Tara since they would've trained and jumped alongside of the son of a bitch in their jobs as smokejumpers. He also sensed they were angry—and feeling guilty. But guilty of what?
Then he knew—guilt because they hadn't realized what Miller was before the fucking monster hurt their sister, guilt that they couldn't take away the terror and pain, guilt that they'd failed as protectors. The same kind of guilt Price had felt after he discovered what Fee had gone through at the hands of Adam-fucking-Stall. There was no logic in that kind of guilt; it just was.
Price would bet his life the Nightwalker brothers would love to avenge their sister if the opportunity arose. And he was right there with them. Common ground, a good way to build a relationship with her brothers.
Tara took a bite of soup. A look of pure bliss covered her face and she hummed, a happy sound.
P
rice wanted to see that look on her face and hear the happiness in her voice all the time. Hell, he wanted to be the reason she wore such a look every morning and night—and probably at odd times throughout the day—after he made love to her. It would happen. In time.
But not quite yet. She was hurt and she was remembering. He could see the ghosts of past memories in her eyes even as she laughed at something Fee whispered to her.
He and Tara needed to talk—about the past. About the present. About their hopes for the future.
* * * *
After Tara had rehashed the argument about why the sniper on Saturday hadn't been Miller until she was ready to find a blunt instrument and apply it to Aidan's head, she spaced out the conversations around her and applied herself to eating.
Her body demanded sustenance so she could deal with her stubborn brothers and the conversation she was well aware Price wanted to have with her after everyone left. A conversation which she'd start with an important question of her own.
Dan's phone signaled a call, cutting off the guessing game as to who had shot at her, Price, and the others on Saturday. The group quieted and addressed the food in front of them as the sheriff took the call.
His forceful "shit, and I'll get back to you on that" startled her and immediately drew everyone's attention.
Tara's heart raced, and for a second or so she forgot to breathe. Was Miller on his way here? Was he here already?
Fear, anger, hate, and the need to kill the bastard with her own two hands swept over her as adrenaline poured through her tired, sore body. She all but quivered to fight, because, dammit, she would never flee. Miller needed to be ended, once and for all.
"Take a breath," Price whispered over her ear.
She nodded and forced herself to take several slow breaths.
"That's the way." He cupped the back of her neck, massaging away the knots there. "I've got you. Nothing is going to get by me."
Tara turned and stared into Price's turbulent blue eyes. His fierce expression conveyed he'd storm the gates of Hell for her. She believed that. She'd fought a couple of small wildfires by his side over the last month and on Saturday he'd covered her body at the risk of his own. He was a warrior and a protector.
Firestorm (Security Specialists International Book 6) Page 11