Beyond Risk

by Connie Mann

Her fingers connected with leather, and she wanted to shout in triumph. She reached for the knife, but it wasn’t there. No!

  He must have dropped it while he was trying to cut himself free. She felt him tugging on the seat belt, trying to get the buckle to give.

  Don’t panic. Think. Frantic, Charlee patted her own pockets. When her hand connected with something small and metal, she used both hands to pry open the small blade on her pink pocket knife and started sawing the belt. The pressure to open her mouth and draw a breath was overwhelming, but she ignored it, despite the spots dancing before her eyes.

  Hunter realized what she was doing, and his hand closed over hers. She released her grip, knowing he could get it done faster than she could. She wasn’t sure the little blade was sharp enough to cut through, but it was all they had. She popped up, her head hitting the roof of the truck as she gulped in air. Beside her, Hunter wheezed as he stretched to reach up high enough to get his own air. She heard him inhale, then his head went down, and she felt him sawing like crazy.

  Suddenly, the belt popped free, and he gave her a shove, pushing her through the window. This time when she turned, she felt him grab onto her waistband and knew he’d follow.

  With the last bit of strength she could muster, she used her feet to push off from the window frame and shoot to the surface.

  She gulped in big lungfuls of air, gasping. He popped to the surface beside her and quietly sucked in air. She wanted to shout his name with relief, but before she did, she realized he wasn’t looking at her; he was looking up at the bridge above them.

  Someone stood looking down at them.

  “Dive,” Hunter shouted just as something hit the water near their heads.

  Charlee dove, gripping Hunter’s hand as they swam away from the shore with long, sure strokes.

  When they finally surfaced again, Charlee came up quietly, filling her lungs fast, in case they had to dive again. She looked around, saw the bridge behind them.

  “We can head for shore now. He can’t get here from up there.”

  Charlee nodded and swam behind him, but the adrenaline suddenly started draining away, taking the last of her strength with it. She swam against the current with everything she had, but she couldn’t seem to make headway against the fast-moving water.

  Hunter was slowing too, but not quite as much. She saw him look back as the current dragged her farther away. He disappeared and then surfaced right in front of her. “Put your arms around my neck. I’ve got you.”

  Charlee wrapped her arms around him and kicked with every bit of her remaining strength, determined to do her part. It was slow going, but they eventually fought their way against the current until they were close enough for their feet to touch bottom. She thanked God they were both still alive.

  They stumbled over toward the bank and took cover behind a tree so they couldn’t be seen from the bridge. Gasping for breath, they slogged up onto solid ground, slipping in the mud, holding cypress knees for balance. They trudged farther up into the swamp and then collapsed side by side onto a fallen tree.

  Charlee looked up at Hunter’s face, still panting. “You’re bleeding. Cut above your eye.”

  Hunter swiped a hand over it, winced. “Not too bad. You okay?”

  “I think so.” She looked back toward the bridge. “That is one determined son of a gun.”

  Hunter scanned the area, expression grim. Then his expression became thoughtful as he turned back to her. “It always has something to do with water.”

  Charlee thought it through, her tired brain sluggish. “Josh’s boat. This.”

  “You and Brittany getting shot. Always water.”

  Charlee shivered. “He almost succeeded today.”

  Hunter stepped closer, but before he said more, they heard sirens in the distance. Charlee sighed. “This is getting to be way too familiar.”

  “We’ll catch this SOB, cher. I promise.”

  * * *

  As the sirens got closer, Charlee and Hunter walked toward the nearby road to meet the FWC and the sheriff’s officers as they arrived. Hunter took charge of the scene, and Charlee answered questions until her tongue felt numb.

  About halfway through the process, her brother Josh drove up, hopped out of his truck, and raced over to her, pulling her to her feet and into a bear hug that knocked the breath out of her. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he muttered, then pulled back to look her over.

  Charlee gasped when she saw his face. “What happened to you?” He had the beginnings of a black eye, a split lip, and what looked to be an ugly gash along his temple, held together with butterfly bandages. She looked down. His knuckles were scraped, too.

  “Are you okay, Sis?” He ran his gaze over her, much as she’d just done to him.

  “Never mind me. I’m fine. Just wet. But what happened to you?”

  He worked his jaw, then met her gaze. “I had a long overdue chat with Rick. Told him to back off already. That you were done. He disagreed.”

  Charlee narrowed her eyes, shook her head. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Josh. Haven’t for a long time.”

  “I know you don’t. You never have, but we’re family. We protect each other. I should have done something long ago, but when Elaine got sick…” His voice trailed off. Then his eyes snapped back to hers, expression fierce. “I didn’t like the way he treated you. Then. Or now.”

  Charlee couldn’t believe it. “Why didn’t you say anything then?” First her mother, and now Josh.

  He shrugged. “Knew you’d figure it out eventually.” Then he shot her his trademark grin. “Besides, didn’t think you’d want to hear it anyway.”

  She grimaced. There was that. But why had it taken her so long to see what her family apparently had known from the beginning?

  Hunter called Josh’s name. He pecked her on the cheek and then got to work.

  As she sat on a log, absolute determination worked its way over, around, and through all the noise and activity and bone-deep exhaustion. Despite all her doubts and insecurities, she would protect her family. Or die trying.

  * * *

  After what seemed like days, Charlee and Hunter finally left the scene. They stopped at the Outpost to reassure her folks she was in fact fine, just wet, and then Hunter drove her home in a replacement truck. She nibbled at the takeout he’d picked up on the way but couldn’t muster more energy than that.

  When her cell phone rang and Liz’s number showed up, Charlee sighed and answered. She didn’t want to go through it all again, but if she didn’t answer, Liz would either keep calling every five minutes or show up in person, and Charlee wasn’t ready for that either.

  “Hey, Liz. How’re things?”

  “Charlee, are you okay? I was terrified when one of the café regulars said you and Hunter got run off the road.”

  Charlee shook her head, amazed anew at how fast news traveled in a small town. “I’m fine, Liz, really. Soggy, but unhurt.”

  There was a pause. “I don’t believe you’re fine. But I think you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “No, I really don’t. I’m sorry. Maybe another time.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  “No!” That came out louder than she’d planned, so she lowered her voice. “Please, don’t. I’m tired and just need some rest.”

  “Is Lieutenant Yummy with you?”

  Charlee smiled. “Hunter is here right now, yes.”

  “Good, then I’ll let him look out for you.” Before Charlee could point out that she could take care of herself, Liz sniffed, and Charlee knew she was fighting tears. “Just be safe, okay? I need my best friend.”

  “I’ll be fine, and we’ll figure out what’s going on. Promise.”

  She meant every word. She wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines while Hunter and the rest of her FWC sq
uad figured this out. Or her brothers. She took a quick shower, grabbed a yellow legal pad to jot down notes, and curled up on the sofa with an afghan. That was the last thing she remembered.

  * * *

  While Charlee got some much-needed rest, Hunter gulped down coffee to combat the adrenaline withdrawal and talked on the phone with Sanchez and Fish, Pete, Josh, and his captain, assigning tasks and getting updates. He stared down at the piece of paper he’d been scribbling on and tried to make sense of it all. There was a cluster with JJ and Nora and Tommy Jennings in it. He added Tommy’s ex-wife, Sally. Another cluster contained Brittany, Wyatt, and Paul Harris. He added Paul’s ex-wife, too. He needed her take on all this. He had circles with Oliver Dunn, Travis Humphries, and Rick Abrams’s names in it. He listed Josh and his own name, but in the middle of the page was a big circle with Charlee’s name in large block letters. She was the one connection that tied everything together. He just had to figure out how. And why.

  He tapped his pen on the page and tried it from another angle. If he started with Brittany this time, who had the means to shoot her? Travis, with his suspicious arrival on the scene? Tommy Jennings as payback for JJ maybe? Oliver Dunn, who had seemed to watch both Charlee and Brittany too closely? What about Paul Harris? It was unlikely Paul or Oliver could have been the shooter, but there were some gaps in their stories he needed to fill. Or maybe they hired someone.

  The question was why? What did anyone stand to gain? Nothing in anyone’s financials had raised a red flag, so it didn’t appear to be about money. Other motives? Travis could play the hero, impress Charlee. Maybe Paul was taking out family frustration? But Hunter wasn’t quite buying that. Tommy Jennings had the strongest motive and no alibi for the time of the shooting.

  Could the shots have been aimed at Charlee and Brittany simply got in the way? Maybe. He’d keep looking into that.

  What about today? Someone obviously had followed them and had known they would head to Jennings’s place. That moved Abrams up on Hunter’s list, especially after he and Josh had gotten into it over Charlee. Abrams would think like a cop. But why would he want Charlee dead? Because she didn’t want him? And why leave the picture of Josh? He clicked his pen, thinking. Still too many pieces missing to get the whole picture.

  Charlee walked into the kitchen, and his heart filled with admiration as he thought about the way she’d handled herself today. Then he remembered that she’d come back for him and put herself at risk. His relief turned to fury. “If I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it,” he snapped.

  She turned from the counter, where she was assembling baking ingredients, one eyebrow raised. “Okaaay…what brought this on?”

  “I was clear on that from the beginning. You do what I say.”

  Understanding dawned, and her chin came up. “Unless following your orders means you die.”

  He made a slashing motion with his hand. “No. You should have left me, Charlee. I would have gotten out.”

  She threw up her hands and reached into the cupboard. “Fine. Whatever. Next time, I’ll let you drown. Good enough?”

  He let out a slow breath. He was acting like a jerk, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Not when it came to her. “My job is to protect you. Stop getting in my way.”

  She turned her back as though she hadn’t heard him, but she creamed the butter with a lot more vigor than usual.

  Hunter stalked to the door, then stopped with his hand on the knob. He turned and went back to the kitchen.

  She ignored him for a few minutes, then cast him a quick glance. “If you’re waiting for an apology, you’re going to be there awhile. Best friends protect each other.” He thought she muttered “Idiot” under her breath, but he couldn’t be sure.

  He tried to find the right words and finally just started talking. “My Grandmere raised my brother, Johnny, and me after our parents died in a car crash when I was seven and Johnny was two. We lived in a small town outside of New Orleans. I went into the Marines to get out of being a father figure, and by the time I came home, Johnny had gotten involved with a drug dealer named Ace. I couldn’t get him to see the guy’s true colors until Johnny witnessed Ace kill one of his own men, and what I had been trying to tell him finally sank in. I was with the New Orleans PD, and Johnny wanted to help me take Ace down. I told him no, absolutely not. If Ace even had a feeling Johnny was working with the cops, he’d be dead.

  “But I couldn’t talk Johnny out of it, so I told him to keep his head down and let me handle it.” He sighed.

  “I just wanted to get through the raid. Keep Johnny safe. Get Ace off the streets.

  “We’d just pulled into the alley when my phone buzzed again. I was annoyed. There were three messages from Johnny. One from Grandmere.

  “Johnny had been calling and calling all day, needing reassurance. The SWAT team was ready. There was no time to respond again.” Hunter rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and glanced at Charlee, who just stood, bowl in hand, and listened.

  “When I found them, Ace had a gun to Johnny’s head. He’d figured it out and decided to use Johnny as a hostage to get away. To buy time, I called off the SWAT team, put down my gun, and pretended to go along. But while we were in the stairwell, Johnny tried to save me. Instead of letting me get him out of there, he tried to grab Ace’s gun.

  “Before I could get my second piece out of the ankle holster, Ace had shot him. My brother died before I could get to him.” He swallowed hard, pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “If he’d just stuck with the plan, I would have been able to save him.”

  The silence stretched on and on, until he finally looked up. He’d expected pity, but this was Charlee. He should have known to expect the unexpected. She had set the mixing bowl aside and propped her hands on her hips, sparks shooting from her eyes.

  “I am not your brother, Hunter. I can protect myself.”

  “No, cher. You’re definitely not.” She looked every inch a warrior goddess. But she wasn’t indestructible. The terror he’d felt as the truck hit the water today, plunging them both under water, then his absolute fury that she wouldn’t leave, but risked her life to save him all rushed back, hardened his tone. He had to force the words past the fury clogging his throat. “You could have died today, too.”

  He stalked out the door and around the perimeter—twice—unable to quell his growing frustration. The woman—and this case—were tying him in knots, and he didn’t like it. Why couldn’t he see the whole picture? And what if he couldn’t figure it out in time to protect her?

  He would. He had no other choice. He eased into the trees, not making a sound.

  He grabbed a fallen palm frond and held it in front of his face as he worked his way over to the trail camera he’d installed to watch the watcher. He hoped the camouflage would keep the suspect from knowing he’d been made. He checked the battery and pulled out the SD card, then went to his truck and plugged it into his laptop. It didn’t take long to scroll through the pictures. There were plenty of four-legged visitors who passed by the camera, but no two-legged ones. He was almost to the last picture…wait. He scrolled back. There.

  Sure enough, the infrared camera had picked up someone climbing down from the tree. He enlarged the photo, cursed. Their guy was taking no chances. From the shape, he figured it was a man, but he was wearing camo gear, a hat, sunglasses in the middle of the night, and something over his face to disguise his features.

  He emailed the image to Byte before he returned the SD card to the camera.

  He didn’t hold out much hope, but maybe, just maybe, Byte could come up with an ID. In the meantime, he’d have to figure out another way to find this guy.

  You won’t get to Charlee. Not on my watch.

  * * *

  While Hunter checked outside, Charlee popped the second batch of cupcakes in the oven, his words echoing in her mind. Her heart ac
hed for him over the loss of his brother. She would have wrapped him in her arms and told him how sorry she was if she thought he’d allow it. She, better than most, understood the kind of guilt that gnawed at your heart, the sense of failure when things went wrong that never really went away. She also knew responsibility and the need to protect those you cared about. In that way, she and Hunter were exactly the same. She shook out her fingers to get the blood flowing after clenching the wooden spoon so tightly. She knew every bit of the frustration churning inside him.

  But even though she knew things were different with Hunter, he still sounded just like her brothers. Or Rick. She wouldn’t tolerate a man telling her what to do “for her own protection.” She snorted. Please. Capable woman here. Former cop. No pats on the head or macho swagger, thank you very much.

  Hadn’t she followed her instincts and done what needed doing today? It had been exactly the right thing—no matter what he thought—and had shored up her battered confidence.

  She allowed herself a little smile at that, then let out a breath. Enough. She had far more important things to think about than her muddled feelings for her maddening, altogether tempting best friend.

  A bowl of chocolate fudge frosting sat on the table, and she was using her pastry tube to decorate the first batch of cupcakes when Hunter strode back in, his face void of all expression. She glanced up and went back to what she was doing. She didn’t have time to decipher what he was thinking. She didn’t care, either. At least that’s what she told herself.

  He walked up behind her, and she could smell his woodsy scent and the heat that emanated from him. “Look, cher, I know you don’t like it, but I’m trying to protect you—”

  He didn’t get any further than that. Without conscious thought, Charlee whirled around and shot half the tube of chocolate frosting right in his face, then calmly went back to her cupcakes. “Spare me the macho crap, Lieutenant. I don’t want to hear it.”

  The silence went on for several beats, and Charlee had a moment to wonder if she’d gone too far. But then she heard him start to laugh. She looked up through her lashes and saw him tip his head back and laugh like she’d never heard him laugh, with his whole body.