Killer Bunny Hill

by Denise Robbins

  “Maybe DARPA’s website has public information about the companies they funded.” If lucky, he would find that list and maybe find Sixth Element on it.

  Max was shit out of luck. He didn’t find any information on the DARPA site. Either he was search challenged, or the company did not exist, or…

  “Holy crap!” Max streaked his fingers through his hair, tilted his head back, and gave a short laugh. “Sixth Element was a front company. It had to be.” He thumped a palm on the table. For who? Why?

  “Come on, think.”

  Damn, Max wished this were a company-sanctioned mission. Then he would have access to the kind of information he needed. Michael would be able to dig deeper, and it wouldn’t take him nearly as long. Instead, he and Samantha were on their own.

  His lips lifted in a grin. It was odd thinking of him and Samantha as a team. It had been a long time since he had a partner, even wanted a partner, especially one so independent and stubborn. But here he sat, in the middle of investigating Kevin’s disappearance, and he had a partner, one that he couldn’t imagine not having even after he located his brother.

  Max shook his head, clearing from his mind any thoughts of the future. He needed to stay in the here and now. Planning only left him disappointed, wanting, and empty. He knew. That’s what he felt since the day he lost Lucy.

  “Quit thinking about it,” he mumbled. He stood and walked over for another cup of coffee. Sensing movement in the corner of his eye, Max replaced the pot then turned slow and casual. Something darted into his peripheral vision, and he grabbed his weapon, pulled it around in front of him, and aimed out the back window.

  As he walked barefooted closer to the window, he shifted his Glock back and forth ready to track whatever moved in his view. A dog bounded out of the trees in the back yard. He blew out a breath he had been holding, glad it wasn’t another intruder. At least not the two-legged kind.

  Something was wrong. The dog didn’t run off into the woods or back to where it came from, it staggered, hit the ground, got back up again, and moved in jerky motions. Max watched a moment longer, afraid for the dog. When it dropped to the snow-covered yard and didn’t get back up, he slid into his boots, slipped on his jacket, and went out.

  Instinct had Max approaching the dog with his weapon drawn. As he moved closer, he saw drops of blood in the snow. It hadn’t moved, and Max noticed its labored breathing. He approached the dog from the back, knelt down next to him, and laid a hand on his neck in a gesture of comfort.

  “Max!”

  Max turned to see Sam standing in the open door to the house in nothing but a T-shirt.

  “What is it?” she yelled.

  * * * *

  He was dog-tired. Sam had driven them to the nearest animal hospital, sixty miles away, where they spent over five hours waiting to find out if the dog would make it. The dog would live.

  Now, as he leaned against the wall and waited for Samantha to unlock the door, he exhaled silently. Unfortunately, he did not have time to take a nap to make up for the sleep he had lost. He and Samantha had to go pick up the ring from the jeweler and see what he had learned about the stones.

  Max trudged up the stairs in Sam’s wake thinking about a nice hot shower and a change of clothes. Maybe some food. Then he would be ready to deal with Brad, Sam’s friend, and jeweler.

  “Uh, Max?”

  The quake in Sam’s voice had him on alert, bounding up the stairs, and halting right behind her.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Faint light spilled under the door leading from the stairs to the main house and Sam had caught movement. She halted on the stairs, her feet bolted to the floor, her eyes never leaving the shadow that paced back and forth. Max slammed into her back causing her to pitch forward. If he hadn’t grabbed her around the waist and hauled her snug up against his chest, she would have fallen into the door and given whoever stood on the other side forewarning.

  “What the hell? Sam, are you okay?” Max muttered.

  “So far,” she answered. “But it looks like we have company.”

  “You’re kidding right?” Max held onto her, but bent to see past her. His grip tightened on her waist.

  “How the hell did you see that?” he whispered as he started to back down the stairs.

  “I was a klutz as a kid, always tripping up the stairs. Now I watch where I’m going,” Sam answered, following him.

  She hadn’t gone a step when the door swung open. It startled Sam and had Max reaching for his weapon.

  “Samantha, what the hell is going on?” He reached out and grabbed her up the last step. If she hadn’t known whose hands had seized her, she would have kicked his ass down the stairs.

  “Brad?” she asked in stunned disbelief. “What’re you doing here?” She brushed Brad’s hands off and removed herself from his grasp.

  “Yeah, Brad. Do you make a habit of breaking and entering?” Max demanded his voice sharp enough to make her wince. He took the last step and crossed into the dining room to join her and Brad.

  Anger flickered in Brad’s eyes, and then he squelched it but not before she had seen.

  “Family friend has its perks. I’ve got a key.” To prove his words, Brad held the key up for examination. “Where the hell have you been? What is going on? Is anyone hurt?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Someone hit a dog. We took it to the animal hospital.”

  “A dog?” Brad asked, disbelief and impatience written on his face. “You’re telling me an injured dog ransacked your father’s place and shot holes in the floor?” He pointed to the stairs and the living room. “Where’s your dad?” Brad stepped to Sam again and touched her cheek. “Samantha, are you okay?” he asked, his voice a lot more quiet and soothing.

  Max slapped Brad on the shoulder in what would appear to be a good-humored gesture, but the way Brad lurched forward and almost stumbled into her, she guessed Max’s intent had not been friendly.

  “Sam is fine. And if she wasn’t, I’d take care of her.”

  As hard as he clenched his jaw, Sam thought Max would be lucky not to break any teeth.

  “So, family friend,” Max ground out. “Why did you let yourself in and wait around?”

  Sam eyed Max then hid a smile.

  “I forgot I have to work Ski Patrol today and knew you were in a hurry to get a ring on Samantha’s finger. Not that I blame you,” Brad said, flashing a wide grin. “I decided to hand deliver it.”

  Jeez, Sam wished Brad didn’t try to bait Max. He would be sorry if Max bit.

  “You still do patrol even though you own your own business?” she asked Brad as she poured herself and Max a cup of coffee. “You want a warm up?”

  Brad shook his head. “Yeah, I still do patrol. I consider it a civic duty thing. I don’t own the business, Dad does. I’m just management.”

  The emphasis on the word just conveyed bitterness. Sam had no clue Brad and his father were at odds.

  “It’s great you still do Ski Patrol. Very community conscious of you.”

  Max held the chair for her, and then took a seat. “You said something about the ring?”

  “Yes, yes.” Brad leaned around his chair, and reached into his jacket. He pulled out a heart-shaped, red velvet box, and set it in front of Max.

  Even before he opened the box, Sam’s heart pounded in anticipation. She took a sip of her coffee as Max picked up the box in his large hands. He flipped the top and she gasped, her eyes widening at the sight of the diamond ring sitting in its velvet lining.

  “Stunning,” she breathed out.

  Sam watched as Max took the ring from the box, took her hand in his, and slowly slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. Just like Max fit.

  “Marry me, Snow Bunny.”

  * * * *

  Max’s heart hammered, relief and excitement warred in his chest. Despite the circumstances, he hoped Sam knew his proposal was for real. When the mess they were involved in was straightened out and cleaned up, and Kevin and her
dad were home safe and sound, he had every intention of marrying Samantha Spenser.

  Cupping her face in his hands, Max pulled back, and searched her eyes. In their green depths, he saw the love she had yet to voice. He leaned in, brushed a kiss across her lips, and breathed, “I love you.” Then he lowered his mouth to hers, and kissed Sam, slowly, deeply, letting her know without words the intensity of his feelings.

  A throat cleared.

  Damn! He forgot they had an audience. He eased away from Sam, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then smiled as he faced the family friend.

  “Sorry about that. But as you can imagine, I was in a hurry to make the engagement official.”

  “Uh, yeah. Congratulations. Officially,” Brad said.

  “Thanks.” Max shook Brad’s hand, noted its clammy perspiration. “Were you able to get the certification summary from your gemologist?”

  “Oh, sorry, no. He’s been out sick. I knew the most important thing was to get the ring for Samantha so I pushed that through, but I can’t push a sick employee. Can you hold off a few more days? I would be happy to take whatever other stones you have and have the gemologist certify them as well. No charge,” Brad added in a rush.

  Tiny fingers of unease tickled Max’s spine. “That’s very generous of you. I might take you up on your offer. How is the gemologist going to do the certification without the stones in Sam’s ring?”

  “Oh, easy. He’s seen the stones, made his notes, recorded all the pertinent information. He just has to file the paperwork and get the GIA certifications for you.”

  “Do you know if he determined the origin of the diamonds?”

  “Sure.”

  Sam sat forward, her hands around her coffee mug. Max felt the anticipation coming off her in waves.

  “And?”

  “Oh, sorry. Canada. Specifically, the Tahara Diamond Mine.”

  “I didn’t know Canada produced diamonds,” Sam said.

  Brad smiled at her. “They’re the third largest diamond producer in the world. Beautiful, conflict-free stones. Tiffany’s is one of the largest retailers for Canadian diamonds.”

  Sam sat back and blew out a breath. More curious, Max leaned forward. “How could the gemologist identify my diamonds as being from Canada?”

  “I assume because of the identification number inscribed on the stones.”

  Sam sat bolt upright, looked at him, then the ring. The fingers of unease no longer tickled, they clawed at his spine. He slid a comforting arm over Sam’s shoulders, and watched her jaw tighten as she bit back whatever she wanted to tell Brad.

  “Don’t worry, Samantha, they’re fantastic gems. If they weren’t, I would have made certain Max bought you better. You deserve the best.”

  Max kissed Sam’s fingers, gave her a wink. “She sure does.”

  Brad checked his watch. “Well, I’ve got to go or I’ll be late for patrol.” He stood and zipped himself into his jacket. “Did you want me to take the other diamonds for you?”

  Max got to his feet. “I don’t have them right here.”

  “Where…” Brad cleared his throat. “I can come back for them.”

  “I’ll let you know. Maybe we’ll see if we can take them to another jeweler…”

  “No,” Brad said, cutting him off. “I mean, we’re practically family.” His polite smile wavered.

  Max slapped Brad on the back as they walked to the front door. “You’re right, family is important. I’ll let you know when I have the diamonds for you to look at.”

  Brad beamed, sweat breaking out on his forehead. “Congratulations, Samantha.” Brad picked Sam up in a hug, kissed her cheek, and set her back down again.

  “Thanks, Brad. Say hi to your dad for me.”

  “I will.” He turned back. “If you hurt her…”

  “She’ll hurt me worse,” Max muttered, and shut the door behind Brad.

  When he went back into the dining room, Sam had disappeared. “Sam?”

  “Here.” She shoved the jeweler’s loupe and the ring he had slipped on her finger less than thirty minutes ago into his hands. “I have to know,” she told him, wrapping her arms around her midsection, staring at the kitchen floor.

  He understood. Betrayal by a friend cut like a knife in the gut, twisting and painful. His instinct was to reach out and comfort, but the pain would go away faster when he confirmed it for her. Make it clean and quick. Then she could move on.

  Using the loupe, he peered through it and into the diamond engagement ring. He examined each of the three stones. “Can you get…” Before he finished his question, Sam handed him one of the loose diamonds. He looked up at her, observed the grim set of her mouth, the wringing of her hands. She was anxious to have answers. Max turned back and inspected the loose stone the same way he had the engagement ring.

  Finished, he handed the jeweler’s loupe and the diamonds to Samantha. “Go ahead. Confirm for yourself.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  “Son of a bitch,” she muttered. “That son of a bitch.” Sam whirled, slapped the diamonds into Max’s palms and stepped to go past him. “I’ll kill him,” she sputtered.

  Max grabbed her arm, halted her forward momentum. She wrenched it back out of his grasp. “Don’t try to stop me,” she shouted, narrowing her eyes on him. “You’re no longer a government agent. You have no authority over me killing that bastard.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m not going to stop you. I applaud your passion. But I might make a recommendation,” he said in that velvety seductive voice of his. The oh-so seductive voice she could not deny.

  Even as angry steam billowed from her ears, Sam lifted an inquisitive brow. “Recommendation?”

  Max grinned, ran a hand across his face, and the grin disappeared. Ugh! Sometimes he really was impossibly smug. “What?” she demanded.

  “If he’s involved…”

  Sam threw her arms heavenward. “If?” Incredulous, she glared at him. “Are you kidding me? If?”

  “Stop ranting, and let me finish.”

  Sam stepped back, crossed her arms over each other in front of her chest, pursed her lips, and narrowed her eyes.

  “Damn, you’re a hard woman,” Max murmured. He held a hand up, palm out, halting her words. “Uh, let me finish. If he’s involved, and I’m inclined to agree…”

  “You’ve got the proof in your hands,” Sam slapped at him.

  “It’s circumstantial. Sure, he gave us different stones in exchange for the original ones we gave him. But, and here’s the part you won’t like.” He waited a beat, and Sam bit her tongue. “We don’t know that he made the switch. It could have been someone else. We have no real proof that your ex-boyfriend is the culprit.”

  Damn! Why did Max have to be so right? Grudgingly, she agreed with his assessment. They had no proof that Brad was culpable, but Sam knew, knew all the way down to her toes that Brad was involved and guilty. When she proved it, she would make him pay. Not because of the diamond switch, she couldn’t give a rat’s ass. She would make him pay because of the pain caused to her father, to Betty Jacks, and to Kevin. Even without having met Kevin, Sam understood that Max’s brother was a very important part of his life.

  Sam blew out a frustrated breath and flopped onto a chair. “Ok, Mr. FBI Man, how do we establish Brad’s guilt?”

  “Or innocence?”

  Sam looked up at Max. Saw the crooked grin. He goaded her. “Or innocence…either way, we know he or his business, or someone in his business is involved.”

  “All we know for certain is that someone in his company switched our diamonds with other ones. That someone could be unaware of what they have. They may or may not know they switched natural diamonds with manmade.”

  Sam shoved her hair back from her face. “Damn, damn, damn,” she muttered. She had been positive Brad screwed up and they had found the person responsible for the disaster that touched her life.

  “Why would they switch the stones? I mean they would have to
know they were manmade. Either that or Brad has a thief in his employ.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe that’s the case,” she thought aloud. She did not want to believe her long-time friend was a criminal, responsible for her father’s injuries, and Kevin’s kidnapping.

  As her father’s words rang in her mind, a chill of alarm shivered up her spine, and Sam shook. Deep down she knew Brad was involved. He would be too chicken and too much of a wimp to get his own hands dirty to personally beat her father, but he would hire the right person to do it for him. He had always been good at hiring out for work. Even as a teenager Brad got other kids to do the work he considered beneath him or too dirty, like mowing the lawn. Brad paid some unsuspecting boy half of what his father paid him, while he pocketed the other half for doing nothing.

  Sam recalled the day she turned eighteen. Brad took her to the lake house and confessed his love to her. At first, she had been stunned, her heart flip-flopped in her chest, and sweat broke out on her palms. As Brad continued to describe their perfect life together, she realized he didn’t love her, he loved the image of what their marriage would represent. The daughter of the town sheriff marries the son of the most successful town businessman. He loved her as long as she fit into his mold. He hadn’t even mentioned her plan of joining the Federal Marshalls followed by her desire to start her own agency.

  By the time Brad finished his rehearsed speech or as Sam more fondly thought of it, sales pitch, her stomach felt as if it had spent hours on a roller coaster. With a dizzy head, she had politely informed Brad that she could not marry him. Sam remembered the shell-shocked look on his face. He had expected her to fall in line, be grateful, whatever. The kicker for Sam had been Brad’s parting words. He had gotten nose-to-nose with her, and with a low, hard voice, told her, “You’ll regret turning me down. One day, you’ll regret turning me down.”