Deadly Hunt

by Margaret Daley

  "I'm fine. I can survey the area better up here."

  Tess shook her head. Her uncle had once told her that the Lord looked out for him and he wouldn't die until God wanted him to join Him in heaven. "Shane's awake."

  "Coherent?"

  "Yep."

  Her uncle swung around and came toward her. "Good. It should be dawn in another half an hour. Then you can boogie on down the mountain."

  Although he'd tried to hide it behind a flippant comment, concern laced his statement. "What are you not saying?"

  He rubbed the back of his neck. "I've just got that feeling I get when things aren't right. We don't know who we're dealing with, and that always bothers me."

  Over the years she'd learned to respect her instinctive feelings. "I'm heading out as soon as it's light enough."

  "Great. I'll fix some breakfast." He passed her at the door and went to the food supplies he'd brought. "I'll make some oatmeal and fry bacon. We have to eat it before it goes bad."

  "Aren't you supposed to be watching your fat intake?" Tess asked, downing the last swig of her coffee before pouring another cup. Her uncle always brought items to the cabin like bacon even though it meant keeping it cold on the hike up the mountain. He told her once it was a luxury he insisted on having at least for a meal or two.

  "Tessa—" Uncle Jack shook his head, tsking, "Tessa, I'm on vacation. Haven't you heard calories and fat content don't count then?"

  "I missed that bulletin." She faced Shane, who had been following their bantering. "Would you like some water?"

  "No, coffee. The smell is driving me crazy."

  "Caffeine probably isn't the best thing for you at the moment. You need rest."

  "Didn't you hear your uncle? When you're on vacation, it doesn't count what you eat and, as far as I'm concerned, drink." Slowly, he inched up to a half sitting position.

  "Humph." She poured the last of the coffee into his mug, and then handed it to Shane.

  As he lifted his drink to his lips, his hand shook, sloshing some of the liquid. He drew in a deep breath. "I think I dreamed about this last night."

  "I suppose it's mostly water, so it shouldn't do too much harm."

  "After a crack on my head and a gunshot wound, I think a cup of coffee is the least of my worries. Especially with someone out to kill me."

  "Which brings me back to, who would want you dead? Any ideas?"

  Shane sipped his drink, staring at the far wall. "I've got two competitors who don't play by the book and are ruthless in some of their practices, especially Anthony Revell. He lives in Phoenix. But the other, Mark Collins, isn't too far away—Los Angeles."

  "Okay. How about people who have worked for you? Have you made anyone mad lately?"

  "Four hundred people work at my office in Phoenix, not to mention the thousands worldwide. The odds are there are a few who aren't happy with me."

  "Anyone threatened you?"

  Shane cocked his head to the side, staring off into space for a long moment. "Six months ago, I personally fired one of my researchers. He was stealing information and selling it to the highest bidder."

  "He could be the one. Who is he?"

  "He's in Mexico. Fled prosecution and disappeared."

  "When you get back to town, you need to have the police look into it. And get some protection until you know who shot you."

  "You're the only bodyguard I know." While taking a sip, he watched her over the rim of the cup.

  She felt the silent question. No, she couldn't guard Shane. This personal connection they had between them was exactly the kind of thing she tried to avoid with her clients. She needed a level of detachment to do her job. Tess barely knew him, but she already knew there was no way she could be objective. After sitting by his bed, struggling to save him, she'd forged a bond with him that could threaten her peace of mind if she allowed him in her life. "I don't think I'm the person for you. You have a security team at the company?"

  "Yes."

  "Ask your head guy. He should be able to find a person who would work for you."

  "I'm a private person. I don't want a stranger guarding me. You aren't a stranger. And right now isn't the best time to let people know someone is after me. I'm in the middle of some delicate negotiations that could fall apart if they knew."

  "Your life may depend on it." Even after she said that, from the doubt in his eyes, she wasn't sure if he would pursue her suggestion. She would talk to her uncle about trying to persuade Shane to get protection.

  "Breakfast is ready." Uncle Jack brought the pot of oatmeal to the table.

  Tess dished up some hot cereal with honey, minus the milk, for herself and Shane. She took him his bowl and assisted him so he could feed himself, then she went back and grabbed a couple of slices of bacon.

  When she was finished with her breakfast, she quickly gathered her possessions and backpack for the hike. "I've got to get a move on it if you're to be rescued today. A helicopter would have trouble landing up here at night."

  Shane set his spoon in his bowl. "You're going now? Will I see you later?"

  "I'll make sure you get the help you need. Uncle Jack will take care of you until the rescuers arrive." She headed toward the door, hurrying before Shane asked another question she didn't want to answer.

  She would make sure he was all right before she left, but she needed to cut her ties to him. She motioned for her uncle to follow her outside and waited by the door for him to join her.

  During the long night, she'd contemplated what Shane's life was like. When she guarded a person, she made it her business to know all she could about her client. With him, she didn't know much, so she'd filled in the blank spaces. She'd often do that when she people watched. It helped her hone her skills, reading someone's body language—something she'd become quite good at. That had saved her life on several occasions. But in Shane's case, the spaces she'd filled in became more personal. She still couldn't shake the questions—who were Elena and Rachel? Probably his wife and daughter, but she wanted to know for sure.

  The fact that she wanted to know bothered her.

  "You aren't going to see him again?" Uncle Jack asked when he closed the door.

  "I can't. You need to make sure he understands the gravity of his situation."

  "Oh, I will. I have the whole day to work on him."

  "Maybe you could even help him find someone to be his bodyguard."

  "I'll do some checking when I get home."

  "I'll be at your house until I can make arrangements to fly back to Dallas."

  "I thought you had the week?"

  Tess looked at the closed door and shook her head. "I think I'd better go now. I'll take your car, so you won't have to worry. Call me on my cell, and I'll come pick you up at the hospital."

  Her uncle studied her. After a moment, she broke eye contact, but she realized it was useless. He knew her too well. "But you won't even go in to see him again?"

  "No."

  "Chicken." He dug his set of keys out of his jeans pocket and handed them to her.

  "When it comes to relationships and men, yes, I am. Like you, I've seen the darker side of life with our jobs." She cared for Shane, and that was the problem. She waved and started toward the trail that led down the mountain.

  #

  Hours later near the bottom of the mountain, Tess paused and took her binoculars out to scan the area below where her uncle's car was parked. Another one was parked nearby—a black truck. Hunters? Hikers? Or a killer? Although there was only one decent trail that led to the cabin on this side of the mountain, and she hadn't encountered anyone on the path, the assailant might have gone another way. She would check the truck and get the license plate number before she left.

  Finally, she neared the end of the trail. Uncle Jack's Jeep was in the lot thirty yards away, just around a bend. She hurried her pace as she turned on her cell phone. She'd tried several times on her hike down, but there hadn't been any reception. She probably would have to drive t
o the main highway–an hour's drive on a dirt road—before she'd get service.

  She reached her uncle's Jeep and scanned the area for the black truck. It was gone. The hairs on her nape lifted. Something wasn't right. She inspected the ground where it had been parked and found cigarette butts littering the earth. The same brand of cigarettes as the ones found at the spring.

  Chapter Four

  Tess half leaned, half sat on the deck railing at Uncle Jack's ranch house south of Phoenix, enjoying a cup of coffee and watching birds fly into a twenty-foot saguaro ten yards away. A Gila woodpecker poked its head out of a hole in the cactus, the bright red splotch on the top of it instantly reminding her of Shane's gunshot wound at the cabin only three days before. She knew he would be all right. Her uncle had kept her informed, not just about his progress, but about the number of times he'd asked about her.

  It was a good thing she'd cut her ties to the man. Even days later, Shane Burkhart dominated her thoughts more than she wished. She kept telling herself it was because she'd saved his life, but in her line of work, she'd saved plenty of lives, and that hadn't caused her to dwell on their image or go over the words they'd exchanged. But Shane ... she couldn't forget the steel gray of his eyes, his muscular build, his unruly dark hair ...

  The blare of a police siren startled her, pulling her mind from her memories of a man she needed to forget. She answered the special ring tone on her cell phone that indicated it was Uncle Jack. "I thought you'd be out of cell range by now."

  "Nope. Almost to the bottom of my mountain, though. Turned off the main highway five minutes ago. Did you decide to stay longer? There's no reason to go back to Dallas so soon. You still have vacation time, and you could always come back to the cabin."

  It might never be the quiet, peaceful retreat it used to be. "Not this time, but I'm staying at your ranch until it's time to go home." She nearly stumbled over the word home, because she really didn't have one. The apartment she shared with another female bodyguard was hardly more than a place to sleep and warm up a can of soup. They rarely saw each other, since their schedules were so different. "I'll keep Charlie in line," she said in reference to the only cowhand her uncle employed.

  "Your dad's place isn't too far away. You ought to pay him a visit. Find some resolution with him."

  She shivered at the thought of seeing her father, the memories of his angry, wounding words. "Not gonna happen. And you know why."

  "You need to forgive him, so you can move on."

  Tess released a long breath. Deep down, she knew he was right. "I don't know if I can. You should have been my dad. In every way that matters, you are."

  "There's a reason the Lord wants us to forgive."

  She was desperate to change the subject. "When's Shane leaving the hospital?"

  "Why don't you go see him and find out?"

  Tess rolled her eyes and looked skyward to see a hawk overhead. Brilliant. She'd changed the topic to another one she needed to avoid. Her uncle had tried to get her to see Shane for two days.

  "Still there, Tessa?"

  "You wouldn't return to the cabin if he wasn't going to be okay, and I'm sure he's got plenty of family and friends looking in on him. Why do I need to visit him?"

  "I didn't save his life. Don't you want to see how well he's doing?"

  "My job is over. I saved him. I'm letting the doctors take care of him now."

  "Not every marriage ends like your parents' did."

  Suddenly Tess felt twelve again, watching the gurney being rolled out of her home. The sheet flapped in the wind, covering the body that used to be her mother. Tears pricked Tess's eyes. She blinked and tried to push the mental picture away, but the memory of her father's insults bombarded her.

  "I don't want to talk about my parents." Her mother committed suicide, leaving her alone with a father who didn't want to be one.

  "I was happily married for thirty years."

  "Patricia died, and you shut down. I wasn't sure you'd ever come out of your depression. So no, thank you. The divorce rate is sky high. I don't want to add another number to it." How in the world had they gotten on the subject of marriage?

  Uncle Jack snorted. "Chicken. I didn't think you feared anything. Now, I know you do."

  "Nice try. It isn't going to work. Enjoy your time at the cabin for me. I'm going to kick back here and relax. Maybe go riding. See a few friends who still live here."

  His robust laughter filled her ear, and she pulled her phone away until he quieted. "I have friends here and in Dallas."

  "You're in Phoenix maybe twice a year, if I'm lucky. I suppose you're in Dallas a little more, but not much."

  "I go where the job takes me. Will you be back before I leave?"

  "Yes, I've got to spend a couple of days with my gal."

  Although she knew her uncle loved to hunt at this time of year, she wondered if he was giving her a chance to reconsider helping Shane. "Love you, Uncle Jack. See you in a week."

  When she disconnected, she stuffed her cell phone in her front jeans pocket, took a deep breath of the fresh air—its scent different from Dallas—and went back into the kitchen. She headed for the coffeepot, refilled her mug and started for the deck again.

  The doorbell rang. She changed directions and made her way to the foyer. Wondering who was at the door, she checked out the peephole and frowned.

  Why is he here?

  She stepped away and debated whether to open the door or not. Uncle Jack's earlier taunt about being afraid of Shane mocked her, and she reached for the knob. When she opened the door, her gaze locked with Shane's, a gleam in his eyes as if he'd seen her hesitation. She remembered those beautiful eyes—hard to forget that steel gray—but nothing could've prepared her for his mesmerizing look.

  She stared, dumbfounded, until he broke the silence. "May I come in?"

  She mentally shook herself and opened the door wider. Every instinct shouted for her to slam it in his face and lock him out. Too much idle time on this vacation—it was messing with her nerves. And this was why she worked more cases than any other bodyguard at the agency—she needed to stay busy. To stay detached. Alone.

  He entered, leaning heavily against a cane, and brushed past her. One of his hands clutched a brown paper bag.

  When he paused, scanning the foyer, she gestured toward the sack. "What's in there?"

  "Lunch."

  "What if I've already eaten?"

  "Then I wasted my money. Have you?"

  A yes was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't lie, especially not to him. "No."

  "Good. I brought your favorite sandwich from your favorite Phoenix café."

  Surprise widened her eyes. "What?"

  "A spicy taco sandwich from Pete's Deli."

  "How did you know?"

  "Jack."

  Suspicion pinched her mouth as she narrowed her gaze on him. "What else did you ask him?"

  "Why you didn't come to the hospital to see me?"

  She was going to wring Uncle Jack's neck when she saw him. "What did he say?"

  "That I needed to ask you. Then he gave me directions to his ranch and told me I should bring you that sandwich. I happen to like Pete's Deli too, so I also got us both something."

  She poked her head outside and surveyed the front yard, noting a Lexus but nobody else. "You came all this way by yourself?"

  "I'm a big boy, and the doc okayed me to drive."

  She huffed. "Somehow I get the feeling even if he didn't, you'd do what you wanted. You do realize there's a killer out there after you?"

  "Yes." He glanced down at his leg and the cane, then met her eyes with a smile. "Now, where do you want to eat?"

  His determination reminded her of herself. No wonder he was the head of a multi-million dollar corporation.

  "Out on the back deck. Would you like coffee?" She moved toward the kitchen, her stomach rumbling with hunger at the mention of her favorite sandwich. She decided she would hear him out, and then send him on hi
s way.

  "That's fine. I like mine black."

  Just like me. What other similarities did they have? She filled a mug for him, then held the back door open for him to maneuver through the exit to the wraparound deck. "The table and chairs are this way. The eastern view is better." Her attention latched onto the mountains in the distance, and she thought back to when she'd met Shane. Who was after him? Why? And why wasn't he more concerned? Did the police have a lead? She intended to find out.

  After Shane settled into a chair at the round glass table, he placed his cane on the deck and opened the bag. "I brought you two of them."

  She'd kill her uncle, telling Shane she always ate two. But how often did she get Pete's? "Uncle Jack ratted me out, huh?"

  "No, it was just a hunch."

  "Really? Do I look like I overeat?" She slid his mug across the table to him. "Wait. Don't answer that."

  "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not sure why, but it felt right to get you two. I always have seconds of something I really enjoy."

  After blessing her food, she took a bite of her sandwich, savoring the spicy flavor of the taco meat mixed with lettuce, tomatoes and cheese. "No one makes it better than Pete. I've been going to his deli since I was a kid."

  "So, you grew up here?"

  Give her a taste of one of her favorite foods, and she might just tell him her whole life story. His question put her on guard, though. She didn't go down memory lane, even with Uncle Jack when she could avoid it. "Yes. Where did you grow up?"

  "Back East. That's where I sent my daughter yesterday—to stay at my parents' estate."

  "You mentioned her at the cabin? How old is she?"

  "Fifteen. She wasn't too happy, but I didn't want her here in Phoenix until the police discover who shot me. I hired a bodyguard from your agency to guard her. Although the security at my parents' estate is excellent, I'm not taking any chances."

  "Is her name Elena or Rachel?"

  His brow furrowed. "Rachel. How did you know?"