Hostage at Hawk's Landing

by Rita Herron

  “Nothing really,” Dex said. “But the shooter was a PI, name was Clark McTruitt.”

  “Maybe McTruitt knew why Smith was on the run and that he was dangerous.”

  “But why hold a gun to Melissa?” Dex asked.

  “Melissa?” Brayden said with a tease to his voice.

  “That’s her name,” Dex said, irritated. “Anyway, after we found Dad, I asked around at a few shelters to see if anyone had seen him.”

  “Dex,” Lucas said with a warning note to his voice. “Dad abandoned us. No need to ask anything else.”

  Harrison’s jaw tightened. “He’s right. You have to let it go.”

  Brayden twisted his mouth to the side. “Did you find out anything?”

  Dex shook his head. “Not yet. But in visiting the shelters, I discovered that three other transients have gone missing the past six months. That started me thinking—”

  “That maybe Dad’s death wasn’t an accident,” Brayden said.

  Lucas made a sound of disgust. “He was drunk. Loaded, according to the medical examiner’s report.”

  “Transients go missing all the time,” Harrison added. “That’s nothing suspicious, Dex. It’s their nature. They roam from place to place. These three may have just moved on to another shelter.”

  “Not to any that I’ve found,” Dex said. “And now a PI breaks into this one and tries to kill another homeless man. Don’t you think that warrants an investigation?”

  Harrison sighed. “Do you have any evidence suggesting all this is related?”

  “Or is this just your imagination looking for problems that aren’t there?” Lucas asked.

  Anger seized Dex. Granted, he’d been the hothead of the bunch, and had seen his own share of trouble. But sometimes his instincts had been right.

  Like it or not, he had to follow his gut.

  And that gut told him something was wrong.

  * * *

  MELISSA RUBBED HER hand over her bleary eyes as she sipped her morning coffee. Nightmares of the break-in and shooting had plagued her all night. The feel of the gun against her head...the blood spattering...Smith’s shocked face as he stared at her afterward, pain and regret and worry in his expression.

  When she’d finally drifted back to sleep, she’d woken up an hour later because she’d thought she’d heard a sound outside. She’d imagined someone breaking into her house. This time she’d been shot and was dying.

  A wariness spread over her like a gloomy fog. She was going to turn thirty this year. She was too young to die, especially alone.

  Maybe she did want more than work and saving others. Maybe she wanted to carve out a little bit of a life for herself. She’d just been afraid of getting hurt again the way she had with Dex.

  She finished her coffee and poured another cup, then phoned April. April offered to contact the volunteers about the center being closed.

  “I’ll call the detective and see if he’ll release the shelter for us to go in and clean up today,” Melissa promised. “Then I’ll let you know.”

  She ended the call, then punched the detective’s number. The call went straight to voice mail, so she left a message. A knock sounded on her front door just as she finished.

  Maybe the detective had come to update her? Or interrogate her again? She hoped it wasn’t bad news about Jim Smith, that some overeager cop hadn’t gunned him down.

  Another knock sounded, and she headed toward the front door to answer it. She checked the peephole, always wary that a stranger might come knocking thinking she was the drug dealer they were searching for. There were at least two on the street that she was aware of.

  Her breath caught. Not the detective or a stranger. Dex.

  For a moment, she drank in the sight of his handsome face. He wore his cowboy hat, jeans and boots, and the brooding expression that made him look even more mysterious and sexy.

  She took a deep breath and opened the door, her heart stuttering as their gazes locked.

  “You didn’t sleep, did you?” he asked in a gruff voice.

  Awareness of his sexuality jolted her nerves. He’d always been intuitive and been able to read her. Maybe that was the reason he’d walked away. He’d sensed she was getting too close, starting to imagine a lifetime with him.

  “Not much,” she admitted as she motioned for him to come in.

  “I’m sorry.” He stopped in front of her, his breath huffing out. His six-two frame towered over her. He had big broad shoulders and muscles that had probably made every woman’s mouth water when they met him.

  She didn’t want to think about how many there’d been.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said softly. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about Jim and if he was okay. That detective talked like they’d shoot first, then ask questions later.”

  “You really thought he was a good guy?”

  Melissa bit her lip. “Yes. Sure he had secrets. But not everyone who does has a criminal past. Some have just suffered life, and are trying to manage the best they can.”

  “Like my father,” he said, a trace of bitterness to his voice.

  Sympathy filled her. “I don’t know, Dex. I’m really sorry you didn’t have a chance to talk to him and sort things out.”

  “Me, too.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and she realized he was still wrestling with pain and guilt.

  She wanted to comfort him. But she clenched her hands by her sides instead. She’d run him off once by becoming too emotional.

  She wouldn’t do it again.

  * * *

  DEXTER PROMISED HIMSELF he wouldn’t make this visit about him and his father, but Melissa had a way of getting to the heart of the matter.

  And into his heart.

  Focus, man.

  “I should have stayed last night,” he said.

  Melissa shook her head. “Don’t be silly, Dex. I’m fine. Now why did you come? Did you hear something from the detective?”

  Dexter shook his head. “Afraid not. I’m on my way to McTruitt’s office to see if someone there can explain why he was hunting Smith.”

  “You’re investigating this for Detective Lamar?”

  “No, but I like mysteries.” Or rather, he couldn’t let them go until they were solved. He’d always been that way. Always would.

  He removed a card from his pocket and offered it to her. “I wanted you to have my number in case you needed something.”

  Melissa took the card, their hands brushing. She immediately jerked back as if she felt the same tingle he had.

  Then she lifted her chin and reached for her purse. “I’m going with you.”

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  She pressed her hand to his arm. “Yes, I do. I want answers, too, Dex. I can’t get into the shelter right now anyway, and I’m going crazy sitting around.”

  He conceded with a brief nod. No use arguing with Melissa. She might be tenderhearted, but she was also stubborn as hell.

  Loud, arguing angry voices from a neighbor drifted their way as they walked to his SUV. Dammit, he didn’t like this street or Melissa living here alone.

  They rode in silence to McTruitt’s office, a faded brick structure in a strip center outside of Austin. Except for a tattoo shop and fertilizer store, the other spaces were deserted, the exteriors run-down.

  He parked in front of the building, scanning the property. A black sedan sat in the back parking lot. No one inside. It was too early for the tattoo parlor and the fertilizer store to be open.

  A light glowed through the window, indicating that someone was inside. Maybe a secretary? Or McTruitt could have a partner? Damn. He should have done some research on him the night before.

  But thoughts of wanting Melissa had distracted him.

  He reached for the door to get out. “Wait in the car.”
<
br />   “No, maybe I can help.” The silence thickened as they walked up to the building. The door was closed, but Dex saw a flashlight beam moving in the back.

  Not a secretary. A man was tossing the place.

  He pushed his hand in front of Melissa and murmured for her to go back to the car. But before he could, a bullet shattered the front window and sailed past his head.

  Melissa screamed and ducked. He pulled his gun and shouted for her to get down.

  Chapter Five

  Melissa ducked to the side of the window, glass spraying as it shattered.

  “Stay down!” Dex shouted.

  She pressed herself against the front wall, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Dex pulled a gun from his back pocket and fired through the hole in the window.

  Inside, footsteps pounded and noises echoed as if someone was turning over furniture. Dex motioned for her to stay where she was, and he inched closer to the window and looked inside. Banging, then a man’s voice, and another bullet whizzed by Dex’s head.

  Melissa screamed as he ducked to avoid being hit. He covered her head with his arms to shield her as another bullet flew past and more glass rained down on the front stoop.

  She clung to Dex, the two of them hovering low until a few seconds later, the sound of an engine rent the air. The black sedan in the back parking lot shot around the side of the building, roared past, then flew onto the street.

  Dex jumped up and gave chase, firing at the car’s tires, but the vehicle screeched forward and disappeared.

  Melissa stood on shaky legs as Dex ran back to her. “Are you all right?” he asked breathlessly.

  She nodded, the realization that she’d been involved in two shootings in two days sending shock waves through her. “Are you?”

  “Yeah.” He removed his Stetson, scrubbed a hand through his shaggy hair, then set the hat back on his head with a grunt. “I couldn’t get the license plate.”

  “What’s going on?” Melissa asked, trying to piece together what had happened.

  “I don’t know, but I’m damn well going to find out.” He wiggled the doorknob on the front door, and the door squeaked open.

  As soon as they entered, Melissa could see that the office had been ransacked. The space consisted of a small entryway with a desk and a door leading to the back. Through the doors, they found the main office, a large space with an oversize metal desk, filing cabinet and rolling desk chair. The filing cabinet drawers stood open, papers were scattered all over the desk and floor as if files had just been dumped, and the space on the desk where a computer should have been was empty.

  “Either he had his laptop with him or someone took it,” Dex mumbled.

  Melissa scanned the disheveled room. “What do you think they were looking for?”

  Dex shrugged. “Who knows? Something to do with one of his investigations.”

  “You think it was the person who hired him to find Jim Smith?”

  “That’s possible. With McTruitt dead at Smith’s hands, whoever that was might not want his name to come out.”

  “Or his motive,” Melissa said. “Do you think McTruitt was sent to kill Jim?”

  Dex’s dark gaze met hers. “Maybe. If he had a file on Smith here, that would help.” Dex walked over to the desk, pulled on a pair of gloves and started rummaging through the scattered papers.

  Melissa shifted, but stooped down on the floor to help search. He tossed her a pair of latex gloves, and she yanked them on. The fact that the person shooting at them might have already found that information and taken it was a real possibility.

  But maybe they’d interrupted the intruder before he’d found it, and she and Dex would turn up something helpful.

  * * *

  DEX GRITTED HIS TEETH. He should call Lamar, but first he wanted to look around. He scoured through the papers on the desk, searching for any signs of suspicious activity, specifically anything with Jim Smith’s name on it or notes referencing the reason McTruitt was looking for Smith—and why he’d held Melissa at gunpoint to get to him.

  According to Melissa, Smith hadn’t pulled a gun on McTruitt. It was the other way around, which meant that McTruitt either thought Smith was dangerous, or whoever had hired McTruitt to find Smith wanted him badly enough to tell him to use force.

  Or...what if he’d been hired to kill Smith?

  Ordering a hit would mean someone had motive.

  There were pages of notes on old jobs, mostly cheating spouses, a couple of runaway teens, a case of a stolen dog, and other miscellaneous cases, nothing big or criminal.

  “Do you see anything?” Melissa asked.

  “Nothing on Smith. You?”

  She shook her head and stood, then walked over to the wall and studied a photograph of McTruitt with a group of fishing buddies. Dex glanced at it, then strode to the filing cabinet and shuffled through the files.

  The man may have had a computer, but he kept files alphabetized old-school style, with scribbled handwritten notes inside. Again, nothing on Smith.

  On a whim, he checked the H section, hoping that the man had information on his father, but no file for Hawk. He started to close the file cabinet drawer, but a business card was stuck in the edge, so he yanked it out.

  It was a card for a cattle auction site run by a rancher named Vance Baxter. Dex frowned. He’d heard of Baxter. The man’s business was booming. He worked with an expert breeder to raise prize studs.

  He wondered why McTruitt had the card in his file, but didn’t see how it related to Smith or his own father. Still, he jammed it in his pocket.

  Time to call Lamar and tell him about the shooting.

  “We’d better step outside.” Dex took Melissa’s arm. “I have to report this to the police. I don’t want him to know we were snooping around in here.”

  Melissa nodded. “You and Detective Lamar are friends?”

  Dex shrugged. “He took me under his wing a few years ago. Since then, he’s thrown a few cases my way when he hit a dead end and manpower on the force was spread thin.”

  Melissa frowned.

  “You don’t like him, do you?” Dex asked.

  Melissa shrugged. “I guess I’m not as trusting of cops as some.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Bad experience from the shelter?”

  “And growing up.” A haunted look passed through her eyes, but she clammed up. Dex wanted to ask more, but Lamar answered the call.

  “I came out to McTruitt’s office,” Dex said. “Someone was here and ransacked the place, and they shot at me and Melissa.”

  Lamar exploded with a string of expletives. “I’ll be right there. And for God’s sake, don’t touch anything, Dex.”

  Dex bit back a smile. “Of course not, Lamar. We’re waiting outside.”

  Melissa was watching him with avid curiosity when he hung up. “You don’t trust him?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Dex said. “But I’m not going to be shut out of this case. If the attack on Smith has anything to do with the other missing transients, I intend to find out.”

  * * *

  A FEW MINUTES LATER, Melissa stood with Dex on the steps to the building as the detective stalked toward them. Anger slashed his craggy features as his gaze traveled from Dex to her.

  She forced herself to remain expressionless. She’d learned not to show fear or to react to the men who came to the shelter or she couldn’t be effective, and she refused to let this man intimidate her.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Detective Lamar growled.

  Dex planted his feet apart in a wide stance, his arms crossed. He looked intimidating himself. “You know why. I want answers about my father—”

  “Your father drank himself into a car accident,” the detective said with a note of sympathy to his voice. “Why would you think his death is connect
ed to this Smith man or McTruitt?”

  A muscle ticked in Dex’s jaw. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not. But it seems odd to me that I found a card for a shelter in Dad’s truck, then other transients have gone missing, and now this shooting at another shelter.” Dex narrowed his eyes. “Something is going on, Lamar. You have to admit that.”

  The detective rubbed a hand down his chin and sighed. “What I think, Dex, is that you still haven’t gotten over the fact that your father left, and that you’re trying to make something where there isn’t anything.”

  Dex shrugged. “Maybe so. But you know I’m like a dog with a bone. I don’t quit until I get answers.”

  “Then trust me to do my job. If I find out anything related to your father or that these incidents are connected, I’ll bring you in.”

  Dex shifted, his jaw tightening. Detective Lamar angled his head toward Melissa. “And you. What are you doing here?”

  Melissa forced her voice to remain steady. “I want to know why this PI wanted Jim bad enough to put a gun to my head.”

  “She has a point,” Dex interjected.

  The detective heaved a breath. “I’m looking into that, but what I don’t need is two civilians interfering.” He gestured to Dex. “Your friend was almost shot last night, and now you come here and are shot at again. This is dangerous, Dex. Take Ms. Gentry home and keep her out of this so she’ll be safe.”

  Melissa curled her fingers into her palms and dug her nails into them, a trick she’d learned to control her reaction in confrontational situations. “I asked to come with him,” she said firmly. “Now why don’t you try to find out who shot at us?”

  The detective’s brows shot up. “I plan to do that, Ms. Gentry. But it would make my job easier if I’m not distracted by worrying about the two of you.”

  Melissa started to retaliate with a retort, but Dex took her arm. “He’s right, Melissa. Why don’t you wait in the car?”

  Melissa bit her tongue. She didn’t like taking orders from either man.

  She’d been taking care of herself all her life. She couldn’t stop now.