by Danae Ayusso
Colt smiled and stretched out on the bed alongside her. “Do you want to hear a secret?” he whispered.
“Not really,” she admitted.
“Too bad,” he huffed. “I downloaded a beginner’s guide to Italian while at the office. I couldn’t focus on any cases, not that there’s more than Pope at the moment. Not to mention, Jimmy’s constantly trying to crawl up my ass, the deputies are annoying me by asking if I need anything every five minutes, and the Feds keep looking down their nose at me and everyone else. So I locked myself in my office and distracted myself with trying to learn something in order to speak your language more.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Are you… Fury, that is the most deranged and yet romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Colt blushed. “It wasn’t anything special.”
“Chi trova un amico trova un Tesoro,” she whispered and he cocked an eyebrow.
“I’m not that good yet,” he admitted. “I’ve only learned family terms and to ask where the toilet is.”
She laughed. “Both are very important things to know,” she informed him. “Why would you do that?”
He absently caressed her knee with the backs of his fingers. “Do you want me to be honest or do you want me to lie?”
Cat sighed. “Usually I’d say tell me the truth, but I don’t think I’m going to like it.”
“You sure do know how to make a man feel special,” he scoffed and rolled to his back and glared at the ceiling.
“That wasn’t my intention,” she whispered and crawled up on top of him, propping herself up on his chest and looked at him. “Are you mad at me?” she asked softly as she traced the planes of his face with her fingers.
“Am I ever?” he countered and propped himself up on his hand so he could look at her.
“No, I wish you would though. I like you, Fury. But I can’t in good conscience abandon all of the prepping and extra security measures in which I have simply because I’m comfortable. When you’re comfortable you make mistakes, you let your guard down, and ultimately, people get hurt. I don’t want you getting hurt, Fury. I like you but I can’t...” her words trailed off and she huffed, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of rose.
For some reason, her embarrassment amused him.
“It’s my life, let me be the one to decide if I’m in harm’s way or not,” Colt said.
Cat glared at him before flicking his nose. “Sei proprio scemo! Not everything is all about you, Fury. My conscience is tainted with enough blood as is, and adding yours to it would only make things worse for everyone, mainly myself at this point.”
“But of course,” he dryly agreed but he didn’t take it personally. He knew her well enough to know that she’d get defensive and try to push him away with selfishness since he despised it. “I think what you’re truly scared of…no, worried about,” he said, cutting off whatever smartass comment she was about to say, “is that you like me, too, and that’s the real problem. It’s okay to let your guard down. It’s okay to share the burden and your paranoia with someone else, especially if they understand the reason for your paranoia. My cabin has been wiped clean,” he informed her and she smirked. “My office at the station has been wiped clean. I find myself following your practices in order to keep you from forgetting them. I don’t touch anything unless I know I can wipe it down afterwards or take it with me, and I’ve been retracing my steps to wipe things down later. As annoying as that is and as you are, I’ve effortlessly adapted your security procedures in order to keep you safe, to keep you here, but most importantly,” he said and wrapped his arms around her and held her tight to his body, “to keep you in my arms.”
Cat, not entirely sure what to think or say about that, licked her dry lips. “Well, I guess all I have to say about that is are you going to kiss me now or what?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied and leaned up to meet her lips when a pounding came at the door.
“Merda,” Cat hissed and slipped from his embrace and rolled off the bed, grabbing a gun from under his pillow in the process. “Were you followed?” she hissed.
Colt grabbed a hooded sweatshirt from the closet and pulled it over his head. “No. I left the guest room light on at the estate as always and locked the door. Just like we discussed,” he reminded her and grabbed his sidearm.
The pounding came again.
Cat grabbed her cell phone from the table and flipped through the security feeds. “Probie?” she groaned and headed back to the bedroom, shutting the door behind her since she didn’t have her costume on.
“I’ll take care of it,” Colt assured her and unlocked the door then pulled it open.
Mickey didn’t wait. “Six was discovered off of Snowowl Court,” he said, his eyes were red and puffy and tears stained his cheeks. “Pope struck again but this time it’s personal.”
“How so?” Colt asked, struggling to swallow the lump in his throat.
“It’s… He killed… Oh god. He killed her!” Mickey stammered and wiped his hand across his eyes.
Colt scratched his head. “Killed who?”
“Raven!” Mickey choked. “He killed a fucking a cop!” he yelled.
For the past three hours Cat, Mickey and Colt had been sitting at the bar in town in silence. Mickey kept wiping his eyes and Colt was blaming himself, as always. Cat was trying to be reassuring and offer silent support, but it was proving to be a futile endeavor. The Feds closed the site to anyone from the force because emotions would be involved and it’d create a conflict of interest. The sheriff went to notify the next of kin personally; a job no one wanted. But that wasn’t stopping Cat or Colt from processing the change in victimology in their heads.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Mickey sniveled. “She was dark skinned and eyed. She wasn’t even that tall! If anything, she was five-seven on a good day. The last time I saw her I told her to get off her fat ass and get her own coffee because I wasn’t her office bitch. Oh my god, my last words to her was office bitch!”
Cat reassuringly patted his hand. “At least you had last words with her,” she said. “And that girl knew she had a big ass, there was no denying it. But the fact remains, Probie, you mentioned many excellent points. Less than twenty-four hours from seeing her to the discovery of the body, she was much shorter than Pope’s usual victims, her skin was much darker, hair shorter, and eyes dark instead of light. Something happened.”
Colt nodded his agreement; he was thinking much the same.
“What happened?” Mickey whispered.
Cat looked around the nearly empty bar before turning her attention back to her badge carrying companions. “Who knows,” she said. “Serial killers are temperamental sociopaths. He could have been bored, pissed off, jealous, menstruating, retaining water...the options are much too great to even venture a guess. You have to look at it positively, Probie. Pope went outside of his comfort zone. There has to be a reason for it, but more importantly, there might be evidence this time. When you venture outside the box, the room the box is in tends to crumble and it’s our...your job to sift through the crumbs so you can put that sonuvabitch away. Probie, head home and try to get some sleep. Why don’t you stop by in the morning and I’ll make you breakfast?”
Mickey forced a smile. “I’d like that. Please be safe,” he said and quickly kissed her on the cheek before he hurried out the door.
Colt wiped her cheek off with a napkin and she smacked his hand away.
“He didn’t lick my face, Fury, so stop being jealous.”
“No,” he said then smirked and threw the napkin at her.
Cat shook her head. “You’re ridiculous, Fury. But I’ll give you credit; you’re fronting well.”
His smirk fell. “I’m trying to keep from throwing you over my shoulder and returning to the confines and safety of the cabin.”
“I wouldn’t advise doing that,” she said. “You knew Raven well?”
He shook his head. “She was a rookie when Pope
first struck. Prior to that, I was the one that did her orientation since Jimmy and the Sheriff were doing the yearly audit. She was an ambitious officer, always longed for the approval of the white man which her father said she’d never get... This is going to cause a problem.”
“More so than the obvious?” Cat asked, looking over Colt’s shoulder.
“Yes, more than the obvious,” he agreed, looking over his shoulder for a moment to see what captured her attention before looking back to her. “The tribe is going to get involved. Raven Shadowdancer was the only daughter of Chief Running Elk of the Niitsitapi...the Blackfeet Tribe to the east. There’s no way the Chief won’t invoke tribal sovereignty and send men to oversee the investigation.”
Cat shook her head; this was getting complicated and well beyond her NYC street knowledge. “They can do that?”
“No,” Colt admitted. “But when you’re the brother of Senator Elks you can do anything you want.”
That, Cat understood and she groaned. “That is going to complicate things.”
“I will keep you out of it, I promise.”
“You promise much, Fury,” she informed him.
“I promise nothing to anyone, except for you, and I plan on keeping what I promise. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to convince you not to run.”
She smiled despite herself. “You are hell bent on keeping me here, huh?”
Colt leaned into her. “I don’t want to keep you anywhere you don’t want to be, but I don’t want you thinking that you are alone either.”
Cat pouted; he made it so damn hard to be annoyed with him and to entertain running. “Usually I’d smack a man upside the head for making me feel guilty about thinking of leaving,” she said, her eyes once again moving around the bar before settling on his. “And I just might.”
Colt smirked. “You feel guilty at the thought of leaving?”
“Yeah, I do. And I don’t like that,” she informed him, but he continued to smirk. “You really annoy me, Fury.”
He smiled wide. “I think the problem is you’re annoyed that you think I might be worth staying for.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll remind you of that when you’re dead,” she huffed.
“And I’ll remind you in case you forget,” he said and softly knocked his knee into hers under the table. “Are you ready to call it a night?” he asked, looking at the clock behind the bar as Cat watched the nervous young man who’d been sitting in the corner since they arrived hurry from the bar.
“Now?” Cat scoffed. “With the lookout on the move?” she purred as mischief danced in her eyes.
Colt nodded; he’d seen it as well. “I was hoping that you hadn’t noticed,” he admitted.
She smacked him in the back of the head. “If you’re trying to get laid, you’re going about it all wrong,” she informed him.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he dryly informed her.
“You know them?” she asked, turning serious.
“Not that I know of, that’s why they’re still here,” he said, looking over his shoulder to the two men whispering between themselves. “If they were local, they would have known right away who I was and that I’m a cop, thus they would have left… Then again, I’ve been gone for a while so,” he said with a slight shrug.
Cat nodded. “You’re going to let them hold the place up?”
If he were, she’d punch him in the face, and possibly shoot him in the leg, purely out of principle.
Colt continued to look at her; the flare of her narrow nostrils, the clench of her jaw, the way her knuckles cracked as her fingers clenched into fists, it was slightly amusing to him, but at the same time, it was the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Cat was a puzzle that he wanted to solve more than anything, but at the same time, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t in a rush to solve it, and the next five minutes would confirm everything he thought he knew and possibly give him the opening that he had been looking for all week.
“They aren’t here to hold up the place,” Colt eventually said. “Mitchell Davis, the owner, doesn’t believe in banks. Rumor is he keeps all of his money in the bar.”
Cat cocked an eyebrow. “That would be armed robbery.”
The corners of his mouth pulled up on one side. “In not so many words,” he agreed and she glared at him. “Secure the back exit, it’s usually propped open for smokers, and I’ll take the front.”
“What exactly are you going to do?” she asked.
Colt’s eyes moved over her face many times. “You know what I’m going to do,” he said. “And you have permission to do what I know you’re going to do. And if needed, I’ll take care of it...all of it.”
That assurance made Cat feel better, and suddenly she didn’t have the heart to fight him on it; that meant more to her then he’d ever know.
Cat nodded. “Don’t do something stupid like get yourself killed or I’ll kick your ass,” she warned as the last two left the bar.
A smile filled Colt’s face when she slipped his handcuffs from his belt with a wink.
“For some reason, I expect nothing less from you,” he said.
Cat smiled and brushed her lips against his before groaning. “The idea of having you throw me over your shoulder and carry me back to the cabin is sounding better and better by the second,” she said, looking up at him.
“Don’t tempt me,” Colt grumbled, then watched her disappear down the darkened hallway, pulling her sidearm as she went, and his smile fell. He knew shit was about to hit the fan, he only hoped that he put her as far from the fray as possible.
“Mitch!” Colt called out, looking over at the old bartender stocking bottles of beer, and he cocked an eyebrow.
“Yea, I saw them,” Mitch replied, then pulled a shotgun from under the counter and chambered a round.
Colt got to his feet and pulled his sidearm. “Try not to kill anyone this time,” he said, and Mitch simply nodded with a smirk. “And I was here alone after Mickey left,” he added and Mitch nodded his understanding.
The door flew open and in rushed three men wearing ski masks with guns in their hands.
Mitch leveled the shotgun at the man in the lead causing him to slide to a stop. “You came a little light this time, Scotty,” he said before the man could raise his weapon.
Colt’s fist slammed into the face of the second man, dropping him where he stood and his Glock was pointed at the third. “Sheriff’s department, freeze!” he barked out.
The man’s eyes narrowed and his finger itched to pull the trigger, but he wasn’t scared in the least.
The distinct sound of a woman gasping in the distance flooded Colt’s ears and caused his heart to pound in his chest.
“We didn’t come light,” Scotty amusingly said before a gunshot sounded from the hallway.
“No!” Colt yelled.
****
Cat listened at the propped open door. The slivered opening wasn’t wide enough to see out, but it was more than enough for cigarette smoke and whispered words to carry inside on the breeze. She heard four outside, each was armed, she knew, and they were quietly arguing amongst themselves.
Amateurs.
She deduced that three would come in through the front, in addition to the four out back, and the young man that left first would be the getaway driver. For a moment, she was worried about Colt and she knew that it wasn’t right. Colt was an officer of the law, a mountain man of the Montana wilderness, and he wasn’t her partner thus he wasn’t her responsibility. With Frankie, she knew he could handle himself, for the most part, and if a woman with a rack wasn’t involved, he’d keep his eyes focused on the task at hand. Frankie never failed her, not once, and it was only because she distracted him that he was dead.
Not again.
When the emergency door was pulled opened, she was flat against the wall next to the exit in the darkness. The first two sulked in, straining to hear, waiting for the sign, and the third caught her arm across his throat, effectively
pulling him up off of his feet before he slammed to the ground. She’d snagged his gun as he went and spun around into the doorway, then slammed the butt of the shotgun into the face of the fourth man, shattering his nose with the first hit, and jabbing with her left, knocking him out completely.
The clicking of a hammer had her diving to the side, but she wasn’t fast enough.
The searing in her arm would have stopped most people, but all it did was piss Cat off. She rolled to her feet and her gun lead the way as she hurried back into the hallway.
****
Mitch took the gun from Scotty before slamming the butt of his shotgun into the back of the young man’s head, dropping him to the floor.
The two that had stepped out of the darkened hallway, just to turn around and go back the way they had come, came stumbling back into the bar a few moments later—one was staggering before face planting, the other seemingly flew in and smashed into a table and chairs.
That’s my girl.
When the man Colt was aiming at huffed and raised his gun, Colt shot, dropping the perp to the ground grasping at his leg. “Take care of the other one,” he ordered and hurried to find Cat.
“Rogers!” Colt called out before sticking his head around the corner so he wasn’t accidentally shot, but no one was there. “Cat?” he whispered, sliding down the hall with his Glock at the ready. His heart was racing, his breathing level.
Where in the hell is she?
The back door was propped open by a body.
“Cat?” Colt called out again, kicking the body and it only slightly stirred. He popped his head out the door and looked around.
The man in the doorway was bound with his shoelaces; his hands tied to a no parking sign a foot from him.
“Nice,” he mumbled, thoroughly impressed. “Cat, where are you?” he hissed, looking around the parking lot, but only found a semi-conscious man tied to a lamppost by his throat, his thick leather belt cutting into his neck as he struggled to breathe. In a pile by the curb were dismantled guns with their ammunition notably absent.
