Snapped

by Laura Griffin

  “His country fired him. Probably with good reason, but still. Could be he’s lashing back at the army here. Or maybe this is about greed, plain and simple, and he uses his beef with the government to justify taking the money.”

  “Either way,” Sean said, “sounds to me like Eric discovered what Maxwell was up to through his hacking and that’s why he was a ‘security problem.’ Maxwell’s a fucking liar.”

  Jonah didn’t say anything. It was the only kind of suspect he’d ever interviewed. Why was Sean so surprised?

  “Where is he, anyway?” Jonah asked. Last he’d heard, the man had clammed up and called an attorney.

  “We got him in custody on some obstruction charges,” Sean said. “We’re going to try and make them stick until the feds pull together something better, but there’s a chance he’ll get out on bond. He’s got connections.”

  “There probably is one thing he was telling the truth about,” Jonah said. “Sharpe getting paid up front. That sounds like his MO. Get paid, get the job done, get out.”

  Silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Is Himmel’s ex someplace safe? Until the feds come through?”

  “I’m working on it,” Sean said. “How about Sophie?”

  “I got it covered.” Jonah opened the door and stepped back inside the camper. She lay on her stomach now in the center of the bed, so he’d have to move her when he got back in. Which would lead to other stuff he’d have to do.

  All before he could get around to the really fun conversation of how she needed to take an extended—and possibly permanent—vacation from her job while investigators tracked down a highly trained operator who’d been paid to kill her.

  “Anyway, tell her thanks for me,” Sean said.

  “What’s that?”

  Sophie stirred in the bed.

  “Her suspect sketch. It was the break we needed. We wouldn’t have an ID if it hadn’t been for her.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Jonah said, and ended the call.

  Sophie blinked her eyes open and looked up at him. A slow smile spread across her face, and Jonah’s pulse picked up. He recognized the look. That tough conversation was going to have to wait.

  Half moon. Clear sky. Moderate breeze out of the southwest. He would have preferred a little more cloud cover, but overall, not bad conditions for a hunt.

  Sharpe dragged out his pack. A quick check of his equipment and he was good to go. He crouched in the grass beside the SUV and used the nearby brush to conceal himself as he applied camo paint by the light of his flashlight. He checked the side mirror a couple of times until he was satisfied with the result, then tossed the paint back in his pack and moved on to more important matters.

  He took out his Leupold spotting scope, which he kept in a camo zipper case, and looped the strap around his neck. Next decision, ammo. The mission called for .308 bullets, and he considered taking only two—one for each target. One shot, one kill. But although he could do this job with his eyes closed, he made a habit of being prepared for contingencies. He stuffed ten rounds in the zippered pocket of his tactical pants and grabbed an extra magazine for his sidearm.

  Finally, his rifle. It was an M40A1, fitted with a Schmitt & Bender telescopic sight. It was a nice gun, nicely tricked out, but still similar to the Remington 700 he’d used in the beginning. From the time he’d first touched it, he’d been in love with that gun. He’d wanted to be a sniper. He’d wanted to hunt something that could hunt him back.

  And he had.

  Now his missions were more mundane, and he missed the rush of a good challenge, the thrill of the hunt and not just the kill. But thrill or no, he had a job to do. He lived off his reputation, and he had a reputation for reliable execution.

  Sharpe looked out into the darkness and let his eyes adjust. He slung the gun across his back and slipped into the woods.

  Sophie put the finishing touches on her makeup and stepped out of the bathroom to find Jonah leaning impatiently against the wall.

  “It’s about time.” He glanced at his watch. “How long does it take to get dressed for a day in the sticks?”

  She squeezed past him and reached for the coffeepot. “Aren’t we in a cheery mood this morning?”

  He caught her arm and turned her around. “No more distractions, Sophie. We need to talk.”

  She huffed out a breath and cocked her head. “You’re not going to get all male on me, are you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Never listen to what a woman says in the throes of ecstasy.” She reached around him and took a mug from the cabinet. She poured some coffee and turned around.

  The side of his mouth was curved up in a cocky smile.

  “What?”

  “Ecstasy, huh?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. We both know we’ve got a certain … chemistry going here. Doesn’t mean I’m planning to rush out and get your name tattooed on my arm. You don’t have to get all skittish on me.”

  He looked annoyed now. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No.” He folded his arms over his chest. “We need to talk about your security situation.”

  Sophie took a sip of coffee and tried to settle her nerves. “What about it?”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there are some new developments in the case.”

  Sophie set the mug down. “Such as?”

  “Such as stuff I can’t talk about. You’re going to have to take my word for it that it’s serious.”

  It was her turn to get annoyed. “Yeah, I kind of figured that out when someone blew up my car. Why won’t you just be straight with me?”

  Jonah looked at her long and hard, as if debating whether to trust her. “How do you feel about taking a leave of absence?”

  “From my job?” The minute she said it, she felt stupid. Of course that’s what he meant. “For … for how long?”

  “I’m not sure. A week or two. Maybe a month.”

  She gaped at him. “Are you kidding? I’ll get fired!”

  His blank expression pissed her off.

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  “Does it really matter? You said you were looking for a new job, anyway.”

  “Yeah, I’m looking for a promotion. At the Delphi Center. I have a good shot at getting it, too. There’s no way I’d just up and leave right now. What’s this about, anyway? Tell me what happened.”

  He hesitated.

  “Don’t you dare give me some crap about how it’s confidential. This is my life we’re talking about. My livelihood. How would you like it if I suggested you just walk in and turn in your badge?”

  He paused, but she still wasn’t sure he was getting how she felt about this.

  “The FBI is involved now, and I think I can get you federal protection.”

  Her hands dropped to her sides. “What? Why?”

  “Because we’ve IDed the person we’re looking for, and I’m no longer comfortable with this security setup. You need something more sustainable until we can close the net and bring this guy in.”

  Sophie’s blood chilled. “Does someone know I’m here?”

  “Just my dad and Ric. That’s not the issue.”

  “But—”

  “I think I can get the details hammered out today, hopefully have something together by tonight.” His serious expression told her she wasn’t going to like what he was planning.

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Probably one or two agents, a rotating watch.” He paused. “The San Antonio field office is working with a couple of others, seeing who can spare the manpower.”

  “You mean, like, another state?”

  “Possibly.”

  “For how long?” Sophie’s stomach tightened. The thought of being shuttled off somewhere, away from her work and her friends and Jonah, made her queasy.
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br />   “It depends on the investigation. We’re doing everything we can to bring this guy in, not just for your sake but other people’s, too.”

  Sophie looked at him and felt a stab of hurt. He made it sound so impersonal, as if she was just some random member of the public he was sworn to protect. As if he hadn’t spent most of the last twelve hours with his hands all over her.

  Jonah turned abruptly and peered out the window. She heard the sound of an approaching truck.

  “My dad.” He turned back to look at her. “I need to get going.”

  She stared at him, and suddenly she felt helpless and powerless and furious all at the same time. She was flooded with resentment toward all the forces beyond her control that were turning her life upside down.

  He stepped closer and gazed down at her. From outside came the sound of Wyatt’s pickup grinding to a halt. The door screeching open, slamming shut.

  Jonah put his hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  His mouth tightened, as if he knew she was lying. “Keep your phone on. I’ll call you when I have a plan.”

  He dropped a kiss on her forehead and walked out the door.

  “Baltimore, Maryland,” Ric said. “They just wrapped up some big investigation there, have a couple rookie agents with not a lot to do, so …”

  “Shit,” Jonah muttered.

  “There’s a flight at six-fifty out of San Antonio. Reservation’s all set. If you can get her on the plane, my brother’s got someone lined up to meet her on the other end.”

  Jonah didn’t say anything as he pulled off the gravel road and onto the highway. Baltimore sounded very far away. And he didn’t like handing this job over to someone else.

  “She’ll be at a safe house,” Ric continued. “Round-the-clock surveillance, a two-agent team.”

  “How’d your brother swing that?”

  “Evidently, we’re not the first agency to take an interest in this guy. Soon as Sharpe’s name came up, the Bureau was all over it.”

  Jonah slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt. He threw the truck in reverse and rocketed backward to the patch of grass he’d just passed going sixty miles an hour.

  Parallel tire tracks, heading off-road into the brush.

  “Jonah?”

  “Lemme call you back.” He hung up on Ric and tossed his phone on the seat beside him as he glanced around at the landmarks. This property was part of the ranch.

  Jonah’s gut tightened as he jumped out of the truck and followed the line of tracks into some cedar trees. Maybe the caretaker was out repairing fences. Jonah swiped at the brush, and his gut tightened some more because he didn’t really believe that.

  Beyond the foliage, a barbed-wire fence … with wire missing between two posts. Beyond the fence, another thick line of brush. Jonah unholstered his gun and approached it, darting his gaze around as he drew near. He grabbed hold of a giant branch and moved it aside.

  And discovered a white Ford Explorer, tinted windows, no hubcaps.

  Sophie was too angry to talk, so she distracted herself by focusing on breakfast. She opened a cabinet and rooted around. Chicken soup, beef jerky, Spam. The pickings were slim, but she found a box of cinnamon Pop-Tarts.

  “You hungry?” she asked Wyatt.

  “I’m fine. Wouldn’t mind a cup of that coffee, though.”

  “I should probably make some more.” She poured the remains of the first pot down the drain, then cleaned out the carafe.

  “Ah, that French coffeepot,” Wyatt grumbled. “Macey swears by it. Seems to me like a pain in the neck.”

  “You just can’t let it sit, or it gets bitter.” She filled a saucepan with water and reached down to switch on the stove.

  The window exploded.

  She dropped to the floor, shrieking, a barrage of stings on her face and neck. Glass blanketed the carpet under her hands and knees. She glanced around frantically.

  “Wyatt!”

  He blinked at her, his eyes wide with surprise. A spot of red bloomed on his shoulder as he slid down the wall.

  Jonah floored it all the way to the camper, praying he’d get there before someone else did. His truck jerked and lurched over the tire ruts. He was all over the road, doing everything he could to keep his head down and not provide an easy target.

  The camper door stood open, and Jonah’s heart skittered. His dad’s truck was missing. Jonah pulled right up to the camper, shoved the door open, and lunged directly into the RV, gun in hand.

  “Sophie!”

  Glass on the floor. No one there. He did a quick search.

  Blood on the wall beside the door. A trail on the carpet. Jonah’s stomach plummeted. He glanced at the shattered window, the hole in the faux wood paneling. The shot had come out of the northeast, which put the shooter on the ridge.

  At least one of them was hit.

  But Jonah hadn’t heard any shots. The gunman was using a suppressor.

  He jerked open the cabinet where they stored the guns and ammo. The twelve-gauge was missing. So were the pistols. Sophie would have known where they were, so that didn’t necessarily tell him who was injured and who wasn’t. Either one or both of them could have grabbed the guns and taken off.

  He rushed back outside, remembering at the last second to keep his head low as he dove back into his truck. He yanked the door shut and took a second to make a plan.

  Think.

  If Sophie was driving, he would have passed her on his way in, since she only knew that one road. But his dad knew the back ways on and off the property.

  Sophie was hit.

  Jonah pushed the thought away and tried to focus. Northeast ridge. Shooting out of the sun, directly into the kitchen window. It was a good position. A tougher shot than the door, but no one wanted to shoot into the sun, and there were far fewer places to set up to the west with a view of the camper. Plus, the ridge wasn’t far from the Explorer, so easy insertion and extraction.

  Jonah thrust the truck in gear and kept his head low. His dad would cut east, then south toward one of the back roads, assuming his dad was behind the wheel.

  He pictured Sophie in the front seat, bleeding.

  Sophie bumped along the dirt path, barely peeking over the steering wheel.

  “Is this right? Wyatt?”

  God, he was drifting in and out now. He was losing too much blood. The homemade bandage she’d fashioned from a few T-shirts was soaked through.

  His eyes fluttered open. “Sun. East,” he mumbled. “Then go … south.”

  Sophie looked at the sun. It was in her eyes, blinding her as she peeked over the wheel. She couldn’t drive like this. She was sure she’d run into a tree or a boulder, or steer them off a cliff. But she was terrified to sit up straight for fear—

  The truck lurched right. Then pitched left. At first she didn’t understand, and then it hit her. The tires!

  “Gun!” she screamed as the windshield shattered.

  She slid to the floor, under the steering column. Wyatt was already slumped low in the reclined seat, but she reached over and covered his head with her hands and pressed it down against the console. The gearshift dug into her armpit, and she thrust it into park, even though they’d stopped moving.

  He’d shot out the tires! They were sitting ducks!

  She hadn’t even heard the shot.

  Again, it had come out of nowhere. No warning. No noise. Her entire body quivered as she waited for the next explosion of glass.

  Beside her, Wyatt groaned.

  She heard an engine approaching, coming fast. Terror gripped her and she grabbed the pistol on the floor at Wyatt’s feet.

  Two quick horn blasts. Oh God, was it—

  Jonah’s pickup roared up beside them. His passenger door pushed open, and she fumbled for the handle of her own door.

  “Jonah!”

  The door swung back, and he was there, reaching for her. “Are you hurt? Oh, shit! Dad!”

  “Get down! He’s s
till shooting!”

  Jonah reached over her and checked his father’s pulse.

  “It’s his shoulder. I tried to bandage it, but—”

  “We have to get you out of here. Get low. Get into my truck. Stay on the floor, behind the engine block.”

  “But—”

  “Are you hurt?” His hands were on her arms now, which were streaked with Wyatt’s blood as well as her own, from the flying glass. His gaze met hers, and his eyes burned with some emotion she’d never seen.

  “I’m fine. It’s your father I’m worried about.”

  “I’ll get him, you get in the truck,” he commanded. “Stay low.”

  Sophie scrambled from the seat and used the two open doors for cover as she climbed into Jonah’s truck. Behind her, she heard him exchanging words with his dad. Wyatt was conscious. That was good. But the voices were low, and Sophie knew he was weak.

  “Sophie, give me a hand getting him in. Recline the seat back. And stay down!”

  She quickly found the lever and adjusted the seat. Then she glanced at the surrounding prairie, visible through the gap between the trucks. All the shots had come from the direction of that ridge—the same ridge where she and Jonah had parked last night and made love. Someone was up there shooting at them, and the fact that they couldn’t even hear the shots was unnerving.

  “Sophie!”

  She reached forward and helped Jonah guide Wyatt’s shoulders into the truck. But now what? Were they going to just drive out of here?

  “Get low! At his feet!”

  Sophie crouched on the floor beside Wyatt’s dusty cowboy boots. Her heart missed a beat as Jonah climbed over both of them, making himself a target for a brief moment as he slid behind the wheel. Then he ducked low and thrust the gearshift into drive.

  “How can you see?” she squeaked.

  He wasn’t even looking over the wheel, just driving by feel.

  “Try your cell phone,” he ordered as they bounded over the uneven terrain.

  “I tried already. It’s not working. It’s like it’s dead or something, but the battery was fully charged.”

  “Shit. Try mine.” He dug a phone from his pocket and tossed it to her, and she saw his gaze dart to his dad. He was white as chalk now, and his bandage was soaked through. He needed a hospital, fast.