by Vella Day
“I am an expert marksman,” he said without sounding arrogant.
This time she smiled, so as not to appear so bitchy. “Okay, but you helping me is like me coming to your house and giving you interior design recommendations.”
His eyes sparkled. “Would you?”
She’d totally do a makeover if it meant she could spend more time with him. “Sure.”
Trent flashed a quick smile then moved to the stall next to hers. It was for the best that he left her alone, but it was damn hard to concentrate with such hotness next to her. Even in his protective gear, he looked sexy as hell. Those broad shoulders and powerful arms would be able to hold the gun with ease.
Pop, pop, pop.
Charlotte really wanted to check out his score, but instead, used some discipline to practice. Inhaling, she focused on hitting the bull’s eye. After ten more shots, her arms grew weary, and she brought the paper target toward her.
“Not bad,” Trent said, suddenly materializing next to her.
“Thank you. Let’s see yours.” None of her shots would have been lethal.
He grinned and pressed the button to bring the target toward him. Eight holes were all clustered in the center. “What do you think?”
“Damn, you’re good. Are you going against Devon this weekend?”
“Nah. He’s good, but I don’t need to feed his ego should he win.”
She couldn’t imagine anyone being better than Trent. Suddenly, she pictured his strong arms around her, helping her aim, and decided to break down and ask for his help. “Maybe I could use some pointers.”
He chuckled. “You sure your ego can handle it?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I might be independent, but I’m willing to accept guidance.”
He grinned. “Let’s see how well you take instruction then.”
She moved the target back into position. “I’m ready.”
“Okay. Show me your grip.”
She faced the target and clasped the handle. Immediately, his hands slid around hers. “The grip is one of the most important aspects to shooting. Slide your hand up as high as you can.”
She did as he asked, and she had to admit, it felt more comfortable. “What about my other hand?”
“With the heals pressed together, wrap your non-dominant hand around the other and squeeze tight. Like so.” He demonstrated on his weapon, and then helped her line up her fingers appropriately, his touch causing sparks of desire to pool in an inappropriate place.
“I vaguely remember my instructor telling me this.” Only she’d never really paid attention.
“Show me your stance.”
She widened her legs and lifted her arms. Trent moved behind her and placed his arms around her shoulders to guide her. His scent unnerved her, but she inhaled to calm her racing pulse.
“Good. Once you line up the two sights, focus on the front one.”
I can do this.
“Got it,” she said.
He leaned down, cheek to cheek, and readjusted her aim a bit. Never had her old instructor been this close, and boy was she now happy she’d asked for Trent’s guidance.
“Lastly, take up the slack in the trigger, and once you come against the wall, slowly press it, nice and even.”
He stepped back. The lack of his body contact tore at her. Wanting to impress him, she squeezed her left hand, inhaled, and shot. While the recoil was strong, it wasn’t as intense as before and excitement filled her.
“Not bad—for a girl.”
She loved that he seemed to enjoy teasing her. Charlotte placed her weapon on the counter again, tore off her ear protection, and stuck out her tongue. Trent laughed, just as she’d hoped.
He brought the target toward them. “I’ll be damned. You came within an inch of hitting his heart.”
“I have you to thank.” Without his help, she might have spent weeks here and never made such progress.
“It was all you, girl.”
A loud grumble emitted from her stomach, and she placed a hand on her belly. “Sorry.”
He glanced at his watch. “I have to pick up Harmon at Italiano’s Pizza when he gets off his shift in an hour. Want to catch a bite to eat?”
“Sure.” Excitement sizzled in her veins. It was the best offer she’d had since coming to Rock Hard. Too bad, she hadn’t put on any makeup, and her clothes were baggy, making her look more like a hippo than a sleek, sensual woman, though Trent didn’t seem put off by her appearance.
Italiano’s was only three blocks north of the gun range, so they decided to walk. While it was cold, having Trent’s arm around her mitigated all discomfort.
Inside, the place was packed, but they managed to snag a small table along the window. Charlotte looked around. “Which one is your brother?”
Tension tightened the lines around his eyes. “Harmon’s one of the cooks in back.” He placed the napkin on his lap. “How’s your store coming along?”
Note to self: Harmon is a touchy subject. “Good. I’m waiting on some samples to arrive.”
“Tell me again what it is you do, exactly?”
She laughed. They had talked a bit about what she did for a living when they were hiding in his dad’s cabin, but she’d never gone into detail. “With some luck, people will ask me to decorate some portion of their house, and I’ll bring them to my shop and let them pick out samples. It gives me a good idea what’s important to them.”
“Cool. What’s the hardest part of your job?”
“That’s easy. If a couple is involved, them agreeing on a style is often the worst. Invariably, one wants contemporary and the other insists on rustic.”
“I’m not sure I could handle that level of indecision.”
“It’s challenging, but fun.”
Their waiter came over and asked what they wanted to drink. Trent ordered coffee, so Charlotte did, too. They chatted some more about what she had left to do before opening her store, and as much as she wanted to question him about Harmon, she could tell it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, especially with them sitting in the restaurant where his brother worked. Harmon might have been given the job because he didn’t mention where he’d been the last few years, or else having Trent as a reference helped.
“So what case are you working on?” she asked.
He dipped his chin and lowered his voice. “If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”
She loved it when he was in a fun mood. “That bad, huh?”
“Actually, it’s been rather boring around the station. We haven’t had any real excitement since your dad came to town, and we had to locate those gun toting terrorists.”
“Dad said you took a bullet in the leg trying to stop them.”
He waved a hand. Then as if the pain suddenly flared, he rubbed his thigh. “All in the line of duty.”
The waiter returned with their drinks and they ordered their meals. “I want to hear the whole story about my dad and your involvement. Start from the beginning.”
He laughed. “You sure? Your dad’s injuries were severe.”
“I know.” She’d asked him about it, but he hadn’t elaborated much.
For the next hour, he regaled her with how her dad, using the name Jonathan Rambler, would sit for hours in front of this warehouse pretending to be homeless, all the while collecting vital information about these terrorists.
Charlotte loved hearing about her father and what he was like. “I don’t know how my dad survived the beating and the fire.”
“It was touch and go. If it hadn’t been for Jamie and Max Gruden, the flash drive wouldn’t have been delivered to the right hands, and we wouldn’t have caught the bastards. A large part of the townspeople would have died in the explosion.”
The waiter cleared their plates, and then brought over the check. Both of them pulled out their credit cards at the same time. Trent placed a hand on hers. “I got it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
&nbs
p; She was thrilled. He must have considered this a real date.
“Hey!” This came from a tall man striding toward them.
Charlotte turned and stared into the face of a man who looked remarkably like Trent. His hair was shorter and a little darker, but he had the same strong jaw and appealing green eyes. She held out a hand. “You must be Harmon.”
“Sure am.” He turned to Trent. “Am I interrupting?”
Trent shook his head. “Nope. We just finished. I came to give you a lift home.”
“Great.”
As Trent stood, his cell rang. He slipped it from his top pocket and checked the screen. “It’s Cade Carter. He’s a detective from work. I’ll only be a sec.”
From the way the tension radiated across his forehead, the news wasn’t good.
“Hey.” Trent turned his back, and Charlotte couldn’t make out much of the one-sided conversation. He finished quickly then glanced between the two of them. “Something came up at work.” Trent faced her. “Is there any way I can impose on you to drive Harmon back to my place?”
She’d love to see where her mystery man lived. “No problem.”
Harmon placed a hand on his shoulder. “Is it serious?”
“Deadly. Someone was murdered.”
Chapter Four
Charlotte stood there, stunned, as Trent hightailed it out of Italiano’s. Someone was dead?
“From the look on my brother’s face, it’s like he knew the person,” Harmon said, his gaze focused on the closing door.
“I hope not. Poor Trent.”
“Come on.” As they left the restaurant, Harmon held open the door.
“My car’s parked behind the gun range. Hope you don’t mind the walk.”
“Not at all.”
For most of the way, they walked in silence.
“Does my brother always leave a beautiful woman when his job calls?”
What a sweet man for asking. “I don’t know.” She still hadn’t come to terms over what Trent must be going through. His leaving didn’t upset her. If she’d been with her dad, he would have run out, too.
“So, you two aren’t dating?”
She wished. “No. Trent was my bodyguard a few months back when my mom had a stalker. Actually, the stalker was trying to get back at my dad for him putting his father in jail.”
Harmon chuckled. “Sounds like you and Trent have a lot in common.”
“Why’s that?” She wanted Harmon’s take on the enigmatic Trent. When they reached her car, she unlocked the doors.
He slid in. “Didn’t Trent tell you Dad’s a cop?”
“No.” There was so much she didn’t know about him.
“Dad’s retired now, but for as long as I can remember, our father was a workaholic, and always on the job. All he thought about was solving crimes. In the end, it cost him his wife and his health.”
She hissed. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. “Do you think Trent is trying to be like your father?”
Harmon chuckled. “Good question.” He pointed to the cross street. “Head toward SR 25. Trent’s place is on Mountain View. As for being like Dad, who’s to say? Our father had high standards—too high perhaps—and Trent does, too, from what I can tell.” His voice trailed off.
“Were you ever tempted to go into law enforcement?”
Harmon chuckled. “No. I’d rather use my brain; not to mention, I wanted to stay alive. Chasing the bad guys wasn’t my thing. I took after my mom in that regard. She was a math teacher in Rock Hard for years until she left.”
From the sadness in his tone, the break-up was painful, and Charlotte could relate. “Do you plan on living with Trent?” she asked, wanting to change to a more upbeat topic.
Now, he laughed. “Hardly. One of us would probably end up killing the other. In case you haven’t noticed, Trent’s not the sharing type.”
She hadn’t seen that side of him in the cabin, though they had been there under stressful conditions. “I really don’t know that much about him.” Other than what has been in my dreams.
“I guess he didn’t mention that he found a rental place for me, but it won’t be ready until next week. I’m looking forward to getting my life back in order, like having a driver’s license and buying a car.”
She wanted to ask what happened to all his stuff after he was arrested, but that would be overstepping her bounds since she didn’t know him. Harmon directed her to the turn off, and shortly thereafter, she pulled into the drive. “Here ya go.”
“You want to come in, or do you need to run home?”
“I’m temporarily living with my folks until my apartment is ready, but they’re on their second honeymoon, so I have a bit of time. Besides, I’m filled with questions about what Trent was like as a little kid.”
He smiled. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
She believed him. Harmon Lawson seemed like an open book, quite the opposite of Trent. If they didn’t look alike, she never would have guessed they were brothers.
Trent’s house looked cute from the outside—a one-story brick home with black shutters and neatly cared for shrubs in front. As soon as Harmon let her in, he immediately rushed over to the table and picked up the paper and some dirty dishes.
“Sorry, I didn’t clean up before I left for work.”
She recalled the few days she and Trent had been in the cabin, and he seemed rather neat. “No worries.”
“Want to help me make some coffee?” he called from the kitchen.
She could use a cup. “Sure.”
Together they managed to find everything, and soon she had a steaming cup in her hands. He nodded toward the living room. “Let’s sit.” Harmon took the chair and she sat on the sofa.
She placed the steaming coffee on the coffee table to cool, wanting to take advantage of Harmon’s willingness to share. “So what can you tell me about Trent as a kid.”
“He was a hellion.”
Her brows rose. “You’re talking about Trent?”
“Hard to believe, I know.” Harmon leaned back. “Dad demanded we both work hard, whether it was at school or when doing chores about the house. Our father insisted that Mom shouldn’t have to be a slave to the family, even though he wasn’t around a lot. I think his guilt made him be so strict. Could be why Trent rebelled.”
“I can’t see him doing anything bad.”
“He did. He might not have harmed any one and was always kind to animals, but he did smoke weed and once spray painted the side of an abortion clinic. He was only fifteen at the time, and claimed it was because one of his friend’s sister had been harmed there.”
She could understand that. From what her dad had told her about Trent, he always seemed to fight for the underdog. “What did your dad do when he found out?”
“Sent him to a school for troubled kids. It was kind of like juvenile detention expect that it wouldn’t go on his record.”
Now that her drink had cooled a bit, Charlotte sipped her coffee and loved the burst of flavor on her tongue. “This is really good.”
Harmon winked. “It’s a special family blend.”
She leaned back. “I have to say I’m a bit curious. You seem so different from Trent.”
“I’m seven years older and had Mom to run interference for me. I was in college when she left Dad, whereas Trent was only eleven. He had to split his time between both parents. It was rough.”
That could affect a kid big time. She knew all too well. “Given all you’ve been through, you seem so…normal. I would have thought you’d be bitter and combative.” Her idea of prison life had come from the movies.
“I won’t deny that I was quite angry at first. Everyone I met in jail claimed to be innocent, but I really was framed. Hell, I hadn’t been at the job long enough to be jaded to hand out insider information.”
She wanted to be sympathetic to his cause, but if his own brother wasn’t singing his innocence, she felt she couldn’t either. “Who do you think f
ramed you?”
From the slight chin tuck, he hadn’t expected her to ask that question.
“I worked at Ardton Investments run by Bill Goddard and Frank Hamilton. Jayson Kendall worked with me, but he came to the firm after I did.”
“Do you think one of them framed you?” She didn’t understand how insider trading even worked.
“I’ve had three years to think about it, and the answer is yes, but which one of the three is anyone’s guess. I always figured Bill Goddard was out to get me for some unknown reason, but I had no proof.”
“That had to be beyond frustrating.” The cheer that had surrounded Harmon suddenly disappeared, so she set her half empty cup on the coffee table and stood. “I have a lot of work to do, so I best be going.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
She imagined he was lonely, especially after being in jail for three years, but she didn’t feel right being there alone for too long. “I’m opening my shop in a few days and have a lot to prepare.”
“I understand. I sure did enjoy talking to you. I also appreciated the ride.”
“Any time.”
* * *
Trent stepped next to his partner Cade Carter who was in the bedroom with the corpse. “He looks different dead,” Trent said. “Did you know he used to be my brother’s boss?” Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I thought the name sounded familiar.”
“Any idea when he died?” Given his state of rigor, he had to have died more than twelve hours ago. Trent glanced over to the sobbing redhead in the corner who was probably the victim’s wife.
“We’re waiting for the coroner to give us the time of death.”
Trent nodded toward the woman. “What did she say?”
“Mrs. Goddard was at her sister’s last night to help out with the new baby. She came home about an hour ago and found him dead.”
“Bloody mess.” The body had a knife protruding from his chest. Given the amount of blood pooling around him, he didn’t die right away. Black fingerprint powder covered the handle. “You get any prints off the murder weapon?”
Cade shook his head. “No. The killer must have worn gloves.”
