Lucky Shot

by B. J Daniels

  “For what it’s worth, I really do like your photos.” With that, he left. She hurled insults after him. Not that he didn’t deserve them.

  He was just doing his job. He doubted Kat Hamilton had ever had a real job. But even though he could and would defend his to the death, he was always sorry when innocent people got hurt.

  It was debatable how innocent Sarah Hamilton was at this point, though. Unfortunately, her daughters would pay the price for her notoriety.

  * * *

  “WHAT DO YOU mean you’re finished with the job?” Angelina Broadwater Hamilton demanded of the private investigator after taking a seat across from him. She had flown in this morning after he’d told her he had to see her. “What did you find out? I know Sarah Johnson Hamilton is hiding something. Did you find out what it is or not?”

  “I hit a dead end.”

  The fifty-something Mike “Moose” McCallahan was tall and strapping with a full head of blond hair. Right now, though, the big, tough-looking man was avoiding her gaze.

  “Why are you lying to me?” she asked calmly. “Did my husband buy you off?”

  He quit fiddling with the papers on his desk to look up at her. “No.”

  “If you’re worried because he’s going to be the next president—”

  “It’s not that.” He took a breath and let it out slowly. “I can tell you this. Your husband’s former...wife, Sarah Johnson Hamilton, was involved with some...undesirables. One of them paid me a visit.”

  She studied him. “He roughed you up? Not much as far as I can tell, because you look fine.”

  Moose chuckled at that. “Look, I’ve dealt with a lot of scary people in my time.” He met her gaze. “You need to drop this.”

  Angelina let out a bark of a laugh. “Maybe this...undesirable scared you, but I don’t scare that easily. Tell me what you found out.”

  “Nothing, that’s the problem. I didn’t find out anything, but apparently some friends of your husband’s—”

  “Sarah. Her name is Sarah. She is no longer my husband’s anything, all right?”

  “Fine. Sarah Johnson Hamilton has some friends who are very protective of her.”

  “From which past? The one before my husband met her or during the twenty-two years he believed she was dead?”

  “I have no idea, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. Whatever your husband’s—Sarah might be hiding, it isn’t worth it to me to find out.”

  “Well, it is to me,” Angelina snapped. She couldn’t believe this man had been scared off so easily. Clearly, she’d hired the wrong person for this job. “Did this undesirable threaten you? Surely, it wasn’t the first time someone wanted to—”

  “Chop me up into little pieces and feed me to a pit bull? No, not the first time. Just the first time the person threatening me was more frightening than being chopped up and fed to a pit bull.”

  She studied him, realizing he had to know who the man was, what Sarah had been involved in. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so afraid. “I paid you an exorbitant amount of money to—”

  “Here.” He shoved a check across the desk at her. “All of your money back.”

  Angelina stared at him, finally seeing just how terrified Moose was. She wanted to pummel the coward with the first thing she could reach, but she saw that it would do no good.

  “Fine,” she said, snatching up the check as she rose to her feet. “I’ll hire someone with more...guts.”

  “Good luck with that,” he said as he stood. “Before you leave, wouldn’t you like the message Sarah’s friend left for you?”

  She had already started for the door but now turned. “By all means.”

  “He said he’d destroy your husband...after he killed you.”

  She’d expected a threat, but the simplicity of this one definitely hit a nerve. Had she ever doubted that Sarah would do anything to get Buckmaster back?

  Straightening her back so Moose didn’t see the tremor of fear that pulsed through her, she walked back to the private investigator’s desk. “Who are these...friends of Sarah’s? Organized criminals? Gang members? Terrorists?”

  Moose clamped his jaws shut and shook his head.

  “But you believe they’re capable of these threats.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway.

  “So Sarah does have something to hide, just as I suspected.”

  “Maybe they’re just protective...friends. But if I were you, I’d drop this. You don’t want to make men like them your enemies, let alone your husband’s.”

  “Men? You said only one paid you a visit.”

  Again he gave her his mum look.

  “I’m going to find out the truth. I’ll hire someone who won’t be scared off as easily as you.”

  He shook his head almost sadly. “You hire another PI and you’ll only get him killed—and start a shit storm that is going to rain down on not only you but also your husband and his daughters. You sure it’s worth it just to get some dirt on your husband’s former wife?”

  * * *

  MAX HAD PLANNED to drive back to Big Timber. But as he crossed Main Street, he realized that he was starving. His productiveness had left him ready to call it a day. Stopping at a hotel with a restaurant on the lower level, he decided he’d stay in Bozeman for the night. He was about to leave his camera bag and laptop in his pickup, but changed his mind.

  He knew he was being paranoid, but just the thought of someone breaking in to his pickup, and stealing them and the photos on them, made him take the equipment with him. Earlier at Big Timber Java, he’d put the photos on a thumb drive and stuck it in his pocket. Still, he didn’t want to take any chances.

  He’d just sat down in the restaurant after getting a room, when the calls began coming in. He let them go to voice mail. He’d go through them in his room later. If he seemed too anxious, it would make him look as if he didn’t have the goods. He’d just ordered the restaurant’s largest T-bone steak with the trimmings when he saw a pretty brunette sitting alone at a table, perusing a menu.

  She looked around as if a little lost. They made eye contact. She smiled, then put down her menu and got up to walk over to him. “I know this is going to sound forward...” She bit her lower lip as if screwing up her courage. “I hate eating alone and I’ve had this amazing day.” She stopped. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’d prefer—”

  “Have a seat. I’ve had a pretty amazing day myself.”

  All her nervousness seemed to evaporate. “Thank you. I’ve never done anything like that before. I’m not sure what came over me,” she said as she took a seat across from him. “It’s just that I noticed you were alone and I’m alone...”

  The woman looked to be a few years younger than his thirty-five years. After the day he’d had, he was glad to have company to celebrate with him.

  “Max Malone,” he said holding out his hand.

  “Tammy Jones.” Seeing what was going on, the waitress set up cutlery at the table and took her order.

  Tammy explained that she was a retail buyer for a local department store. She was in town visiting from Seattle. “I’m only in town tonight. I normally don’t invite myself to a stranger’s table. But I’m tired of eating alone and today I got a great raise. I feel as if I just won the lottery.”

  He told her he was on vacation and just passing through town. He’d found when he told anyone that he was a reporter, it made them clam up, too nervous that they might end up in one of his articles.

  “I saw your camera bag. So what all do you shoot?” she asked, leaning toward him with interest.

  “Mostly scenic photos,” he said. “It’s just a hobby.” He didn’t want to talk about his job. Not tonight. He didn’t want to jinx it.

  Their meals came, and they talked about movies, books, food they
loved and hated. It was pleasant, so he didn’t mind having an after-dinner drink with her at the bar. She had a sweet, innocent face, which was strange because she reminded him a little of Kat Hamilton, sans the gray eyes. He kept thinking of those fog-veiled eyes. Kat was a woman who kept secrets bottled up, he thought.

  “Am I losing you?” Tammy Jones asked, touching his hand.

  “No.” He gave her his best smile.

  “You seemed a million miles away for a minute there.”

  “Nope.” Just at the gallery across the street where he’d seen a light on in the back. Was Kat Hamilton still over there? She’d brought in new photos, if that large, flat portfolio she’d been carrying was any indication. He wished now that he’d asked to see them before he’d gotten thrown out.

  “I know it’s awful, but I’m not ready to call it a night.” She met his gaze with a shy one. “A drink in my room?”

  How could he say no? They took the stairs to her room on the second floor.

  What could one more drink hurt? With a feeling of euphoria as warm as summer sunshine, he reminded himself of the photos he would be selling tomorrow.

  When he woke the next morning, he was lying in the alley behind the hotel. While he still had his wallet, his camera and laptop were gone.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AS HE STUMBLED through the stupor of whatever he’d been drugged with, Max tried to figure out who’d set him up. He knew why he’d been so stupid as to fall for it. He’d wanted someone to celebrate with last night. As much as he loved his job, he got lonely.

  Now, though, he just wanted his camera and laptop and the photos on them back. Maybe Tammy Jones—if that had even been her real name—had just planned to pawn them for money. But he suspected that wasn’t the case once he checked his wallet and found he had almost a hundred in cash that she hadn’t bothered with.

  His head cleared a little more after a large coffee at a drive-through. He put in a call to the department store where Tammy Jones said she worked as a buyer, hoping he was wrong. He was told no one by that name worked for the company, not in Bozeman, not in Seattle.

  He groaned as he disconnected. Whoever the woman had been last night, she had only one agenda. She was after the photos.

  But how did she even know about them? He’d made a lot of calls yesterday and quite a few people were aware that he had the shots. All the people he’d called, though, he’d worked with before and he trusted them. That left... No way was that woman from the restaurant hired by the senator to steal the photos. If the future president had known about the photos he would have tried to buy them if not strong-arm him, Max was sure.

  That left Kat Hamilton.

  He drove back downtown. It was early enough that the gallery wasn’t open yet, but the light was still on in the back. He parked on Main Street and walked down the alley. The rear entrance in the deserted alley had an old door and an even older lock. One little slip of his credit card and he was inside, thankful for his misspent youth.

  The first thing he saw was a sleeping bag in one corner of the back area with a battery-operated lamp next to it and a book lying facedown on the floor. The woman clearly didn’t appreciate the spines of books.

  He found Kat wearing a pair of oversize jeans and a different baggy sweater. Clearly, this must be the attire she preferred. But he thought about bottled up secrets. Was she hiding under all those clothes? She stood next to a counter in the framing room of the gallery, her back to him, lost in her work. “I want my camera and laptop back.”

  At the sound of his voice, she spun around, gray eyes wide as if startled but not necessarily surprised. If he’d had any doubt who’d set him up, he didn’t any longer. She’d known she’d be seeing him again.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked haughtily.

  He enunciated each word as he stepped toward her. “The woman you hired to steal my camera and laptop? Tell her I want them back along with the photos of your mother and—”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He laughed. “Did anyone ever mention that you’re a terrible liar?”

  She bristled and looked offended. “I don’t lie. Nor do I like being accused of something I didn’t do.”

  “Save it,” he said before she could deny it again. “I show you a photograph of your mother, and hours later my camera and laptop are stolen, and you have no idea what I’m talking about?”

  Kat shrugged. “Maybe you should be more careful about who you hang out with.” She turned her back to him as she resumed what she’d been doing. Or at least pretended to.

  “Look. Someone is going to get a photo of your mother sooner or later. Why go to so much trouble?”

  She turned to face him. “Exactly. If not you, then someone else will get her photo. Do you think I really care that you took a photo of my mother with plans to sell it to some sleazy rag? I didn’t and I still don’t. I’ve lived in a fishbowl my whole life. I’ve had people like you in my face with cameras since my father first ran for office. It comes with the territory. My mother is just another casualty.”

  He took off his hat and scratched the back of his neck as he considered whether or not she was lying. He’d been bluffing earlier. “I’m not buying it. I saw your expression when you recognized your mother in the photograph.”

  She sighed. “Think what you like.”

  “Let’s talk about another woman, the one you set me up with last night.”

  Hand on one hip, she turned to study him openly for a moment. “What did this woman look like?”

  He described her. “Don’t pretend you don’t know her.”

  “I know her type.” She smiled, noticeably amused. “Come on, weren’t you even a little suspicious when she hit on you? She did hit on you, right? That’s what I thought, and you fell for it. Whoever set you up must know you.”

  Max laughed. Kat had lightened up, and he liked her sense of humor. “I’ll have you know, women hit on me all the time.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Chalk this up as a learning experience and move on.” She started to turn away again.

  “You really don’t think I’m going to let you get away with this, do you?”

  She sighed and faced him once more. “What option do you have? Even if you had a shred of proof, it would be my word, the daughter of a senator, against your word, a...reporter.”

  Okay, now she was ticking him off. “I happen to like what I do, and it puts food on my table.” He glanced at the photos she was working on. “Who keeps food on your table? I doubt your...hobby of taking pictures is your means of support.” He cocked his head at her. “Then again, you don’t need to stoop to having a real job, do you?”

  * * *

  KAT HAD KNOWN she would see Max Malone again after he’d ambushed her yesterday. He would want a story about her mother. He would use the photos he’d gotten to bargain with her. This wasn’t her first rodeo.

  But she hadn’t expected him to come in the back way accusing her of stealing his camera and laptop with the photos of her mother. If she’d known how easy it would have been, she might have considered setting him up just for the fun of it, though.

  No, she had expected him to come through the front door and make a scene once the gallery opened. She’d been prepared to threaten to call the police on him.

  But he’d surprised her in more ways than one. Not many men did that. So she’d let him have his say, waiting to see what his game was. She’d even found the man somewhat amusing at first, but now he was starting to irritate her.

  “I’ll have you know I take care of myself.”

  “Is that right? You pay for that fancy SUV you drive?” He laughed. “I didn’t think so. Now about my camera—”

  “If you think I’m going to replace your camera— What are you doing?” she demanded as he
pulled out his cell phone and keyed in three numbers. She’d planned to threaten to call the police, but she wouldn’t have done it because she didn’t want the hassle or the publicity.

  “Calling the cops.”

  “They’ll arrest you for breaking in to the gallery.” She heard the 911 operator answer. He was calling her bluff. He knew she didn’t want the police involved.

  “I’d like to report—”

  “Fine,” she snapped.

  He said, “Sorry, my mistake,” into the phone and pocketed it again. He eyed her, waiting.

  “But I don’t have your camera or your laptop.”

  He studied her for a long moment. “Okay, if you want to play it that way, then what do you have to offer me?” he asked as he leaned against the counter where she’d been working.

  She gritted her teeth. Hadn’t she suspected that he hadn’t really lost his camera or laptop and that he was playing her? She no longer found him amusing. It was time to call a halt to this.

  “Even though I had nothing to do with the loss of your camera or laptop, I’ll write you a check for new ones just to get rid of you.”

  He shook his head slowly, his gaze lingering on her long enough that she could feel heat color her cheeks. He made her feel naked, as if he could see her the way no one else could. “My camera, my laptop, my photos. That’s the only deal on the table, unless you have something more to offer.”

  “I just offered you money!”

  He shook his head, his gaze warm on her.

  She felt her cheeks flush as she realized what he was suggesting. “I have nothing more to offer you.”

  He raised a brow, shoved off the counter and closed the distance between them. “Either I get my camera back, or you’re going to have to make it up to me in another way.” He was close, too close, but it wasn’t fear he evoked. She could smell the scent of freshly showered soap on him. Her gaze went from his blue eyes to his lips and the slight smirk there. The man was so cocky, so arrogant, so sure of the effect he was having on her.

  As he brushed his fingertips over her cheek, she felt a tingle before she slapped his hand away. “If you think I’m going to sleep with you—”