“You’ve got a lot of dirt in here,” he said. “What were you doing in the woods, anyway? Weather like this, you’d have been better off staying in your vehicle to wait for help.”
“I know. But I got out to check the damage and someone started shooting.”
He froze. “Shooting?”
“Three shots. Two missed. Third one hit the van, and I took off.”
“Someone shot at you.” He said it as a statement, not a question, and she could tell by his tone that he didn’t believe her.
She eased back. “That’s why I ran.”
“You sure they were shooting at you, and not just nearby?”
“I’m sure.”
His jaw tightened. He looked away and muttered something.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He took out a butterfly bandage and positioned it on her forehead. Something had changed—she could see it in his face. He’d gone from relaxed to super-tense in about three seconds.
He stood up. “That should do it. Phone’s by the fridge there.”
Holly stood, too. “Thanks. I—”
“Take all the time you need. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She felt a jolt of panic. “Where are you going?”
“To check something.” He pulled the keys from his pocket and moved for the door.
“But… don’t you want your jacket back?”
“I’m good.” He grabbed a camouflage hunting jacket off the chair and then used a key to unlock a cabinet by the door. Holly saw an array of guns. He took a pistol off a shelf and turned around. “You know how to use a handgun?”
“Yes, but it’s been a while.”
He held it out to her, grip out and barrel pointed toward the floor. She took the gun and tested the weight in her hand.
“It’s loaded?”
“Fifteen rounds.” He closed the cabinet and reached for the door. “Lock up after me,” he ordered. “And don’t aim that at anything you don’t intend to shoot.”
Chapter Three
Twenty minutes later, Colin hiked up the steps and stomped on the porch. He needed to get the snow off his boots and he also needed to give Holly a heads up so he wouldn’t get his ass shot off with his own gun. He rapped on the door and it instantly swung open.
“What’d you see?” She stepped back to let him in.
He looked her over as he peeled off his jacket. The terrified, blue-lipped stranger he’d rescued less than an hour ago was long gone, replaced by this rosy-cheeked woman who looked totally at home in his cabin. Her dark hair was still out of control, but she’d managed to pick most of the leaves out. Without the bulky layers, he saw that she had a nice, curvy body under that T-shirt and jeans.
“Well?”
“No sign of a shooter,” he said. “Any brass is either gone or covered in snow.”
“Brass?”
“Shell casings.” He tossed his jacket on the sofa. “I saw the mark in the bumper, though. Good thing he missed.”
“Probably because it was snowing,” she said, looking anxious. “What about my van?”
“You’re going to need a tow.” Something smelled really good, and he glanced around. Damn, she’d made coffee. “I called a buddy of mine over at Al’s Motorworks. He’s tied up right now, but said he’d be out first thing in the morning.” Colin took a mug down from the cabinet and poured some coffee. When he turned to look at her, she was watching him and nibbling her lip.
Clearly, she didn’t like the idea of sticking around.
“Do you have a trailer hitch on your pickup?” she asked. “Maybe we could pull it out tonight. I could help.”
“That’s not going to cut it. You’ve got some kind of engine trouble. The keys were inside, so I gave it a try. My guess is you busted a fuel line, plus your tire’s blown and your spare’s not worth crap.” He sipped the coffee. It was strong and hot, just like he liked it. “You get hold of the sheriff?”
She huffed out a breath. “They patched me through to a deputy. Everyone’s busy, like you said. I’m supposed to stop by there tomorrow and file a report about the gunshots.” Her jaw tightened. “He seemed to think I was imagining things.”
“People are pretty private around here. Maybe he thinks you were trespassing and someone tried to scare you off.”
“That’s not what happened.”
Colin nodded.
“You don’t believe me either.” She folded her arms over her breasts. “I did not imagine this.”
“I know.”
Even if he hadn’t seen the bullet mark himself, he would have believed her. The fact that she was driving a white van on the same night as an arms deal—involving a white van—had been set to go down made her story not just possible, but probable.
He stepped closer. She looked pissed, and now he had to un-ruffle her feathers if he was going to have a shot in hell of getting her to trust him. “You talk to your sister?”
She nodded. “She managed to smooth things over with our client. They’re expecting my delivery by ten tomorrow. The wedding’s at noon, so it should work out.”
Colin stared down at her. All those flowers would be dead by tomorrow.
“Listen, Colin.”
He braced himself. He hadn’t had a girlfriend in a while, but he remembered a thing or two about women and this one definitely wanted something.
“I need a favor,” she said, and the warm tone of her voice made his pulse pick up.
I’m feeling a little traumatized by my near-death experience. How about wrapping those arms around me and making me forget about it?
Yeah, right. He already knew she wasn’t the type to sleep with some random guy she’d just met.
“You can stay here tonight.”
“Oh.” She looked startled. Then she flicked an uneasy glance at the sofa. “Thanks, but—”
“There’s a guesthouse just up the hill.” He nodded at the door. “The utilities are on, and I can get the heat going for you, no problem.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” She eased closer. “But there’s something else. I know it’s late, but… I really need those bouquets.”
“Bouquets.”
“The flowers. They’ll die in the van overnight, and if that happens I’m completely screwed.”
He shook off the mental image that accompanied this announcement.
“You want me to bring your flowers here?”
“Do you mind? I’ll help you.” She gazed up at him with those baby blues.
Did he mind? Shit, yes, he minded. He was in the middle of an op. He owed his boss a phone call and had to send out a half dozen emails tonight to get everything they were working on back on track. And now someone wanted him to spend the next hour—at least—hauling wedding flowers.
“Please?”
Colin gazed down at her and did what he always did when he got a request from a pretty woman.
~*~
Holly opened her eyes and found herself staring up at a giant set of antlers mounted above a fireplace. The morning sunlight peeked through a gap in the curtains. She sat up, and pain lanced through her skull.
“Oh my God,” she murmured, rubbing her forehead. Maybe Colin was right. Maybe she should have gone to the ER last night. But she hadn’t had time, and she didn’t have the time now, either. She checked her watch. It was after seven, which meant well past time to get up and make a plan to transport eighteen bouquets of roses to a bed-and-breakfast in White Falls.
Holly surveyed her flowers, which surrounded the queen-size bed like a moat. They were in decent shape, considering, but she’d still need some time on the other end to spruce up the arrangements and make repairs. She’d brought a few dozen extra stems specifically for that purposes, and as she scrutinized the pink, yellow, and orange blossoms—sunset colors, per the bride’s request—she knew she was going to need every last one of them.
Holly took a deep breath and tipped her head back. This is the day you will save your business, she told he
rself. She hoped it was true. She’d chanted the same mantra yesterday and barely escaped with her life.
Holly got out of bed. The shirt and jeans she’d slept in looked… slept in, unfortunately. She wrestled into the bra she’d left on the nightstand and stuffed her feet back into Ugg boots. She grabbed her ski vest. Colin had been kind enough to lend her his jacket again, and she pulled it on over the layers. The jacket was cold, but it smelled like him, and she took a brief moment to close her eyes and savor the tantalizing man-scent that she so rarely smelled these days. Since moving out to Montana to live with her sister, Holly’s world had consisted of weddings and funerals and sweet-sixteen dances—all of which were accompanied by the scents of flowers, perfume, and hairspray. It was a feminine universe, and Colin’s jacket reminded her how much she missed men.
She thought about Colin coming to her aid last night. She thought of the way he talked, the way he moved, the way he’d handled that gun, and she felt certain he was way more than a caretaker. In fact, she felt ninety-nine percent sure he was some kind of cop—although why he wouldn’t just tell her, she didn’t know. She planned to find out, but first, she had her own business to attend to.
Holly opened the door to the cottage. The sky was a crisp blue. As she walked the short distance down the hill, she studied the cabin flanked by pine trees. The layer of snow made it look like a freshly iced gingerbread house. Holly hiked up the stairs and knocked on the door.
No answer.
She knocked again and glanced around. Her stomach tightened as she realized what was missing from the gingerbread scene. An old black pickup.
She tried the door and found it unlocked.
“Colin?” She glanced up at the loft. No brown head peeking up from the covers or big, manly feet dangling off the end. The bathroom door stood ajar.
She spied a note on the table, tucked beneath a box of corn flakes.
Had to make a run to town. Help yourself to breakfast.
Holly checked at her watch, panicked. How long was a “run to town”? If he left her stranded here all morning, she could kiss her deadline goodbye, right along with her money.
She glanced around and her gaze landed on the gun cabinet beside the door. Above it was a tidy row of hooks.
She spotted what was there and felt a burst of hope.
~*~
“I found three casings,” Colin said as soon as Bruce picked up the phone.
“How the hell’d you do that?” his boss demanded. “We had four inches of snow last night.”
“Metal detector,” Colin said, veering his truck around a patch of ice. “Borrowed it from a guy in town who does treasure hunting under the ski lifts.”
“So, what do we know?”
“Shooter set up on the shoulder, about fifty yards back, from the looks of it. I’m betting he stepped out and stood behind the engine block to take the shots.”
“Three shots at fifty yards? Should have been a walk in the park.”
“Maybe he wasn’t taking kill shots. Maybe he just wanted to scare off the driver and grab the load.”
“Or maybe she saw something, and they’re trying to eliminate her.”
Colin didn’t like the idea, but he knew it was possible. Right before her “accident,” Holly had spent half an hour at Mae’s Truck Stop, which was just across the street from the site of the handoff that never happened. Maybe the sight of her van had botched things up somehow. Or maybe she had seen something, and she just didn’t realize it. Colin had pressed her for details while they were hauling flowers, but she’d been pretty vague—not to mention preoccupied about her delivery. He got the distinct impression she was hard up for cash right now.
Colin passed the patch of highway where less than fifteen hours ago, Holly had sailed off the road.
“Where are they now? The shell casings?”
“I overnighted them,” Colin said. “Look for them by ten tomorrow and run them through IBIS. If anything pops in the database, we’re going to need it in court.”
“If you’re so sure about this, why didn’t you bring them in? You’re two hours away.”
“Too much going on,” Colin said. “This isn’t over yet. Tempers are hot. Hooks is still out there, waiting to get paid. Lopez still doesn’t have his guns.”
“And you’ve confirmed this?”
“There’s talk of another meet-up, probably tonight or maybe even this afternoon.”
On the other end, Bruce muttered something Colin didn’t catch. But he caught the impatience. Last night was supposed to have been the big takedown, and now they were pushing into Saturday without any arrests.
“And where’s this van? You run prints on it yet?”
“It’s at an auto shop in town. But I sent one of our local guys over to get latents. He’s got CSI training.”
“What about the girl?”
“She’s still in town.” It wasn’t the truth, but close enough as far as his boss was concerned.
“You tell her you’re undercover?”
“You think I want to blow this op after five months?”
“Well, don’t tell her. Don’t tell her anything. Last thing we need is some civilian botching this up.”
Colin pressed the remote to open the gate. As it swung open, he noticed the fresh tire tracks on the narrow road.
“Denton? You there?”
“I’m here.” Shit, no way…
“Nail down that meeting, ASAP. We need to know who, when, and where so we can get our team in place.”
“I’ll do it.”
Colin skidded to a halt in front of the cabin and rushed up the steps. He opened the door and checked the hook.
“Goddamn it!”
He glanced around. The note he’d left under the cereal box was still there, but a sentence had been added in woman’s loopy script.
Need to make my delivery! Hope you don’t mind—I borrowed your Suburban.
~*~
Despite the sunny sky, it was still freezing out, and Holly was caught between a desperate desire to meet her deadline and an equally desperate desire to avoid another wreck on the way to the wedding venue. As she approached a curve in the road, she eased her foot off the gas and checked the speedometer. She checked the clock. A horn blast behind her had her checking the rearview mirror.
Holly recognized the truck and murmured a curse.
Another honk accompanied by a flash of headlights. She pulled onto the shoulder and buzzed down the window of the borrowed SUV.
Colin stalked up to the window, eyes sparking with fury. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Did you get my note?” She flashed him a smile. “I hope you don’t mind, I—”
“Damn right I mind.” He glared down at her, and she felt a rush of irritation. He had a right to be annoyed, sure—but a full-blown temper tantrum was going to make her even later than she already was. She forced a smile.
“Sorry, but I just need it for a few hours. I’ll replace the gas and—”
“Move over.” He jerked open the door.
“Excuse me?”
“Move over. I’m driving.”
She cast a frantic glance at the clock. “I really don’t need an escort.”
“You have no idea what you need. Now, move over before I get pissed.”
She took in his blazing eyes, the tight set of his jaw. Maybe he was one of those finicky men who didn’t like anyone else behind the wheel of his vehicle.
Holly scooted over the console and into the passenger seat. Before she’d even fastened her seatbelt, he’d thrust the Suburban into gear and pulled onto the highway, leaving his pickup behind them.
He shot her a scowl. “I could have you arrested for auto theft. This isn’t even mine—it belongs to the ranch.”
Holly sighed. “I left you a note. And I’ll fill it with gas, so what’s the harm? This thing was just sitting in the barn while my entire business goes down the tubes.”
His phone buzzed and he
jerked it from the pocket of his hunting jacket.
Holly glanced guiltily at the leather jacket she was still wearing.
“Denton,” he snapped. “Yeah… yeah…” Another dark look in her direction. Then he checked his watch. “Okay, call you in ten.”
He dropped the phone in the cup holder and trained his gaze on the road.
“So, Colin… I know you’re a cop.”
He glanced at her. Then back at the road.
“I’m not a cop.”
“Okay, now I know you’re a cop and a liar.”
He didn’t say anything.
Holly gazed out the window and watched the woods rush past. A thick blanket of snow covered the forest floor. “My dad was a cop, so I know, all right?” She looked at him. “What are you—working undercover or something?”
“I’m not a liar.” He flicked a glance at her. “And I’m not a cop—not like you mean. I’m with ATF.”
“Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms.” She studied him with interest now and remembered the gun cabinet back at the cabin. But it wasn’t really unusual. Everyone out here had guns. Montana had one of the highest rates of gun ownership in the nation.
“And you’re right.” He gave her a wary look and seemed to decide something. “The ranch gig is a cover. I’ve been out here five months trying to line something up.”
A chill snaked down Holly’s spine as she noted his grim expression. This man wasn’t here because of his Chevy. He’d tracked her down because he thought she was in some sort of danger.
“What, exactly, did I stumble into last night?” she asked.
He stared ahead at the road.
“Colin?”
“A deal was supposed to go down. A big one. And one of the vehicles involved is a white van.” He glanced at her. “This was last night at the barbecue joint in town.”
“You mean the one across from Mae’s, where I stopped?”
He didn’t say anything, but his silence confirmed her niggling suspicion that her pit stop was somehow related to the freak shooting. It had been gnawing at her for hours. She’d been wondering why her tire was punctured, and if someone had meant to strand her on the outskirts of town. Yesterday, she’d thought she’d dozed off at the wheel, but that explanation didn’t account for the tire. Or the gunshots. Since the moment she’d woken up this morning, Holly had felt certain there was nothing accidental about her accident.
Guns and Roses Page 10
