Midnight Sacrifice

by Melinda Leigh

  “I guess not,” Danny said.

  “Mandy might be small and pretty, but as much as I hate to admit it, she can handle herself.” Pride tinted Jed’s voice.

  “How do I get to the range?” After Jed gave him general directions, Danny went out the back door, jogged to his car, and drove out onto the street. A few turns later, he spotted Mandy’s green Subaru. He followed her. She took a side street and drove through a section of residential homes that declined in value and upkeep as they left the main business section. Glossy shutters and wide lawns gave way to narrow lots and peeling paint. Deep green grass shifted to clover. She came to a stop sign. He saw her glance in her rearview mirror.

  Snagged.

  Danny waved. Mandy ignored him and continued out of the town proper. A couple of miles later she turned onto a dirt lane. A sign read Huntsville Gun Club. Danny parked next to her in a dry but rutted lot. “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure I’m able to protect my family.” She grabbed a nylon bag from the passenger seat, closed the car door, and walked away from him. Danny hurried to catch up.

  It was an outdoor shooting range. No store. Just a shack with a soda machine under the overhang. A long wooden roof on posts angled away from the rough building. Underneath, picnic tables were spaced end to end. Targets dotted the expanse of meadow that stretched away from the tables. Big grass berms rose at the rear of the range to catch stray bullets.

  Two men were popping off shots with handguns. Mandy gave them an absent wave and set her nylon bag on a center table. She pulled out ear protection, both foam plugs and over-the-ear muffs, and safety glasses. “If you’re going to stand there, put these on.” Without looking at him, she handed Danny the muffs. She rummaged around in her bag, dug out a spare pair of protective glasses, and handed them over. She looked all business. He did what he was told. When Danny’s sister eyeballed him like that, he knew better than to argue.

  Mandy pulled a revolver out from under her sweatshirt. What the fuck?

  “Where did you get that?” he yelled.

  With a sigh, Mandy pulled the foam plugs out of her ears. “I’ve had a concealed carry permit for years, but I admit, until this winter, I didn’t carry that often.”

  “But you do now?”

  “Every minute of every day.” She put the plugs back in and turned back to the range. Danny noticed the two other guys had stopped shooting. They were watching Mandy.

  She took her stance, brought the gun to level with both hands, and squeezed off five rounds at the twenty-foot target, hitting it smack center each time. She reloaded and put the next five into the next target with equally impressive aim.

  Well, damn. She could outshoot Danny any day. He’d been a decent shot before his injury, but he hadn’t won any awards for marksmanship. From the disgusted expressions of the other two dudes, they sucked even more. They packed up and cleared out before she could reload.

  Mandy looked back at him. “Have you tried shooting since you got hurt?”

  He shook his head.

  “Do you want to?”

  Danny took the gun and stepped up to the table. He popped off a couple of rounds one-handed and missed with every freaking one. Not unexpected. His military sidearm had been a 9mm, which had a whole different feel than Mandy’s .38 revolver. Plus, he was sadly out of practice. He loaded the gun and raised his arm, confident that with a little practice, his aim would return.

  “Wait.” Mandy stepped up behind him. Her arm came around his body. She lifted the forearm of his wounded hand, her fingers sliding along his skin. “I know you can’t use this hand, but if you can hold this arm across your body and tighten your chest, it’ll give you more stability.”

  His chest? Yeah, like that was what had gone tight.

  She put his arm into position, wrapping around him in the process. Damn. How long could they stand like this? He’d gladly fire all his rounds into the dirt if she’d hug him a little tighter.

  “Try again.”

  Danny sighed. He sighted on the twenty-foot target and squeezed. Pop, pop, pop.

  His first two shots went wide. The third smacked into the left edge of the target with a quiet whoomp.

  “That’s better.” Mandy snuggled up closer. Her thighs cradled his. Her head tilted toward him. Danny inhaled. The faint scent of flowers drifted over the smells of dirt, grass, and forest.

  “Mmm. Much better.” Oh, yeah. This shooting lesson could go on all day. He put his next two shots exactly where he wanted them, two feet short of the target. The bullets hit the ground with little puffs of dust. “How did you learn to do that?”

  Mandy’s hand gripped his shoulder. “Jed’s daddy showed me. I broke my left wrist in high school. Couldn’t use it to shoot for months.”

  “You and Jed have always been close?”

  “Best friends since grade school.” Mandy slid her hand to his elbow. Danny squeezed off another shot to keep her interested. His bullet hit the base of the target. For a woman who worked so hard, her fingers were soft. Strong, though, too. And that was Mandy, an intriguing combination of soft and strong. “My father left us. Jed’s daddy reluctantly let me tag along. I’m not sure why. He had very strict guidelines about women’s roles, but for some reason, he didn’t apply them to me. Maybe because he felt sorry for me, or maybe it was because I was just a kid. I was a scrawny tomboy until I hit sixteen.”

  Enough about Jed and his daddy. Danny took another shot, sending a bullet into the middle of the target.

  “Oh, look.” The pitch in Mandy’s voice rose to girly excited, which was funny considering they were at possibly the most masculine place on earth this side of a strip bar. “You hit it, dead center.”

  Satisfied that he could shoot where he aimed, Danny lowered the weapon. “You’re a good teacher.” He unloaded the gun and placed the safety gear on the table. A quick scan of the range and parking lot assured him they were alone. He turned to face Mandy. Empty and quiet, the range was peaceful. He lifted the glasses from her face.

  “You already knew how to shoot.” She tossed her earplugs into her bag.

  “Haven’t touched a gun in more than a year, though.” Despite all his time in the military, Danny wasn’t a firearm enthusiast. But he appreciated a gun’s ability to keep a person alive.

  Mandy shifted her weight to move away from him. Danny stopped her with a hand on her hip. He leaned down to get another whiff of her hair. Her blue eyes went dark and wide. Danny brushed his lips against hers. She stiffened for a split second, then sighed against his mouth, as if she didn’t have the energy to fight their attraction anymore. Her eyes closed as he tasted. Just a sip.

  He slid his hand around to the small of her back and eased her closer. Her hips nestled into his. A perfect fit. But Danny held back, remembering her skittishness in the kitchen. He kept his kisses light and strictly outside the mouth.

  Until she pressed against him. Her lips parted, but it was the feminine moan that challenged his control.

  Mandy wanted him.

  Danny angled his mouth to take more. He deepened the kiss. Her mouth was hot and sweeter than her cinnamon bread. A groan worked its way out of his chest. Raw and powerful, it echoed what was going on in the rest of his body. Need. Fire. Everywhere.

  Mandy tilted her head away. She blinked up at him, her eyes showing equal amounts of desire and confusion. Yeah. That about summed it up.

  When she moved away, he let her go. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

  That was so not what Danny was going to say. A lot of thoughts were flying though his head. Wow. Holy shit. Incredible. But Danny didn’t have a single ounce of regret.

  Unfortunately, Mandy had enough for both of them.

  “I have to get back.” She brushed past him to pack up her supplies.

  “Mandy.” Danny caught her bicep. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

  With her eyes firmly fixed on her bag, she shook her head.

  “There isn’t anything you can’t t
ell me.”

  Her gaze lifted to his. There were many things swirling around in the beautiful blue of her eyes. Regret. Sadness. Determination. “You have to go.”

  But the lust was gone.

  Sometimes retreat was the best option. The object was to win the war, not necessarily every single battle. “OK. We’ll go.”

  He reached for the nylon straps of her bag.

  Mandy stopped him with a hand on his forearm. “No, you have to go back to Philadelphia. All you’re doing here is stirring up things best left settled.”

  “Nothing feels settled to me.” Danny crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Danny cruised down the main drag past dark shop after dark shop. Most of the local businesses closed at six. He pulled into a strip mall and parked in front of a pizza joint. He ordered a large pie with mushrooms and a Coke.

  Hours had passed, and Mandy’s rebuff still stung as badly as if she’d slapped him across the face. When they were alone next, she wasn’t getting away so easily. Of course, he seriously doubted she’d ever let them be alone again. She’d successfully hidden from him all afternoon. He’d even skipped lunch in hopes of seeing her, but she hadn’t ventured into the public areas of the inn all afternoon.

  She wanted to forget their kiss along with the case. Danny couldn’t get either out of his head.

  The waitress brought his pizza. The aroma of hot cheese and spices wafted to his nose. Danny’s stomach rumbled, and he wolfed down slices in rapid succession. He took the remaining few to go.

  He started the engine and rested his left wrist on the wheel. His fingers trembled, but they weren’t dancing like this morning when the doctor had stitched him up. Apparently, that rest thing really worked.

  Since Mandy wasn’t talking, Danny had to find another information source. Who else knew stuff about Nathan? Like the identity of the secret girlfriend, for instance.

  The Challenger drove past the clinic all by itself. Smart car. Danny did a double take. The flowers from the doctor’s window boxes looked like the same kind that had been left on the inn’s back porch. Bingo. He knew he’d seen them somewhere. Wishing he drove something less noticeable, Danny found an alley to park in a block away. The streets were deserted, but he strolled back to the doc’s office in the shadows just in case anyone was looking out a window.

  Danny stopped in the shadow of a thick shrub. Lights still glowed in the clinic windows. Dr. Chandler had said his office closed at five. Was the good doctor working late? Or was he up to deeds best done in the dark?

  The front door opened. Someone hurried out. A woman, from the shape and movement of her shadow. She passed under a streetlight. Carolyn Fitzgerald. She was stuffing a small package into her purse. Interesting. She didn’t look terribly ill or injured or anything else that would cause the doctor to keep his office open late to see her. The real estate agent strode to her car, parked at the curb fifty yards down the street. The engine turned over, and the car pulled out into the street and headed away from town. Red taillights faded into the dark.

  The clinic went dark room by room, starting at the front. A few minutes later, Danny watched an SUV pull out of the alley that ran next to the clinic.

  Nothing moved, not even Danny. Patience was, if not a virtue, a necessity when casing an establishment. A cool night breeze shifted Danny’s evergreen screen. A car passed, the headlights sweeping within five feet of his feet. The street went silent and dark, and Danny emerged.

  He opted for the back door. Did the doctor have a security system? Danny popped the locks, opened the door, and waited. The building remained quiet. Guess not.

  He slipped through the door into the darkness of the hall. His eyes had already adjusted to the night. Danny borrowed a handful of latex gloves from the first exam room. Handy, with the breaking and entering and all. Snapping a pair on, he stuffed the extras in his pocket. Inside the doc’s office, Danny used his flashlight to illuminate the hanging files inside the cabinets. He searched three drawers before finding files for Nathan and his uncle.

  Read them or steal them?

  He did a quick perusal. Lots of info.

  The overhead light snapped on. “What the fuck?”

  Uh-oh.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “What part of patient confidentiality do you not understand?” Dr. Chandler glared from the doorway.

  Danny closed the file and stood. “The part that might keep me from finding a killer.”

  “Don’t you think that if I knew anything that might lead to Nathan’s arrest, I’d have told the police?”

  “Well, I’d hope.”

  “Dammit.” The doctor threw up his hands. “You know they subpoenaed copies of all his medical records, right?”

  “Um. No.” My bad, Danny thought.

  “Well, they did, and I’ll bet the cops read through them pretty carefully. But what do they know, right?”

  Well, didn’t Danny feel like an idiot. “Just because they’re cops doesn’t mean they’re perfect.”

  The doc gave him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t give anybody access to my clients’ records without a court order. It’s illegal and against my oath.”

  Shit. Danny hated when people brought superior morals into a discussion. He’d always seen things in shades of gray, specifically when things like breaking the law for the greater good were concerned. “Did you know a man and his son are missing?”

  “What?” Dr. Chandler ran a hand through his hair.

  “A fisherman and his kid just vanished on a family camping trip. There’s been no sign of them despite an extensive search.”

  “I read about that. Sadly, they probably drowned.” The doctor waved a hand. “Doesn’t excuse you for breaking into my office.”

  “Remember what really happened the last time a couple of outdoorsmen went missing?”

  The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “You think this disappearance is related to the hikers Nathan and his uncle kidnapped last December?”

  “Seems odd to have them occur back-to-back in the same area.”

  “Maybe. Or it could be a giant coincidence. Huntsville is in the middle of the woods. People get lost out there every year.” The doctor scratched his head. “What does any of this have to do with Nathan’s medical records? All they show is that the man has a brain disease. He isn’t sane anymore. What more do you need to know?”

  “Who filled your window boxes?”

  “What?”

  “The flowers out front. Who planted them?”

  “I have no idea.” The doctor scratched his head. “My receptionist maybe, or the town business chamber. I don’t have time for flowers.”

  “I think someone has been helping Nathan.”

  “Well, shit.” The doctor dropped into a chair in front of his desk. “What makes you think that?”

  “This whole area was searched multiple times. If he’s in the area, somebody has been keeping him under the radar.” Danny told him about the flowers on the inn’s porch and the branch nailed over the back door.

  “That’s crazy. Nathan’s probably dead.” Doc sighed. “But even if your wild theory is correct, you can’t think I had anything to do with it?”

  “I don’t know you, and you were evasive when I asked about Nathan.”

  “Of course I was evasive,” the doctor snapped. “Doctors don’t talk about patients. Mandy doesn’t think I’m in collusion with Nathan, does she?”

  Danny shook his head. “Mandy doesn’t know I’m here.” Doubt flickered in Danny’s gut. He probably shouldn’t have told the doctor that no one knew he’d come here.

  The doctor gave him a thoughtful stare. “I should call Doug and have you arrested.”

  Danny stared back. “You could do that.”

  Dr. Chandler’s mouth tightened. “I’m giving you a second chance, based on your altruistic motives.” The doctor stood. His fingers moved in a give-it-here gesture. “But I’ll take my fi
le back.”

  Danny handed it over.

  “Honestly, there’s nothing in there of any use.” The doctor shook the file at Danny. “Now get the hell out of here.”

  The hair on the back of Danny’s neck was going haywire. Had that been a threat? Was the doctor hiding something, or was he merely adhering to his medical oath?

  Danny did not wait for the doc to change his mind. But that didn’t mean the doctor was off his suspect list. Nathan’s file had been awfully thick, and the volumes of specialized medical books told Danny that Dr. Chandler knew a lot more about Campbell’s Insomnia that he was willing to share. Plus, there was the late-night business between the doctor and the real estate agent to consider.

  For a small town, Huntsville held a lot of secrets.

  The sound of female chatter carried over the running faucet. With one eye on the clock, Mandy rinsed a baking pan. She shut off the water with her elbow, then dried the pan and stowed it in the cabinet. On the opposite side of the kitchen island, Danny glared at her. At least he’d waited until she finished with breakfast.

  There was only so long she could avoid him. This morning he hadn’t come down to offer any help with breakfast. Unfortunately, she’d missed his company more than she wanted to admit. After the kiss, she’d hidden—yes, hidden—in the apartment, only venturing into the kitchen to do the breakfast prep after she’d seen his car pull out of the lot in the evening.

  But now that he was here, full of questions, she didn’t want to talk to him.

  “Were you serious yesterday? Do you really want me to leave?”

  No. Mandy pictured her brother with his throat slit like bleeding game, like the boy Nathan’s uncle had killed last fall. The boy who’d been decapitated. “Yes.”

  He glared at her from the other side of the kitchen island. “I can’t leave until I have some answers.” The sexy warmth in his voice was gone. Damn, she really missed it. Almost as much as she missed the contact with his lean body and his masculine scent in her nose. She could pretend that she didn’t need a man, but Danny was a constant reminder of what she was missing. It went beyond physical contact. Being with a man made her feel like a woman, not a sister or a daughter or an innkeeper. A woman. Desirable. An individual who didn’t exist solely to take care of others.