by Kim Baldwin
She stood for several long moments staring down at a photo of herself. It lay atop a high-powered sniper rifle, neatly disassembled and packaged in a custom-cut foam interior. It was an AWC M91 BDR. A premier takedown rifle. She had one almost exactly like it back in her weapons room, but hers was tactical black and this one was NATO green. The case had cutouts to fit the stock, sling, barrel, scope, torque wrench, and cleaning kit.
Kat felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. Her mind accepted what she’d tried so hard to resist. Jake was the bounty hunter who was after her. But the rest of her still refused to believe it. She couldn’t understand how the seemingly gentle woman she’d been tending to, had felt such an attraction to, was a paid killer, just like she was. She’d known a lot of them in her time, and she just couldn’t wrap her mind around Jake being a member of that cold and ruthless fraternity.
Kat knew almost immediately that what she should do and what she would do about this revelation were two entirely different things. She would not ordinarily hesitate to kill another bounty hunter foolish enough to come after her. But that was impossible with Jake.
Another option would be to transport Jake by sled to Tawa and leave her at the small clinic there. But without sedatives, it would be a painful, arduous trip for the injured woman. And she’d also then know the route to the bunker, meaning Kat would have to abandon it and move to another safe house.
Kat didn’t care for that choice either, and not because she bemoaned the loss of her favorite hideaway. Unbelievable, she thought, shaking her head. Jake was on her way to kill me and I still want to protect her and get to know her. What the hell is happening to me?
Suddenly a new thought occurred to her. What if Jake never regains her memory? Kat considered the possibilities. If she didn’t tell Jake what she knew, and if Jake never remembered, what then?
And maybe she isn’t married after all, she considered. Few in her line of work were, for a number of obvious reasons. And Kat herself had been known to wear a wedding ring as part of a disguise for a job.
Could this new knowledge change everything? Despite their evidently mutual attraction, Kat had refused to allow herself to really consider any possible relationship with Jake. But she’s just like me. Maybe she’ll understand me and accept what I do. A tiny flicker of something ignited in her. It was hope, an emotion she was unable to recognize. If she doesn’t regain her memory, is there a chance for us?
Her decision made, she closed the Pelican case and loaded it on the sled, then headed toward the hill where she’d left her own rifle and the deer carcass. That logical inner voice that usually guided her actions tried to warn her against what she was about to do. What if she does remember? What if she wakes up one day and wants to kill you? Kat was surprised at how much she wanted to ignore the voice.
*
The first hint of dawn was breaking as Kat returned to the bunker and checked in on Jake. Her patient was sound asleep, her face relaxed and serene, but her hair was wildly mussed, the blunt-cut strands sticking up in all directions. She just looks so damn cute. How the hell can she be an assassin?
She didn’t dwell on the fact that it appeared as though Jake was out to kill her; she just couldn’t believe her instincts about this woman were so far off base. There were still some things that didn’t fit, true. Like where the hell had Jake been going and why was she driving so fast? The lack of ID now made more sense, and so did the stolen car. But there was no way she could have known I was out on that hillside that night.
She left Jake to sleep and retrieved the two rifles from where she’d left them in the tunnel. She put them both in her weapons room after spending a considerable amount of time drying and cleaning the rifle she’d left in the snow. Then she spent an hour or so cutting up the deer. Something had gotten to the carcass, probably a coyote or fox, but a large portion was still untouched. There was enough for several meals. Most went into the freezer, but two tenderloins were set in the fridge to thaw for tomorrow’s dinner.
Kat went into the bathroom to wash up and glanced into the mirror. There were dark circles under her eyes. She needed sleep. And soon. But she had to smile faintly at herself despite the uncertainty ahead. Maybe everything will be just fine, she lied to herself. If only Jake just never gets her memory back.
Kat had taken three steps toward the bedroom when she froze, ears cocked. Had she heard something? A moment later she heard it again. A cry of pain from behind the closed bedroom door.
Chapter Eleven
Otter had only been in Tawa twenty-four hours and he was already sick of the place. He hated small towns. There was never any action. Otter liked to gamble, and he had some cash left from the advance he’d been given for expenses. He’d been able to find out absolutely nothing about Hunter’s whereabouts. But he had learned that Michigan was crawling with casinos. There seemed to be one on each of the numerous Indian reservations in the state, and the nearest one was only an hour and a half away. He was getting really tempted to take a detour from the job and see what his luck was like.
As much as Otter wanted to collect on the million and his long-dreamed-of revenge against Hunter, the closer he got to her the more he unconsciously sought to put off the deadly confrontation. He’d kill her, all right, and be happy doing it. But that didn’t stop him from having a bad case of nerves when he thought of meeting her face-to-face.
Otter decided to hang out at a tavern he’d spotted near his hotel. He’d maybe shoot some pool and get a few beers while he thought about the casinos some more. He’d been so broke since he’d gotten out of prison he was going to enjoy having a few dollars in his pocket. He slipped his .38 revolver into its shoulder holster and grabbed the hotel key off the table beside the bed.
He was really hoping he’d get another lead on Hunter from Garner, but maybe if he chatted up some of the local boys, they’d remember seeing the bitch.
*
Thomas knocked twice on Evan Garner’s door before entering. He closed the door behind him and waited for his boss to acknowledge him.
“Well?” Garner asked, not looking up from the papers he was reading.
“Frank’s in Tawa, sir. He followed the homing device in Scout’s phone as far as he could. He just called in on his cell.”
“And?” Garner glared at him.
“Well, sir, he’s stuck waiting for a tow truck. He was following the signal on some two-lane out of town and got stuck in deep snow. He’ll have to go back to town to get a snowmobile to get any farther. It may be a little while before we know more.”
“Come back when you’ve something to tell me,” Garner instructed. “And Thomas, keep the word out about the contract. See if we can’t generate some more interest.” The more the merrier. Garner dismissed his aide with a wave of his hand.
Thomas felt a little sorry for Hunter. He liked her and thought her a hell of a good-looking dame. But Garner sure was determined to see her dead. The brawny bodyguard wondered what Hunter might have done to prompt the boss to want to eliminate his former number-one protégé.
Chapter Twelve
Kat dashed through the bedroom door when she heard the cry.
Jake moaned in her sleep, thrashing about, heedless of her injuries. She cried, “No! Stop!” then let out an agonized wail of pain.
Kat gently held Jake’s shoulders to the bed, trying to calm her and keep her from injuring herself further, all the while calling to her in a soft, soothing voice. “It’s all right. Everything’s fine. You’re safe. It’s just a nightmare.” What are you dreaming about, Jake? Whose face haunts you?
She stroked Jake’s upper arms, trying to gently wake her. She noted Jake was now wearing a sweatshirt and wondered how she’d gotten out of bed to get it.
Jake’s eyes shot open. She looked terrified. She was sweating, breathing heavily, and still caught in the grip of her nightmare.
Kat continued to absently caress her arms, looking down at her with concerned eyes. “You’re all right. I
t was just a bad dream. I have them, too.” Why did you just volunteer that? “Want to talk about it?”
Jake’s eyes focused on Kat, and relief replaced the fear coursing through her. She tried to recall what the dream was about, but it was already hazy. The rush of adrenaline it had triggered was waning, and it left her feeling groggy, almost hungover. “I...I can’t remember.”
Kat felt a rush of relief. “Well, you’re fine now,” she said. She pulled her hands away from Jake and nodded toward the sweatshirt. “So someone got out of bed?” she said with a smirk.
Kat’s expression chased away the remnants of Jake’s anxiety. “Yes,” she admitted. She blushed at the recollection of discovering Kat’s silk bras and panties. “Nature called, and I had to answer,” she said. “And I was kind of chilly. Hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t. I just can’t believe you made it there and back yourself.” Kat pushed aside the alarm bells going off in her head at the realization that Jake had been going through her things. She wasn’t snooping. She was just cold.
“That may not have been real smart, in retrospect,” Jake said. “Think it aggravated my knee some.”
“Let’s have a look.” Kat moved to the left side of the bed. “It’s time for me to check your bandages anyway, though I must say you’re looking better otherwise. The swelling on your face has gone down.” She peeled back the blanket and examined Jake’s knee, which had swollen again. “Doesn’t look too bad, but it needs some ice. And you shouldn’t try that again,” she scolded gently. “Sorry I wasn’t here to help you.”
Kat loosened the bandage and left the room to make up an ice bag. After that was done, she checked Jake’s splint.
“I’d like to examine your ribs now. Can I help you sit up?”
Jake nodded, and Kat slid her arm beneath Jake’s shoulders, supporting her and helping her to lean back on some pillows placed against the headboard. Once she was settled, Kat moved in front of her so they were facing each other. Jake shifted her weight and lifted the T-shirt and sweatshirt with her good hand, exposing her bandaged abdomen. She held the material so that it would cover her breasts. The blanket covered her from the waist down.
Without a word, Kat reached out to remove the long strips of material wrapped around Jake’s midsection as Jake leaned slightly forward. In order to unwrap the bandage, Kat leaned toward Jake as well, her arms around and behind her. Their faces were only inches apart. Neither looked at the other, their nervousness palpable.
Kat tried to keep her hands from shaking. Her palms were sweating. The proximity to Jake was exquisitely excruciating.
Each experience that brought them close together was more difficult than the last.
Finally Kat got to bare flesh. As Kat’s nimble fingers gently probed Jake’s rib cage, her hand brushed up against the bottom swell of Jake’s breast.
Both women froze.
Kat looked into Jake’s eyes, just inches from hers. Then her gaze dropped a few inches to Jake’s lips. She longed to close the distance and claim those lips. She hungered for it. She couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t want to.
Jake held her breath. The touch against her breast had electrified her, and she saw something different in Kat’s eyes. A yearning that matched her own. The pupils were enlarged, the lids hooded with desire. Kat’s eyes were fixed on her lips, and the smoldering eroticism of her gaze shot through Jake and pinned her in place.
Kat moistened her lips.
Chapter Thirteen
Otter was perched on a high bar stool in an establishment that most just called Dugan’s. The neon sign outside said Dugan’s Authentic Irish Pub and Grub. The proprietor, a plump Norwegian with a droopy mustache, polished glasses behind the bar. He’d bought the place a couple of years earlier and kept the name, even though the former owner took many of the authentic Irish decorations with him when he left. It would have cost too much to replace the sign. Now all that was left was the Bass Ale on tap, the Wednesday lunch special—corned beef and cabbage—and a lot of cheap green paper shamrocks tacked to the walls.
There were about twenty other people in Dugan’s at the moment. A few were shooting pool at the two tables in the back, and three couples sat at tables eating sandwiches or the special of the day. The rest were on bar stools watching the latest sports scores on ESPN. The place did draw in the occasional curious or thirsty tourist, but it was a neighborhood bar and everyone in it at the moment was a regular, except for Otter.
He was on his third beer and had had no luck pumping the locals. No one had seen Hunter. He was patient. He decided to stop trying for the moment. He was content to get a pleasant buzz from the beer and maybe put a few dollars on a game of pool later.
A small bell tinkled—the door opening to admit another thirsty patron. Otter, bored, turned at the sound and glanced around. The newcomer was a tall, thin man dressed in the tan insulated Carhartt overalls that pegged him as a farmer or at least someone who worked outside a lot. He had a weather-beaten face that was deeply lined though he was probably only in his forties. He walked to the bar and stood two bar stools down from Otter as he waved at the bartender.
“Hey, Karl, gimme a draft, wouldja?” the man said, unzipping the top of his coveralls. He set his hat and gloves on the bar.
“How’s it going, Marty?” the bartender replied, drawing the beer and setting it in front of the man.
“Same old, same old,” Marty said. “Been up on the roof shoveling snow. Got an ice dam up there again this year, and it’s been leaking into my den. Would’ve gotten my TV if I hadn’t caught it when I did.” He sipped his beer and glanced up at the latest hockey scores. “Heard anything more about what happened to Sam?”
“Not really,” Karl replied. “Mike was in yesterday. Said they still don’t have much. Sam told him just before he died that he was meeting with a woman client. You know Sam—said she sounded sexy on the phone and wanted to take a sightseeing tour, just her alone, so he was looking forward to it. That’s about all they have to go on.”
Otter, who’d been only half listening, tuned in to the conversation beside him while appearing outwardly to take no notice of the two men. He stared at the TV but didn’t see it, waiting for the bartender to continue.
“The sheriff called in the state police to fingerprint Sam’s office,” Karl said. “But they said it was useless. Too many customers been in and out of there, and you know that place never got cleaned.”
“What about Riley?” Marty asked.
“Up in Canada on some job the last week or so, they think. Probably doesn’t know yet.”
“They ever find the knife?”
“Nope,” said the bartender. “And there was nothing in Sam’s stuff about the client. The last page of his appointment book had been ripped out.”
Marty shook his head. “Hard to believe a woman could do that.”
“Yeah,” Karl replied, moving away to the end of the bar to fill a waitress’s drink order.
Otter turned to Marty. “Get a little excitement here?” he asked.
Marty turned to look at Otter and nodded. “Yeah, friend of ours was killed a few days ago. Got his throat cut. Hell of a way to go.” He wore a mournful expression and shook his head again as if he still had trouble comprehending the news. “Couldn’t have had much in the cash register. Summer and fall were really his busy seasons. He had a helicopter and did mostly tourist flights up over Lake Superior and back.”
Otter’s expression remained impassive, but his heartbeat had doubled with the latest bit of news. “And they think a woman did it?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Marty said. “Sam didn’t do much this time of year except make occasional deliveries to places out in the sticks. He had a route of regular stops. But he didn’t have any the day he died. Only some woman tourist he was supposed to take up to the lake. He was good with the women, y’know. Got a lot of pretty clients to go out with him.”
“Well, I’m sorry about your friend,” Otter said. “Where�
��d all this happen?”
Marty nodded at the condolences. “A little airstrip north of town,” he said. “Nothing much else around. That’s why they don’t have much to go on. Nobody saw anything.”
Otter got up from his bar stool and placed a few bills on the counter, then turned to leave. He paused beside Marty and said, “Don’t worry. What comes around, goes around—someone will find her.” And that someone will be me.
Chapter Fourteen
Desire coursed through Jake. She could still feel the brief touch of Kat’s hand on her breast. She closed her eyes and leaned slightly forward, encouraging Kat to close the distance between them. She trembled in anticipation.
A shrill alarm broke the silence.
Kat snapped to attention and bolted from the room.
Drat, Jake thought. Her heart racing, she waited expectantly for Kat’s return. Her mind teetered between wondering what the alarm meant and wondering whether the two of them would acknowledge and pursue what had obviously been about to happen.
Her mind unwillingly went back to the ring on her finger. It seemed alien to her. An unwelcome obstacle to her growing feelings for Kat. She wanted to take it off and forget about it, but her conscience stopped her. It signifies a promise made. And you keep your promises, it nagged at her. She ran her hand through her hair in frustration and felt where odd sections had dried, sticking hurly-burly in every direction. She closed her eyes, chagrined at what she must look like and embarrassed that Kat was seeing her at her worst.
When she looked up again, she spotted Kat standing in the doorway, an apologetic half smile on her face.
“Sorry about that,” Kat said. “I have an alarm system to alert me when something really big gets within a certain distance of the bunker. You know, might be something unusual...something worth shooting,” she added. “Just a deer this time.”
