Warning Shot

by Jenna Kernan

  “She’s very pretty. Kind of prickly, though.”

  “True on both accounts.”

  He realized that here on the compound, Eddie had little opportunity to meet eligible women. Rylee was a beauty and smart and he was certain she would have zero interest in locking herself up on nine hundred acres to wait for disaster.

  Rylee was here to stop that impending doom from arriving. He admired her for that.

  “Eddie, I’m getting in my vehicle. That gate best be open before I get there.”

  It wasn’t a bluff. He knew that his modest yearly budget did not include major damage to his vehicle, but he was getting up to the farm. By the time he had his unit in drive, Eddie was swinging back the gate.

  Axel paused just inside to speak to Eddie. “Why don’t you come to my place for dinner one day?”

  “Can’t.” Eddie made a face.

  “Open invitation,” he said and headed off. Axel bounced along the twin groves that served as the access road to the compound, his windshield wipers screeching over the glass as he tried to clear the mist and mud.

  * * *

  RYLEE HAD BEEN stripped of her weapons and now accepted escort to one of the outbuildings. Judy Coopersmith had left her to see to her youngest son, Morris, who was heading to court today. Before leaving, she warned her husband, Stanley, that this little gal is a guest and is to be treated like one.

  Stanley Coopersmith had his brother Joseph working on her car that had either a bad starter or a bad battery. Stanley thought Rylee should see something in his garage before leaving. She had time on her hands and so if Mr. Coopersmith wanted to give her a tour, she was happy to take it.

  The garage turned out to be a huge prefab carport of aluminum, with a vertical roof that looked wide enough to park two tractor trailers in.

  “We use it to repair our vehicles and construction. It’s right in here.”

  The odor of motor oil, mildew and rust assaulted her before they’d cleared the single door that stood beside the huge twin garage doors. Inside, two pickup trucks stood end to end, one on blocks and the other with the hood open and a greasy tarp draped over one side.

  Beside these casualties sat a backhoe with the bucket removed and showing one broken tooth. Along the back was a long tool bench. She picked her way past various replacement parts that littered the grease-stained concrete. On the cluttered surface of the tool bench sat one pristine device. It was a drone—white, approximately thirty-four inches with eight rotors, one of which had been damaged. She glanced at Coopersmith, who motioned her forward.

  “Go on,” he said.

  “Where did this come from?”

  “Darned if I know, but I took that shot. It was carrying something, like a duffel bag. It dropped it across the river before I made that shot. Crashed out back and we scooped it up.”

  “What’s across the river?” she asked.

  He looked startled. “That’s the Mohawk Nation.”

  “Do you believe that it is theirs?”

  “No saying. I didn’t shoot it until it was over my place.”

  “And its cargo?”

  “Dropped on the Kowa side of the river.”

  “Did they retrieve what the drone was carrying?”

  “Can’t say. But I know someone has been trying to activate that drone remotely.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because the damn thing keeps moving around the garage. It’s why I chained her down.”

  Rylee used a cloth to lift the drone. “Heavy.”

  “Thirty pounds and no serial number. No markings at all that I can see.”

  “When did you find it?”

  “Yesterday.”

  Monday, she realized, and the same day that Border Patrol followed a small man dropped off on the Canadian side, who crossed the border through a wooded area and then fled onto Mohawk land carrying a duffel bag. Had their suspect had the drone to carry out the cargo or did he have outside help?

  “Were you planning to report it?”

  “No. I was planning to take it apart and keep it. But if you want it, I’ll accept offers.”

  “Offers?” She did a poor job holding back her surprise. “How much?”

  “Take five hundred for it.”

  “Done.”

  She reached for her wallet, zipped in her blazer.

  “You carry that much?”

  She nodded, opening the billfold.

  “Should have asked for six,” he said.

  “I’ll give you seven.” And she did.

  Stanley accepted the cash.

  “Has this happened before?”

  “Trespassers? Sure. Just today, for instance.” He gave her a pointed look and she flushed as he continued on. “But drones. That’s a new one for me.”

  A voice came from behind the pickup.

  “Pop?”

  “Back here.”

  Edward Coopersmith appeared, red-faced and unable to make eye contact with her. Behind him came Sheriff Trace. He had no trouble making eye contact and the result was an instant acceleration of her heartbeat. The physical reaction to this man was getting bothersome. She scowled at the pair as they continued toward them.

  “Axel, what a surprise.” Stanley offered his hand to Trace and cast a scowl at his son.

  “I wouldn’t have brung him, but this here is his gal and he’s worried.”

  Stanley looked from Axel, whose jaw was locked tight, to Rylee, whose mouth swung open.

  “Interesting news, seeing she’s only been here a day and a half.”

  Edward glared at Axel, who shrugged.

  Stanley Coopersmith spoke again. “We aren’t detaining her, Axel. Fact, she’s leaving anytime. You want to give her a lift?”

  “I’ll need my weapons,” said Rylee.

  “’Fraid our policy is to confiscate the firearms of trespassers.”

  “And my vehicle?”

  “Also confiscated.”

  “It was on a county road.”

  “The road belongs to the county. The land is ours. You left the government land when you left the road.”

  “Taking a federal vehicle might be a problem for you,” said Rylee.

  Coopersmith did not blink. She looked to the damaged drone, itching to get it to her people. A glance at Trace told her he was worried. He motioned with his head toward the exit.

  Rylee looked to Coopersmith. “What do you want for them?”

  “Money is good.”

  “What about shotgun shells? I have ten boxes in my trunk.”

  “You don’t anymore.”

  Here, Axel stepped in, looping an arm around her waist and cinching her tight. Her side pressed against his and even though their skin never touched, her body tingled with awareness and she temporarily lost the ability to speak. His scent enveloped her. He smelled of pine soap and leather.

  “I appreciate you looking out for my girl, Mr. Coopersmith. And for all you did for me when I was a boy. I’d appreciate you allowing us safe passage through your land.”

  “Very fact she’s up here shows I’m right. It’s coming. I feel it in my bones.”

  Rylee glanced to Trace to see what it might be. His hand rested familiarly on her hip and she found it harder to think as her body pressed to his.

  “What about two cases of MREs for your trouble?” he offered, referring to the military Meals Ready to Eat. The food staple stored for years and he thought might just appeal to a man ready to hide in a bunker.

  “I’ll take six for the drone and safe passage off our lands.”

  “And her vehicle, weapons and anything else you took from her car.”

  “Done.”

  Axel released her to shake on the deal. Rylee stepped away from both men and headed toward the door.

&nb
sp; She resented being bargained for like a milk cow. But she said nothing. Safely clear of Axel’s embrace, her mind began functioning again. She retrieved the drone and carried it with her as they left the garage.

  Edward hovered by her opposite side. “If things don’t work out for you two, you could give me a call.”

  She blinked at the strange offer. “You have phones out here?”

  “No, but Axel can get a message to me.”

  Axel chose this moment to press a hand to her lower back. The gesture was intimate. “We best be on our way, sweetheart.”

  The endearment sounded forced but made Edward flinch. Inexplicably, she felt a tightening in her throat and her breath came in tiny gasps. She forced her mouth closed and breathed through her nose all the way to her vehicle, parked before the main house.

  There, she watched her weapons loaded back in her trunk. Everything went back in place except the shotgun shells. She placed the drone on top and accepted the keys from Stanley.

  “You understand this is a one-time deal on account of my wife saying you was to be treated as a guest.”

  “Do you always ransom your guest’s belongings?”

  Stanley Coopersmith’s smile was wily. “Generally, I just keep them.”

  “You will have to notify me if you apprehend or spot any more trespassers or see any unusual activity.”

  “Actually, I don’t have to.” Stanley accepted her card.

  Axel held open her door and cast her an impatient look. Those gray-blue eyes relayed messages that she could not decipher other than his impatience and a possible brewing storm.

  Rylee allowed Axel to walk her alongside of the sedan and tuck her into her seat as if she were a child unable to successfully open or close a car door. Then she followed his vehicle off the property and out of a gate that was the only gap in a perimeter fence that stretched into the woods in either direction.

  A chill now lifted the hairs on her arms and neck. Had Stanley actually been considering ransoming her? She was a federal agent and taking her hostage would have brought the FBI straight to his property line. There, federal authorities would have waited during negotiations that she realized might have stretched on and on. For the first time, her annoyance with Axel turned to the realization that she might just owe him her thanks. If that situation had escalated, the ramifications could have been disastrous for all parties.

  Axel had gotten her out of a survivalist camp without bloodshed, quickly and with only the merest gesture of a bargain. Just the dashboard computer was worth far more than a few cases of prepackaged food and shotgun shells.

  That was twice now he’d pulled her fanny from the fire. Rylee gripped the wheel as she followed Axel onto the highway and back toward Kinsley. Perhaps a collaboration with the locals was not just some empty gesture and words from her department. She might get farther with his help if she included him in her investigation and, perhaps, keep custody of her car.

  Trouble was she didn’t trust him. All she really knew was that he was a local guy, generally liked, with an impressive military career that he had left to come here. His background information was general at best. But where had he been before he was fostered to Kurt Rogers at age thirteen? And what had happened to make him leave the army shortly after his fatal shooting of fellow servicemen?

  As an army brat, she didn’t approve of his taking the early discharge option. Her father, sister and brothers were all career Marine Corp so she shared her father’s aversion for the army.

  “One way to get to know someone is to speak to them,” she said to the car’s interior.

  Rylee was not a joiner. An introvert by nature, she was comfortable only with her siblings, and some more than others. They were nearly back to Kinsley before her phone picked up cellular service. She used the vehicle’s communication system to call her boss.

  Someone from the Glens Falls office would pick up the drone. Hopefully, they could glean some information from the navigation system. She’d seen her share of drones during professional training and recognized this one was not the garden-variety hobbyist craft. Too sophisticated and too expensive for the average operator.

  By the time she reached her motel, she realized she had missed lunch and was starving. In the motel lot, the sheriff peeled off to park in the guest area. She checked the drone in the trunk. It was not in the spot she had placed it and there were scrape marks on the inner surface of the trunk. The blades began to whir, and she slammed the trunk closed.

  This was a safer spot to hold the device than the motel room and she wasn’t sure she could get it in there without it getting away. She glanced around. You usually had to be within sight of a drone to effectively operate it. This sort might have a longer range and all sorts of navigational upgrades.

  Axel was beside her car as she locked the vehicle.

  “You know, I do have other things to do besides collect you from private property.”

  She turned and met him with a bright smile. “And I appreciate your efforts and I’d like to take you out to lunch as a thank-you.”

  It was as if she’d frozen him in some tractor beam. He stood with his mouth half open, a finger raised to continue his lecture, and now seemed unsure how to proceed.

  She closed her hand around his extended index finger and lowered his hand to his waist. He frowned before drawing his hand back. She doubted he intended the action of gliding his digit from her closed palm to be sexual, but from the startled gaze and the drop of her stomach, the friction had done just that.

  He stood speechless, and she was finding a lack of oxygen in this corner of the parking lot. Oh, no, she thought. Not this one. He’s overbearing and judgmental. He’s in a dead-end career at the top of the world. She had the impression he played fast and loose with the law and enforced only the regulations that fell under his auspices. But those blue-gray eyes. They reminded her of a winter sky. Axel lifted his hands and for a moment she thought he would hold her again. The little show for Coopersmith replayed in her mind with the firm feel of his fit body.

  She stepped closer. He grasped her shoulders and for just a second he seemed unsure if he should push or pull. Rylee leaned toward him and he extended his arms, sending her back a step.

  “Separate cars. You follow me,” he said and whirled away. His retreat came as close to a jog as a man could manage and still be walking. She’d never seen someone in such a hurry to be rid of her.

  It only then occurred to her that the sheriff might be as hesitant of her as she was of him.

  Her hands went to her hips. “We’ll see about that.”

  Chapter Six

  Axel checked the rearview every ten seconds to be sure that Rylee was following him. His heart was thumping as if he had run all the way to Bear Creek Café. He tried and failed to convince himself he was just anxious that she not veer off to find herself in another jam that required an extraction.

  But it was a lie. He wanted her in his arms again. That little stunt for the benefit of the Coopersmiths had been a mistake. He’d been close enough to smell the light floral scent of her hair and feel the fit of her body against his. Both made him hungry for far more than lunch.

  He realized, with a sinking feeling, that he was spending so much time minding her business because she was so appealing. Even her false bravado came across as charming. He groaned aloud as he set his blinker tapping and made a slow turn into the lot. Rylee was parked and out of her car before he even had his turned off.

  “Fast woman,” he muttered.

  He tried to hold the door for her, but she made it inside unassisted and told Bonnie they’d prefer a booth. Then she took the one farthest from the counter.

  “Waitresses have ears like elephants,” she told him as she slid into her side and used a napkin from the metal dispenser to send the crumbs from the last patron’s meal onto the floor.

  She sat to
give herself a clear view of her vehicle out the window.

  Smart, he thought. Keep an eye on that drone.

  Bonnie followed them back with menus and a wet cloth to finish the job Rylee had started.

  “Drinks?” Bonnie said, grinning broadly at Axel as she wiggled her eyebrows at him.

  His scowl only made her smile broaden. Bonnie was short and round and the pink apples of her cheeks seemed more responsible than her nose for keeping her owlish glasses in place. Her hair was blond, short and starched straight as the rails on a fence. She stood on tiny feet, balancing her girth with the skill of an acrobat.

  “Iced tea,” said Rylee, flipping the laminated menu over and over as if something new might appear.

  Bonnie didn’t ask Axel what he wanted but did pause to give him a “what’s her deal?” look before departing. She returned a moment later with black coffee and Rylee’s iced tea.

  Axel removed his jacket and set it beside him in the booth. They ordered—a burger with fries for her, an egg salad sandwich with fresh fruit for him. She lifted her brow at his choice but said nothing.

  “Any news from your home office?” he asked.

  “None that I can discuss.”

  “They coming for the drone?”

  “Of course.”

  She glanced out the window as a line of bikers roared past, rattling the window.

  “They part of the North Country Riders group?” she asked, making the question seem casual.

  The fact that she knew not only that they had a motorcycle gang—or “club,” as they self-identified—up here but also their name did not bode well.

  “How you know of them?”

  “Briefings. They bring weed over the border. How is up for debate. You made any arrests in that department?” She sounded as if she already knew the answer and did not approve. He switched from wanting to kiss her to wanting to ditch her.

  “Smuggling is your department. Best leave the borders to BP boys and ICE, right?” he said, referring to Border Patrol and Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the two branches of Homeland Security working on drug enforcement up here.