For the Defense

by Maggie Wells

  “Simon, this isn’t a game of backyard cops and robbers. I’m not toting a water gun here,” she said, exasperated.

  He raised both brows, affronted. “I’m aware of that.” He scooted his elbows under his chest and lifted his head. “I thought you would like to know that Cassidy—that’s one of the girls you rescued—says that’s where they keep the ‘superexpensive and rare’ snakes,” he said, squinching to approximate the use of air quotes. “She says only Coulter and his main man have keys.”

  “Looks like Dale is his main man,” she said. Sighing, she set her handgun down in the space between her and Simon and took up her rifle again. Sighting on the door, she growled. “Keep your head down.”

  She heard a twig crack somewhere off to her left, swung the gun around and blew out a breath of relief when she spotted Ruggalo and his team approaching. Opening her mic, she whispered, “I see you. I’m at two o’clock. Deputy Wasson and the girls from the Quonset hut are somewhere between your three and four. He’s loading up, but I don’t know how much more that tiny trunk can hold.”

  Ahead of her, Ruggalo’s team moved into position, using hand signals to fan out and surround the building. “What have we got?”

  Lori raised her scope and scanned the area and the building. The door stood ajar, but Dale had not reappeared with any more bags. “So far, I’ve witnessed him placing four large black duffel bags into the trunk of the car. I have no idea what they contain. He’s inside.”

  Ruggalo held up an okay signal to let her know he’d heard her.

  “I believe there’s only one way in or out. I’ll cover your six.”

  As Ruggalo and his team advanced on the small building, she turned to Simon. He was so close she could feel the moist heat of his breath on her lips. “I’m moving down behind them. I will stay back, but I need you to promise to stay here.”

  She waited for an argument. After all, the man was a lawyer. She couldn’t expect anything different from him, could she? But rather than speaking, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers.

  Instead of tasting of desperation, fear or impatience, his kiss was soft and sweet. A promise of things to come rather than a last-ditch effort.

  When they parted, he pressed his dirt-streaked forehead to her cheekbone near the nylon strap of her tactical helmet and whispered, “Go get ’em.”

  Her lips still tingling from his kiss, Lori skittered down a slight incline and took up a position well behind the team of federal agents. She settled in, her gun sighted on the open doorway as the men scoped the area and conveyed information to one another using the tactical gestures she knew as well as she knew the alphabet.

  Ruggalo dispatched his men with swift efficiency. She wrapped her finger around the trigger as the agent nearest to the door shouted their identification and warned the occupant that they had the building surrounded.

  Thankfully, Rick Dale seemed to have a well-developed sense of self-preservation. Or he knew damn good and well he wasn’t the one who would bear the brunt of whatever the Feds were about to rain down on Samuel Coulter. That was the thing with drug busts. There was usually someone higher up in the food chain to squeal on.

  After a tense minute, they heard the man inside the building call out, “Don’t shoot. Okay?”

  He came out of the building with his hands held above his head. They instructed him to stand facing the side of the shed, his hands pressed high on the wall. One agent held him at gunpoint and barked questions while another patted him down. Dale claimed he was alone. Within minutes, they had confirmed his story and cleared the area. The Toyota’s trunk and doors stood wide open.

  Ruggalo stood up from his position between Lori and the rest of his team. “What’s in the bags?”

  Dale simply shook his head. “I’m not talking until I get a lawyer, but I wouldn’t open them if I was you, man.”

  For a split second, Lori was afraid Simon would jump up out of the leaf mulch and volunteer his services, but to her immense relief, he held his silence.

  One of the agents walked over to the trunk and nudged one of the duffel bags with the barrel of his gun. Lori stared through the scope, her stomach roiling as she watched the bag undulate.

  She pressed the button on her mic and said to Ruggalo, “Snakes. No telling what else he has in there, but he definitely has snakes.”

  “Ten-four,” Ruggalo called back.

  Three more agents trotted into the clearing. They wore windbreakers rather than the full tactical gear the others had, but they were carrying assault weapons. Ruggalo waved them over to the building. Lori rose to her knees as Ruggalo called their progress to the base. He was just nodding at Alicia Simmons’s response of “Ten-four. Return to base” when the crack of rifle fire made them jump.

  Lori watched in horror as Ruggalo stumbled backward and fell to the ground. But then her entire world squeezed down to a pinpoint. Falling back to her belly, she marked the agent’s position and calculated possible trajectories. Lori instinctively swung her rifle into position, using the scope to scan the woods to her left.

  She saw the glint of another scope and fired on instinct.

  Her weapon’s report seemed to echo back at her. She heard the telltale thud of a body landing hard on the soft forest floor and exhaled in a whoosh. She pushed up and rocked back onto her knees. Using the scope, she found a thin young man stretched out prone on a bed of pine needles and crunchy leaves.

  Behind her, Simon bellowed her name. She turned to find him running toward her, her own service weapon extended in front of him. The moment he was within reach, she grabbed a handful of his suit coat and yanked him down beside her.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” She snatched her gun from his grasp. “Do you even know anything about guns?”

  “I don’t need to,” he said, panting. “You do.”

  “Well, the first thing you need to know is that a handgun isn’t going to do you any good at long range,” she said, checking the weapon. Thankfully, he hadn’t been foolish enough to discharge it.

  “I’d do it, though. I’d do it to protect you,” he said fervently.

  “It’s a good thing I don’t need protecting,” she shot back.

  She tore her eyes off the handsome idiot beside her as she spotted two of the backup team sprinting across to check on the shooter. To her relief, she saw Ruggalo work himself up onto one elbow. She watched as the agent probed the front of the Kevlar vest that had saved his life.

  “You okay?” Lori asked into the radio.

  “Yeah. Knocked the wind out of me,” he responded weakly. “Good shootin’, Deputy. You’re an ace.”

  Glancing over at her ragtag group covered in the dust of the day, she keyed her mic and said, “Base, this is Cabrera. We had a situation, but the threat has been neutralized. Send medical and backup.”

  * * *

  THE SCENE IN the parking lot had grown exponentially in the time since he’d slipped out of Ben Kinsella’s SUV. Simon knew there’d be hell to pay for that, but he was too busy getting an earful from the diminutive deputy walking down the dirt track beside him to care.

  “Wow. Look at this,” he said, gesturing to the carnival of flashing lights atop nearly every vehicle.

  While they were in the woods, a command center had popped up. Almost every foot of the field was covered with emergency vehicles. He noted at least three counties other than Masters present. Then there were the black panel vans and unmarked cars used by the Feds. His hands shook with unspent adrenaline.

  Personnel scurried from group to group. Firemen in full turnout gear clumped back and forth and up and down trails shouting instructions to one another. Lori raised a hand to Deputy Wasson as he herded the three young women they found toward a black van parked beside an ambulance.

  Special Agent Ruggalo sat in the open back door of an ambulance, medics crawling all over him as he
spoke into a mobile phone. Lori raised her hand in a wave and he responded with a salute and a thumbs-up.

  Simon spotted Ben Kinsella standing with the sheriff from Prescott County, their heads bent together in conversation. “Guess I’d better go let Ben get his shots in on me.”

  Lori grabbed his arm and spun him around to face her beside a Prescott County cruiser. “That was probably the most harebrained thing a person could possibly do. What were you thinking?” she demanded.

  “I was thinking I needed to get to you.” He waved an all-encompassing hand at the scene around them. “I knew your mission was not the DEA’s mission. I didn’t know if you had backup and I couldn’t let you run off into the woods alone.”

  “Stop there,” she advised. “Simon, I was doing my job.”

  “I know—”

  “A job I’ve had since I was nineteen. A job I’m damn good at doing.”

  “I know you are. But I was worried sick. What if you went in there and I never got a chance to tell you—”

  He stopped abruptly and took a moment to search her eyes. “Give me... I just need to...” He stopped, then gripped her upper arms gently and turned her away from him.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  He found the catch for her chin strap and popped it open. Lifting the helmet from her head, he sighed when he caught sight of the thick, heavy knot of hair coiled at her nape. Ducking his head, he pressed his lips to the spot he’d ached to kiss since the moment he first laid eyes on her. Her skin was damp and dusty, but he didn’t care. She was alive and warm and everything he needed.

  “I have been aching to do this.” She shivered and he pressed another gentle kiss to the sensitive spot. “The first time I saw you, all I could do was think about kissing you right here,” he whispered. “Taking your hair down. Sliding my fingers through it.”

  “Simon—”

  “I know this isn’t the time or place, but, Lori, I need you to know I am not sorry I went in after you. I’d have done anything I needed to do to save you, because I am on your side, Lori. I want to be by your side.

  “And, logically, yes, I know what I did today was boneheaded.” He chuckled and squeezed her arms tight as he pressed his cheek to her hair. “But logic doesn’t work when it comes to how I feel about you.”

  He felt the breath rush out of her and gathered her close, pulling her back against him. “You were right about me at the start. I wasn’t giving Pine Bluff a chance,” he said with a wry smile. “I didn’t plan on staying here one minute longer than I had to.”

  She stiffened. “And now?”

  Drawing a bracing breath, he loosened his hold and urged her to turn to face him. “To be honest, I’ve never sat down and thought long and hard about what I want to do or where I want to be.” He blew out a breath. “I took the path laid out in front of me the minute I was born.”

  “It’s what most of us do.”

  “Not you,” he countered.

  Lori wet her lips. “Not me.”

  “All my life, I’ve been trying to find shortcuts. Why bother paying dues or taking time to think about whether I might actually want something different, right?”

  “Right,” she whispered.

  “I was wrong,” he said, holding her gaze. “I was so wrong. I had no idea everything I ever wanted might be right here.”

  “Simon—”

  “Listen, this is new. You and me. And I told Ben, I’m not even sure you actually think it’s a thing, but... My parents are so in love with each other,” he whispered, looking straight into her eyes. “I’m supposed to want all the other stuff. The power, ambition, adulation, but in truth, all I ever wanted was someone who simply wanted me. Was happy with me just the way I am.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I get you.”

  “I haven’t done anything to make you believe in me, but I—”

  “I haven’t been nice to you,” she interrupted. “I haven’t given you much of a chance, and I’m sorry.”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “You’ve been a challenge. And believe it or not, I don’t mind a challenge.”

  “I guess we’re a better match than I thought,” she said with a laugh.

  “We are,” Simon replied, but he wasn’t laughing. “You challenge me, Lori, and in doing so, you make me think about what I want to accomplish. Who I want to be. And I think I’m starting to figure it out.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And who do you want to be?”

  “I want to be the guy who gets to kiss you. More than that, I want to be the guy who deserves to kiss you.”

  Lori licked her lips, pressed the heels of her hands to the corners of her eyes and stomped her booted foot as she looked away from him. “Don’t make me cry. I’m in uniform,” she said in a low rush.

  Simon’s smile came slowly, but when it ramped up to full strength, it was dazzling. “Well, I certainly don’t want to make you cry out of uniform.”

  “Cocky,” she admonished, her voice husky with emotion.

  “Hopeful,” he corrected. “Hopeful you’ll give me a chance. Hopeful you’ll show me how good small-town life can be.”

  She whipped her head up and her gaze met his. “You’re staying here?”

  “I think so,” he said, the idea solidifying in his mind. “Something about this place feels like home. And don’t think it doesn’t pain me to admit it.”

  “I know it does,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

  “Speaking of pain, did I tell you I took Coulter down in more ways than one?”

  “Did you? How’s that?”

  “Turns out I’ve retained some pretty slick martial arts skills. Remind me to show you my moves later.”

  She tugged his head down and her smile blossomed as his lips grazed hers. “Oh, I will, Counselor. I definitely will.”

  * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Missing at Christmas by K.D. Richards.

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  Missing at Christmas

  by K.D. Richards

  Chapter One

  Adelaide “Addy” Williams’s feet ached, and a headache throbbed behind her temples as she pulled the restaurant door open. The bells above the door jangled, drawing the attention of the middle-aged man behind the host podium. The smell of fried onions and beef slapped her in the face as she stepped toward the man.

  He gave a tight smile, probably annoyed to have a customer come in less than an hour from closing time. “Dining in or taking out?”

  “Neither.” Addy pulled the photograph of her sister from the oversize purse she carried. The bottom edges were creased from having been taken in and out of the purse all day, but Cassie’s effervescent smile remained unblemished. “I’m looking for my sister.” Addy thrust the photo at the man. “Have you seen her?”

  The man flicked a glance at the photo then back to Addy. “No.”

  Addy fought back the annoyance swelling in her chest. She’d gotten the same reaction from at least half the people she’d shown Cassie’s picture to over the last two days. Indifference or outright irritation was the most common reaction from people when she explained her nineteen-year-old sister was missing. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d have gotten the same reaction if Cassie had blue eyes and blond hair instead of caramel skin and coarse coils.

  “Please, look again,” she said, thrusting Cassie’s photo closer to the man.

  He sighed, but pulled a pair of glasses from the pocket of his suit jacket and slipped them on before taking the photo
from Addy. A lock of dark brown hair fell over his forehead as his studied the picture. After a moment he said, “I’m sorry. I’ve never seen her.”

  “Are you sure?” Addy pressed, taking the photo back. She’d been in the restaurant earlier that day and had gotten the same response from the young woman behind the podium at the time, but she’d hoped she might have better luck with the evening staff.

  The man sighed. “Yes, I’m sure. Now, I’m sorry about your sister, but if you aren’t going to order something, I have to ask you to leave.”

  As if on cue, Addy’s stomach rumbled.

  The man’s dark eyebrows rose, making it clear he’d heard her body’s protestations. She’d forgotten to stop for lunch, propelled by the ticking clock metaphorically hanging over her head. Addy knew the statistics. The longer a young woman was missing, the less likely it was that she’d be found alive.

  “Kitchen is closing in five minutes, but the dining area is open until nine.”

  Addy glanced at her watch—8:25 p.m. Living in Manhattan, it was nearly impossible to imagine a restaurant closing up shop so early. But Bentham, New York, was no Manhattan.

  “Miss?” the man said.

  “I want to order. I’ll take it to go.”

  The man grabbed a plastic-clad menu from the top of the stack on the podium and thrust it into her hands. It listed traditional Mexican fare. She ordered a chicken burrito.

  “Have a seat.” The man waved vaguely toward the nearest cluster of tables. “Your order will be out momentarily.” He dropped the menu back on top of the stack and turned.

  “Do you mind showing this photo to the kitchen staff? Please?” Addy added at his frown. “She’s my sister.” She fought to get the last words out around the sob lodged in her throat. Showing vulnerability in front of a complete stranger was not something a tough-as-nails corporate attorney from Manhattan did. But if she had to beg this man to help her, she would. She couldn’t leave any stone unturned.