Kill Shot

by Sheri Landry

  “I wish I knew that fifteen minutes ago,” she mutters to herself, and Jack rounds on her.

  “Listen, you’re coming with us.”

  “Yes.”

  Jack pauses mid-step, squaring himself on Dana. “What? No fight?” He side-eyes her as he asks.

  “No fight. I’m coming with you.” Compliant, she lowers her head.

  “Well, today just keeps getting better and better.” Exasperated, Jack turns to walk out of the shop. “I’ll bring the car to the back door. Be ready in two.” Opening the door an inch, he turns back to Dana. “Take what you need. We won’t be coming back here.”

  She nods and he leaves, concern etched all over him.

  I know why he’s tense. What if Jessa had showed up when we were both unconscious with a contract killer on the premises? Or, worse, Maxwell? We all know Jessa’s coming, and we have no way to warn her of the dangers.

  Dana hasn’t moved, and I lift my brows to her in a silent question she doesn’t answer. Instead, she swings her arm through her pack and secures it to her back.

  “Well? What was so important you risked all of our lives to come back here for?” I hate this wedge between us. We aren’t working together, and I’m fighting her to keep her safe. I’m growing tired of the battle.

  “That’s not fair. I didn’t know this would happen.”

  “Nothing about anything has been fair, Dana. We told you last night you couldn’t come here. This”—I wave my hand around her shop—“is on you. I mean, what were you thinking?” I expect her to argue. We still have a minute before we head out back, and I’m ready to have it out.

  Her lips wrinkle as she pinches them together, and the fire in her eyes cools as she drops them to the floor, taking in the disaster around her. It’s only a sliver of luck and a matter of timing that saved her from dying here, and she knows it. Things could have been very different had we not put a tracker on her.

  Her chin trembles. It isn’t obvious, and had I not been staring her down I would have missed it. She’s rattled.

  “I wasn’t thinking,” she finally says. “I was leaving. I came here to sign the shop papers over to the kids so they had it before I—” Pinching her lips tight, her shoulders rise with a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

  I can’t bring myself to tell her it’s okay, because it isn’t. Nothing about this is okay, and I won’t give her a false sense of hope like she had before. We are attempting to run away, and we have no intel on when our next ambush is going to happen. So, instead of saying anything, I let the uncomfortable silence sit between us until a single honk from the alley tells me an impatient Jack is waiting.

  “We need to go. Stay near me, and do what we say, even if you think you know better. Trust me, you don’t. We are trying to keep you safe.” I feel like a broken record, and she nods as I spot my gun lying on a counter.

  I holster my weapon and walk in front of her as we step over broken glass and kitchen gadgets before I open the back door.

  “Wait.” Her voice is low, and I’m close to throwing her over my shoulder and tossing her in the SUV when I turn to see her digging her keys out of a small pocket in the front of her backpack. She sets them down on the counter, then takes a second set and leaves them as well. She mumbles, “Car and shop keys.”

  She’s leaving her vehicle and her business to the kids. Tension slowly ebbs from my shoulders as I realize she’s accepted she is leaving with us, and I hear the rattle before I notice she’s holding the keys to our vehicle out for me.

  “And what’s this?” Opening her other hand, she holds out the tracker Jack slipped into her bag.

  “That’s how we found you. It’s a tracker.” My lips thin in a smile as I pocket our keys and slip the small tracking chip into my shirt pocket. She watches me with her lips pinched together. Without another word, I turn to lead her out of the shop she dreamed about owning with Jessa one day and back to the base I’m sure she never wanted to see again.

  18

  Dana

  The drive to their cabin was a quiet one. I told them everything Gerri told me about the grow op, but no one asked any questions. Jack kept his eyes forward while Michael watched our rearview window and checked every street we passed. Occasionally his eyes met mine, but they didn’t linger for long.

  Their priorities are elsewhere.

  My priority was sitting in my lap, and I spent the drive looking at my backpack, wishing I had left the drive in its hiding spot.

  We have reason to believe Maxwell is close by, Michael had said in the coffee shop, and everything after that bombshell blurred together. How could I have been so stupid?

  After I tried to run this morning and the almost-hit in my shop, these guys won’t let me out of their sight long enough to destroy the files I’m carrying. Gripping my hands tighter around the bag in my lap, I know my only option is to hold onto it and wait for the moment to present itself.

  After Jessa, Zane’s program is the one thing Maxwell wants most in this world. Jessa died keeping it from him, and now I’m scared I will have to do the same.

  Exhaustion settles into my bones. The running, fighting, and secrets carry weight, and it’s crushing me.

  There are no other cars in front of the Miller cabin when we arrive, and I listen to the guys exchange their surprise that the other guys on the team aren’t there as we approach the front door.

  But Logan’s there, and as soon as we enter he leads the conversation, telling us Grey and Charlie never returned and haven’t checked in. Link has no updates on a different situation they are tracking, and I take a step back to lean against the closed door. My actions catch Logan’s attention, and he narrows his eyes at me over Jack’s shoulder.

  He has to know I tried to run. Maybe he thinks their disappearance is my fault. I guess, in some twisted way, it is. They came out here looking for me.

  “I’m going to hold onto this for a while.” I’m not fast enough, and Logan pulls my backpack out of my grasp and walks away from me.

  I force myself to stay calm. Fighting to hold onto it will only alert him that it’s more important than I’m letting on, and he’s probably holding onto it because he thinks I won’t run without it. So I let him walk to the middle of the room as it swings by his side before he drops it on a round table.

  Michael points to a large couch in front of a fireplace and I take his cue, walking near my backpack and sitting down.

  “Where’s their vehicle?” Jack pulls Logan’s eyes off me.

  I was right not to take their car when I ran earlier. I remembered Michael telling me they tracked the car I stole the morning I left their base. They must have all their vehicles tagged.

  Michael walks up behind them, glancing over shoulders at what has their attention.

  “That’s where the kid and I found the abandoned car yesterday.” Michael must be talking about when he left with Tyler and the others took me to Dale’s. “How long have they been there?”

  “The whole time. They haven’t moved. No check-ins. Something’s wrong.” As Logan finishes talking, an alarm beeps, and all three men look toward a computer screen facing away from me before Logan taps a key, turning off the sound. They move toward the front door.

  “What is he doing here?” Michael hisses through his teeth as a voice calls from the driveway.

  “Hello?” Recognizing Dale’s voice, my eyes shoot up as fast as I do, and I run toward the door, placing myself directly in everyone’s path.

  “D-Dale? Is that you?” I crack the door an inch and watch him walk toward the cabin. “Just a minute. Stay right there.” Opening the door a little further, I hold my hand out, asking him to stop advancing, and he does. I speak over my shoulder, into the room. “Lower your guns. He’s okay. Just give me a second.”

  Turning back to the door, I open it further before a hand shoots out from behind me, slamming the door and pulling me back into the room.

  Spinning, I meet Michael’s hard stare and he cocks his head, waiting fo
r me to challenge him. I don’t. Raising my hands, I back away and let him take the lead, and he waits until I’m far enough back before opening the door again.

  “What are you doing out here, Dale?” I watch the back of Michael’s head as he looks around the side of the cabin and into the yard.

  “I heard what happened in town, and I have some information for you. Look, guys, I don’t know what’s going on, but I get the feeling I don’t want to be standing out here in the open for long.”

  Jack and Logan holster their guns, and Michael takes a step back from the door, waving Dale into the room. His eyes meet mine, and he takes a direct path to stand beside me.

  “Are you okay, Ki—um, Dana?” Lifting my chin with his fingers, he turns my head from side to side then up, and I see him wince before swiveling his head to the guys in warning.

  “It’s—I’m okay. It wasn’t them.” I drop my voice.

  “I know.” A war rages behind his eyes, but he doesn’t push for anything further.

  “Information?” Logan calls Dale’s attention off of me. His tone sounds suspicious.

  “Oh, right. Listen, there was a new face at the barn early this morning. Didn’t stay long, didn’t talk to anyone. Came in, had a coffee, and left. Which is odd, because you have a coffee shop in town, and, well, everyone knows our coffee is shit.” Dale pushes his hands in his jeans as his eyes jump between the guys.

  “What did he look like?” Jack steps closer to the couch.

  “Well, he looked like he was on edge. He had light, short, wavy hair, a bit over six feet tall.” As Dale gives his description, I watch Jack pull out his phone and swipe his finger over the screen.

  “Is this him?” Jack faces his phone to Dale, and I catch the image of the guy who attacked us at the shop. It must have been taken after he died.

  Dale is already nodding. “That’s the guy. Shit. What happened?” Dale’s eyes are growing bigger by the second.

  Jack dismisses Dale’s question and only looks at Logan with a nod.

  “Is that who attacked you?” Dale turns his attention to me, and I open my mouth to answer.

  Michael’s hand shoots out between us, forcing me to take a step away from Dale. “How do you know she was attacked?”

  Dale instantly puts his hands up as he takes a step back of his own. “Woah. Wait. Gerri told me what happened.” His eyes meet mine, pleading with me to vouch for him, and I step toward Michael to diffuse everyone’s nerves.

  Placing my hand on Michael’s arm, I say, “He’s okay. I told you, Gerri is one of the ladies who saved me.” I lift my chin, pointing at the image on Jack’s phone.

  “Look, guys, I don’t want any trouble. None of us do. You came to our town, remember?” Dale looks at all of them while he speaks, turning his back on me, shielding me from everyone in the room. “We’re just trying to protect our own.” Turning his head, he catches my attention. “All of our own.”

  I know what he’s hinting at, and it fills me with conflicting emotions. If I had managed to keep under everyone’s radar and stay lost, I think I would have grown to like it here.

  But a grow op? I can’t wrap my head around this new development. In the few minutes I had with Gerri and the ladies, they spoke about it like it was nothing more than a book club, but for cannabis.

  “We don’t have time for this.” Logan breaks the tension as he addresses Jack and Michael. “We need to check out their last location”—he points at the computer—“and no one goes alone. That means one of you two is coming with me.”

  Jack and Michael both speak up, saying they aren’t going to leave my side.

  “What if I went?” Dale cuts into the conversation, and all eyes turn to him.

  “I don’t—” Logan tries to interject, but Dale cuts him off.

  “Look, you don’t know me, but I can help. And helping you protects Dana. We all have our secrets here; I can hold my own.” The weight behind Dale’s words surprises me. He’s speaking about me like I’m family, and this is the first time since Michael and his team arrived that I don’t want to run away.

  We really know nothing about each other, yet everyone I’ve ever met in this town has been wonderful to know, and I wonder if maybe it’s just me who hasn’t gotten to know them yet.

  Michael and Jack still haven’t stepped up to leave with Logan, and he looks between them, clenching and releasing his fingers into fists as he waits. No one makes a move.

  Logan takes a deep breath. “It’s settled then.” His tone is short. “Dale, you’ll stay here, and both of you”—he points at Michael and Jack—“are going to check out the spot together.” Before anyone has a chance to argue, Logan raises his hands. “No further discussion. Move out.”

  Anger flares, but no one says a thing, and I take a step back from the group to sit on the couch and put some space between me and everyone else in the room.

  Jack and Logan walk away from us and over to their equipment, and Dale takes a seat near me while watching everyone work.

  Only Michael stays still, and I sneak a look at him, watching as he stands, faces away from me, and pinches his fingers together before finally turning to face me.

  “I—” It’s always the words we don’t say that matter the most. Michael’s eyes jump to Dale, who shifts his body and looks away from us before Michael speaks again. “Look, Dana. Listen to Logan. He will do whatever he can to keep you safe. I know you two don’t see eye to eye, but there are a lot of things you don’t know. Just try. Please.”

  Looking past Michael’s midsection, I watch Logan as he checks equipment with Jack, then bring my attention back and nod.

  Michael turns and joins his team. My eyes fall to my feet, staring at my secondhand shoes. Dried droplets of blood cover the canvas near my pinky toe.

  The leather chair creaks under Dale’s weight as he turns to face me.

  “Don’t.” I shake my head, and his eyebrows go up.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t ask, Dale. If I tell you anything, they might kill you too.”

  “Who might?”

  I know what he’s doing, but I simply shake my head.

  “You’ll tell me when this is all over.” It wasn’t a question.

  I shrug. I have nothing to lose. There’s a good chance I won’t be here when this is all over. “Sure, Dale. I will.”

  “Can you shoot a gun?” Logan’s voice startles me, and I clutch my heart to stop it from jumping out of my rib cage and running away. His eyes are on Dale, and the door closes behind him. Jack and Michael have left.

  “Yes.” Dale stays seated.

  “I never said what kind of gun,” Logan counters suspiciously.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Dale mutters as he glances uncomfortably between us.

  Logan shifts his attention between us like he used to with Jessa and me last year. He’s assessing Dale’s answer. I imagine there aren’t many people who just happen to know how to shoot any gun.

  Without pushing the conversation, Logan leaves us and continues checking and packing items on the table.

  The crack of the heat splitting a log draws my attention to the fireplace, and my thoughts dance with the flame as it licks at the air.

  Before, running was easy. Even when it was Jessa and I, it was easier than this. There are too many variables now, and I am alone. Two of Michael’s team are missing, and Stan is dead. Then there’s the rest of the town. How did everything become so—complicated?

  I sneak a look toward the table to make sure my backpack is still close by. I’ll focus on getting away from this town first, then I’ll properly destroy Zane’s program. Jack searched my bag when they first found me. It probably hasn’t occurred to them to search me again, and I don’t want to remind anyone by hovering around it.

  “There are a lot of secrets in this town, Dana.” Dale sounds remorseful. It feels like I’m looking at him for the first time.

  That’s what happens when you put up walls. You don’t give yours
elf the chance to get to know the people on the other side.

  Lowering his voice, he leans toward me in his seat. “I’m hiding from a crime family. Have been for over fifteen years. I won’t tell you which one or why, but I will tell you: you’re the only one here who knows that, and I’m not even the most interesting person in this town.”

  “Why are you telling me?” Blinking rapidly, I look toward Logan, who is checking his computers, unaware of our conversation.

  “Because like recognizes like, and I get the feeling you need to trust someone right now.”

  A sigh escapes me at his accurate assessment, and my eyes burn as they fill with tears. I wipe my face with my sleeve before they fall, then drop my hand back to my lap. It lands in Dale’s palm, and he gives my fingers a little squeeze.

  “Stan’s dead.” Keeping that from Dale was eating away at me. He tenses as I confess, “He tried to help me, and he died because of me. I don’t want anyone else to—”

  “Oh, sugar.” His arm reaches around my shoulders, and I let my limbs go limp as he pulls me into him.

  I don’t move. Michael’s comfort last night and Dale’s embrace right now feel like a luxury I’ve gone too long without, and I sit in silence in his arms as he slowly rocks in place. Long minutes pass as I watch the fire and sit in silence, and I almost feel like everything is going to be okay before—

  “What? NO!” Logan frantically taps at his keyboard.

  I stand up, and Dale rises with me. Logan is usually composed, cocky even. The expression on his face right now terrifies me.

  I’ve seen that look once before—the morning Jessa died.

  “What’s happening?” I take a couple of steps toward Logan, and Dale comes to a stop behind me.

  “It’s a trap.”

  19

  Michael

  The car has been painfully quiet for the last ten minutes. Apologies don’t come easy in our unit, especially when both of us have valid reasons for staying close to Dana. I should have seen Logan’s decision coming; neither of us got what we wanted in the end.