Guns and the Girl Next Door

“I hate the city.” With the Recovery Project office downtown closed pending the congressional hearings, he had no reason to go to D.C. He hadn’t been to the one-bedroom apartment he kept near the office for emergencies in weeks. He didn’t have any plans to visit it now either.

“It’s downright creepy out here,” she said.

A city girl. “You get used to it.”

“Everything looks the same.” She stopped and turned around in a circle.

“That sort of thing happens in the woods.” This time she didn’t grab her head or look ready to throw up. He guessed the adrenaline had kicked in and masked the pain. Either that or this woman could fake her way through any situation. The latter option had him on edge and ready to take her down if necessary.

“How do you know which direction I drove in from?” she asked.

He pointed at the ground. “Following the tire tracks. While we’re on that subject, did you even try hitting the brakes before you crashed into my house?”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, what with killing my boss and all.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

As they walked, he glanced at the tall trees blocking his view of the sky. Her tires had kicked up dirt and spread gravel and leaves everywhere. “I’m not seeing anything out here except for the landscaping you mowed down.”

“Does that mean you don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I know you hit something.”

“Is this a trust issue or do you have some superpowers I need to know about?”

Gone were the initial dazed look and slurred words. The more air she got, the more sarcastic she became. For some reason, he liked this version better.

“I saw the blood on your fender,” he said.

“I have a theory.”

The jump in the conversation threw him for a second but he didn’t let on. “About?”

“You’re not rushing to call the police because you are the police.” She looked pleased with her theory.

“Wrong guess.”

“You’re law enforcement of some type.”

Was. Looked as if those days were over. “How did you get there?”

“It’s an educated assumption.”

“Well, it’s wrong because I’m actually unemployed.”

She pushed branches out of her way as she walked. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Other than the fact you don’t look like the lounge-around-doing-nothing type, I have no idea.”

Holden was about to shoot back an inappropriate comment about what he liked to do in his spare time when a flash of light to the far right caught his attention. The beam cut through the black distance and moved closer. Scanning the wide arc in front of him, he saw two more. Three people closing in fast.

He grabbed her arm and stopped her from taking another step. “Wait.”

A twig snapped under her shoe. “What?”

“Quiet.” When she started to protest, he whispered the necessary information in a rush. “We have company.”

She bent her knees and hunkered down as if trying to hide from anyone who could be watching. “Walters?”

“I don’t think so. No.”

Not police either. Holden didn’t see any of the telltale signs. No sirens. No flashing lights from a cop car. Not even any noise.

This wasn’t an emergency crew checking out a call about a crash. These were the small, green, focused lights of a search party. A deadly quiet group looking for something. Holden guessed the “something” was Mia.

She shook her head. “I don’t see—”

“We’re going back to the house.”

“It’s not exactly a great hideout.”

“Yeah, it is.” It was the perfect place. He’d built it that way. Every member of the Recovery Project had an escape plan. He never thought he’d need one, not way out here, but it paid to be prepared. “Come on.”

He took her hand. The last thing he needed was to lose her in the trees. The growth was too thick and the night too dark to take the risk.

Having one arm under his control also meant it would be harder for her to come at him if it turned out she wasn’t the innocent victim she claimed to be. He hadn’t performed a true search of her body for weapons, but from his visual tour he didn’t see any bumps in her clothing or pockets of concern. But now that they had company, he planned on being a bit more careful.

Crouched down and kicking at a near run, they headed back to the house. As they rounded the back of the battered car, he looked over his shoulder. Mia’s cheeks puffed in and out and her focus stayed on the ground. He guessed she was trying not to fall. Not a bad plan, in his view. It was the scene behind her that had him twitching.

Those lights kept moving, steady and calm, forming a perimeter and pushing in. They, whoever “they” were, descended on the house like pros. The military precision had him thinking Special Forces, but the “why” still eluded him.

Holden knew this might be about him and not Mia. He’d been digging around in private places and that sort of thing tended to make powerful people angry.

They passed through the ripped drywall, stepping over the debris with as little crunch as possible. Without the ability to bar the door, he had limited time to get everything in order. Before she could check behind them, he guided her through the family room and down the short hall.

On the way, he grabbed his satellite phone and telescopic sight and ignored everything else. “This way.”

“We can call the police,” she said in a breathless hush as he hustled her into his stark bedroom.

“No time.” He pressed his back against the wall and peeked out the window. The magnification provided by the goggles let him see the advance of the unwanted visitors.

“Of course there’s—” She stared at him. “Binoculars?”

“An updated version, yes.”

“Are the people close?”