24 Karat Ammunition

“I came by to do some shopping. Where’s Trish?”

Oh, no! Fear settled like red-hot coals in her chest. She reached for the button beneath her desk that sent a silent alarm to the police, turning her body so that he wouldn’t see her fingers. “Trish isn’t here.”

“I can see that. Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“I kind of think you might.” He pulled the hand from behind his back and pointed the barrel of a stubby black pistol at her head. “Where’s Trish?”

Her stomach rolled and Selena tried to swallow through the hard, dry crust that her throat had become. “I told you I don’t know where she is.” Her words were so shaky she wasn’t even sure they were intelligible.

He inched closer, his hand steady and his finger sliding to the trigger. “I’m counting to three. If you don’t happen to remember by then where I can find your boss lady, you won’t be remembering anything ever again. And if you lie to me, I’ll track you down and yank your heart out through your throat.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“One.”

She didn’t want to die. She wanted to wear the beautiful bridal lingerie. Wanted to marry Enrico. Wanted to have his children. “This is about that video isn’t it? Trish doesn’t have your stupid video.”

“Two.”

She heard a siren. The cops were on the way.

“Three.”

LANGSTON’S CELL PHONE RANG at nine-thirty the next morning. The ID read Aidan Jefferies. Good. He knew he could count on his detective buddy to work quickly. “Any luck?”

“Some. Gary Packard’s got a clean record except for one count of domestic violence against his wife. That was ten years ago. They’ve divorced since.”

“What about Buck Rivers?”

“He’s been in Dallas for four years and has had several arrests—no convictions. He always seems to be around trouble, but there’s never any proof that he’s in it. He’s been working as a bouncer at one of the local gentleman’s clubs for the past six months. One of the dancers reported he’d beaten her up a month ago, but later recanted the charges. There’s probably a lot more on him, but that was all I could get with phone calls to the DPD. I’ll follow up, but I could fax that to you if you’d like hard copy.”

“We barely have indoor plumbing here.” He stepped outside the door so that Trish wouldn’t overhear his next question. “Did you get any information on Trish Cantrell?”

“She bought the Cottage Boutique five years ago after moving to the States from London. No police record. Not even an unpaid parking ticket. So are you heading back to Houston today?”

“That’s the plan. I’ll give you a call later.” He thanked Aidan again, broke the connection and went back inside.

Trish had showered and was dressed in the same clothes she’d had on last night. The shorts showed off her tan and terrific thighs and the pale pink T-shirt fit just snug enough to cup beneath her breasts. Her hair was still damp but curling about her cheeks.

He forced his gaze away. The close quarters were definitely getting to him. “I could use some breakfast,” he said.

“I still have an apple.”

“I’m thinking more like bacon and eggs.”

“I could go for that. I’m starved, and I actually got some sound sleep last night for the first time since the carjacking.”

“Good.”

“And I’ve made some decisions.” She propped her bottom on the arm of the faded sofa. “I’ll hire a private investigator to look into the mystery tape and a bodyguard to protect me until I know exactly who’s behind all of this.”

And just like that he’d be out of her life again. He should feel relieved, but his knee-jerk reaction felt more like a punch to the gut. “What about Gina?”

“I’ll hire a bodyguard for her, too. Now shall we go somewhere and find breakfast? I’d like to head back to Dallas as soon as possible.”

His cell phone ran. Aidan, again. He took the call.

“Breaking news,” Aidan said. “I just heard from a friend with the DPD that Selena Hernandez’s body was found minutes ago inside the Cottage Boutique. She was shot twice in the head at close range. A cop found her when he answered a silent alarm she’d apparently set off before she was shot.”

“Sonofabitch.”

“Yeah. Looks like Trish Cantrell is playing with some real sweet guys. I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear anything else.”

Langston was trying to decide how to break the news to Trish when his phone rang again. This time it was Celeste. He let it ring. She’d never understand why he was bringing an old girlfriend involved with a killer home with him.

Chapter Five

Trish fought the panic. This was a nightmare, a horrible terrifying nightmare that she’d wake from any second. Only she didn’t wake, not even when she stepped out of her shoes and into the shallow water at the lake’s edge and her toes sank into the mud.

She stared out at the lake as the sun beat down on her back and the weight of the humid air clogged her lungs. A hand pressed into her shoulder. She didn’t bother to turn around. “Get out of here, Langston, while you still can. I had no right to pull you into my problems.”

“It’s a little late to think about that.”

Finally she met his burning gaze. “Just go, please. Just go.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“You can. You should.” Her voice broke and the tears she’d been fighting welled in her eyes.

“I don’t run out on a task just because it gets tough. But you have to level with me. I have to know the whole truth.”

The anger hit hard, knocking her from the state of semi-shock. “I have told you the truth, Langston. I’ve told everyone the truth. And I never asked for you to take this on.” The anger meshed with the heartache over Selena, and she gave up on fighting the tears. They poured from her eyes and slid down her face. Trembling, she turned back to stare at the lake.

Langston shed his own shoes, rolled up his jeans and joined her in the water. “Take it easy. I’m trying to understand, but that carjacking story is a little hard to swallow.”

“Go to hell, Langston Collingsworth.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I sound doubtful. I’m just trying to get a handle on this.”

She tried to pull away from him, but he tightened his grip on her shoulders, pulling her close and then circling his arms around her. The sobs tore from her throat, and she fell against him, hating that she needed him, yet holding on as he rocked her in his arms.

He didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t have the energy to argue. When she finally stopped crying, he loosed his grip and took her hand, leading her back toward the cabin.

“I have to go back to Dallas,” she said. “I have to see Selena’s boyfriend. Enrico will fall apart when he gets the news. They were so in love.”

“Going back to Dallas is not a good idea.”