Calculated Vendetta

“I am.” They’d reached her Jeep and Casey stopped, staring at the door handle as she slipped the backpack from her shoulders. Turning to look at him would be dangerous. Her pride was already bruised by John. She didn’t need the reminder of what could have been if she let herself look at Travis Heath long enough to remember he wasn’t the root of all evil. “I’ll probably be there until—”

There was movement at the front of her Jeep, and someone melted out of the shadows. Surely John wasn’t waiting, thinking he could shoehorn his way into her evening once again.

She turned her back fully to Travis, facing the newcomer.

It wasn’t John. A man appeared at the front of her SUV, a hood over his head casting his face into shadow, and a pistol pointed straight at her chest.

* * *

Travis’s muscles tightened, the heat of confrontation rushing through him. It took all he had not to shove Casey to safety and rush the guy. Instead, he edged between her and the gunman and balled his fists, forcing his attention from the pistol to the man, trying to size his advantage and figure out the best way to get Casey safely out of this.

In spite of the heat, their attacker wore a dark hoodie pulled forward to distort his features in shadow. Still, something about him was vaguely familiar, a flicker of memory Travis couldn’t grasp.

Now wasn’t the time to try.

The gun wavered from Travis to Casey, almost as though the man holding it wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

Travis eased one foot forward, getting himself in position to take out the foe, but the pistol stabilized, aimed squarely at him.

Whoa. Travis froze, reading confusion in the gunman’s expression. This guy was no pro, but he wasn’t a novice either. Rather than aiming at the head, he had the pistol pointed squarely at center mass, the mark of someone who had at least a little training. Something told Travis the guy could probably get off a fairly accurate shot, but that wasn’t a theory he wanted to test.

He’d trained for moments like this, but having Casey thrown into the mix complicated everything. Right now, Travis was physically trapped with the Jeep on one side and a car on the other, but he’d always been better with his words anyway. “Dude, you don’t have to do anything crazy.”

The statement hardened the man’s resolve, and his stance stiffened. “I want her backpack...and your wallet.”

“Take it easy.” He’d hand over everything in his possession as long as the guy didn’t pull the trigger on Casey. The barrel of a weapon aimed straight at them made Travis willing to do whatever it took to protect her.

But he had an idea. “Casey, hand me your backpack.” He lowered his right arm slowly, like he was reaching behind him for the bag.

The gunman steadied his aim.

Behind Travis, Casey hesitated, giving him a second to pray she wouldn’t choose this moment to argue, then she slipped the strap into his hand.

Perfect.

Travis wrapped his fingers around the canvas strap and eased forward, bracing himself for whatever came next. If this was the last breath he took, at least he could say he’d given it all he had. He threw his arm out, the backpack catching their assailant in the arm.

The gun clattered off the trunk of the car beside them and Travis rushed forward, but the narrow space between the Jeep and the car slowed his momentum.

The other man snatched Casey’s backpack, skirted the front of the Jeep and ran for a dark sedan idling two spaces away, leaving tire rubber in the parking lot as Travis skidded to a halt, trying in vain to read the license plate before distance made it impossible.

No good. The car was moving too fast and the lights weren’t bright enough.

Travis slammed a fist into the side of his leg, then turned and ran to Casey, his heart racing from adrenaline and exertion. If anything had happened to her...

She sat on the running board of her Jeep, face buried in her hands.

Travis knelt in front of her and rested his hands on her knees. Even though the weapon hadn’t been fired, relief still washed over him at the sight of her. “You okay?”

Her whole body moved with the effort of breathing. “Give me a minute.”

Easing away, Travis stood and pulled his phone from his pocket to call the police. He let his free hand rest on the back of Casey’s head, running his fingers through the loose blond strands that fell forward to cover her cheeks, the softness cascading across hands that shook from the adrenaline of the chase. How to handle this? He couldn’t put an arm around her to hug her. She’d probably deck him. But he also couldn’t let her suffer alone.

When he ended the call, Casey slipped her hair from his fingers and looked at him, her gray eyes cloaked in an emotion he couldn’t read. “I’m not your dog. You can stop petting me.”

In spite of the situation, Travis bit down on a grin. That was exactly what he’d been doing. Hey, it had worked for Harley the shelter mutt back in the day, when his family had ridden out hurricanes on the Florida Panhandle. And it had worked for Gus, the dog he’d had to give up when he deployed the last time. He ignored the ache the Australian shepherd’s memory brought. He always lost the things he loved. Life somehow seemed to work that way. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? What was in your backpack?”

“My laptop.” She gave him a weak smile. “He’s in for a surprise. The battery’s dead and the charger’s at my apartment.”

Casey was as sarcastic as she’d ever been, a quality she tended to amp to a thousand under stress. He’d encountered the trait more than once when her best friend was under the gun in February. “Bad day for him, huh?”

“For sure.” She dipped her chin and stared at the pavement between her feet, growing serious. “You know, if you hadn’t walked me out...”

Travis glanced toward the sky, grateful for the nudge that had sent him after her. If something had happened to her while he licked his wounds inside, he’d never have been able to forgive himself. He eased to the running board beside her, wary of touching her after her reaction. Running a hand down his face, he winced at the realization of what she’d lost. She kept her life on her phone and her laptop. Losing the machine would be a blow. “Were you working on anything?”

“An article on...” She froze, then waved her hand as though the question were a buzzing mosquito. “No big deal. Everything’s saved in the cloud, so it’s all retrievable. The machine’s password protected, so I doubt he can do much with it anyway.” Her hand fluttered up and fell. “It’s the hassle of having to deal with insurance and then finding the time to buy a new one. And knowing somebody held a gun on us and now has my whole digital life in their hands...” A shudder shook her, the biggest since she’d bucked up and tried to act like this whole incident was no big deal.

Travis slipped an arm around her as two police cars roared into the parking lot, sirens blaring. He couldn’t let her sit here and fight this internal battle by herself. And when she leaned into him he knew...

He was in this for as long as she needed him.

TWO (#u54979d0c-0a00-5ae3-8910-e0c7161b4408)

“You didn’t need to come over. Really.” Casey tried to block the doorway to keep her best friend from entering the apartment. There was a reason she hadn’t called Kristin James and told her what had happened at the restaurant. Casey had known it would go down exactly like this, with her stubborn friend practically bursting through the door.

Casey didn’t want a babysitter. She wanted a quiet place to curl into a ball and fall apart in peace. The shudders that had fluttered through her like wild birds for the past couple of hours were trying their best to work their way out to every limb. When she let go, the force would likely be epic, and the last thing an explosion of such a magnitude needed was a witness.

Of course, Kristin was having none of that. She slipped past Casey into the small hardwood entryway, dropping her backpack into the doorway of the guest room as she passed. “Seems to me I remember the same argument coming out of my own mouth a few months ago.” She crossed her arms. “Did you leave me alone when someone came at me and broke into my house? No. I’m pretty sure I remember you bunking in my guest room and, oh, calling the police even though I asked you not to.”

Casey crossed her own arms and mimicked her friend’s posture. “Your brother pasted a target on your back. This is different. Tonight was a random mugging.”

“With a gun.” Kristin stepped into her personal space and leaned even closer. “Don’t pretend everything’s all sunshine and roses.”

“Like you did?” Jerking away, Casey stalked for the den. Kristin had no room to talk. When the smuggler her brother had double-crossed came calling, Kristin hadn’t wanted help either, even after she was attacked in her own home. “If I want to be alone right now, let’s say I learned from the best.”

“Ooh. Ouch.” Kristin twisted the dead bolt then followed Casey, her relentless streak going full bore. “See? This is how I know you’re not fine. You’re not me. You don’t go around biting heads off.”

She was right, for the most part. “Maybe I’m not like you in some ways. But in others...” Casey dropped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling.

“You need to be alone to cry.” Settling onto the opposite end of the creamy beige sofa, Kristin smiled with a gentleness out of character for her. Rarely did her blue eyes soften with sympathy. “I get it.”

“Yet you’re still not leaving.”

“Nope.”

“How did you find out anyway?”

Kristin’s eyebrow arched. “Two guesses.”