No Chance in Hell (7 page)

“There’s not much to tell. My dad was a respected neurosurgeon. He’d traveled all over the world, performing operations no one else had the skill to pull off. My mother never worked. Her life revolved around Dad, Chelsea, and me. I believe she felt she’d failed him by not producing biological children.”

“You and Chelsea were adopted. See, I’ve already learned something I didn’t know.”
 

“Chelsea and I were five and seven when the Hollands picked us to be their children. I don’t remember that time in my life. To tell you the truth, my first childhood memory is living with them.”

“When did you learn they weren’t your birth parents?”

“They never kept it from us. Made sure we understood that we were special, and they had chosen us because it was love at first sight.
 

“What happened to your dad?”

“Three years ago, a State Highway Patrol officer found his car at the bottom of a ravine outside of Carsonville, where he’d been on a consult. He either lost control or went to sleep. Mama couldn’t deal with his death. She lost her desire to live.”

Chris had an oversize dog that didn’t want to cooperate, so Marcus took the leash. Diablo crouched and emitted a low growl. Marcus settled him with a hand signal. Hell, he understood why the dog didn’t want to return to his pen. He knelt and spoke calmly to the animal, before walking him inside his wire prison.
 

“Have you tried to locate your birth mother?” He wanted to keep her talking about her past. The more he learned, the better he could protect her.

“Once, after my parents were gone. A detective located her grave. She’d died a few months before Chelsea. I have no idea who my birth father was.”

“You’ve lost a lot.” He couldn’t fathom having to shoulder all that weight. His wife’s death had almost killed him.
 

“I took it hard for a while. My dad’s philosophy had been ‘you can give up or you can go on.’ I chose to go on.”

“Sounds like you loved your adopted mom and dad.”

“They were the best.” Chris closed the door on the last pen and turned to face him. One eyebrow arched, and a curious smile lifted one corner of her mouth into a half smile. “Nicely done, Marcus. Did the Army teach you how to be conversationally evasive or does it just come naturally?” The impish grin lit up her eyes.

“Just one of my many talents.” Marcus couldn’t help but smile back at her. “Ask me anything. I’m an open book.”

“You don’t wear a wedding ring, but that could mean anything. Let’s start with the usual. Married?”

“No.” That was all he intended to say about marriage. He motioned for Diablo to heel. “Next question.”

“What appealed to you about working for the Lost and Found agency?”
 

“Other than getting to be the hero? The salary is great.”

“So that’s the way you’re going to play?” She cocked her head and studied him as if looking at a worm under a microscope. Her gaze had turned cold. “I spill my guts, and you tell me nothing.”

What was it about a female that drove her to want to know your innermost thoughts? “Long story short, I was between jobs. Had been drifting for a while. Kay was dealing with a human-trafficking ring, and her life was in danger. Nate called me and Ty Castillo. He needed help. No way would I have turned him down. After the job was over, he asked me to stay on. Ty is part of the company, too, but his home base is Bogota, Colombia. End of story.”

“Why were you drifting?”

Why he’d wandered like a ship without a rudder wasn’t open for discussion. He’d put the past behind him, or at least he’d tried. He was on the verge of telling her not to pry when the shelter manager stepped through the door into the pen area.

“You two battened down the hatches?” The manager chuckled at his own joke, unruffled that neither Marcus nor Chris laughed.

“We’re finished,” Marcus answered a little too quickly. “And I’d better be going. It was nice to meet you both.”

“You, too.” Chris shouldered her purse, digging out her keys.

“You decide against getting a companion for your dog?” The manager fell in step with them, pausing to lock the door.

“For the time being.” Marcus scratched behind Diablo’s ears. “But we’ll be back. This one has never been around other dogs. He’ll come around.”

“Stop by anytime. We can use your help while he finds a friend.”

The open invitation he’d just received would be helpful. The day had gone exactly as Marcus had wanted. He put Diablo in the car, buckled up, and watched Chris walk to her car. He’d stall, wait for her to drive away and then fall in behind her.
 

The distinct crack of a rifle broke the silence, and Chris’s rear window exploded. Marcus jumped out of his car. “Stay down,” he shouted to the shelter manager. “Call 911.”

His heart pounded against his rib cage as he scanned the area for the shooter. There were too many high-rise buildings in the area for him to even speculate as to where the shot came from. He’d dodged bullets in combat, he could do it again. Marcus ran across the open parking spaces between his car and hers.

He dropped to a crouch and then jerked the passenger door open. She lay facedown across the console. Blood spatters on the seat sent his stomach into free fall. “Chris,” he said on a prayer.
 

She lifted her head and stared up at him. Eyes wide and full of shock, her expression tugged at something buried deep inside Marcus. A couple pieces of glass protruded from her cheek. One troublesome shard had wedged in her neck right under her ear. All the blood had drained from her face, leaving her pale as a ghost. Was this a warning? Or a miss?
 

“My face stings.”

“A few pieces of glass managed to find your face.” He rocked back on his heels and scanned the buildings again. Where was the bastard?

She lifted her hand, touched her cheek, and grimaced. “How bad?”

“Small slivers. They won’t leave a scar, but it’s best to let the paramedics remove them.” He caught her hand when she reached for her neck. “Don’t touch. Listen to me. I need you to stay down and remain calm.”

“Calm? I’m scared, bleeding, and in pain. Sure, no problem.” The corners of her mouth twitched, and his chest hurt. If he got his hands on the bastard who’d done this, he’d tear him apart with his bare hands.
 

“One shot makes no sense. The shooter used a rifle.” Her eyebrows rose in question. “There’s a distinct difference in the sounds. If he really wanted to kill you, why didn’t he riddle the car with bullets?” Marcus leaned over her and picked loose glass off her back. “I’m coming around to your side. I’ll clear the seat of glass before you sit up.”

“No. That puts you out in the open.”

“That’s my job. Besides, I think that was a warning.”

“He said he wouldn’t put up with me having friends. So why didn’t he shoot at you?”

“Good question. Wish I had an answer.” He opened her car door and helped her to her feet, catching her hairclip as it fell off. Loose waves cascaded down her back. He reached for a shard of glass stuck to her blouse, and her entire body trembled. His heart double clutched and for a fleeting moment, he considered pulling her into his arms to comfort her. The arrival of an ambulance, fire truck, and police cruiser ended that thought.

Marcus wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her close to him, using his body as a shield. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the paramedics.”

The cops were full of questions. Marcus and Chris answered them together. This wasn’t a high-crime area, but they called for a couple extra squad cars. They would canvass the area looking for witnesses. The lead officer put in a call to the detectives who’d fielded Chris’s original complaint, who responded right away.
 

Marcus left Chris in the back of the ambulance but kept her in sight. He called Nate, gave him a quick update, and suggested they bring Wayne and Tomas in for some off-duty work.

Chris sat still, her face a mask, showing no pain while the paramedics removed the shards of glass. Marcus liked how she appeared brave and calm to the outside world. Underneath, she was probably a bundle of turmoil.

A few minutes later, she walked away from the ambulance and toward him. She moved with such poise and confidence. No one would have guessed that she’d had her home broken into, a gun held to her head, and had almost been shot, all within the past twenty-four hours. His first impression of her had been right. Chris was one hell of a woman. Not once had she lost her composure.
 

A news van pulled in and parked. The shelter manager excused himself and rushed to meet them. A reporter caught sight of Chris walking across the parking lot. The jerk broke away from Chris’s boss and ran toward her. Marcus started to intercept him, but she waved him off. She shook her head at the reporter and, apparently, refused to be interviewed. She went straight to the manager, got a set of keys from him, and then disappeared inside.

An odd panic slammed into Marcus the minute she was out of sight. He cut off the cop he’d been speaking with midsentence. Whoever was toying with her life would pay dearly.
 

****

Chris stopped by the front desk and grabbed a rubber band. Once in the restroom, she finger-combed her hair, putting it in a low pony. She leaned over the basin and dabbed cold water on the parts of her face that weren’t covered by little round Band-Aids. She stared at herself. The woman in the mirror wanted to run and hide, but she wouldn’t allow it. With Marcus’s help, they’d figure out what to do. Had this invisible killer just tried to shoot her, maybe he was a bad shot, or had he been warning her? She closed her eyes and tried to make herself remember him. Nothing came.
 

“Chris.” Marcus’s voice wrapped around her and gave her strength. She turned to find him standing with the door open, his handsome face drawn tight with worry. “The cops will fish the slug out and run it through ballistics. I called a buddy of mine who owns a wrecker. He’ll have the window replaced and then drop your car off at your place.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ll have to ride with me and Diablo.”

“Sounds good.”
 

“I’ll wait right here.”
 

“Is the TV news crew still out there?”

“Yeah. We’ll walk right by them. Diablo will keep them from getting too close.”

“Then I’m ready.” No way would she succumb to self-pity. Giving in wasn’t an option.
 

Marcus rested his hand on the small of her back and guided her outside. Heat from his touch sizzled, firing nerves best left dormant. They paused on the way out to tell her boss goodbye.
 

Two men in dress slacks and button-down shirts were looking through her car. Both wore badges clipped to their belts and pistols tucked into holsters. They turned and nodded at Marcus. “Do you know them?” she asked.

“Homicide detectives and friends. We’re going to hire them for some part-time work.”

“Homicide let Chelsea’s case go cold.”

“These guys didn’t work her case.” Marcus moved his hand to rest on her shoulder. “They help us out occasionally. Been there when we needed them, on duty and off.” Strong fingers tightened their grip. “Trust me on this.”

“Okay.”

The red-headed detective crossed the parking lot. He introduced himself as Wayne Kerns, shaking her hand and then Marcus’s. A smattering of freckles gave him the look of a much-younger man than the creases around his eyes suggested. His smile was warm, and when he spoke, his slow, comfortable drawl was slightly reminiscent of New Orleans. Chris immediately liked him.

“How can we help?” Wayne asked.

“Nate filled you in on the details?” Marcus spoke to Wayne, but his eyes scanned the buildings across the street.

“He did, but I’d like to hear what you want,” Wayne said. Chris couldn’t help but smile at the good-ol’-boy sound of his voice.

“Chris’s stalker broke into her house last night. Nate and I found where the alarm had been bypassed, but a second pair of eyes might see something we missed. And we’ll need extra coverage when I need to pull off surveillance.”

“Then we’ll start at her place.” Wayne’s easy manner reassured her that he was interested in helping. “We’re done for the day. When you’re ready to head home, we’ll tag along.”

Even when they walked the short distance to his car, Marcus pulled her next to him. She understood and appreciated what he was doing. He wasn’t comforting her. He was putting himself in the line of fire. She’d never met anyone willing to give his life for her, and the protected feeling screwed with her emotions. She’d have to be careful not to fall victim to the misunderstanding that his actions were anything other than professional.

His silence during the drive to her house surprised her. Chris turned in the seat and studied his profile. A strong jaw and chin matched the last name of Ricci. The urge to touch his cheek, to run her fingers across the dark stubble was difficult to control.

“You’re staring.” His lips curled into a smile, sending the temperature of the blood in her veins higher.
 

“Am I?” She was grateful he couldn’t read her mind. “I’m just wondering what’s going to happen next.”