True Shot (36 page)

“No, no, I know. But I have early dinner plans with my sweetie, and I’m already running late.”

Alex grinned. “Tell Richie hi for me.”

AnnaCoreen’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Hush, you.” She turned to Mac. “You will do me a favor, young man.” It was more of a demand than a question.

Mac couldn’t resist her. “Okay.”

“You will not give up on Sam. Trudeaus always do the right thing by the people they love.” She grasped his cheeks in cool hands and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. “Everything will work out. I know it will.”

Her confidence made his eyes burn. “Thank you.”

She smiled into his eyes. “Believe in her, Mac. You won’t be disappointed.”

And with that, she left them alone.

Mac tried to right his equilibrium before he looked at Alex. “AnnaCoreen has a sweetie?”

“Richie Woods. They’ve been hot for each other for years and are finally together. It’s inspiring. Oh, good, you have tea. I’m dying of thirst.”

“This is unsweetened, or I’d hand it over, Ms. Sweet Tooth. Besides, I thought you didn’t like tea.”

“The way AnnaCoreen brews it changed my mind. It’s weird, though. She never makes unsweetened. She must have known you were coming.” She grinned, dark brown eyes sparkling with some of their old life. “I swear, it’s like the woman is psychic.”

They laughed together as Alex went about pouring herself a glass of tea from a second pitcher in the refrigerator. When she leaned back against the counter, the silence stretched a few more moments, until she sighed. “So what’s Sam like? I mean, I remember her, of course. I was fourteen when she took off, so I knew the rebel who loved fast cars and motorcycles and ticking off our parents. But what’s she like now?”

He gave her a sad smile. What he knew of her sister was likely as close to Sam as Alex was going to get. “Tough. Smart. Strong.” His lips quirked. “Pretty much like you and Charlie.”

“Charlie said you’re in love with her.”

Mac laughed, the sound abrupt and not especially amused. “Cut to the chase, why don’t you?”

Alex held his gaze for a long moment, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Mac.”

He shrugged and drank more tea. “I’ll get over it. That’s what I do. Get over stuff.” Shit, how pathetic could he sound? “But, hey, I had a great vacation. Shot a guy in the arm.”

Alex winced. “Geez, Mac.”

He set aside his glass. “You know what? I should go. I just wanted to stop in and say hi. Say thanks for getting me out of town before the stress drove me to drink. You and Charlie are good friends.” He went to the door.

“Why don’t you stay for dinner? Logan’s going to be here as soon as he’s off work. Shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

He shook his head and opened the door, flashing a reassuring smile at her over his shoulder. “In a few days, okay? I need some time to—”

“Mac.”

He focused on her face, struck by how quickly she’d gone pale. She was staring past him, her eyes wide.

He turned to see Marco Ricci striding up the walk, gun drawn.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

S
houlders touching, Mac and Alex knelt side by side on AnnaCoreen’s pristine white tile floor while Flinn Ford’s muscle, big and menacing and eager to do some damage, hovered behind them with a cocked gun. Mac tried to cast Alex as reassuring a glance as he could manage. She responded with a small shake of her head, as though saying, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Stupid is my middle name,” Mac returned with his eyes.

He thought maybe she understood, because she shook her head again. Then Flinn Ford, in all his bald-headed glory, ambled into the kitchen from checking the house for other people.

A vicious tension infused Mac’s muscles. Bastard wanted to hurt Sam. If he lunged, even from his knees, he thought maybe he could hurt Ford at least a little before Marco shot him dead. But he fought back the urge. He needed to keep it together so he could protect Alex.

“Flinn, buddy, how you been?” Mac said.

Ford gave him a tight smile. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Hunter.”

“Wish I could say the same, but, well, I kind of hate your fucking guts.”

Ford hopped up onto a counter and let his long legs dangle like a psychotic little kid. He linked his fingers together and let his forearms rest on his thighs, the posture of a man enjoying his game.

Mac clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He especially hated the speculative look Ford gave Alex, as though considering her many uses.

“So,” Mac drawled, determined to keep Flinn’s attention away from her. “If you’re looking for Sam, she’s not here. Afraid I don’t know where she is, either. She took off. Left me high and dry. Pissed about it, frankly. So if you happen to see her, could you maybe deliver a message for me?”

“Shut up,” the big man growled from behind him.

Mac twisted to look up at the huge man. “Think you could maybe get a Tic-Tac or something? Your breath is—”

He slammed the butt of his pistol against the back of Mac’s head.

“No!” Alex shouted.

“Marco,” Ford warned.

It took Mac a few moments to get the kitchen’s wild spinning under control before he could look up, struggling to suppress a wince. “Yeah, that was rude,
Marco
, seeing as how you’re a guest here.”

“Mac, please,” Alex said softly.

Ford’s eyes narrowed, but he smiled. “Yes, Mr. Hunter, please. Your foolishness can’t distract me from the knowledge that I’ve found treasure here: two people for whom Samantha would willingly die.”

Mac’s stomach threatened to heave. “Like I told you. I don’t know where she is. She left. Said she had to meet a friend who could help her out.”

“Does this friend have a name?”

“Nope. Sorry.” Mac stiffened when he felt the cold barrel of Marco’s gun press behind his left ear.

“Marco?” Ford said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Give Mr. Hunter a reason to tell me the name of Samantha’s friend.”

Mac closed his eyes and braced for the blow. He heard a sharp crack, and then Alex crumpled sideways against him. His eyes shot open, and he wrapped his arms around her to steady her, alarmed at the way her head lolled on his shoulder. The bastard had hit her hard enough to knock her unconscious. Rage and adrenaline spurted into his blood.

“What the fuck?” he snarled at Ford.

“We’re negotiating, Mr. Hunter. The name of Samantha’s friend, please.”

“I don’t know his name.”

“So this friend is a man.”

“I don’t know. I assumed.”

“What else did you assume?”

“Nothing.”

“Marco?”

The big man loomed over them, drawing his gun hand back and taking aim at Alex again. “No!” Mac quickly shifted his grip, leaning over her and cradling her close against his chest to shield her.

“The name, Mr. Hunter.”

Mac raised his head to peer up at the other man, careful to keep himself between Alex and the brute with the gun. “Look, fine, we’re negotiating. I’ll give you the name, but you have to leave Alex alone.”

“You have no power here, Mr. Hunter. I was being polite when I said we’re negotiating.”

“I have information you want. You give me something in return, and I’ll give you that information.”

“What I’m giving you in return is the health of Samantha’s sister.”

“Fine, then, how about this: Take me with you. You’ll have me to use against Sam
and
the name of her helpful friend.”

“I could just as easily take you and Alex both to use against her. Why would I agree to such a deal?”

“Because it’s the only way you’re getting that name. And since you’re so desperate for it, I’m assuming you think that’s the only way you’re going to find Sam. But if Marco touches Alex again, so much as looks at her sideways, I’ll die before I tell you anything.”

Ford’s lips thinned into a vague approximation of a smile. “Marco can torture it out of you.”

Mac’s heart thudded hard and fast. “Go for it. The more time you waste, the more time Sam has to defeat you.”

Ford stared at Mac with squinted eyes. “You realize that I can order Marco to torture Samantha’s sister until you tell me.”

Yeah, he’d realized that a long time ago. But he had nothing to use as weapons but promises and words. What he wouldn’t give for a few of Sam’s spy moves. “In that scenario, I’d assume that you plan to kill us both once you have what you want. Why give you information that would also result in Sam’s death?”

Ford considered him for a long moment.

Mac didn’t have to try hard to appear patient. Alex had mentioned that Logan would be there from work soon. And when the Lake Avalon police detective saw that his beloved had been injured, there’d be some major-league ass-kicking in store for Ford and his brute. If only he could figure out a way to stall without jeopardizing Alex.

As if his thoughts had nudged her, she stirred in his arms, her head shifting against his chest. He tightened his embrace, willing her to understand that he needed her to stay still, even as the awkward position began to cramp the muscles in his back.

Ford hopped off the counter. “We have a deal, Mr. Hunter.”

 

Five minutes later, Mac sat in the backseat of Ford’s white rental Impala, hands bound at his lower back by zip restraints. Lake Avalon Beach was behind them, and so was Alex, thank God. As Mac had settled her on AnnaCoreen’s white floor, he’d whispered to her to play possum. She’d obeyed, her fingers briefly squeezing his arm to let him know she was okay. He figured that as soon as Ford and Marco had hustled him out the door, she’d gotten up and called Logan. The cop would be on their tail any minute. Assuming he was in the vicinity. And could somehow know he was searching for a white Impala. Shit.

“The name, Mr. Hunter,” Ford said from the front seat without turning to look at him.

“John something. Smith, I think. Or maybe it was Joe.”

“We can turn around and go back for Alex, if you’d like.”

Damn. He was so bad at bluffing. “Sledge. Stupid name, but there you go.” He assumed Sam would call the same man she’d thought to call for help when they’d first landed in this mess together. He also hoped like hell that the name meant something to Ford. The last thing he needed was for the bastard to instruct Marco to hang a U-ey.

“Fuck,” Ford muttered, and gave a disgusted shake of his head.

Mac relaxed just a tiny bit. So Ford knew the name. Of course, now he’d traded one problem for another. He’d just told Ford how to find Sam. With any luck, maybe he was wrong about this Sledge. Maybe Sam hadn’t sought his help at all. And even if she had, maybe there was no way for Ford to find Sledge quickly. If anything, Mac had bought Sam some time. He could hope.

Ford flipped open his cell phone and thumbed a button for speed dial. After a few moments of waiting, he said, “I need you to get a fix on Sloan Decker’s transponder.”

CHAPTER FIFTY

S
am preceded Sloan into the Sarasota safe house, a small one-level home slathered in faded yellow stucco. It didn’t stand out in the older neighborhood, surrounded as it was by similar homes amid towering palms and narrow streets with sandy shoulders.

The interior was dim, the kitchen equipped with old beige appliances and an island with sagging cupboard doors. The unmistakable odor of cat urine turned her stomach upside down.

She didn’t want to be here, not in a dark, only marginally clean safe house with a man she considered a friend but who was not the man she loved. Exhaustion settled around her shoulders like a heavy cloak, and she continued on into the dining room, intent on finding a bed on which she could take a nap. A small Colonial-style wooden table with four chairs occupied the dining room. An arched doorway to the left led to a living room and the front door, and French doors on the right led to the backyard.

“Hey, Sam?”

She paused and turned to face Sloan, one hand braced on the back of a dining-room chair. At one time she’d thought they might have a shot at romance, but the sparks never flew. Not like they had with Mac. Sloan was far more alpha than Mac, though Mac’s alpha came roaring to the forefront when he thought it necessary. Usually to protect her.

Sloan was clearly uncomfortable. “You okay?”

Tears pricked her eyes. This was a man who rarely showed his softer side. He did his job, and he did it well, emotion and entanglements be damned. Yet here he was, peering at her with concern that looked incongruous on his hard features.

“I need a favor. From Andrea, actually.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“If something happens to me, I need her to help my sister Alex learn how to control her psychic abilities. I need to know that, no matter what, Alex will get the help she needs.”

“I’ll make sure that—”

The ring of his cell phone interrupted him, and he clipped it off his belt to answer it. “Decker.” After a beat, he cast a quick glance at Sam. “Flinn, what’s up?” He listened for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as they met hers.

“What?” she mouthed.

He pulled the phone from his ear and thumbed a button.

“Are we on speaker?” Flinn’s voice came through the phone, loud and clear.

“Yes,” Sloan said, voice low and grudging. He cast Sam an apologetic look.

“Samantha, are you there?”

“I’m here,” she said.

“I’m hosting your lover as a guest, Samantha. I’d like for you to come visit him.”

Sam’s head went instantly light, and her heart clutched hard in her chest. “Where?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with that, Samantha. All you need to know is that the harder you resist, the harder Marco is going to punish Mr. Hunter. And Marco’s quite eager. As you well know, Marco and Mr. Hunter have a rather bloody history already.” Flinn chuckled as though he’d just shared a humorous anecdote. “Are you both listening? Sloan?”