His palm was slightly rough, and very warm. “Knox Davis, county chief investigator.”
A sharp
crack
split the morning air, and splinters exploded from the wall almost directly behind her. The backyard provided no good shelter and they moved simultaneously, both of them sprinting for the far side of the house. He shoved her ahead of him, sending her stumbling. When she recovered her balance, she flattened herself against the wall, weapon in her hand, though she had no recollection of drawing it.
He too had his big automatic drawn, pointing upward as he took quick peeks around the corner. “Don’t see a thing,” he said, and grinned as he glanced at her. His blue eyes danced. “Welcome to Peke County.”
“You think this is
funny
?” she barked.
“It’s sure as hell interesting.” His voice held a lazy drawl, as if he couldn’t get too excited about something as mundane as being shot at. “Somebody evidently doesn’t want you here, which makes me wonder how he knew you’d
be
here at this particular time.” While he talked, he kept taking those quick peeks, and he pulled a radio from his belt. After keying it, he said, “Code 28, 10-00, 2490 West Brockton.” He glanced at her. “The cavalry will be here in a minute.”
“So I gathered.”
“Who knew you’d be here?”
“No one. Not at this location, and not at this time.” A chill went down her spine, because the ramifications of this were about as bad as she could imagine.
“Someone did. That bullet was aimed at you.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Considering the angle, either she’d been the target or the shooter had bad aim. Discounting the bad-aim angle, she was forced to confront an ugly conclusion: one of her own was trying to kill her.
5
Investigator Davis remained plastered against the side of the house, looking for all the world as if he intended to stay right there until the cavalry, as he termed it, arrived. “Aren’t we going after him?” Nikita asked in frustration, crowding her shoulder against him to nudge him along. She needed to know who had shot at her, and if this mission had perhaps been compromised from the beginning. Was this why McElroy had failed, and Houseman died?
“I must have forgot to put on my white hat today,” he replied, not looking at her.
“So you don’t have a hat,” she said, driven almost to snapping because he was making inane remarks instead of
doing
something. “It isn’t raining.”
He glanced over at her, an incredulous, slightly baffled expression flitting across his face. “I mean, I’m not wearing my hero hat today. You know, the good guy always wears the white hat? The cowboy?”
“Got it.”
Uh-oh.
She should have made the connection, especially since she’d been thinking in cowboy idioms just a short while ago. She cringed inside at the unaccustomed mistake, and her cheeks began to grow hot. “Then you can stay here, and I’ll go after him.”
She started to move forward and his arm swept out, pinning her to the house. “No way. I didn’t see any movement or smoke, so we can’t pinpoint his location. There are a lot of places out there for a sniper to conceal himself, and a lot of open ground where you’d be a sitting duck. You stay.”
“I’m a federal agent—” she began, fully prepared to pull rank on him. She used both hands to tug on the arm that pressed across her collarbones, too close to her throat for comfort. The effort was useless; she couldn’t budge him, unless she was prepared to use a much more violent method.
“That’s right, and I’m damned if I’ll be stuck filling out a lot of paperwork explaining how you got your ass shot off. County paperwork’s bad enough; with federal, I’d still be filling out forms a week from now. So you stay right where you are.”
She pursed her lips while she pondered the situation, her dark eyes narrow as she stared at him. She needed to stay on his good side, but she also needed to find out who had shot
A sharp
crack
split the morning air, and splinters exploded from the wall almost directly behind her. The backyard provided no good shelter and they moved simultaneously, both of them sprinting for the far side of the house. He shoved her ahead of him, sending her stumbling. When she recovered her balance, she flattened herself against the wall, weapon in her hand, though she had no recollection of drawing it.
He too had his big automatic drawn, pointing upward as he took quick peeks around the corner. “Don’t see a thing,” he said, and grinned as he glanced at her. His blue eyes danced. “Welcome to Peke County.”
“You think this is
funny
?” she barked.
“It’s sure as hell interesting.” His voice held a lazy drawl, as if he couldn’t get too excited about something as mundane as being shot at. “Somebody evidently doesn’t want you here, which makes me wonder how he knew you’d
be
here at this particular time.” While he talked, he kept taking those quick peeks, and he pulled a radio from his belt. After keying it, he said, “Code 28, 10-00, 2490 West Brockton.” He glanced at her. “The cavalry will be here in a minute.”
“So I gathered.”
“Who knew you’d be here?”
“No one. Not at this location, and not at this time.” A chill went down her spine, because the ramifications of this were about as bad as she could imagine.
“Someone did. That bullet was aimed at you.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Considering the angle, either she’d been the target or the shooter had bad aim. Discounting the bad-aim angle, she was forced to confront an ugly conclusion: one of her own was trying to kill her.
5
Investigator Davis remained plastered against the side of the house, looking for all the world as if he intended to stay right there until the cavalry, as he termed it, arrived. “Aren’t we going after him?” Nikita asked in frustration, crowding her shoulder against him to nudge him along. She needed to know who had shot at her, and if this mission had perhaps been compromised from the beginning. Was this why McElroy had failed, and Houseman died?
“I must have forgot to put on my white hat today,” he replied, not looking at her.
“So you don’t have a hat,” she said, driven almost to snapping because he was making inane remarks instead of
doing
something. “It isn’t raining.”
He glanced over at her, an incredulous, slightly baffled expression flitting across his face. “I mean, I’m not wearing my hero hat today. You know, the good guy always wears the white hat? The cowboy?”
“Got it.”
Uh-oh.
She should have made the connection, especially since she’d been thinking in cowboy idioms just a short while ago. She cringed inside at the unaccustomed mistake, and her cheeks began to grow hot. “Then you can stay here, and I’ll go after him.”
She started to move forward and his arm swept out, pinning her to the house. “No way. I didn’t see any movement or smoke, so we can’t pinpoint his location. There are a lot of places out there for a sniper to conceal himself, and a lot of open ground where you’d be a sitting duck. You stay.”
“I’m a federal agent—” she began, fully prepared to pull rank on him. She used both hands to tug on the arm that pressed across her collarbones, too close to her throat for comfort. The effort was useless; she couldn’t budge him, unless she was prepared to use a much more violent method.
“That’s right, and I’m damned if I’ll be stuck filling out a lot of paperwork explaining how you got your ass shot off. County paperwork’s bad enough; with federal, I’d still be filling out forms a week from now. So you stay right where you are.”
She pursed her lips while she pondered the situation, her dark eyes narrow as she stared at him. She needed to stay on his good side, but she also needed to find out who had shot
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