Charlee gripped the door handle as the truck fishtailed on the road. Hunter held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, fighting to keep them on the pavement.
She glanced behind her, desperate for a look at the driver of the pickup truck following them. It was older, blue, with rust and dents, but she couldn’t see the driver’s face with the sun glinting off the windshield. The truck sped up. “He’s going to ram us again.”
“I see him. Come on, you coward,” Hunter muttered. He alternated between glancing into the side and rearview mirrors, trying to anticipate their pursuer’s next move.
Slam. Slam.
The pickup rammed them yet again, and Hunter’s truck fishtailed, but he managed to get them back in their lane just as an oncoming car approached. The other driver honked and gestured as he went by.
Charlee couldn’t blame him. If not for Hunter’s skill, they would have crashed head-on.
“What is he doing?” Charlee’s voice climbed as the other vehicle closed the gap between them again. Hunter kept steady pressure on the accelerator, but there were other cars ahead of them, so he couldn’t go much faster or he’d get boxed in.
They neared the bridge over the Ocklawaha River, and Hunter cursed as the pickup gained speed again. “Roll down your window! If we land in the water, we’ll be able to get out.”
“Oh, dear God.” Charlee whispered a prayer as she fumbled for the right button. Hot summer air whipped inside, stinging her eyes. She looked in the side mirror again, but all she saw were dark glasses and a ball cap.
Hunter hit the gas, trying to break away from the pickup, but the other driver kept pace. Just as they reached the highest point of the bridge, the pickup slammed into them with enough force that Hunter couldn’t correct, even though he tried with everything he had.
There was a horrible crunching sound as they slammed into the guardrail. The rail held, stopping their forward motion, but Charlee’s relief was short-lived. The truck kept going, flipping up and over until suddenly, they were airborne, the river rushing up to meet them.
She braced her feet. God, please.
“As soon as we hit the water, get out.”
He’d barely finished the words when the truck hit the water, nose first. The impact deployed both air bags, and Charlee fought her way past the bag and unclipped her seat belt. Water poured through the open window, rising fast.
Oh God. Visions of drowning, of Brittany under the water, tried to swamp her, but Charlee pushed them away. Go, go, go.
Beside her, Hunter slammed a fist against his airbag, batting it away. “Climb through your window. I’m right behind you.”
Charlee nodded and gripped the window frame, fighting the force of the water. The hood of the truck was almost completely under the surface, and the murky Ocklawaha poured in faster and faster.
She pushed through the window frame and held on, waiting for Hunter to follow.
Why wasn’t he behind her? Where was he?
The truck shifted and sank farther, and Charlee barely managed to avoid getting pulled down with it. She had to get Hunter. Something was wrong. She wouldn’t leave him, couldn’t fail him like she had Brittany.
She turned and let the force of the water suck her back into the cab of the truck. There was only a small air pocket left near the roof of the cab. Hunter had his head tilted back to keep his mouth out of the rising water as he struggled and tugged.
“Get out of here! Go!” He pushed her away with one hand while he kept tugging with the other. No way was she leaving him to drown.
She braced one hand on the back of the seat and followed the line of his shoulder with the other until she reached his seat belt. That’s what had him trapped.
She sucked in a gulp of air and dove down, patting her way down his body until she reached his utility belt and the knife he kept there. Come on, come on.
Her fingers connected with leather, and she wanted to shout in triumph. She reached for the knife, but it wasn’t there. No!
He must have dropped it while he was trying to cut himself free. She felt him tugging on the seat belt, trying to get the buckle to give.
Don’t panic. Think. Frantic, Charlee patted her own pockets. When her hand connected with something small and metal, she used both hands to pry open the small blade on her pink pocket knife and started sawing the belt. The pressure to open her mouth and draw a breath was overwhelming, but she ignored it, despite the spots dancing before her eyes.
Hunter realized what she was doing, and his hand closed over hers. She released her grip, knowing he could get it done faster than she could. She wasn’t sure the little blade was sharp enough to cut through, but it was all they had. She popped up, her head hitting the roof of the truck as she gulped in air. Beside her, Hunter wheezed as he stretched to reach up high enough to get his own air. She heard him inhale, then his head went down, and she felt him sawing like crazy.
Suddenly, the belt popped free, and he gave her a shove, pushing her through the window. This time when she turned, she felt him grab onto her waistband and knew he’d follow.
With the last bit of strength she could muster, she used her feet to push off from the window frame and shoot to the surface.
She gulped in big lungfuls of air, gasping. He popped to the surface beside her and quietly sucked in air. She wanted to shout his name with relief, but before she did, she realized he wasn’t looking at her; he was looking up at the bridge above them.
Someone stood looking down at them.
“Dive,” Hunter shouted just as something hit the water near their heads.
Charlee dove, gripping Hunter’s hand as they swam away from the shore with long, sure strokes.
When they finally surfaced again, Charlee came up quietly, filling her lungs fast, in case they had to dive again. She looked around, saw the bridge behind them.
“We can head for shore now. He can’t get here from up there.”
Charlee nodded and swam behind him, but the adrenaline suddenly started draining away, taking the last of her strength with it. She swam against the current with everything she had, but she couldn’t seem to make headway against the fast-moving water.
Hunter was slowing too, but not quite as much. She saw him look back as the current dragged her farther away. He disappeared and then surfaced right in front of her. “Put your arms around my neck. I’ve got you.”
Charlee wrapped her arms around him and kicked with every bit of her remaining strength, determined to do her part. It was slow going, but they eventually fought their way against the current until they were close enough for their feet to touch bottom. She thanked God they were both still alive.
They stumbled over toward the bank and took cover behind a tree so they couldn’t be seen from the bridge. Gasping for breath, they slogged up onto solid ground, slipping in the mud, holding cypress knees for balance. They trudged farther up into the swamp and then collapsed side by side onto a fallen tree.
Charlee looked up at Hunter’s face, still panting. “You’re bleeding. Cut above your eye.”
Hunter swiped a hand over it, winced. “Not too bad. You okay?”
“I think so.” She looked back toward the bridge. “That is one determined son of a gun.”
Hunter scanned the area, expression grim. Then his expression became thoughtful as he turned back to her. “It always has something to do with water.”
Charlee thought it through, her tired brain sluggish. “Josh’s boat. This.”
“You and Brittany getting shot. Always water.”
Charlee shivered. “He almost succeeded today.”
Hunter stepped closer, but before he said more, they heard sirens in the distance. Charlee sighed. “This is getting to be way too familiar.”
“We’ll catch this SOB, cher. I promise.”
* * *
As the sirens got closer, Charlee and Hunter walked toward the nearby road to meet the FWC and the sheriff’s officers as they arrived. Hunter took charge of the scene, and Charlee answered questions until her tongue felt numb.
About halfway through the process, her brother Josh drove up, hopped out of his truck, and raced over to her, pulling her to her feet and into a bear hug that knocked the breath out of her. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he muttered, then pulled back to look her over.
Charlee gasped when she saw his face. “What happened to you?” He had the beginnings of a black eye, a split lip, and what looked to be an ugly gash along his temple, held together with butterfly bandages. She looked down. His knuckles were scraped, too.
“Are you okay, Sis?” He ran his gaze over her, much as she’d just done to him.
“Never mind me. I’m fine. Just wet. But what happened to you?”
He worked his jaw, then met her gaze. “I had a long overdue chat with Rick. Told him to back off already. That you were done. He disagreed.”
Charlee narrowed her eyes, shook her head. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Josh. Haven’t for a long time.”
“I know you don’t. You never have, but we’re family. We protect each other. I should have done something long ago, but when Elaine got sick…” His voice trailed off. Then his eyes snapped back to hers, expression fierce. “I didn’t like the way he treated you. Then. Or now.”
Charlee couldn’t believe it. “Why didn’t you say anything then?” First her mother, and now Josh.
He shrugged. “Knew you’d figure it out eventually.” Then he shot her his trademark grin. “Besides, didn’t think you’d want to hear it anyway.”
She grimaced. There was that. But why had it taken her so long to see what her family apparently had known from the beginning?
Hunter called Josh’s name. He pecked her on the cheek and then got to work.
As she sat on a log, absolute determination worked its way over, around, and through all the noise and activity and bone-deep exhaustion. Despite all her doubts and insecurities, she would protect her family. Or die trying.
* * *
After what seemed like days, Charlee and Hunter finally left the scene. They stopped at the Outpost to reassure her folks she was in fact fine, just wet, and then Hunter drove her home in a replacement truck. She nibbled at the takeout he’d picked up on the way but couldn’t muster more energy than that.
When her cell phone rang and Liz’s number showed up, Charlee sighed and answered. She didn’t want to go through it all again, but if she didn’t answer, Liz would either keep calling every five minutes or show up in person, and Charlee wasn’t ready for that either.
“Hey, Liz. How’re things?”
“Charlee, are you okay? I was terrified when one of the café regulars said you and Hunter got run off the road.”
Charlee shook her head, amazed anew at how fast news traveled in a small town. “I’m fine, Liz, really. Soggy, but unhurt.”
There was a pause. “I don’t believe you’re fine. But I think you don’t want to talk about it.”
“No, I really don’t. I’m sorry. Maybe another time.”
“I’m coming over.”
“No!” That came out louder than she’d planned, so she lowered her voice. “Please, don’t. I’m tired and just need some rest.”
“Is Lieutenant Yummy with you?”
Charlee smiled. “Hunter is here right now, yes.”
“Good, then I’ll let him look out for you.” Before Charlee could point out that she could take care of herself, Liz sniffed, and Charlee knew she was fighting tears. “Just be safe, okay? I need my best friend.”
“I’ll be fine, and we’ll figure out what’s going on. Promise.”
She meant every word. She wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines while Hunter and the rest of her FWC squad figured this out. Or her brothers. She took a quick shower, grabbed a yellow legal pad to jot down notes, and curled up on the sofa with an afghan. That was the last thing she remembered.
* * *
While Charlee got some much-needed rest, Hunter gulped down coffee to combat the adrenaline withdrawal and talked on the phone with Sanchez and Fish, Pete, Josh, and his captain, assigning tasks and getting updates. He stared down at the piece of paper he’d been scribbling on and tried to make sense of it all. There was a cluster with JJ and Nora and Tommy Jennings in it. He added Tommy’s ex-wife, Sally. Another cluster contained Brittany, Wyatt, and Paul Harris. He added Paul’s ex-wife, too. He needed her take on all this. He had circles with Oliver Dunn, Travis Humphries, and Rick Abrams’s names in it. He listed Josh and his own name, but in the middle of the page was a big circle with Charlee’s name in large block letters. She was the one connection that tied everything together. He just had to figure out how. And why.
He tapped his pen on the page and tried it from another angle. If he started with Brittany this time, who had the means to shoot her? Travis, with his suspicious arrival on the scene? Tommy Jennings as payback for JJ maybe? Oliver Dunn, who had seemed to watch both Charlee and Brittany too closely? What about Paul Harris? It was unlikely Paul or Oliver could have been the shooter, but there were some gaps in their stories he needed to fill. Or maybe they hired someone.
The question was why? What did anyone stand to gain? Nothing in anyone’s financials had raised a red flag, so it didn’t appear to be about money. Other motives? Travis could play the hero, impress Charlee. Maybe Paul was taking out family frustration? But Hunter wasn’t quite buying that. Tommy Jennings had the strongest motive and no alibi for the time of the shooting.
Could the shots have been aimed at Charlee and Brittany simply got in the way? Maybe. He’d keep looking into that.
What about today? Someone obviously had followed them and had known they would head to Jennings’s place. That moved Abrams up on Hunter’s list, especially after he and Josh had gotten into it over Charlee. Abrams would think like a cop. But why would he want Charlee dead? Because she didn’t want him? And why leave the picture of Josh? He clicked his pen, thinking. Still too many pieces missing to get the whole picture.
Charlee walked into the kitchen, and his heart filled with admiration as he thought about the way she’d handled herself today. Then he remembered that she’d come back for him and put herself at risk. His relief turned to fury. “If I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it,” he snapped.
She turned from the counter, where she was assembling baking ingredients, one eyebrow raised. “Okaaay…what brought this on?”
“I was clear on that from the beginning. You do what I say.”
Understanding dawned, and her chin came up. “Unless following your orders means you die.”
He made a slashing motion with his hand. “No. You should have left me, Charlee. I would have gotten out.”
She threw up her hands and reached into the cupboard. “Fine. Whatever. Next time, I’ll let you drown. Good enough?”
He let out a slow breath. He was acting like a jerk, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Not when it came to her. “My job is to protect you. Stop getting in my way.”
She turned her back as though she hadn’t heard him, but she creamed the butter with a lot more vigor than usual.
Hunter stalked to the door, then stopped with his hand on the knob. He turned and went back to the kitchen.
She ignored him for a few minutes, then cast him a quick glance. “If you’re waiting for an apology, you’re going to be there awhile. Best friends protect each other.” He thought she muttered “Idiot” under her breath, but he couldn’t be sure.
He tried to find the right words and finally just started talking. “My Grandmere raised my brother, Johnny, and me after our parents died in a car crash when I was seven and Johnny was two. We lived in a small town outside of New Orleans. I went into the Marines to get out of being a father figure, and by the time I came home, Johnny had gotten involved with a drug dealer named Ace. I couldn’t get him to see the guy’s true colors until Johnny witnessed Ace kill one of his own men, and what I had been trying to tell him finally sank in. I was with the New Orleans PD, and Johnny wanted to help me take Ace down. I told him no, absolutely not. If Ace even had a feeling Johnny was working with the cops, he’d be dead.
“But I couldn’t talk Johnny out of it, so I told him to keep his head down and let me handle it.” He sighed.
“I just wanted to get through the raid. Keep Johnny safe. Get Ace off the streets.
“We’d just pulled into the alley when my phone buzzed again. I was annoyed. There were three messages from Johnny. One from Grandmere.
“Johnny had been calling and calling all day, needing reassurance. The SWAT team was ready. There was no time to respond again.” Hunter rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and glanced at Charlee, who just stood, bowl in hand, and listened.
“When I found them, Ace had a gun to Johnny’s head. He’d figured it out and decided to use Johnny as a hostage to get away. To buy time, I called off the SWAT team, put down my gun, and pretended to go along. But while we were in the stairwell, Johnny tried to save me. Instead of letting me get him out of there, he tried to grab Ace’s gun.
“Before I could get my second piece out of the ankle holster, Ace had shot him. My brother died before I could get to him.” He swallowed hard, pinched the bridge of his nose.
“If he’d just stuck with the plan, I would have been able to save him.”
The silence stretched on and on, until he finally looked up. He’d expected pity, but this was Charlee. He should have known to expect the unexpected. She had set the mixing bowl aside and propped her hands on her hips, sparks shooting from her eyes.
“I am not your brother, Hunter. I can protect myself.”
“No, cher. You’re definitely not.” She looked every inch a warrior goddess. But she wasn’t indestructible. The terror he’d felt as the truck hit the water today, plunging them both under water, then his absolute fury that she wouldn’t leave, but risked her life to save him all rushed back, hardened his tone. He had to force the words past the fury clogging his throat. “You could have died today, too.”
He stalked out the door and around the perimeter—twice—unable to quell his growing frustration. The woman—and this case—were tying him in knots, and he didn’t like it. Why couldn’t he see the whole picture? And what if he couldn’t figure it out in time to protect her?
He would. He had no other choice. He eased into the trees, not making a sound.
He grabbed a fallen palm frond and held it in front of his face as he worked his way over to the trail camera he’d installed to watch the watcher. He hoped the camouflage would keep the suspect from knowing he’d been made. He checked the battery and pulled out the SD card, then went to his truck and plugged it into his laptop. It didn’t take long to scroll through the pictures. There were plenty of four-legged visitors who passed by the camera, but no two-legged ones. He was almost to the last picture…wait. He scrolled back. There.
Sure enough, the infrared camera had picked up someone climbing down from the tree. He enlarged the photo, cursed. Their guy was taking no chances. From the shape, he figured it was a man, but he was wearing camo gear, a hat, sunglasses in the middle of the night, and something over his face to disguise his features.
He emailed the image to Byte before he returned the SD card to the camera.
He didn’t hold out much hope, but maybe, just maybe, Byte could come up with an ID. In the meantime, he’d have to figure out another way to find this guy.
You won’t get to Charlee. Not on my watch.
* * *
While Hunter checked outside, Charlee popped the second batch of cupcakes in the oven, his words echoing in her mind. Her heart ached for him over the loss of his brother. She would have wrapped him in her arms and told him how sorry she was if she thought he’d allow it. She, better than most, understood the kind of guilt that gnawed at your heart, the sense of failure when things went wrong that never really went away. She also knew responsibility and the need to protect those you cared about. In that way, she and Hunter were exactly the same. She shook out her fingers to get the blood flowing after clenching the wooden spoon so tightly. She knew every bit of the frustration churning inside him.
But even though she knew things were different with Hunter, he still sounded just like her brothers. Or Rick. She wouldn’t tolerate a man telling her what to do “for her own protection.” She snorted. Please. Capable woman here. Former cop. No pats on the head or macho swagger, thank you very much.
Hadn’t she followed her instincts and done what needed doing today? It had been exactly the right thing—no matter what he thought—and had shored up her battered confidence.
She allowed herself a little smile at that, then let out a breath. Enough. She had far more important things to think about than her muddled feelings for her maddening, altogether tempting best friend.
A bowl of chocolate fudge frosting sat on the table, and she was using her pastry tube to decorate the first batch of cupcakes when Hunter strode back in, his face void of all expression. She glanced up and went back to what she was doing. She didn’t have time to decipher what he was thinking. She didn’t care, either. At least that’s what she told herself.
He walked up behind her, and she could smell his woodsy scent and the heat that emanated from him. “Look, cher, I know you don’t like it, but I’m trying to protect you—”
He didn’t get any further than that. Without conscious thought, Charlee whirled around and shot half the tube of chocolate frosting right in his face, then calmly went back to her cupcakes. “Spare me the macho crap, Lieutenant. I don’t want to hear it.”
The silence went on for several beats, and Charlee had a moment to wonder if she’d gone too far. But then she heard him start to laugh. She looked up through her lashes and saw him tip his head back and laugh like she’d never heard him laugh, with his whole body.
She tried to keep from smiling, but finally gave up and joined in.
She was so distracted by the pull his laughter stirred in her belly that she yelped in surprise when a big glob of frosting landed on her nose. Followed immediately by another blob on her right check. And then her left. She tried to fight back with her pastry tube, but his assault was relentless, swiping frosting off his own face and transferring it to hers.
“Two can play this game, cher, and I’m betting I’ll win,” he warned, adding another layer to her chin.
“Oh yeah?” She went on the offensive, and they went back and forth, smearing frosting on each other. Laughing and breathless, Charlee took a step back, stunned at the playfulness from such a serious man. She opened her mouth, trying to decide what to say, when his eyes met hers. Their laughter stilled as they studied each other. Behind the frosting and the laughter still dancing in his eyes, Charlee saw something more. Attraction, certainly. But something that went much deeper, that reached beyond friendship and caring and connected them in ways she was almost afraid to examine too closely.
Almost.
Charlee read the clear invitation in his eyes, and suddenly, her arms were around his neck, his wrapped around her back, and his hard mouth came down on hers. But where she expected aggression, he gave her featherlight kisses and licked the frosting from her lips, a smile on his own.
A shiver shot straight to her core, and she clutched his shoulders as he pulled her flush against him. The bands of muscle under her hands tightened, and she could feel the effect she had on him, but his arms didn’t feel like a cage, the way Rick’s had. No, Hunter was different. Danger clung to him like a second skin, but it was never directed at her. He growled low in his throat as he nuzzled her neck, and Charlee shivered, burrowing closer.
She shifted, giving him access to her neck, and ran her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, loving the way his hard grip made her feel safe even as his roaming hands and woodsy scent tempted her, invited her to move closer, to explore the fire that erupted whenever their skin touched.
When he nudged her lips open, she opened her mouth, welcomed his tongue in to dance with hers, hearts pounding, the kiss sparking and bursting to life until all Charlee felt was heat—his, hers, theirs. Being in his arms was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. It felt…right.
The thought startled her with the force of a slap, and her eyes popped open. No, this couldn’t feel right, could it? Her thoughts spun and twisted, mind and heart battling for control.
Hunter must have sensed the change in her, because he eased back just far enough to look in her eyes. She saw her own desire reflected there, hot enough to sear them both, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t move. Simply waited for her to decide. Some cowardly part of her wished he’d pull her close, take the decision out of her hands by overwhelming her senses with the heat between them. But then the truth dawned. He wouldn’t push, wouldn’t let them get swept along by passion, not without giving her time to make a decision.
He confirmed it when he rumbled, “Your choice, cher.” Then he smiled, that slow, sexy smile she felt all the way to her toes. “Want to shoot the rapids with me?”
Charlee realized that was exactly how she felt right now. Like she was in her kayak, ready to push off into the raging current where the river would sweep her along on a rush of adrenaline and all she could do was hang on for the ride. Did she have the guts to plunge into the water?
She studied him, stroked a shaky hand down his cheek, poised on the edge. “I don’t want it to change things between us,” she whispered.
His smile got wider, and mischief danced in his eyes. “Oh, it’ll change things, cher. No question. Our friendship, no. Never. But in other ways…?” He waggled his brows suggestively, and she burst out laughing.
And just like that, her indecision slipped away, and she smiled back. She could trust him. And she could trust their friendship.
All the other questions swirling around them could wait.
She cupped his cheeks, enjoying the feel of the stubble under her palms, and pulled him close. “Then show me what you’ve got, Lieutenant.”
He threw his head back and laughed before he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with an intensity that left her body quaking and seeking to get closer, deeper, more.
They somehow maneuvered out of the kitchen and down the hall, shedding clothes along the way, all without ever letting go of each other, as the fire stoked higher.
Once they finally reached the bedroom, Hunter eased her back on the bed, slid her shorts from her legs. She was tempted to hide under the intensity of his gaze, but he said, “Let me see you, cher. Let me touch.”
Charlee met his eyes and felt the same heart-pounding swoop of adrenaline as when she shot into the first rapid on a tough course. Poised halfway between the exhilaration of the ride and the terror of possible disaster, she let him look his fill. But the admiration in his eyes, the words he murmured in her ear, allowed her to let go of the fear and get swept away by the thrill of the ride. She opened her arms, and the last of their clothes seemed to melt away as their mouths met and their hands stroked and touched, giving and taking, learning each other.
As the pace increased, their hearts pounded and their breaths came in gasps. The tension built and built until Charlee couldn’t take it another second. “Please,” she murmured as her head spun and her eyes slid closed.
“Look at me, cher,” he commanded as he moved over her, melded them together.
Charlee locked eyes with him as he gripped both her hands and began to move.
Together, they raced through the raging currents and clung to each other as the tension built, tighter and tighter until they rocketed over the edge together. Afterward, breaths heaving, both smiling, they slowly, gradually, reached the calm waters on the other side.