When Martin finally spotted Daisy it took every bit of self-discipline he had to not immediately run straight toward her. It had already taken much of his self-control not to call out her name as he searched for her after she’d stumbled into the ravine, but he hadn’t wanted to make it easy for the person tracking them with the rifle to find her if she answered his call.
Now Martin was standing partially hidden by a tree trunk, horrified to see Daisy crouched on the ground with a hunting arrow sticking out of her arm.
He stared at the stranger who had an arrow notched in a bow. He was not yet pointing it anywhere other than at the ground. The moment the blond man raised the bow and pointed the arrow at Daisy, Martin would fire a couple of rounds and drop him. But Martin was hesitating for the moment, not wanting to alert the rifle shooter to his location. With Daisy lying there out of commission, so vulnerable, he didn’t want to have to deal with two assailants at once. At least two. Maybe there were more.
Daisy’s hunch must have been right. Daltrey and Bunker must have been hiding somewhere around here. And somehow they’d been alerted to Daisy’s presence.
The man with the bow stepped forward into the sunlight, closer to Daisy. Now Martin could see that it was Ivan Bunker, that he’d changed his appearance. Daltrey had probably done so, too. And Daltrey was likely the shooter with the rifle. Maybe he was nearby, watching and waiting for Martin to reveal himself as he tried to rescue Daisy so he could finish off the two of them at once.
As he’d intended to do, Martin had led himself and Daisy back closer to the parking lot. It was still some distance away, but in the quiet of the forest sound carried, and he could hear the movement of cars, voices on radios. Moments ago he’d heard the sounds of arriving sirens.
Martin’s hand itched to reach for his phone, to call the cops and get them over here to help. But he was afraid to look away from the scene in front of him for even a second. And from the distance where he now stood, he needed both hands on his pistol for sure aim so the bullets would hit their target.
He held his breath and listened for any sound of the rifleman possibly hiding nearby. He didn’t hear anything.
But then Bunker—who was either talking to himself or talking to Daisy, it was hard to tell—looked up, shook his head and laughed. Then he pulled back on the bow and aimed the arrow at Daisy, all while stepping closer toward her. Plenty of things could end a life besides a gun. If an arrow hit a vital organ while they were out here in the wilderness, Daisy could be dead before they were anywhere near a hospital.
Martin had no choice. He stood clear of the tree trunk, stepped forward and took the shots. But his movement away from the tree caught Bunker’s attention. Bunker saw or heard something. Whatever it was, it was enough warning for the hit man to drop to the ground and let the bullets strike the dirt beside him.
Martin had moved into a clearing to shoot, and now he was committed to taking more aggressive action. He had no choice other than to keep moving through the open space and bring down Bunker. The cops would have heard gunfire by now, but it would take them a few minutes to get oriented and figure out where the shots were coming from. And Martin could not afford to waste that time, not when Daisy was still in danger.
Crouched down and moving quickly, he’d covered about a third of the distance between himself and Bunker when the assassin threw aside the bow and pulled out a handgun, now returning fire at Martin.
Daisy was on the ground between the two men. She moved around on her hands and knees, favoring the injured arm and trying to get to her feet but not quite able to do it. She was looking in every direction, clearly bewildered and apparently unarmed.
Martin kept moving forward, firing again at Bunker, hitting him in the shoulder. The killer spun halfway around, tripping over something and nearly falling, before taking several stumbling steps into a cluster of nearby trees.
Martin heard a rifle shot behind him and saw a puff of dirt by his boot where the bullet struck the ground. He dropped to his knees and crawled through the yellowing, late-season wild grasses toward Daisy, terrified at the thought that he might get himself killed and leave her alone and unprotected.
The rifleman behind him fired at him again. The bullet nicked the heel of his boot before smacking into the dirt. Bunker, who was in front of him, began shooting at him from his hiding spot under the trees. Martin kept moving toward Daisy.
“Martin?” Daisy called out uncertainly as he moved almost within reach. There were marks on her face that would turn to bruises soon. Grass and leaves and pine straw in her hair. That tumble down the ravine had taken a lot out of her.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, finally crawling up to her and then positioning his body as best he could to protect her from any flying bullets.
She reached for his free hand and gripped it tightly. “Bunker took my gun,” she said.
“It’s okay.” Martin forced a calm smile on his face when what he wanted to do was roar in frustration at all the violence and evil and injustice in the world. And at the same time he wanted to give in to heartbroken tears at seeing Daisy once again injured and in pain. This was too much. All that had happened to her in such a short amount of time was too much.
He wanted to keep holding her hand, but Martin made himself release his grip and reached for his phone to call 9-1-1. “We’re being fired at about a mile northeast of the parking lot at Pearce Park,” he said as soon as the operator answered, certain she would be aware of the situation. “There are two shooters.”
“We are relaying your location to law enforcement on scene,” the operator answered back. “Stay on the line.”
Martin heard the sound of Ivan Bunker shooting again at him. He didn’t dare return fire for fear of hitting one of the cops coming to help.
It seemed like it took forever, but it was probably really only a couple of minutes later when Bunker stopped shooting. And then in the quiet he heard a voice calling out his and Daisy’s names.
He dared to raise his head above the grass and saw five uniformed officers fanned out and partially hidden amid the trees. They were coming from the direction of the parking lot.
Martin stood up. Daisy was determined to get to her feet, too, so he helped her up, grimacing at the sight of the arrow still lodged in her arm. “We need a medic,” he called out to the police. The officer spoke into a radio collar mic.
Daisy leaned into Martin, resting her head against his chest. He ran his hand over her dark hair, stroking it gently, and then kissed the top of her head.
When he looked up, the cops were continuing their search of the area and a pair of medics headed toward Martin and Daisy.
Thank You, Lord, he prayed silently. Daisy was safe. For now.
At the conclusion of the church service, Martin stole a quick glance at Daisy, seated beside him. Yesterday’s attack in Pearce Park had left its mark, literally. Although she’d tried to cover the bruising that had shown up on her face this morning with makeup, he could still see the purplish marks on her forehead and chin.
“Lord, please protect her,” he whispered, his voice so quiet that he could barely hear it above the shuffling sounds of congregants standing and the increasing volume of voices as people began to greet and talk to one another.
Daisy glanced at him, offering a beleaguered smile as she reached down to pick up her purse from the floor. When she’d said she wanted to come to church this morning, he hadn’t been sure that was a good idea. The men who were after her were ruthless. They could potentially launch a violent attack on her anywhere. Even in a church. Daisy had called the pastor, asking if he wanted her to stay away. He told her she was absolutely welcome, asked her which service she would attend and assured her that they’d be ready for her.
Martin had spotted what appeared to be a plainclothes cop standing inside the church entrance when he and Daisy had arrived. Another apparent plainclothes cop stood inside the sanctuary. It was sad to know that such a situation was necessary. But the world was a broken, dangerous place. Being a person of faith didn’t mean you ignored that truth.
Martin followed Daisy as she exited their row. She stopped at the end of the aisle and let several concerned friends come over and gingerly give her a hug. The arrow that struck her yesterday had lodged in the fleshy part of her arm without causing major blood loss. She’d gotten a few stitches and had a thick wrapping of gauze over the wound.
If things had gone differently yesterday, Martin could have lost her. While he’d shielded her body with his own as Bunker and Daltrey took shots at them, he’d seen the relief in her eyes when she’d realized Martin was there. He’d heard the raw emotion in her voice, felt the sense of connection between them, and the power of that had been unsettling. It had felt as though the situation had forced them to shove aside every layer of emotional defense they had put in place and made them feel what lay beneath.
Last night Martin hadn’t gotten much sleep for a whole host of reasons. He’d worried about Daisy’s physical safety and her emotional health. He’d worried about Daltrey and Bunker still running loose in Jameson. The cops hadn’t found them and no one knew where the hit men were right now. He’d worried about the chase for the fugitives going on for so long that everyone eventually stopped being as cautious and alert as they needed to be.
He’d also worried that the carefully constructed line he’d drawn between himself and Daisy was getting dangerously blurred.
He would always protect her from physical danger. Always come running the minute she called. Over the years he’d found it pretty much impossible to set limits on what he’d do for her. But he would not let her fall in love with him. He would not let her think that because of all they were going through together right now, that somehow meant they had a future together.
They didn’t.
Martin could hunt down people who were trying to evade justice. He could fight and shoot if he had to. Track an animal or a human being in the wilderness. He was on call as a volunteer helping with high-angle rescue in the event that anyone got injured in the mountains.
But he couldn’t have the kind of relationship with Daisy that he knew she wanted. He had too much emotional baggage thanks to his parents. And too many vacant places in his heart and mind where the keys to how to love someone and weather all the ups and downs and still keep things going without bitterly disappointing the other person should be.
If he really loved Daisy, he’d stop allowing himself to savor the feeling of growing closeness between them. He’d do it before he unintentionally hurt her by saying or doing or being the wrong thing for her.
He forced his thoughts away from Daisy and focused them on the fundamentals of their current case instead.
Despite being hit by Martin’s bullet, Bunker hadn’t left enough of a blood trail for law enforcement to track him. So the injury was likely not life-threatening.
The sheriff’s department had gotten a K-9 out there that led them to a forest service access road. There were fresh tire tracks on the dirt and signs that someone had been car camping there. So Daltrey and Bunker were probably hiding out in the park—for the last night, perhaps longer—and maybe this morning one or both of them came into the campground area. For clean water from the tap, maybe. And while they were there they must have seen Daisy and Martin. Perhaps someone in the camp had been an accomplice or had somehow alerted them.
There was no way to be certain. The only thing they knew for a fact right now was that Bunker had altered his appearance. So Daltrey had probably altered his appearance, too.
Daisy finally had talked to everyone who’d come to greet her and she started toward the church foyer with Martin right behind her. They’d come to this service, the earlier of two morning ones, thinking there would be fewer people and Daisy’s appearance would draw less attention. Martin could only imagine what it would have been like if they’d shown up for the more popular later-morning service. Daisy not only had a regular presence at church, but she’d helped several of the congregants, using her bounty hunting skills to locate missing people with memory problems as well as a few angry kids who’d run away from home.
“Thank you,” Daisy said to the man standing guard inside the foyer as she walked past. The man smiled in response. Martin likewise expressed his gratitude.
The foyer was mostly empty by now and Martin spotted Sheriff Russell just as she called out to Daisy. The sheriff, wearing a lavender dress and heels, stood near a uniformed deputy. A sheriff’s department patrol car was visible through the foyer’s front windows.
The edgy sense of worry and anxiety that had simmered in the forefront of Martin’s mind ever since he’d gotten the original call that Daisy was in trouble flared up. Why were the cops here?
“How are you doing?” The sheriff reached out to take Daisy’s hand, her demeanor managing to convey sensitive concern and stony law enforcement officer determination at the same time.
“Is everything all right?” Martin asked, a tense knot already forming in the middle of his gut.
The sheriff nodded. “I’m here for the next service. Unless I get called away.” She glanced at the wide expanse of glass at the front of the lobby, and then looked toward the open door of a classroom. “Do you have a minute?” she asked Daisy.
“Of course.”
They all moved away from the windows, where Daisy would have been an easy target for anyone driving by, and into the small room.
“I thought you might want a quick update,” the sheriff said.
“You’ve got a lead on Daltrey and Bunker?” Daisy asked.
The hint of eager hopefulness in Daisy’s voice nearly broke Martin’s heart. Of all the people in the world, why did caring, kindhearted Daisy Lopez have to go through this torment? He shook his head slightly at the pointlessness of the question. How many times had he asked why something terrible had happened to a good person? Many times, often in churches, like this one, during prayer. And during funerals.
Martin could do his best to live a good life. He could pray. He could lean into his faith. But the outcomes were not in Martin’s hands. It was simply not his place to understand all and figure everything out. And so often, like now, that reality was very hard to accept.
“No new leads.” The sheriff shook her head. “Not yet, I should say. Because we are going to find some. We won’t quit until we do. And I wanted to tell you about that. We’re still following all the details we can on Tony Valens, even though he is deceased, trying to get a handle on where he’s been, maybe get some video of him with someone here in town, and we’re closely studying any scrap of information that might show us how he became connected with Daltrey and Bunker.”
“Do you have any information yet on what kind of vehicle the fugitives are driving?” Daisy asked.
“Unfortunately, no. As of this morning, we didn’t have anything new on our stolen vehicle hot sheet. It’s possible they grabbed a vehicle sitting in some place where no one would notice it missing for a while. Or they may have bought something from a seller who didn’t realize the buyers were fugitives from the law.”
“Any chance you’ve gotten helpful information about their mob buddies from the feds?” Martin asked.
“They have an informant in the Miami mob and they did confirm what Mrs. Lopez overheard, that Daltrey and Bunker have fallen into disfavor with their organized crime bosses and the pressure is on for them to clean up their mess before they leave town.” She glanced meaningfully at Daisy.
Martin sighed. Instead of things getting better, it seemed like they kept spiraling more and more out of control. At some point, the criminal bosses might decide to send in their own hit team to clean up the mess. He glanced at Daisy standing beside him and a chill ran up his spine at the thought of something more happening to her. Even with dedicated law officers from multiple agencies doing their best to help her, how could they possibly capture the thugs and lock them up and keep Daisy safe?
“We’re still doing our regular beat cop work, as well,” the sheriff continued. “The highway patrol is keeping watch on the outskirts of town. Here in Jameson we’re in constant contact with car rental companies, motels and security out at the airport. We’re staying visible so they know we’re after them. Hopefully that will trigger them to panic and make a dumb move. And then we’ll have them.”
Voices and footsteps in the lobby signaled that people were arriving for the next church service.
“Deputy Flint will see you to your vehicle,” the sheriff said, indicating the deputy who’d been quietly standing beside her.
After saying their goodbyes, they walked with the deputy out to Martin’s truck and then started the drive back to the bail bonds office. Alvis and Millie usually attended church with Daisy, but they’d decided, for the sake of security, to stay home and go to the evening service instead. Leaving the building empty seemed risky, even with a security system. Daltrey and Bunker were assassins; they knew how to break into buildings, lie in wait, set up ambushes. Actions that once seemed paranoid felt reasonable right now.
“I’m starting to forget what normal life was like,” Daisy said as they drove down the road, both of them checking the mirrors at regular intervals to see if they were being followed. “Right now I kind of wish we’d see Daltrey and Bunker tailing us,” she added. “Just so we could face them and get this over with.” She turned to him. “It’s like the feeling in the summer when a thunderstorm is building all day and by afternoon you just want the storm to break and the rain to fall already.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t really want the hit man thunderstorm to break while we’re right here on Edison Avenue in front of Kiki’s Knitting Hut,” Martin said dryly.
“Name a better place.”
“Any place where there aren’t any civilians and where we’ve got the bad guys surrounded by a ring of cops so they can’t possibly get away.”
“You’re right,” she said. “That would be better. I’m just getting tired of all of this. And short-tempered.”
And in physical pain, Martin thought. She’d been banged up pretty good a couple of times now. “Nobody can blame you for wanting it to be over.”
He was taking a circuitous route back to Peak Bail Bonds to make it easier to spot anyone following them, and also because an unpredictable route could foil any attempt at ambushing them on the way back to the office.
“Ah, Fiesta Charlie’s,” Daisy said as they passed a strip mall with a restaurant. “When we were in high school the onion rings there practically called out to me until I came and got some.”
“I remember,” Martin said, glancing at the weather-beaten sign showing a taco wearing a top hat, holding a cane and looking like it was dancing. The year he lived in Jameson, it seemed like he and Aaron and Daisy ended up here every Saturday with a crowd of friends. It felt like being surrounded by extended family. And it had given Martin a warm feeling that he had savored after so much time in the chilly atmosphere surrounding his parents at his home in Stone River.
His great-aunt and -uncle who had invited him here for his senior year had done so much more for him than they ever realized. That was ten years ago, and both had since passed away. But they’d left a legacy in his heart. Their faith had shown him a way to live that had helped him survive some dark times.
Daisy and her family had made an impact, too. They were woven into his life and he couldn’t imagine carrying on without them.
Seeing Fiesta Charlie’s reminded Martin of how hard he’d fallen for Daisy by the end of his senior year. And how that teenage emotion had deepened into more meaningful feelings for her over the years.
But that didn’t change the fact that Martin would not be able to make a new, more complicated relationship with Daisy work. It wasn’t in him. And if they tried, he knew Daisy would ultimately feel disappointed in him. And the most precious relationship in his life would be gone.
“Now I really want some onion rings,” Daisy said. “Quick, pull in before we pass it.”
Martin kept going. She was tired and impatient and off her game right now. Daltrey and Bunker had to be at the point where they were willing to do anything to get the situation cleaned up and over with. Which meant they could be anywhere. Even behind them in traffic right now, unnoticed. This was not the time to take any chances with Daisy’s safety, not even a small one.
“I’ll take you home and then I’ll come back and get you onion rings,” he said.
He would do anything he could to keep Daisy safe. And he would not let this experience ruin his relationship with her. Emotionally, he would cool things down. It was that, or risk losing her forever.