Chapter Eleven

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While silently cursing, Nash did a zigzag sprint toward the tree where he’d last seen the shooter. Cursing because he sure as hell wasn’t seeing him now. And since the SOB wasn’t firing any shots, that likely meant he was well on his way to being long gone.

Nash made it to the fence and scrambled over it, dropping down to the other side and immediately bringing up his gun.

Ready to fire.

But there was no blasted target.

He stopped, went still, and just listened. For a spring morning, it was plenty quiet. No birds. No rustle of wind. No running footsteps. Hell. Did that mean Bodie or whoever had fired those shots had dropped down and was lying in wait?

Maybe.

But Nash didn’t get a sense of that. In fact, his instincts were telling him he was alone here. So, where the hell had he gone?

And was it even a he?

No way to know if it was Bodie. Or Eddie. But it could be Jordana, too, especially since she’d had all that firearms training. Shit, for that matter, it could be some minion they’d hired to do their bidding. Someone willing to put a bullet in Caroline.

Someone willing to kill her.

Nash got moving again, taking slow, cautious steps. Still listening. And still hearing nothing.

Not at first anyway.

But then he caught a sound and did more cursing. Because it was a motorcycle engine, and it was coming from a good thirty yards away.

Nash took off running, watching for any IEDs or traps that the shooter might have left behind. This wasn’t his property, so there were no sensors or cameras to detect someone doing that sort of thing, and if the shooter knew that, he or she might have decided to capitalize on the security flaw.

He bolted through the woods, following the sound of the engine. But the motorcycle was moving, too, getting further and further away from him. Nash didn’t catch sight of it until he made it all the way to the road. Even then, he got just a glimpse, a blur of motion, before the rider sped around a curve and out of sight.

“Oz, alert Ruby,” he said, turning and running back toward the van. “The shooter escaped, heading east on Anderson Road on what I think is a black and silver Harley. Deploy a drone.”

While Oz took care of that, Nash ran back to the van as fast as he could. Because it occurred to him that with the direction the shooter was heading, he or she would be going directly past the road to Nash’s place. The SOB could take the turn and try to go after Caroline again. She was with Slade, who’d protect her, but Nash didn’t want them to face this potential threat without the extra help he could give them.

“Since Oz is still connected to the dash monitor, I heard what you told the app,” Slade said as Nash approached the van.

Obviously, Caroline had heard it, too, because she was sitting up enough for him to see her face. And for him to notice the fresh dread that was there. Nash wanted to make the shooter pay for that look. For the fear she had to be feeling.

“I’m sorry,” Nash told her when he got in the van.

She didn’t have quite the reaction he’d expected. Caroline hooked her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him. Not a gentle one either. It was rather hard and filled with the emotions that he’d seen in her expression.

And more.

Apparently, it had some relief in the mix, too.

Relief and so much pleasure.

That kick of pleasure came, sliding through him as her tongue slid over his mouth. Her taste was an instant balm, soothing. Arousing.

Perfect.

But it didn’t last. Nope. She stopped it as quickly as she’d started it and pulled back to face him.

“Don’t do that again,” Caroline snapped. “Don’t go running off after a killer like that. We could have driven the van closer so you wouldn’t have been out in the open for nearly as long as you were. I want to punch you on the arm right now,” she tacked onto that.

Despite everything they’d just been through, he had to fight a smile. Yeah, she’d been given another mental blow, but she’d taken the punch and had seemingly rolled with it.

“Yeah, this lust thing between you two won’t interfere with anything,” Slade grumbled, throwing the van into gear and turning around to start back toward the house.

The house that might or might not be habitable. Somehow that thought made it through the haze that the kiss had created and into Nash’s mind. So did what Slade had just said.

“This lust thing won’t interfere with me making Caroline’s safety my top priority,” Nash assured him.

Slade made a sound that could have meant anything. Or nothing. “All right, that’s my priority, too, which is why I’m going to insist the two of you stay in the van while I go inside the house and check it out.”

“You could wait for the cops,” Caroline said, and then she looked at Nash. “We heard what you told Oz to do, and since that means Oz and my mother have already alerted the cops. A county deputy or two should be here soon.”

“In theory,” Slade agreed. “But a lot of the county LEOs are tied up with the search for Bodie, so it might take them a while. Especially now since they’ll also be looking for that motorcycle.”

Slade was right. And Nash preferred them out looking for Bodie. The sooner they found him, the sooner Caroline would be out of danger.

The moment that Slade made it back to the garage and opened it, he drove in and immediately shut the door behind them.

“Wait here,” Slade muttered. “And maybe talk or something instead of… hell.” He waved that off. “Go ahead and kiss. You’re obviously both brainless when it comes to each other.”

They were, but Nash knew he was going to do a better job of… He stopped, looked at her and brushed his mouth over hers.

“After this is over, I won’t keep my distance from you,” Nash assured her.

“Progress,” she muttered with her mouth still against his. “And this isn’t a comfort kiss, is it? I mean, this feels like more than that.”

“It is more,” he assured her. “A whole lot more.”

The timing sucked to spell that out, and saying it certainly didn’t solve any of their problems. Just the opposite. But he knew this particular kiss wasn’t going to lead to a heavy make-out session. Or even another kiss. Not when he had to keep an ear out for anything Slade had to report.

There was also that possibility of Bodie or the shooter doubling back.

All of his security measures were still in place, but the shooter had found a way around that. Well, sort of. He or she had triggered the sensors, which had done their job of alerting Nash, but by staying at the far back of the fence, the gunman had managed to stay out of immediate range while still being able to fire what could have been killing blows.

If he or she had gotten lucky, that is.

That first shot had come right at Caroline when she’d been standing by the window, and if the specialized bullet had hit at the wrong angle or on some flawed spot of the glass, she could have been killed. Had that been the shooter’s intention? Or had this attack been all about terrorizing her?

He hoped the drone would spot the motorcycle so they could catch the bastard, and then Nash could maybe find out the answer to that question.

“Oz, put the feed for the security cameras on the van’s dash monitor,” Nash instructed.

It was overkill information since the motion detectors would alert him if anyone came onto the grounds, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a backup to those sensors.

Within seconds, the feed popped onto the dash, and as expected, Nash didn’t see anyone. The gates were still closed, just as they should be, and he wouldn’t be opening them until the cops had arrived. Even then, he’d verify every single one of them before letting them in. Because he wouldn’t put it past Bodie to try to sneak in with the first responders.

The mudroom door opened, and Nash’s hand automatically tensed on his gun, but it was only Slade.

“No one’s inside,” Slade reported. He had the bags he’d brought over earlier and stashed them on the console.

“There’s the stench of some tear gas still lingering around, but other than that and the obvious broken window, that’s it,” Slade went on. “No other damage. The tear gas canister didn’t even hit or break anything when it landed. It’s just lying on the floor, ready for the CSIs to examine it and hopefully get a print that the dickhead shooter might have missed when he loaded it into the launcher.”

Yeah, that was the hope, all right.

“The drone has something to report,” Oz informed them, and the security feed was replaced with some other images. Not footage but rather a series of still photos that the drone had obviously shot.

Like Caroline and Slade, Nash looked at the pictures, but it didn’t take a long study for him to spot what the drone had picked up.

A motorcycle.

Not on the road but rather in the ditch, and there was no rider on or near it.

“Oz, where were these images taken?” Nash asked.

“A quarter of a mile from here,” Oz promptly replied. “The motorcycle is within twenty feet of an old ranch trail.”

A trail where the shooter had no doubt left a vehicle for his or her quick getaway.

“Ruby and the police have been alerted about this new information,” Oz went on.

Good, and that meant the CSIs would examine the motorcycle for any prints or trace evidence. Nash wasn’t hopeful they’d find anything, but again, they could get lucky. The shooter might have carefully planned this, but that didn’t mean he or she hadn’t made a mistake.

There was a series of beeps, and without Nash even having to give the command, Oz replaced the drone pictures with the live feed from the security cameras. Nash expected to see cops, lots and lots of them.

But this was a single vehicle.

And it sure as heck wasn’t a cop driving it.

Hell in a handbasket. What was she doing here?