Chapter 10

Hunter faced a veritable firing squad comprised of all the people he loved and the entire town of Shadows Landing when he took his seat at Harper's Bar the next night. And he took it. He took every name they called him. Every insult to his intelligence. Every teasing joke about his complete FUBAR of a relationship with Maggie. Why? Because he deserved it.

So, he took it. He was man enough to own his mistakes and this was one of the biggest he'd ever made. He'd spent the last day researching Magnum Bell and all that she'd accomplished. She was freaking amazing. And he'd told her she was nothing but a ball of pink fluff. He had to be the biggest asshole to ever exist.

And what if she wasn't a good shot? It was still an asshole thing to do. The more he dug around, the more he discovered Maggie Bell was smart, charitable, and probably the kindest human in the world. She was known for her innate sportsmanship. Even her biggest rivals loved competing against her. Clients raved about all she did for them and their perfect days or conferences at Bell Landing. The list went on and on, sinking him further and further into the hole he'd already dug for himself.

"Hunter."

Hunter looked up to find Ryker standing in front of him with Granger and Peter Castle. "Yes, I know. I'm a dumbass. I don't deserve Maggie. I'm thinking of a way to make it up to her."

"Good, but that's not why we're here," Ryker said, taking a seat at Hunter's table. Hunter looked around and noticed that most of the people had ventured off to other tables. Hunter was left with Damon and Forrest. "We got a hit on the man Maggie shot."

"Which terrorist group is he from?" Hunter asked.

"That's the thing. He's not a terrorist. He's a mercenary. His name is Alexey Kotov and he was part of the Borisenko Private Army out of Belarus," Ryker told him.

"That group broke up after Borisenko was killed four years ago," Hunter said, frowning. That didn't make sense.

"Could the people killed in Millevia also be Borisenko's men?" Peter asked.

"Sure. I don't know if they'd show up on a regular government search unless we had specific intel proving they were part of the private army. It's lucky you found that out with Alexey. Most of Borisenko's men wore ski masks as part of their uniforms. Identifying them was hard to do."

"We didn't use military or US government facial search for this," Peter said with a frown. "Well, we tried first, but they showed no results. We sent it off to a private company for identification."

"You broke the law? I'm so telling," Hunter teased. Peter shifted uncomfortably. He could probably lose his job over it if it were found out he shared details of an active case with a private citizen. "Tell me you already sent the other photos from Millevia."

"Tristan is asking their president for permission."

"Suck up," Hunter said, making Peter smile.

"Have you heard from Kane?" Ryker asked.

Hunter shook his head. His brother was scouring the underworld, and Hunter hoped Kane wasn't unknowingly walking into the hornet's nest. "No, but I'll text him this information. It might help him. Thanks for this. I'm still stuck on what they thought Landry had given me."

"I'm going to be added to these shifts of yours," Peter told him. "Dare has asked to help too. Paxton wants to as well. But with Tinsley so close to her due date, I told him we'd only call him in if necessary."

"I also called Blythe and let her know," Ryker informed him.

"I can help too," Damon added. "With more of us at the ready, we can take shorter shifts and stay better aware."

"I can help too," Forrest offered. "And I'm sure Wilder can too."

"I'd rather team you and Wilder up since you don't have law enforcement training, but I appreciate it. It will help a lot."

"I bet the Faulkners will help too," Damon added.

"We'll take some shifts, too," Gator said, turning on his stool at the bar to look at Hunter's table. He then pulled a giant knife out and began to clean his nails. "Would be right nice to meet that SOB who tried to hurt one of our own."

"Tank's grown stronger. I can knock someone out throwing him now," Turtle said, petting the juvenile snapping turtle, Tank, that he'd rescued from an alligator.

"The ghosts are mighty upset. The Langstons are treasured. The kids leave presents for the ghosts every Halloween," Skeeter said, pulling out his own knife.

"Thank you all. I feel better having multiple people per shift. I'm sure Landry and Lydia will be thankful as well," Hunter said to the group.

The door opened and everyone sucked in a breath.

"You're in trouble now," Damon whispered.

Hunter turned toward the door and cursed. Yeah, he was in big trouble.

Hunter knew the hit was coming and did nothing to stop it. His instincts told him to fight, but Hunter tamped them down. The fist slammed into Hunter's face harder than Hunter thought it would, considering it was coming from a man in boat shoes wearing blue shorts with little pink palm trees on them.

"Outside. Now." Gage turned on his heel and strode out of the bar.

The entire bar was quiet, but several snickers echoed. Yeah, yeah. Hunter was an asshole. He got it.

Hunter pushed up from the table and headed outside to meet Maggie's older brother. Gage stood with his hands on his hips. He was only an inch or so shorter than Hunter. Unlike Maggie's strawberry blonde hair, Gage's was a light brown and currently shoved back from his face. His eyes flashed with anger and Hunter also noticed that Gage, for all he appeared to be a picture-perfect Southern Gentleman, wasn't shaking out the fist that was going to leave Hunter with a black eye. That meant Gage had used his fists before. It made Hunter like him more. He'd thought Gage was no more than a preppy frat boy who sailed a lot. Apparently, since he'd also made the Olympic shooting team, he was more than Hunter realized. A mistake Hunter realized he made with more than one member of the Bell family.

Gage stalked up to Hunter, stopping just inches from him, and glared right into Hunter's eyes. Damn, preppy boy wasn't backing down. Respect. "I've wanted to do that for so long."

"Good punch. I deserved it."

"I want a fight, but you're not going to give it to me, are you?" Gage asked, studying Hunter's face intently.

"Sorry. I won't fight you."

Gage cursed in a most ungentlemanly way. "After what happened tonight, I need a good fight. But, I guess since you're not giving me one, that means you actually do like her, don't you?"

Hunter didn't react. He'd trained for years not to react to interrogations.

"Of course he does. He just didn't give himself permission to until he looked her up and discovered he's been a big ol' cun—"

"Miss Mitzi!" Gage said, trying not to laugh at the old woman walking her cat on a leash down Main Street at night.

"Well, I won't insult Miss Priss here by calling Hunter a pussy," Miss Mitzi said with a shrug before walking by them. Miss Priss gave Hunter some serious side-eye, then sashayed her furry butt by him as if he were a piece of crap.

Gage snickered. "Even the cat hates you."

"Yeah, I'm getting the impression no one here likes me very much."

Gage glared at him again. "Don't you dare make this about you. Everyone loves you, even when you treated my sister like trash. And just like that asshole tonight."

"What asshole?" Hunter instantly focused on the way Gage was still fisting his fingers in anger.

"None of your business. I'm tired of men hurting my sister. You included."

"I never meant to treat her badly, Gage. I've been burned more than once by women who resemble your sister, so I was a jerk to her to protect myself. It's not right and I'm sorry. It also made me mad that I couldn't stop thinking of her and wanting her." Hunter ran his hand over his hair and took a deep breath. "Gage, I need your help."

"Unbelievable. I'm warning you off my sister and you want my help?"

"You'd only be here to warn me off her if she likes me. Give me a chance. I'll prove I'm not that jerk, but actually a good guy."

"Hunter, I know you're a good guy. You're great with the kids in town. You're great with the town elders too. You worked with Mr. Gann and Mr. Knoll, along with Damon to increase the speed of their scooters. You're nice to everyone and well respected. I just don't think you're a good guy for my sister, so back off or I'll shoot you myself."

Gage began to walk away, but Hunter stopped him. "Isn't that up to your sister?"

Gage turned around and looked him right in the eye. "Maggie is going to shoot at the Olympics in less than a month. Her focus needs to be on training, not on you. If you like her, you need to let her go so she can achieve something she's been working toward her whole life. Goodnight, Hunter."

"He's not wrong," Damon said from where he was leaning against the wall of the bar. "He's not right either."

"What does that mean?" Hunter asked, tired of everyone thinking they knew his relationship better than he did.

"It means you have one shot at making this right. Hit a bullseye or walk off the field."

Hunter groaned as Damon headed for his motorcycle. "Stop with the shooting analogies."

"Don't come out with your guns blazing, but make sure to take your best shot now that you've decided to pull the trigger," Damon called out with a little chuckle before throwing his leg over his motorcycle. "Make sure you are on target and your plan is bulletproof so you don't shoot blanks since it's a long shot she'll forgive you." He revved the engine and drove off, leaving Hunter staring after him with more pressure than he'd had last night with a gun to his head. He had to find a way to tell Maggie he was wrong and he was sorry. As Gage suggested, he could not screw up her chances at Olympic gold.

* * *

Maggie spent the night in and out of sleep. Last night her parents had really made her think. What did she want? Did she want to give Hunter a chance or should she just move on? Yes, she liked him. Yes, she also was mad at him. Then she'd tried that horrible date to see if she could move on from Hunter. She knew one thing from the disaster of tonight—Hunter Townsend would never force himself on a woman.

Then there were the text messages and the videos she'd been sent of Gage punching Hunter right in the face in front of the whole town. Her initial reaction was to be mad at Gage and worried about Hunter. But then she really watched the videos. Hunter knew the punch was coming. He could have stopped it at any time. He could have easily killed her brother. He didn't even flinch when he was punched. He took it without a fight. Why?

Maggie had asked her brother when he'd come home, but he grumbled something about Miss Mitzi, respect, "that damn man," and went to bed.

As much as Maggie wanted to overthink it, she didn't have the time to do so. She needed Charles out of her mind. She needed Hunter out of her mind. She needed to practice. Her life's goal was a month away and no man was going to stop her from giving it her all.

Maggie showered, thinking of what Hunter's hands would look like on her body, and then dressed for practice. With an evil smile, Maggie picked her outfit.

Her father cleared his throat. Her mother smothered a smile. Gage cursed and stormed from the room. Perfect. She was ready for the day.

Maggie grabbed some of her mother's famous bacon, egg, and cheese biscuits she made for guests of the BB and wrapped them up in a basket along with a thermos of freshly brewed coffee. She'd drop them off and check on Landry on the way to the shooting range in town she used when it was too windy outside for air rifle.

Maggie lowered the windows of her truck and sang country music at the top of her lungs on the drive to Charleston. Maggie pulled into downtown Charleston and noticed a car had been following her for several miles. Maybe it was a girl thing, but she instantly became suspicious. Was it Charles? Women were trained from a young age to be aware. It was sad that they had to be, but mothers always pulled their daughters aside and told them to be aware, follow their gut, and fight if you have to—be it words or fists. Just like last night.

Maggie followed her gut and turned before the hospital. The car with tinted windows turned with her. Maggie pulled over and parked. The car parked several spots behind her. Maggie's heart began to race as she opened the door and headed into the candy shop that she'd parked in front of. She pretended to look at the display but took a picture of the car that had been following her. She texted it to Granger and within ten seconds Granger had told her to stay put.

Maggie pretended to look around the shop and ended up getting some chocolate for Lydia and the children. Maggie was paying when she saw Peter Castle and Paxton Kendry approach the car with their guns drawn.

Maggie headed to the door, no longer caring that she was staring. Peter had a gun aimed at the driver's side door, the window of which slowly lowered.

"FBI. Hands up," Peter called out.

"Just give us the soldier and what he took and no one has to get hurt," the man said in stilted English.

"You're with Borisenko, aren't you?" Peter asked.

Before Maggie could comprehend what was happening, Peter shouted, "Gun!" Then he and Paxton were firing their guns. It happened so fast that there was no chance for the man to confirm or deny he was with Borisenko's private army.

The people in the candy shop screamed, but Maggie began to move. She went straight to her truck, unlocked the safe, and pulled out her shotgun even as an unnatural silence seemed to surround her in the middle of downtown Charleston.

Peter and Paxton nodded to each other and, as one, opened both front doors. Maggie took up position by her truck, aiming her shotgun at the car to cover them. Peter and Paxton lowered their guns. Paxton pulled out his phone as people began to scream or record the aftermath of the shooting.

"Maggie, are you okay?" Peter called out after pulling a handgun from the dead man's hand.

"I'm good. Are you?" Maggie asked, finally lowering her weapon.

"Yeah, we have to call it in." Peter took a picture and then sent a text as the sound of sirens surrounded them. Peter hurried over to Maggie. "Get out of here. I don't want you involved," Peter whispered as he saw more cell phones recording. "Get to Landry. We need to move him. They're looking for him and we need to move him someplace they'll never find him."

* * *

Hunter took way too long at the shop, finding the exact perfect gift for Maggie. Well, the initial part was easy. It was the second part that was harder. Rows and rows of colorful fabrics to choose from. Then the thread color and the font he had to pick. He had to remember back to all the things he'd seen and pick the best one for Maggie.

"Are you sure you want to wait? This will take a while," the woman said, looking at the first part of the gift and then back to him.

"Do you have any questions? I'm sure this is new for you," Hunter asked the shop owner.

The grandmotherly woman looked as if she'd been insulted. "Honey, I do at least twenty of these a year."

"Really?" Hunter was surprised. He'd never known anyone with this. He thought he'd been original.

"Oh, sugar. Why do you think they gave you my name when you bought this?"

Hunter frowned. "I didn't think about that. Great. When can I pick it up?"

"For a rush fee, I can get it done by the end of the day."

"Done. Thanks so much." Hunter was walking out of the shop in Charleston when he got a text.

He pulled up his phone and saw it was from Peter. He didn't have time to frown when he finished reading what had happened to Maggie. He was already racing full speed to his truck parked down the street. He had to get to the hospital and fast.

Hunter put his phone on speaker as he navigated the old streets of downtown Charleston and called Maggie. "Hunter," she cried out desperately when she answered on the first ring.

The feeling Hunter got when he was about to be ambushed crawled up his spine. "What's the matter, Mags?"

"I think someone is at the hospital looking for Landry. I walked into the lobby and this man was talking to information. I heard him asking for his brother who had been injured overseas and flown in recently. He gave enough information that I don't know if the woman will give him the room number. I'm running up the stairs now to move him."

"I'm almost there, sweetheart. Are you armed?"

"No. I can't bring any weapons into a hospital. Everything's all locked up in my truck."

"Then move Landry and hide. Blythe will be there. She'll be armed. Find something to protect yourself with, just in case. I'm texting Peter now." Hunter floored his car, sent the text, and listened as Maggie sprinted up the stairwell of the hospital right as he tore into the parking garage.

"I'm on the floor," Maggie said, her voice slightly winded, but she was still very much in control. "Blythe! We need to move Landry. Someone is in the lobby looking for him. Hunter, I'm putting you in my pocket so I can help move him."

"I'm coming for you."

"I know you are. Hurry."

Hunter slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop by the parking garage stairwell. Hunter grabbed his gun and took the stairs two at a time, but then stopped when he reached Landry's floor. He tucked his sidearm into the back of his waistband, took a deep breath, and strode out of the door as if nothing was happening.

"I'm sorry, I can't help you, sir." Jen stood rigid behind the nurse's desk. A man who was clearly not from the area stood with his back to Hunter.

Jen's eyes moved toward Hunter's with relief. That is, until the man turned to look at Hunter. Recognition hit them both at the same time.

"Hunter Townsend," the man said with a South American accent.

"Pablo Soliz. You're a long way from Bolivia. Last time I saw you, you were personal security for the president."

"That was two coups ago." Pablo shrugged.

They were in a standoff, neither of them daring to break eye contact. Hunter knew the former soldier was probably armed like Hunter was. They were slowly inching closer together as they circled each other. Hunter moved to protect Jen, but then Jen screamed as Pablo launched himself at Hunter. They both realized they didn't have enough time and were too close together to grab their guns, so instead, they went hand to hand.

Hunter was ready for it. He met Pablo fist for fist. He heard Jen rush off screaming for security but was too focused on the fight in front of him to care about that.

Punch for punch, they dissolved into a fight that was so fast and furious it probably would have been hard to see the moves they were making. It took ten seconds or so, which felt like a lifetime, but Hunter felt the rhythm of the fight. All fights had rhythm—it was a dance. All fighters had it in their favorite combinations of hits. Jab, jab, cross. Cross, jab, hook, sweep. It didn't matter. Everyone had one. The best fighters knew when to change it up, which was exactly what Hunter did. When he would have gone for a kidney shot, he throat-punched Pablo, sending him to his knees, gasping for breath.

Knowing Hunter now had the advantage, Pablo did the only thing he could. He reached for his weapon. Hunter lifted his booted foot and slammed it into Pablo's chest, sending him flying backward as Hunter grabbed his own gun.

Although, he didn't have to use it. A vision of long legs in the shortest, pinkest shorts he'd ever seen smashed a stainless-steel bedpan over Pablo's head. The man's eyes rolled back and he was out cold.

"What are you doing, Mags? You could have been hurt!" Hunter tried not to scream as he grabbed Pablo's gun and stuffed it into his waistband.

Maggie shrugged one bare shoulder. The thin strap of her barely-there white camisole had slid down her arm during the head bashing. "You were losing. I made sure you won."

The sound of sirens and men rushing up the stairwell could be heard as Hunter stared at Maggie. Her pearls were delicate looking, but the hand on her hip showed she was ready to give it as good as she got.

"I was not losing. I was learning his combinations so that I could make my move, which I did when you got here."

"He was pulling a gun, Hunter. You didn't have one. I couldn't let him hurt you." Hunter held up his left hand and wiggled it in the air. Her eyes went to the gun he had there. Her eyes widened in surprise and a cute blush stained her cheeks. "Oh. You're a lefty."

"That I am." Hunter put his gun away and felt bad when he saw the disappointment on Maggie's face. She'd wanted to save him. Again. "But thank you for having my back. I would have shot him. Thanks to your quick action, we can question him."

Maggie's face lit up. "Really?"

"Really. You did well. I was only upset because I was worried about you. I hate the thought of you in danger."

"You do?" Maggie asked with a shy smile.

"Yeah. I never want someone I care about in danger."

Maggie blushed further and Hunter loved it until his eyes narrowed in on the red angry mark on her wrist. "Maggie, who did that to you?" Hunter growled.

"Drop the bedpan!"

Hunter turned to see Charleston police filling the hall with their guns aimed at Maggie. Maggie dropped the bedpan with a rattling clunk on the industrial tile flooring.

Hunter raised his hand, showing them the gun before leaning over and setting it on the nurse's station. Handcuffs were pulled out, officers were shouting "hands," and a tired looking, rumpled man in a suit walked forward as if he were suffering daily from his job. "Dammit. Another one. Miss Bell, I see your problem is here."

"Another one, sir?" one of the officers asked.

"A Townsend. I don't even need to check his ID. Ladies and gentlemen, meet one of Olivia Townsend's brothers. I'm guessing Hunter. Do everything by the book so I don't have to put up with her in court. Unless Miss Bell wants him beaten. Then we can do that."

Hunter grinned at that. He loved how his sister could make grown men shake in their boots. He also liked that the man seemed to be protecting Maggie, but why was he protecting her from him?

"Wait, you can't arrest him!" Maggie cried out as Hunter held out his hands to be cuffed. "He's innocent."

The cops snickered, but then they raised their weapons again when Jen burst out of Landry's room with Blythe and Lydia. "Don't you dare put them in cuffs!" Lydia yelled as she charged forward.

"They saved us," Jen said. "Pull security cameras. While we wait, I'll call my best friend, Mrs. Faulkner. I believe Olivia Townsend is her husband Ryker's attorney. Maybe they need to be down here for this."

"Are you trying to intimidate me, ma'am?" the rumpled man asked.

"Is it working?" Jen barked.

The man didn't answer but let out a long, agonizing sigh. "Okay then. Let's start at the beginning. I'm Detective Chambers. What happened here?"

Hunter was quiet as Jen, Blythe, and Lydia filled them in. Maggie tried to speak, but Hunter gave her a small shake of the head and she closed her mouth. If there was anything Hunter had learned from his shark of a lawyer sister, it was to keep your mouth shut until your attorney arrived. Hunter glanced at the clock. Considering Olivia was in a meeting with Ryker in his Charleston office this morning, he bet she'd be here in less than five minutes.

It only took three minutes.

Police scattered and suddenly became very interested in their shoes when Olivia Townsend-Fox stepped from the elevator. The first spiked heel hadn't even hit the floor when Detective Chambers cursed under his breath.

"I'm honored. I feel the same, detective. I've missed you."

Hunter crossed his arms over his chest and moved to stand by Maggie. "Watch this," he whispered.

Olivia smiled and the detective might have shed a tear as Olivia informed him that Hunter Townsend and Maggie Bell had just saved a war hero from a terrorist. Then the elevator opened and Peter Castle hurried out. He further crushed poor Detective Chamber's day by announcing this was an FBI investigation in coordination with the US Military.

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to tell you," Hunter said, smiling down at Maggie, "that you look beautiful today. And the force with which you knocked Pablo out was very sexy. But we need to talk about your wrist."

"Okay, you two. Go check on Landry. I'll be there shortly," Olivia announced as she and Peter helped wrap up the police investigation. Peter's team was surrounding Pablo, cuffing him, and administering first aid. They snapped an ampule of smelling salts under his nose and Pablo's eyes flew open. He cursed and then closed his eyes again as if that would make all his problems go away.