Читать книгу Guns and the Girl Next Door - ХеленКей Даймон, HelenKay Dimon - Страница 8

Holden Price leaned his head back against his couch and threw his baseball in the air for what felt like the hundredth time. Much more of this and his catching hand would go numb.

Being on paid leave was not his idea of a good time. More like torture.

Up until two months ago he’d worked undercover with the Recovery Project, an off-the-books government agency fronting as an antiques salvage operation. He found missing people for a living, those on the run who didn’t want to be found and those who were desperate for rescue.

One case gone wrong and pencil-pushing higher-ups disbanded the Project and subpoenaed his boss, Rod Lehman, to Capitol Hill for top-secret congressional subcommittee hearings. It all sounded like a load of bureaucratic crap to Holden.

He’d spent his twenties in the army and the first four years of his thirties at the Project. Without the routine of work the past few weeks dragged. He couldn’t remember ever being this bored.

The ball thumped against his palm before he whipped it into the air again. The seam turned end over end as it traveled halfway to his family-room ceiling. It ran out of oomph and began falling back down just as the lights on his outside alarm system flickered to life on the panel next to the door.

Shrill beeps filled the room and kept right on cycling. When tires squealed outside the large double window across from him, Holden lifted his head and saw the blinding headlights weaving and shifting straight up his lawn.

The sights and sounds refused to register in his brain. By design, his cabin sat in the middle of nowhere. He dealt with dangerous people and life-threatening situations. The unsettling mix had convinced him long ago to set up a sanctuary, a place of peace known only to a few friends who also happened to be gun-carrying colleagues.

And now someone was violating the safety zone he’d created, using more than three thousand pounds of automobile as a weapon to do it.

He scrambled off the cushion and grabbed for the gun in his side table. He hit the floor on his right shoulder just as the sedan smacked through his front door. The crashing boom rattled the cabin’s foundation.

The wood creaked and splintered. Studs crumbled. The lights dimmed as the exposed wires fell from the smashed ceiling panels and pushed the electricity nearly to the breaking point.

With dust flying and pieces of furniture scattered everywhere, Holden sat still, his back to what was left of the couch and his gun aimed at the bowed head in the front seat of the car. Long blond hair mixed with the broken windshield glass even as the white-knuckled grip continued its hold on the steering wheel.

His attacker was a she.

And possibly dead.

She also didn’t have an air bag, which he found odd. Not that any part of the past two minutes had been normal.

Slow and as quiet as a man of his size could manage, he jumped to his feet. The muzzle didn’t waver. Neither did his stare. If she moved, he’d be ready to shoot.

Glass crunched under his feet as he approached the front of the car. The house alarm blared, but Holden tuned it out. His focus centered on her. Whoever “her” was.

“Lift your head.” He issued the order in his best you’re a dead woman tone.

Nothing.

To keep from going deaf, he headed for the alarm. Shifting around the side of the car and keeping his body square with the mystery driver, he reached out to disarm the thing. He lifted his hand and felt nothing but the cool March night air.

Snow hadn’t fallen in Northern Virginia this week, but the crisp smell signaled what could be a final winter blast. Now that he lacked a front wall, that was going to be a problem.

Glancing down, he traced his foot through the debris littering what was once a shiny hardwood floor. No sign of the panel, but he did spy his keys. As he leaned down to grab the chain, the driver’s head popped up.

She screamed loud enough to make his ears shrivel.

The shriek echoed inside his brain, drowning out the annoying sound of the alarm. In two seconds, he hit the code on his key chain to stop the electronic screeching. At the same time, he leveled the gun at the woman’s forehead in an attempt to quiet her.

“Stop,” he ordered.

“Wh-what…?”

“Do not move.” When she tried to open her door, he lifted his foot and kicked it shut on her again. “Hey!”

“You’re not listening. Stay right there.”

Her hand shook as she pressed it to her forehead.

“What are you doing?”

“Setting the ground rules.”

The skin at corners of her eyes wrinkled. “What?”

“This is my house.”

She shook her head and then grabbed it. “I don’t understand,” she said in a voice rough with what sounded like pain.

He didn’t know what to believe. Hard to trust a woman who used his family room as a parking lot.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he mumbled.

Her gaze shot to the gun and then back at his face. “Who are you?”

The look of wild-eyed panic had him thinking she might actually not know, but he wasn’t taking the chance. “We’re going to focus on my questions first. What are you doing here?”

“I…” Turning her head with a careful slowness that suggested an injury, she looked around the inside of the car. She glanced up and over the wheel as if noticing for the first time the damage around her. “Did I crash?”

The stuttering tone and dropped jaw were nice touches. Added to the sham.

Holden didn’t buy any of it. “Uh, yeah. That’s one way of putting it.”

“Where am I?”

“In the middle of my family room. Now, tell me your name.”

“Mia Landers.” She shifted her upper body and winced.

His elbows locked. “Stay right there.”

“I need to get up.”

“Are you hurt, Mia?”

She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know.”

Not exactly the answer he expected. “It’s a simple question. Yes or no?”

“Not really.”

He gave her two options and she picked a third. Interesting. “What does that mean?”

“I’m kind of numb.”

Shock. Assassin or bad driver, he still wasn’t sure but he did know she probably needed medical attention. “Open the door nice and slow.”

She stared down at her lap. “I can’t…”

From the glassy stare it looked as if his unwanted guest was losing it and fast. He stepped closer and followed her gaze to her legs. Minimal blood and room to move around under the dash, as far as he could tell. Just in case the stunned unblinking stare was a ruse, he didn’t let up.

“Let’s get out now.” He slipped his hand under the handle and opened the door for her. When she tried to get out without taking off her seat belt, he reached in and did the deed for her. “Here you go.”

Hands shaking, hair hanging in front of her eyes, she turned to the side and got one foot out of the car. On her first attempt to get up her knees buckled and her butt hit the leather seat hard.

Taking a long look, visually searching every part of her he could see for weapons, Holden gave in and tucked his gun in the small of his back. As gently as possible, he slid one arm between her back and the seat and tugged her out of the car, doing a subtle pat down in the process. A person couldn’t be too safe in a situation like this.

Her legs wobbled and every inch of her trembled, but she managed to stumble to her feet with him for support. “Oh, man.”

“You okay?” he asked when he had her on her feet, standing near what once was his front door.

“I think so. My head hurts but not too bad.” She wiped an unsteady hand through her hair. Her fingers snagged on leaves and a few pieces of cubed glass. “How did I get here?”

“I was wondering that same thing.” He guided her to his couch that was just about the only piece of nearby furniture to survive the crash, and only half of that was usable.

He also took a second to size up his opponent. Late twenties, five-seven or so, slim with an innocent round face that easily could be telling a lie or two.

She probably needed a glass of water and an ambulance, but he wasn’t ready to offer either yet. No one wandered around these dense woods at night. Beautiful blondes with bright green eyes rarely came out this way unless he invited them, and that didn’t happen all that frequently either. He used hotels in D.C. for that sort of thing, preferring to keep his private life at home very private.

“Tell me why you were out here,” he said.

“Where?”

“On my property.” Except for a historic estate about ten miles away, he was the only one out there.

Two miles of wooded land separated him from the main road. He used to think that was enough space. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“I was…” Her eyes grew huge as her mouth fell flat. “Oh, my God.”

“What?”

“I have to—”

She tried to stand up, but he anchored her next to him on the cushions. “Whoa.”

“You don’t understand.” Her gaze darted around the room. Her hands were in constant motion as if the energy inside her had sparked to life and wanted to get moving.

He soothed a hand over her shoulder. “Explain it to me.”

“I have to call the police.”

“Why?”

“The accident.”

The last thing he wanted was a squad of police cars swarming all over his property. If he had to, then yes, but he wanted to put it off until he understood exactly who Mia was and why she was in his house.

“Did you fall asleep at the wheel?”

“No.”

She sounded as if she had her full memory back now. “Was anyone in the car with you?”

She patted the pockets of her ripped and smudged pants. “It’s here somewhere.”

Watching her move, he still couldn’t tell what was happening. “What are you looking for?”

“My cell. I have to call the police and my office.”

“Mia, listen to me—”

“Now I remember. I dropped it.”

He put one of his hands over hers. “Doesn’t matter.”

She stopped shifting and babbling and stared up at him. “Wait, what did you say?”

He could barely follow her zigzagging conversation. “Tell me what happened out there.”

She swallowed hard enough for him to see her throat move. “I hit someone.”

That’s what he feared. He had not one but two victims running around his property. “So, there was a car accident?”

She toed the pile of what used to be his coffee table and now barely qualified as kindling. “Look around you.”

“I meant before you came sailing through the window.”

“Not exactly.”

“But you’re saying there’s a person out there who needs help.” He had some training, the usual military survival stuff but not much more. If the injuries were serious, he’d need help.

“No.” Her voice sounded far away, almost dreamy.

“Mia?”

“He’s dead.” Her eyes focused, looking clear for the first time. “I killed him.”

Holden had no idea who the “he” was or what was happening, but the lady seemed to need soothing and no one else was there to do it, so he tried. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

She stared him down. “I hope it is.”