Dead Aim

“I think you mentioned something about four-wheel-drive roads?” The Subaru bucked and bounced as Maggie followed the truck off the paved road and onto a rough, rocky dirt road.

The car’s shocks would never be the same. She figured they covered a couple miles of bone-jarring rough road before the pickup turned again and disappeared in the tangle of trees and shrubs that lined the road. Gravel spattered from under her tires as she stomped on the brakes, bringing the car to a juddering stop.

In the headlights’ glare, the rocky trail the pickup had taken looked like an impassable river of jagged rock that slashed through the trees to disappear in the dark beyond. Nothing short of a four-wheel-drive vehicle would make it up that road, and Maggie wasn’t sure she would attempt it even then.

Rick drew in a deep, slow breath, then let it out, obviously fighting for control. His eyes were like black holes in his rough-hewn face, unreadable and dangerous. For a college professor, he was a lot tougher than she’d expected.

A professor who studied grizzlies, she reminded herself, and wondered again at the difference between brother and sister.

“It’ll be easy enough to find him tomorrow,” he said. “There can’t be much up there. A cabin, maybe.”

“Or nothing at all,” Maggie said bleakly. “He may have headed up there knowing we couldn’t follow him…and that there was nothing to find up there to find when we did.”

She studied the trail the pickup had taken, her thoughts racing.

Why had Tina disappeared? No mere art student, certainly not one as devoted to her studies as Tina, just up and left in the middle of the semester. And who was the man who’d just vanished up this rocky trail where they couldn’t follow him? And why had he done it? He had to be involved in all this. She didn’t know how, but she was absolutely sure he was. Innocent bystanders didn’t lead others on wild car chases or duck onto a mountain trail like this in the middle of the night.

It took a moment for her to realize that Dornier was staring at her, his gaze boring into her with disconcerting force.

Maggie put the Subaru back into gear, suddenly uncomfortable under his assessing stare. “Might as well head back. I don’t intend to sit around here, waiting for him to come back down.”

“Give me a minute.” He was out of the car before she could respond.

Frowning, she set the brake, turned off the engine, then got out of the car, too. By the time she reached his side, he’d already piled four or five good-sized stones in a little cairn at the edge of the track.

“You’re coming back.”

He set another rock on the pile, then nodded. “First thing in the morning.”

“I’m coming with you.” This was the first break they’d had in weeks. She had to know who’d been driving that pickup, and why, and where he’d been going, and Rick Dornier was going to help her find the answers whether he liked it or not.

Rick straightened, hesitated, then said, “All right.”

“You’ll have to drive, though.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there staring at her, his expression unreadable in the dark.

Maggie deliberately stared right back. “What?”

“Most coffee shop managers I know don’t drive like they were trying for the Indy 500.”

So much for being helpful. Or hoping he wouldn’t think to wonder.

“My mama always did say I got into the wrong business,” she said lightly. “I never quite got over the fact they wouldn’t buy me a dirt bike when I was eight, like I wanted.”

“I could see where that might irritate you.” He didn’t sound convinced.

Maggie bent and grabbed a rock at random, then dumped it on the small pile he’d built. “That should be good enough.”

She deliberately didn’t look at him as she dusted off her hands, then walked back to the driver’s side door.

“You coming?” she demanded, yanking open the door. “Or do you want to camp out here in the wilderness, waiting for whoever it is to come back down?” She slid behind the wheel, then stuck her head back out. “Might be a long, cold wait.”

She was almost sorry when he slid in beside her. He really did fill up the car more than she was used to.

“Home, James,” she said lightly. She didn’t even wait for him to buckle his seat belt before she swung the car around, then set off, more sedately this time, on the road back to town.

Anger bubbled in Rick, and fear, though he wasn’t yet willing to admit to the fear. An innocent man didn’t run from following cars. Not the way this fellow had.

Whatever Tina had gotten herself into, it wasn’t just a wild fling with a good-looking guy.

Because he couldn’t bear to follow that thought, he focused on the landmarks that reared up in the headlights alongside the road, then disappeared in the dark behind. A crooked mailbox here, a gated driveway there. It would all look different in the daylight, but he would recognize them, anyway, and know just how far he would have to go to find that little rock cairn he’d built. First thing tomorrow, he promised himself grimly. He prayed that there was something up there that would lead him to Tina and not be just a dead end where that pickup’s driver had gone to ground, waiting in safety until he could come back down and disappear, taking with him their only good link to finding Tina.

Only once they were back on the paved road did he stop watching for markers and focus on the silent woman beside him.

She was relaxed now, loose, only one hand on the wheel, but she was still pushing the speed limit, alert and confident. He had the feeling that she saw everything and everyone they passed, catalogued it, filed it away for future reference. Just as he did when he was in the backcountry, hunting for any sign of bear and what they’d been up to. She was city, he was country, but under the skin, they were a lot alike.

He wasn’t sure he much liked the thought.

He wasn’t sure he trusted her, either. Maggie Mann was not just a friendly, helpful coffee shop manager. Underneath that helpful persona she wore with such grace, there was an edge to her, an alertness, that reminded him of a couple of top-flight cops he knew.

And just what did that mean for Tina? Was Tina involved in something…illegal?

The thought shook him even as he ruthlessly shoved it aside.

Impossible. He might not know his sister as well as he would like—their mother had seen to that—but he did know that Tina was a strictly law-abiding, straight-and-narrow type of person. An art history major, not a drug dealer or thief or whatever else Maggie Mann might suspect. He was sure of it.

Rick shifted so he could get a better look at the woman in the seat beside him. She didn’t move, didn’t take her eyes off the road in front of them, but he would swear she tensed.

She didn’t like him studying her.

Good. If she was after Tina, he wanted her off balance, uncertain.

In the light from the instrument panel her face seemed more finely drawn, more delicate, yet dangerous, too. Cop or not, he had to admit that she was a woman you noticed. Not pretty, but unforgettable. Not safe, but then, for him, danger had always had its own appeal.

In other circumstances, he would have asked her out, maybe angled to get her into bed. Too bad these weren’t other circumstances.

Tina was missing and for some reason, Maggie Mann wanted to know why almost as much as he did. But not because she gave a damn about Tina.

Rick shifted in his seat, sliding his left arm along the back of her seat.

“So,” he said, as casually as if he planned to chat about the weather. “What are you? A cop?”

That brought her head around with a snap. “What?”

“I figure you’re undercover, right? Have to be. College town. College kids. Drugs have to be a problem, right?”

“I’m not a cop.”

“DEA, then.”

She glanced at him, then back at the road. The collar of her jacket brushed against his hand where it rested on the seat back. The nylon shell was cool to the touch, but he’d swear he could feel the heat of her beneath it.

“You’re crazy.”

“I’ve been accused of that a time or two,” he admitted. “But I’ve never been accused of being stupid. That driving earlier? You were trained. Had to be.”

“I told you—”

“Yeah. You’re still angry that you didn’t get a dirt bike when you were a kid. Maybe. I can believe the bit about the dirt bike. But you followed that guy like a real pro. That kind of driving doesn’t happen just because someone fancies the idea of a little Motocross. You were trained to tail a car, trained for a high-speed chase.”

She shrugged. She tried to make it look like an expression of irritation, maybe anger, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. Underneath the irritation, she was wary as a cat.

“You’ve never heard of trying to help a friend?”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“Ever heard of being grateful?”

The cat had claws. Sharp ones.

“Look, I don’t give a damn if you’re a cop or not. But I do give a damn about my sister. You didn’t plunge into that chase just because you wanted to help. You wanted to know who that guy was and where he was headed as much as I did. Maybe more. I think I have a right to know why.”

The look she shot him was pointed enough to draw blood.

“You have no rights, and there’s nothing that says I have to put up with this. Or haul you back to town, for that matter.”

She had both hands clamped on the wheel now. He could see her curling and uncurling her fingers, probably fighting against the urge to let go of the wheel and wrap them around his throat.

Instead, she lifted her chin up and shoved her shoulders back. The thick curls at the back of her head brushed against the top of his hand, silken and cool. The inadvertent touch sent fire licking across the back of his hand.

An image flashed through his mind—of him grabbing those curls and pulling her head back. Of her throat curving, suddenly vulnerable, and her mouth opening.

Of him, kissing her.

The image was so immediate and vivid that he sucked in his breath, startled.

Sometimes there was a thin line between the adrenaline rush of anger and the equally hot, dangerous rush of sex. He’d seen it in the wild, but he’d never experienced it himself. Until now.

He didn’t much like it.

He pulled his arm off the back of her seat. The car was too small and she was way too close.

Tina. Think of Tina.

The thought brought him back to his senses as effectively as if he’d been dunked in an ice-crusted mountain lake.

Where in the name of all that was holy was she?

They were in town, now, almost to the edge of downtown. A digital clock on a bank flashed the hour. It was later than he’d thought.

He was tired, Rick realized suddenly. Bone tired. He hadn’t slept for two days, not since his mother had broken the news of Tina’s disappearance. Was that really only yesterday?

He slumped back, let his head tilt back, his eyes close. One deep breath. Two. He drew the air in deep, forcing his chest to expand to take it all in, then slowly breathed out.

It helped. Not much, but it did help.

He forced himself to sit up.

“I have to stop at the shop,” Maggie said abruptly, shattering the silence. “Make sure they’re okay closing up. I’ll take you to your truck as soon as I’ve checked in.”

“That’s all right. I’ll get a cab.”

“Fine.”

Rick winced at the angry edge in her voice, then wearily dragged his hand across his face. The rasp of stubble reminded him he hadn’t bothered to shave this morning. Hadn’t even bothered to change clothes.

He probably looked like something Maggie should have tossed out of her coffee shop two seconds after he’d walked in. Instead, she’d done her best to help him. Whatever her reasons, she didn’t deserve the rude distrust he’d just dished out.

“I owe you an apology, Ms. Mann,” he said. “A big one. I was out of line.”

That jolted Maggie out of her thoughts. She glanced at him, surprised.

“Way out of line,” she agreed dryly.

It was weariness that put the roughness in his voice, she realized. Weariness and worry. If she’d been in his place, looking for a sister who’d been missing for over two weeks, she would have been a whole lot more obnoxious.

She would like to think she would have been as good at putting two and two together and coming up with five as Rick Dornier, but she wouldn’t like to bet on it.

Whether he really believed what he’d said or not, Rick had nailed her. The question was, what was she going to do about it?

Nothing, she decided. For now.

Still, if her boss found out that Rick had pegged her as undercover DEA within hours of meeting her, Garrity would pull her off the job. She couldn’t let that happen. She was too close to finding out who was behind the sudden influx of high-quality Asian White heroin that was flowing into Colorado and the neighboring states to let anyone stop her now.

Her instincts told her Tina was involved in it somehow. Probably not as a dealer, but she knew something. Maggie was sure of it. But what? And why had she disappeared?

Or been made to disappear?

The thought made Maggie shiver.

Whatever Tina was up to, she was at risk. The sooner they found her, the better.

If she’d found Greg sooner—

Angrily, Maggie shoved the thought aside.

She liked Tina. A lot. But she couldn’t afford to let her liking a person get in the way of doing her job. And she wouldn’t let her own emotions get in the way of working with a man who might prove useful.

One thing, she was not going to let him get under her skin like he had. This was business, not personal. She needed to remember that.

Maggie relaxed her grip on the wheel, forced herself to relax.

“Apology accepted,” she said lightly. “Actually, I suppose I should be flattered. No one’s ever accused me of being a DEA agent before.”

Not while she was undercover, anyway.

“And you won’t need to call a cab,” she added. “This time of night, it can take forever to get one. I won’t be five minutes, tops.”

Five minutes turned into thirty. There’d been a rush in the last hour so Steve and Sharon were tired and running very late.

To Maggie’s surprise, Rick pitched in to help clean up. The man was clearly exhausted, but too darned nice to sit when others were overworked and eager to get home.

Maggie tucked the evening’s take into the small office safe, shoved the stack of paperwork she’d meant to get to tonight to one side—working undercover like this meant she ended up doing two jobs, not one—and locked the office behind her. Dora, the morning manager, would have too much to do getting the shop ready to open at six to worry about whatever Maggie had left undone.

She emerged to find Sharon shrugging into her coat while Steve turned out the lights. Rick was standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, wearily staring at nothing.

Maggie squelched a sudden urge to wrap her arms around him and tell him not to worry, that it was all going to work out somehow.

Helping Rick Dornier was part of her job, she sternly reminded herself. She wanted to find Tina and so did he. It was as simple as that. She was not getting emotionally involved here.

The sound of her footsteps on the old wood floor evidently roused him from his thoughts, for he blinked and gave himself a little shake. And then he smiled at her, a tired, intimate little smile that made something tighten in her chest.

She saved her smile for the two college kids. “Thanks, guys. I sure appreciate your staying late to finish up. I’ll lock up behind you.”

“We’ve still gotta take out the trash,” Sharon protested, pointing to two well-filled plastic bags that had been set by the back door.

“I’m parked out back,” Maggie assured her. “I’ll get them. You two go on home. See you tomorrow.”

The click of the lock as she closed the door behind them sounded unusually loud. She paused a moment in the entry. To make sure her employees were all right, she told herself. Her hesitation had nothing to do with the man still in the shop, waiting for her.

At this hour of the night, the pedestrian mall was quiet, the restaurants and upscale bars the only places still open, and even they would be closing soon. She flicked off the lights, plunging the shop into shadow. Behind her, Rick Dornier stirred. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Maggie jiggled the doorknob to make sure. The low-wattage security light over the bar and the dull-gold light slipping in from the streetlights outside only made the shadows seem darker and bigger.

Rick Dornier loomed in the darkness, solid, human, inescapably male. Maggie’s nerve endings pricked into life.

“I’m sorry it took so long. We don’t usually get so many customers so late on a weeknight.”

“No problem.”

The only illumination in the back hallway was the emergency exit sign, but Maggie didn’t need to look to know where he was. She could feel him there, right behind her, close enough to touch if she wanted.

Instead, she opened the back door, then grabbed the overstuffed trash bags Sharon had left there. “Get the locks, will you?”

The cold night air hit her like a slap in the face.

The man who lunged out of the inky shadows by the door was swinging something that would do a lot more damage when it landed.

Chapter 4

Instinct saved her.

Maggie ducked, then pivoted, swinging the only weapons immediately available—the trash bags she held in each hand.

The first hit and bounced off.

Her attacker, already off balance with the momentum of his swing, tried to dodge. The move made him stagger, then fall to one knee. Before he had a chance to realize what had hit him, she clobbered him with the second bag.

That one was heavier. Instead of bouncing off, it ripped, showering him in wet coffee grounds, sopping paper towels and napkins and the mushed remains of uneaten food.

Maggie had already released the first bag. When she let go of the second, it still contained enough trash that it plopped on the ground in front of him rather than flying off into the shadows.

Her attacker cursed, surged to his feet and stepped squarely in the slippery mess. His feet were already sliding out from under him when she swung back around and kicked him in the rear.

“Maggie! Behind you!”

Rick’s shouted warning made her duck and roll just as something long and heavy hissed down, slicing through the space she’d occupied an instant before. She completed her roll and was on her feet before the second attacker could recover.

Behind her, she caught the wet sound that a fist made when it connected, hard, with bare flesh and soft bone. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man try to recover from the first hit, then stagger as Rick landed a second, harder blow to the jaw.

She didn’t have time to spare another glance—the first man had recovered his balance and was coming after her again.

She ducked, feinted right, then spun left, but not fast enough. The weighted pipe he was swinging caught her on the left shoulder.

It was a glancing blow, but it hit with enough force to draw a grunt of pain and send her to knees.

He’d expected her to roll away. Instead, she lunged toward him, low and fast. The heel of her hand connected where she’d aimed—right on his kneecap, where the force of the blow should at least knock him down if it didn’t cripple him outright.

She felt bone crunch on impact.

Cripple him, then. Good. That helped.

She rolled away, got to her feet, then spun and kicked with all her might.

She’d been aiming for his other knee, but this guy was a bully, not a trained fighter. Instead of preparing to counter her next blow, he was folding in on himself, reaching for his injured knee.

Her foot connected with his ribs. It wasn’t a well-placed blow, and she was still too off balance to put a lot of force behind it, but it was enough. He let out his breath in an explosive gasp of pain and dropped, then rolled away, out of reach.

Maggie turned, ready to help Rick, only to find he’d flattened his opponent and was already shoving the guy onto his face. The hold Rick had on the fellow’s arm, which he’d twisted up behind his back, assured a groaning compliance.

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