Читать книгу: «Dead Aim»

He couldn’t help himself.

Rick shifted just enough to pull her close for a kiss. If felt good. It felt right and real. Maggie was sweet to taste and warm to touch.

He had just enough sense to let Maggie go before he couldn’t let her go at all. Stiffly, he straightened in his seat. She straightened, too, putting distance between them. She didn’t look angry. Just…dazed.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he said.

“So have I.”

That caught him by surprise.

“But it’s not going to happen again. Distractions like that can cost a life. We’d best get going,” she said. She looked at him as if daring him to protest. Rick couldn’t help noticing that her fingers were trembling.

“Right.” He shoved the gearshift into Drive.

He was half a mile down the road before he thought to ask where it was they were going.

Dear Reader,

Once again, Silhouette Intimate Moments has a month’s worth of fabulous reading for you. Start by picking up Wanted, the second in Ruth Langan’s suspenseful DEVIL’S COVE miniseries. This small town is full of secrets, and this top-selling author knows how to keep readers turning the pages.

We have more terrific miniseries. Kathleen Creighton continues STARRS OF THE WEST with An Order of Protection, featuring a protective hero every reader will want to have on her side. In Joint Forces, Catherine Mann continues WINGMEN WARRIORS with Tag’s long-awaited story. Seems Tag and his wife are also awaiting something: the unexpected arrival of another child. Carla Cassidy takes us back to CHEROKEE CORNERS in Manhunt. There’s a serial killer on the loose, and only the heroine’s visions can help catch him—but will she be in time to save the hero? Against the Wall is the next SPECIAL OPS title from Lyn Stone, a welcome addition to the line when she’s not also writing for Harlequin Historicals. Finally, you knew her as Anne Avery, also in Harlequin Historicals, but now she’s Anne Woodard, and in Dead Aim she proves she knows just what contemporary readers want.

Enjoy them all—and come back next month, when Silhouette Intimate Moments brings you even more of the best and most exciting romance reading around.

Yours,

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Editor

Dead Aim
Anne Woodard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANNE WOODARD

After much wandering, Anne Woodard recently put down roots in Hawaii. With writing, cutting back a garden that won’t stop growing and breaking up doggie squabbles because the Todd Man stole everyone’s bones, she keeps busy. But not so busy that she can’t explore the beauties of her new home state, including the local beaches! Readers can contact Anne at annewoodard1@earthlink.net.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 1

The sign swinging from the wrought-iron rack over the door said Cuppa Joe’s in bright red letters. The painted placard propped in the window read, Coffee, Pastries, Homemade Sandwiches. Come On In!

The coffee shop was in the heart of the restored downtown of Fenton, Colorado, where a pedestrian mall had replaced the formerly traffic-choked street. The Victorian-style streetlamps were lit, making the fallen leaves glint amber and coppery red as they skittered across the mall in the cold autumn breeze. Light from the shop poured through the windows and into the street in a welcoming wash of gold.

But despite the inviting setting, the muscles in Rick Dornier’s shoulders tensed.

His sister’s college roommate, Grace Navarre, had sent him here. It seemed an unlikely place to find news of his missing sister, but he was running out of options.

Grace had been more interested in the joint she’d rolled than in Tina’s disappearance. The last time she’d seen Tina, Grace had said Tina had been with some “hottie” at the Good Times bar. Grace seemed to think the existence of the hottie explained it all.

It didn’t explain anything.

Serious, shy, hardworking Tina, whose only wild moment in her entire life, so far as he knew, had been moving in with someone like Grace, had been gone almost eight days before her roommate had mentioned the fact to a neighbor. Fortunately, the neighbor had had the good sense to notify the Grayson College police.

The campus cops had called his mother when they failed to turn up any trace of his sister. When even the local police drew a blank, his mother had put aside her own long-held resentments and called him.

Rick hadn’t even stopped to unload his truck after his latest venture into the Montana backcountry. He told his boss he was taking whatever leave he’d accumulated, arranged for a colleague to cover his classes at the university, then driven all night to reach the small town of Fenton in the mountains west of Denver, which was home to Grayson College.

Tina was in her final year at the exclusive, private college. She expected to graduate summa cum laude next spring and had already been offered a full fellowship to pursue graduate studies in art history at Stanford University. From what he knew of her, the last thing she would have done is disappear for a week of wild sex with a stranger.

But then, he didn’t know his own sister very well at all. Their parents, at war with each other since long before their divorce over eighteen years ago, had seen to that.

Although Rick had spent most of the day talking to the local police, the campus cops and all of Tina’s professors he could find, he hadn’t been able to find any leads. The few friends and classmates he’d been able to track down had been as casual as Grace about Tina’s absence—college students were so accustomed to fellow students’ irregular hours that they hadn’t worried when they didn’t see her around.

Tina had vanished without raising so much as a ripple in Grayson’s small pond.

When Rick had pressed Grace for more information, all she would say was, “Ask Maggie.”

She meant Maggie Mann, manager of the Cuppa Joe’s, a woman, according to Grace, who knew everyone.

Rick just hoped she did. He was running out of options.

The inside of Cuppa Joe’s was as funky as the name, an eclectic mix of chromed modern lights and solid turn-of-the-century oak tables and chairs that somehow fit well together. This early in the evening, about half of the tables were occupied, but any conversation was covered by the mellow jazz floating from hidden speakers. A college guy with a buzz cut and a T-shirt with the Grayson College logo on it was working the espresso machine with cheerful efficiency.

There was no sign of anyone named Maggie behind the counter.

“Can’t decide?” The deep, feminine voice came from behind him.

Rick turned and blinked.

She wasn’t beautiful, but she was the kind of woman that made a man’s blood stir just to look at her—tall, slender, with full breasts, a narrow waist and long, shapely legs that fantasies were made of. Her hair was a casual tangle of short-cropped brown curls that made his fingers itch to touch them. Her nose would never grace Vogue’s cover. Her chin was too square, her mouth too wide and her eyes set too far apart under surprisingly dark, thick brows. And yet there was an appealing warmth in those dark eyes and an irresistible smile on that too-wide mouth that managed somehow to look just right on her face.

Rick swallowed, hard. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

“You have the look of a man in need of help,” she teased.

“Are you Maggie?”

She nodded. “I’m Maggie. And you are…?”

“Rick.” He cleared his throat. She had the oddest effect on him. “Richard Dornier.”

“Rick Dornier?” A frown flitted across her face so quickly that he wasn’t sure he’d really seen it. “Tina’s brother?”

“You know Tina?”

“Sure. Almond latte. Decaf if it’s after three. Cinnamon orange scone if we have them, or a slice of honey-bran nut bread if we don’t.” She laughed. He’d swear he heard bells ringing.

“She’s such a sweetie,” Maggie added, moving around to the back of the counter. “Where’s she been? I haven’t seen her for a couple weeks.”

The casual comment made something catch in his chest. She was the first person who’d asked about his sister, the first person who’d noticed she hadn’t been around.

He propped his elbows on the marble counter and leaned toward her. “I was hoping you could tell me where she is.”

“Me?” The good humor vanished, and the light in those dark green eyes sharpened. “Maybe you’d better explain.”

“Tina’s missing. She’s been missing for almost two weeks, though her roommate didn’t bother to notify anyone of that fact until a week ago. I’m trying to find her.”

“Two weeks are a long time for someone like Tina to be gone.” She studied him, not quite suspicious, but not nearly so friendly as she’d been a few moments before. “Have you talked to the police?”

“Yes. They checked around, but there was no trace of her, and no trace of…of problems.”

He’d almost said foul play, and that shook him. He refused to consider that possibility. Not yet.

Maggie made a thoughtful little humming noise in her throat, then startled him by asking what he wanted to drink.

“What? Oh!” He straightened, disconcerted. “Uh…whatever. Coffee.”

She plunked a thick white pottery mug down on the counter. “Plain old coffee’s in those Thermoses over there. I’d suggest the dark roast—you look like you could use the caffeine. And some food. When’s the last time you ate?”

“I— Look, coffee’s fine, but I—”

“Can’t help your sister if you keel over from hunger and exhaustion.” She grabbed his hand and wrapped it around the mug. “And don’t waste your time glaring at me like that. I’m immune.”

Rick’s finger obediently slipped through the handle of the mug before he had a chance to blink, let alone refuse.

“You go get your coffee,” she added, opening the glass display case that contained a selection of pastries and plastic-wrapped sandwiches. “I’ll grill you a ham and Brie sandwich and join you in a minute. Take the table in the corner by the window. It’s quiet there and we can talk.”

Rick opened his mouth to protest.

“Coffee and sandwich comes to six-fifty,” she said briskly. And then she grinned and winked at him, and his protest turned into a laugh.

He tossed a ten-dollar bill on the counter and picked up the mug, still grinning. “You can bring the change with the sandwich.”

As he settled at the corner table, Rick realized he felt better than he had all day. More hopeful, suddenly.

Thoughtfully, he rubbed the back of his hand. His skin still tingled where Maggie had touched him.

She was right—he wouldn’t help Tina by forgetting to take care of himself. He’d spent enough time in the backcountry to know that the first guys to collapse on a grueling hike were always the macho fools who thought they were too tough to have to stop for food, water and rest.

And the coffee really was good.

He had to force himself not to hitch his chair over a foot or two so he could see around the potted plant that blocked his view of Maggie Mann.

Rick Dornier wasn’t anything like his delicate, dark-haired sister, Maggie thought as she halved the grilled sandwich, then set a couple of the spicy Greek olives that were a specialty of Joe’s beside it.

Where Tina was pale from too many hours spent studying, the brother was tall, sun-browned and quietly confident. Exactly the long, lean, broad-shouldered kind of confident that she would have expected of a man who made his living studying grizzly bears in the wild. The day’s growth of beard shadowing his jaw simply added to the appeal.

Tina had told her about him. He was Dr. Dornier, actually. A wildlife biologist who taught at some university up in Montana, but who preferred to spend his time in the wilderness studying his beloved bears.

What Maggie hadn’t expected was the sudden, intense…awareness that had struck her when he’d turned that first time and she’d looked up into his rugged, not-quite-handsome but undeniably appealing face.

She wasn’t used to that. Over the years, her work had thrown her together with all sorts of men, and while some of them had been attractive, and a couple had become her lovers, not one had roused an instant reaction like this. She could still feel the lingering effects of the odd zing that had brought her senses to nerve-tingling attention, just at the sight of him.

Maybe she ought to have something to eat.

Instead, she gave herself a mental shake and fixed a cup of coffee for herself—it made people nervous when they were eating and drinking and you weren’t. The last thing she wanted was for Rick Dornier to feel uncomfortable right now.

She picked up the plate with his sandwich. “I’m taking a break, Steve, okay?” she called to the young man who was expertly foaming milk for a cappuccino.

He nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t take his attention off his masterwork.

Maggie grinned. It hadn’t been that long ago she’d considered overbrewed sludge the standard for coffee and flavored artificial creamer the height of class. Her life was never going to be the same after Joe’s.

As she always did, she paused to greet the customers she knew personally. An important part of her job was getting to know them, remembering names and faces and facts. Fortunately, it was also one of her favorite parts of the job.

She’d long ago accepted that the moral ambiguities involved were also part of the job, no matter how uncomfortable they sometimes were.

When she got to Rick’s table, he surprised her by standing and pulling out a chair for her.

“Thanks.”

“No, thank you. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was ’til you brought up the subject.” He slid into his chair with a distracting, loose-limbed grace, then took the plate from her and popped an olive into his mouth. “Mmmm. Good. The sandwich looks even better.”

“It is.” She let him take a couple of bites before she broached the question that interested her almost as much as it interested him. “Do you have any idea where Tina might be?”

He paused with the sandwich halfway to his mouth, then grimaced and set it back down.

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Her roommate, Grace, suggested I talk to you. She said that Tina had mentioned you, talked about you.”

“She did?” Maggie studied him warily. “Why would Tina talk about me?”

“I don’t know. I guess she considered you a friend.”

Maggie repressed a quick stab of guilt. She should be used to that by now, too. Guilt was another of those work-related ambiguities she had to live with.

“I liked Tina,” she said, keeping her tone light. “We talked sometimes when I wasn’t busy, or she wasn’t lost in her studies. She never mentioned anything that might have kept her away from class for two weeks.”

But was that because Tina had nothing to share, or because she didn’t dare risk sharing it?

“You say the police looked into it?” She said it casually, careful to keep just the right note of concerned interest in her voice without playing it up too much.

“Yeah.” He frowned at his scarcely eaten sandwich, then shoved the plate away. “They said there was nothing to indicate any problems, that a couple of people besides Grace mentioned a guy she was talking to at the Good Times bar. You know the place?”

Maggie nodded.

“Did Tina ever mention a man? A boyfriend? Somebody she might have gone away with for a couple of weeks?”

Maggie shook her head. “No. I got the impression she was more interested in her studies than in men.”

“That’s my impression, too. I know Mom nagged her about it.” He smiled a little wistfully. “She looks like this quiet little mouse, but from what I’ve seen, she’s got a mind of her own. Always thinking, though it isn’t always easy to tell exactly what she’s thinking.”

I noticed that, too. Maggie didn’t express the thought to Rick.

“Were the police able to identify this guy Tina was seen talking to?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Grace said he looked sort of like Tom Cruise. A young Tom Cruise. Have you seen anyone like that around here?”

Maggie had to smile. “This is a college town. It’s swarming with good-looking, young guys, and more than a couple of them could give Tom Cruise a run for his money in the looks department.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“The police evidently did. Who’d you talk to down at the station?” She made that question sound casual, too.

“An Officer Padilla. He wanted to be helpful, but…” Rick shrugged, clearly frustrated. “I talked to the chief of police, too.”

“You talked to David Bursey?” She jerked upright in her chair, surprised.

“That’s right.” Dornier studied her. “You know him?”

“A little,” she said cautiously.

Damn! She would have to be a hell of a lot more careful if Bursey was taking an interest in Tina’s disappearance.

“He comes in every now and then for coffee,” she said casually, as if it didn’t matter. At least the part about the coffee was one hundred percent truthful. “What’d he say?”

His eyes narrowed angrily. “He said there was nothing to indicate a problem. That Tina had been seen talking to a good-looking guy, then evidently had gone home and packed a small bag and left. He said a lot of college kids did that when the opposite sex was more appealing than their studies.”

“Not Tina.” Maggie knew it, and if Bursey had taken the time to spin that little yarn for Tina’s brother, then he knew it, too. The question was, how much else did the chief of police know? And what was she going to do about it?

“No,” Dornier agreed grimly, “not Tina.”

A sudden stab of…something—longing? Regret? Envy, maybe?—hit Maggie. What would it be like to have a brother who could get so quietly, dangerously angry at even a hint of doubt against you? Who would drop everything and drive eight hundred miles the minute he learned you were in trouble?

She forced the thought away. Life, she’d long ago decided, was what you made of whatever you were handed. Wishing for what you didn’t have was a waste of energy.

“Have you talked to anybody besides the police?” she asked. “And Tina’s roommate. What did you say her name was? Grace? Besides suggesting you talk to me, what did she say?”

Maggie had no intention of revealing just how much she knew about Grace Navarre. What she needed was to know how much Rick Dornier knew, then decide what she was going to do about it.

Even as Rick told Maggie about the people he’d talked to and the little information he’d gathered that day, he wasn’t sure why he was doing it. He’d never been one to spill his guts to strangers…until now.

Maggie Mann made a good sandwich. She had a nice smile and a great body and just looking at her was distracting, but none of that was reason for chewing her ear off about his worries. Especially since she had more questions than he did, and not one answer. And yet, he couldn’t stop talking. After twenty-four hours of nonstop worry, it was a relief to share that worry with someone who was as good a listener as Maggie.

“That’s not much to go on,” she admitted when he’d finished.

“No. But it’s all I have right now.” He glanced at his watch, then pushed his chair back from the table. “And I need to get moving if I’m going to learn any more. The Good Times bar was closed when I went by this afternoon, but they ought to be open by now. I’m hoping somebody there will know who the guy was that Tina was talking to the night she disappeared.”

Maggie was faster onto her feet. “Finish your sandwich. I’ll take you there. I know the people who work there and a lot of the regulars. But I have to call my boss first. Okay?”

He almost refused. Instead, after a moment’s hesitation, he sank back in his chair.

“Thanks. Having you along really might help. I appreciate the offer.”

As she walked away, he found himself leaning forward so he could see around that damned potted plant. She had a graceful, long-legged stride that was real easy to watch, and she wore jeans like they’d been tailored just for her.

He’d always liked women and enjoyed being with them, but there was something about Maggie that stirred his blood in ways that weren’t easy to ignore. And crazy as it seemed, just the thought of having her along made him feel a little more optimistic. He was used to hunting bears, not people, especially not people he cared for. At least Maggie knew Tina and the people at the bar. That was something, anyway.

After a brief word with the guy behind the counter, Maggie disappeared into the back room, and Rick settled back in his chair to wait.

Since he had nothing better to do, he pulled the now-cold cup of coffee to him, then picked up his sandwich. He started to take a bite, but something on the street outside caught his attention. The fine hairs at the back of his neck pricked, warning of danger.

He set the sandwich down and scanned the sidewalk in front of Joe’s. Nothing there but strangers hurrying past, shoulders hunched against the wind and cold. He almost put it down to nerves and weariness and too much time spent in the wilderness looking for grizzlies when he spotted the man standing on the other side of the pedestrian mall.

Unlike the other passersby, the fellow seemed oblivious to the cold. He wore a down vest over a chambray work shirt and well-worn jeans. A Stetson pulled low obscured his features, but Rick recognized him easily.

What he couldn’t figure was why the Fenton’s chief of police should be standing out there in the dark and the cold, studying him like a hunter studying his prey.