Читать книгу: «Thunder Horse Heritage»
THEY ONCE EXCHANGED THEIR WEDDING VOWS. NOW HE VOWS TO KEEP HER ALIVE.
She’d been his wife for barely a day and now FBI agent Tuck Thunder Horse was responsible for identifying her body. So he was more than shocked when Julia Anderson turned up very much alive—and on the run. Julia confessed to witnessing a murder and now needs Tuck to help her stay alive…and protect the baby he hadn’t known she’d had.
Julia and Tuck’s marriage might not have lasted, but there was no time for recriminations with a killer on their trail. As Tuck struggles to put their painful past behind them, he can’t help but find himself overwhelmed by his love for his little daughter…and his still-burning passion for Julia. Unable to trust anyone but each other, they know working together is the only way to safeguard their child. Could their one-day marriage turn into a lifelong adventure?
“I’ll keep an eye out—you feed your daughter. Unless you’re afraid of a baby?”
“I’m not afraid of my daughter.” Tuck gathered Lily into his arms and held out his hand for the bottle. “What do I do?”
“Stick it in her mouth. She knows what to do next. All you have to do is hold her.”
As he cradled his daughter, a surge of love filled every corner of his soul. Tuck’s heart swelled, so he could barely breathe. “She’s beautiful.” He’d never experienced anything as painfully wonderful as holding his own child in his arms. “Thank you for having her.”
“I’m sorry, Tuck. I should have told you about Lily. You had a right to know your daughter. And she had a right to know her father.”
Tuck could barely speak. Even with killers waiting for them, he was afraid to ruin this perfect moment.
Thunder Horse Heritage
Elle James
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A Golden Heart Award winner for Best Paranormal Romance in 2004, Elle James started writing when her sister issued a Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She managed a full-time job, raised three wonderful children and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas Hill Country. Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry 350-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in information technology management, Elle is now pursuing her writing full-time. She loves building exciting stories about heroes, heroines, romance and passion. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at ellejames@earthlink.net or visit her website at www.ellejames.com .
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CAST OF CHARACTERS
Tuck Thunder Horse—Lakota Indian, North Dakota rancher and FBI special agent assigned close to home at the Bismarck, North Dakota, branch office. He didn’t believe in love at first sight until it happened to him a year before. Now he doesn’t believe in love at all.
Julia Anderson—A schoolteacher who left Tuck on the night of their wedding, who seeks his help to protect her and her daughter.
Lily Anderson—Julia’s four-month-old baby girl.
Jillian Anderson—Julia’s sister and FBI special agent, who found trouble while visiting Julia.
Ray Mullins—FBI supervisory special agent and Jillian Anderson’s boss at regional headquarters in Minneapolis.
Dante Thunder Horse—Tuck’s brother, and a helicopter pilot for the North Dakota branch of U.S. Customs and Border Protection.
Pierce Thunder Horse—Tuck’s older brother and fellow FBI special agent now assigned to the Bismarck office.
Walter Pickett—National Indian Gambling Commission representative in charge of overseeing the Running Buffalo Casino at Fort Yates.
Timothy Wilks—Casino manager of the Running Buffalo Casino in Fort Yates, North Dakota.
Josh Behling—Tuck’s friend and partner at the Bismarck FBI branch office.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter One
Tuck Thunder Horse stared at his phone, debating leaving it off as his plane taxied to the gate in Bismarck, North Dakota. Off duty for the moment, with nothing on his docket but a “rest and recuperate” order to close out his latest FBI assignment, the idea was tempting. And after endless debriefing sessions followed by seven hours in transit from Quantico, Virginia, all he really wanted was to find a bed to fall into.
His sense of responsibility wouldn’t let him ignore duty. He switched the phone on and groaned as it immediately started beeping. He had no fewer than five messages and three texts. What could be so all-fired important? His supervisor knew he was on his way back to North Dakota, and his family didn’t expect him until later that night. His heartbeat kicked up a notch. Had something happened on the ranch?
Two of the three text messages read “Listen to your voice mail” and were from a buddy of his, Josh Behling, assigned with him to the FBI’s Bismarck satellite office. He and Josh went back to initial FBI training at Quantico. Their training days and a few missions that had tested their strength and mettle had forged a friendship that had lasted through the years. He looked forward to seeing his friend.
Behling had promised to meet Tuck at the airport and take him to his apartment, where he’d left his car. Tuck would stay the night there. His brother Pierce would be in from Quantico the following morning. Together they planned to head to the Thunder Horse Ranch, a good three-and-a-half-hour drive, to enjoy their
R & R together.
The last text read “911” with a phone number following.
Tuck clicked on the voice mail from Behling, frowning at the three voice mails from a “Blocked Sender.” Before Behling’s message could begin, his phone buzzed, indicating an incoming call. He hit the talk button.
“Oh, good, you must be on the ground.” Behling’s voice came over the line, intense, urgent. “I’m here to pick you up, but we’ve had a change of plan. Do you have a bag to claim?”
“No. I carried it aboard.”
The plane pulled to a stop at the gate and the fasten-seat-belt sign blinked off. Passengers filled the aisle, retrieving carry-on baggage from the overhead bins.
Tuck unbuckled and stood, bumping his head on the low storage compartments. Being over six feet tall had its disadvantages on mass transit. He muttered a curse and reached up to grab his suitcase, his hand holding the phone to his ear. “What’s the plan?”
“Well…” Josh heaved a sigh. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not taking you to your apartment.”
“No?” Tuck grinned. “Are we going out on the town for old times’ sake?” He inched his way down the aisle toward the hatch, juggling the cell phone against his ear and being careful not to bump the guy in front of him with his case.
“No, we had an agent of the National Indian Gaming Commission murdered tonight. His body was found along the shore of Lake Oahe. We also found a dead woman we haven’t identified yet.”
Tuck stopped at the door of the plane, his breath lodging in his throat. “Anyone we know?” He’d met a few of the NIGC reps, having dealt with them on occasion over the years.
“No. The guy was covering the casino near Fort Yates. Not sure what’s going on down there, but the Sioux County sheriff asked for our help.”
At the mention of Fort Yates, a flood of memories crashed over Tuck. The last time he’d been in the town near the South Dakota border, he’d been on a vacation that had ended in total disaster. He sucked in a deep breath as he pushed the memories away and asked, “When did it happen?”
“Don’t know yet. I was just getting ready to leave for the site when your plane landed. McGowan’s out sick. I need a partner and figured you’d want to be in on the investigation.”
“I’m supposed to be off for the next week.”
“Yeah,” Behling said, “but how often do we have an NIGC murdered in North Dakota?”
“Once in a blue moon.”
“Right. Are you in, or do I have to call in our supervisor to cover?”
“I’m on my way. Do we have air transportation available, or are we driving down?”
Behling chuckled. “Got a chopper ready and waiting for us.”
“See you out front.” Tuck clicked the off button, pocketed his cell phone and sighed. The thought of getting back in the air after having just landed was only slightly more appealing than getting on the road in the opposite direction from the Thunder Horse Ranch. And to be heading to the place he’d sworn off since that fateful night over a year ago… Well, he wasn’t exactly thrilled. Yet, he was curious enough to take the bait. Murders in North Dakota came few and far between and…who knew? While he was in Fort Yates, he might run into her. Whoa, now. He pushed that errant thought to the back of his mind.
Behling picked him up outside the airport terminal in his black four-by-four SUV. He didn’t wait for Tuck to buckle his belt before he drove away from the curb.
“You mentioned a woman.” His chest tightened as he asked, “Who is she?”
Behling glanced in his rearview mirror and merged into the traffic leaving the airport. Before he made it to the airport expressway, he took a turn to the right, heading for the line of hangars where private planes and helicopters parked. “The Sioux County sheriff wasn’t forthcoming. He seemed more concerned about the dead commissioner.”
“Are we only dealing with the Sioux County Sheriff’s Department, or will the Standing Rock Tribal Police be involved, as well?”
“Both. So far they’ve been cooperative, but I’m not getting much information from them.”
Tuck dropped down out of the SUV, and together they entered the building.
“Are you two all that’s going?” A man in a navy blue jumpsuit met them at the door to an office, carrying a flight bag and a small clipboard.
“Hi, Rick. We’re it.” Josh shook hands with the man and turned to Tuck. “Don’t know if you two have met. I had to beg, borrow and steal to get use of this chopper.” He grinned. “Tuck Thunder Horse, meet Rick Knoell.”
The men shook hands and headed out to the tarmac, where a sleek black helicopter sat.
Tuck whistled. “We have the budget for this?”
“Like I said, I had to beg, borrow and steal.” Josh jerked his head toward Rick. “Rick needed some night flight time. He owed me a favor, and we needed a quick trip to Fort Yates. It all adds up.” He shrugged.
Behling climbed aboard the bird, slipping into the passenger seat.
Tuck slid into the seat behind him. While Rick performed the preflight check, Tuck listened to his other voice-mail messages. One from Behling, indicating the chance of being late to the airport. The other messages from the blocked sender were nothing but air and an odd sound like a baby gurgling in the background. Tuck shook his head. He didn’t know anyone with a baby. Probably a wrong number. But something about the calls made him uneasy. Why would a wrong number call back twice?
He didn’t have long to worry about it. By the time he’d deleted the messages, Rick had climbed into the pilot seat and started the engine.
Once they were in the air, Tuck settled the flight headset in place over his ears and sat back for the ride, static and the rumble of the rotors numbing him, creating white noise in which his thoughts churned.
The last time he’d been to Fort Yates, a little over a year ago, he’d gone down for a weekend of boating, gambling and drinking. The memories were a mix of blurred impressions and startlingly clear images. The ending of that vacation was not one he’d ever experienced before. After all, it wasn’t every day that a man got engaged, married and ditched all in the span of forty-eight hours, more or less. He still wasn’t sure how it had all happened, but he had the pictures and annulment papers that proved it hadn’t been a bad dream.
As they neared the small outpost of Fort Yates, the neon lights of the Running Buffalo Casino rose up out of the grasslands, a beacon of garish illumination on the dark prairie. The red, yellow, blue and green neon lights reflected off the still waters of Lake Oahe, a lake formed by a strategically placed dam near Pierre, South Dakota. The lake provided miles of fishing and camping for the residents of North and South Dakota, its shores following the Missouri River’s path from Pierre almost to Bismarck.
Tuck’s chest tightened as he leaned forward to stare out the window of the helicopter. The casino and the surrounding resort looked just as they had the last time he’d been there. Nothing had changed. Except him. Gone was his carefree, reckless sense of taking each day one at a time. He still didn’t know why he’d jumped into the wedding and—more disturbing—why she’d ended it so quickly. The whole situation had made him step back and take stock of his life, and he hadn’t much liked the direction he’d been heading.
The helicopter bypassed the casino and landed at the Standing Rock Airport south of town where a Sioux County sheriff’s SUV waited, lights flashing on top of the vehicle.
As soon as they exited the chopper, the sheriff met them, his hand held out. “I’m Sheriff White Hawk. I thought you’d never get here.”
“Can you bring me up-to-date?” Tuck stepped forward, used to taking charge.
“Our victims were the NIGC rep and a local schoolteacher.” The sheriff talked as he led them back to his vehicle. “We cordoned off the shoreline around the two bodies, and I’ve had a couple of my deputies asking questions around the area. So far, no one saw anything.”
Typical. With so much wide-open space in North Dakota, a person could get away with murder, and no one would be the wiser for days. That’s where Tuck’s job became critical. “Has the state crime-lab team arrived?”
Sheriff White Hawk nodded. “They just got here.”
“Was everything left the same way as it was found?”
“Other than the footprints from the fishermen, no one’s touched a thing.”
“Good.” Tuck climbed into the passenger seat of the sheriff’s SUV.
They accomplished the short ride to the crime scene in relative silence, the occasional static flaring from the radio on the sheriff’s shoulder harness.
A mile past the turnoff to the casino and recreation area, the sheriff turned on a county road, headed toward the lake. After another mile, the lawman slowed the vehicle and glanced at Tuck with a grimace. “We go cross-country from here.”
Tuck nodded and held on as they bumped across the dry, flat land to the shore’s edge, where several other SUVs and a flotilla of motorboats ringed the crime scene. Yellow crime tape flapped in the wind around the land side of the perimeter.
Tuck ducked beneath the tape and flashed his credentials to get past the battery of Sioux County deputies and Standing Rock tribal policemen.
Once inside the perimeter, Josh hurried forward to the crime-scene technicians and exchanged a few words.
Tuck hung back, his gaze panning the area, his investigative eye noting everything that could be considered evidence. There wasn’t much to go on. Based on the lack of blood spatter, the agent and the woman had been murdered elsewhere and their bodies dumped here, probably by boat. The sheriff’s deputies would be checking for anyone who might have seen a boat pull close to shore. But as dark as it was, if the boat didn’t have a light, no one would have seen a thing.
When Behling stepped back, Tuck caught his first glimpse of the dead woman.
Tuck’s breath caught in his throat and his heart jammed in his chest so hard it hurt, a foggy haze settling around the edges of his vision.
Pushing back pain, Tuck sucked in a deep breath, his feet carrying him forward as if he was walking through quicksand. He had to be seeing things that weren’t there. It couldn’t be her. “Do you have a positive ID on the woman?” he asked, his voice echoing in his head.
The medical examiner looked up at Tuck, his brows raised questioningly. “You have a need to know?”
“It’s okay,” Behling said. “He’s another special agent.”
Tuck moved closer, his gaze fixed on the body. “Jesus.” He closed his eyes, pressure squeezing his chest tight. “I know her.” He opened his eyes and stared down at the lifeless remains of the woman he’d met a little more than a year ago here at Fort Yates.
Behling’s head jerked in his direction, his brow furrowing. “You know her?”
Tuck nodded. “That’s Julia Anderson. She was my wife.”
Chapter Two
An hour later, Tuck sat on the side of the bed in his hotel room at the casino, staring at his hands. What the hell had just happened? He was on his way home for a week off—he’d never planned to spend his vacation finding out who had murdered a woman he’d been married to for a grand total of forty-eight hours.
Behling left him at his door, claiming he had a mound of paperwork and calls to make and that he’d check in with Tuck the next morning when Rick would take them back to Bismarck.
Relieved to have a chance for some time to himself, Tuck had assured Behling he would be fine and needed the rest and an opportunity to think…alone.
Except for the blood staining her chest, Julia looked the same as the last time he’d seen her on their wedding night—what he could remember of it. Long blond hair and pale blue eyes, a slender build, rounded, firm breasts. She’d been a beauty then and was just as beautiful in death. Had they met any other way…had they tried to make their farce of a marriage stick…this scenario might have had a completely different ending.
Over a year had passed since their last correspondence—the annulment papers delivered by courier to his apartment door on his day off.
His head dropped into his open palms, the terrible nature of Julia’s death weighing him down. Who had killed her?
The cell phone lying on the bed beside him buzzed. He checked the caller ID—Dante. He didn’t bother answering the call. What could Tuck say to his brother? Hi, I’m in Fort Yates and just got through viewing my ex-wife’s remains.
His brothers didn’t even know he’d married. He’d been too embarrassed to tell anyone. He’d been to a bachelor party for a friend and had been so sauced when he’d met Julia, he hadn’t been thinking clearly. After dancing with her for two hours straight, they’d ended up in his hotel room, making love until early into the next day. Still high on alcohol and sex, they’d run out to the justice of the peace, obtained a wedding license and tied the knot at the quaint little wedding chapel in Fort Yates. As the alcohol wore off and exhaustion set in, they returned to his hotel room, where they collapsed and slept through the rest of the day and night.
When Tuck had woken the next morning, Julia had been gone, leaving a note with an apology and no forwarding address. She’d filed for an annulment immediately, and their union had been dissolved. Just like that.
When his cell phone quit ringing, Tuck glanced at it, remembering the “911” text message from earlier that day before…well, before everything. Behling’s call, the quick trip to Fort Yates and the murders had made him forget to follow through, but now the contents of the message came back to him in a rush.
Could the message have been from Julia? His heart skipped several beats as he dialed the number in the message. Could it have been the last text message Julia had sent before she’d been brutally murdered? He opened the text screen and a phone number flashed up at him. With a sense of dread, he pressed the number, engaging the dialing capability.
After several rings, someone answered. Or at least Tuck thought someone clicked the talk button. The ringing had stopped, but no one spoke.
“Hello?” Tuck waited in case the connection was bad. Reception in the far reaches of North Dakota was scarce if not nonexistent. “Hello?”
“Tuck? Tuck Thunder Horse?” a feminine voice asked in a whisper.
A hint of recognition tugged at Tuck’s consciousness and his heart rate kicked up a notch. “Speaking.”
“It’s J-Julia.”
All the air left Tuck’s lungs as if someone had sucker punched him. “Julia?” How could it be Julia? She was dead, her body taken to the Fort Yates morgue. He’d identified the body himself. His stomach gurgled and twisted.
“I need to see you,” the woman said.
Tuck ran a hand through his hair. Who the hell was this? Why was she impersonating a dead woman? His grip tightened on the phone as anger forged through him. He tamped it down and feigned ignorance of what he’d witnessed earlier. “When? Where?” His voice was gruffer than he’d intended, a lump knotting in his throat.
“Are you in North Dakota?” she asked.
His lips thinned. “As a matter of fact, I am. Just flew into Bismarck a couple hours ago and made a quick run south to Fort Yates.”
She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Oh, thank God.”
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“No. No, nothing is all right.”
Tuck couldn’t agree with her more. Anyone with the gall to pass herself off as a dead woman wasn’t firing on all cylinders. “Tell me where you are.”
“In Fort Yates.” Her words were spoken carefully, as if she was afraid to give away too much.
“Where in Fort Yates? I’ll see what I can do to get there.”
“I can’t tell you. Tell me where you are and I’ll meet you.”
“I’m at the casino.”
After a long pause, she whispered, “Meet me in fifteen minutes at the marina below the casino. Come alone.”
Alone. Tuck’s sense of self-preservation tensed. She could be setting him up. But for what? Hell, at this point did it matter? He wanted to know her game. “It’s dark. How will I find you?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find you.”
Before he could question her further, the line clicked in his ear.
His emotions still raw from seeing the woman he’d married on a whim lying dead on the shore of Lake Oahe, Tuck’s blood ran cold then hot, blazing through his veins like fast-flowing molten lava. How dared she? How dared this stranger call claiming to be Julia, when Julia lay dead?
He checked his watch and headed out the door. The walk to the marina from the hotel wouldn’t take long, five minutes max. That would give him ten minutes to watch for her to arrive if she wasn’t already there.
His stride ate the distance. Part of him wanted to notify Josh of the phone call, but something in the
woman’s voice made him hesitate. He had to know her story before he called in his friend, otherwise Behling might think he was imagining things.
Wide-open expanses of North Dakota prairie were interspersed with scrubby little trees along the road down to the marina. Tuck scanned both sides, peering into the bushes and the shadows of the limited vegetation along the way.
The marina consisted of two long jetties jutting out into Lake Oahe with small, medium and large boats moored in the slips. The marina building perched at one end of the pair of jetties, closed for the night, shuttered, with all merchandise displays tucked within the walls. Besides a dirty yellow streetlight on the marina, two lone lights jutted from the top of poles at the end of each jetty, reflecting light off the inky water below.
Tuck had about given up trying to find the woman when a figure detached itself from the shadow of the marina building, a dark cap pulled down low. As Tuck neared the figure, her head turned left then right in a jerky, nervous movement. She wore a long, draping shawl wrapped around her body, disguising her figure. She could have been a young or old woman, fat or thin. He couldn’t tell, but he’d find out soon enough.
Tuck stood back, studying the woman for a moment, gathering his nerve and tamping down the desire to strangle her for playing the role of a murder victim.
Coaching himself to calm, he forced all anger from his face and demeanor, then walked forward.
She remained hidden in the shadows.
“I’m here…Julia.” His teeth ground together on her name. “What do you want?” Tuck stopped, refusing to move closer. She’d have to meet him halfway.
The hint of a sob drifted across the crisp evening air toward him, and the woman moved another step out of the shadows, her hand reaching out. The glow from the yellowed night light glanced off the side of her face, illuminating her profile.
Tuck sucked in a breath and backed up a step. The female was the image of the one the medical examiner had pronounced dead only a short while ago.
Tuck lurched forward, gripping her arms, his fingers digging in, refusing to let her escape. “Who the hell are you?”
She hunched her shoulders, her body shaking, staring up at him, searching his face. “Tuck?” His name wasn’t so much a question as a statement, and some of the tension in her arms slackened.
Tuck’s grip tightened. He’d be ready if she tried to make a run for it.
“We can’t stay here,” she whispered.
Tuck’s eyes narrowed. “We’re not going anywhere until you answer my question…here…now.” His jaw tightened and he refused to move.
Her gaze darted left then right. “We’re not safe.”
He snorted. “Should have thought of that before you chose this spot.”
“I had to be sure it was you before…”
“Before what?”
“Please, could we go somewhere safe, not so out in the open?” She tugged against his grip, her gaze darting past him.
“Who are you afraid of?” Tuck demanded.
“I don’t know.” She stared up at him, her blue eyes wide, frightened. “Please, we have to go somewhere safe.”
“We can stay here or go to my room at the casino.” His mouth pressed into a thin line. He was reluctant to let this woman into his room, but curiosity burned too strongly to ignore. He had to know who she was and what was going on.
“Your room?” Again her gaze darted left then right, and she ducked her head. “No, I can’t,” she said, her voice cracking. “I can’t go back there.”
“We don’t have many choices in a town the size of Fort Yates. Do you have any other suggestions?”
“I can’t go home.” Her body drooped, her arms going limp. “I have nowhere else to go.”
Tuck hesitated another second, then let go of one of her arms, keeping a tight hold on the other as he led her back the way he’d come, toward the hotel casino. He berated himself inwardly for falling into her plan, but if he wanted to get to the bottom of this charade, he had to play along until he got answers.
As they neared the hotel, she slowed, adjusted the bulky shawl around her middle, bringing the fabric high around her neck. With shaking hands, she tugged the hat lower over her eyes, pushing long, loose strands of hair back under the hat’s rim.
Past being patient, Tuck nudged her forward with a little more force than he intended and stepped up on the back porch of the casino, pushing through the double glass doors to the stairwell.
The shawl-wrapped female stumbled. A small cry burst from beneath the shawl, but it didn’t sound as if it came from the woman.
“What the hell?” Tuck reached out to yank the shawl aside.
A hand whipped out, knocking his aside. Blue eyes stared up at him, sandy-blond brows diving like daggers toward the bridge of her nose. “Don’t.”
“I’m not taking you into the hotel until I know what you’re hiding beneath that shawl.” He reached out again for the shawl.
She stepped back, her chin tightening, her eyes narrowing to slits. “And I’m telling you if you try to remove the shawl, I’ll kill you.” To emphasize her point, she jabbed him in the side with the business end of a revolver. “Now, are we going to your room or what?”
Tuck’s pulse leaped. If he wasn’t mistaken, the gun appeared to be a SIG Sauer revolver, just like the one he carried on duty with the FBI. Unfortunately, his was at the armory. Headed for a week off, he hadn’t seen the need to carry. What the hell was she doing with a
SIG Sauer? The way she held the revolver was a sure sign she had no clue how to use it, but that didn’t make the weapon any less deadly. He remained calm. “Aren’t you afraid someone will see you holding a gun?”
“No.” Even after her arm came to a stop, the bulk around her middle shifted. “Now, are you going to take me to your room, or do I have to use this?”
He didn’t move, gauging whether or not she had the gumption to pull the trigger. Now more than curious about her story, he decided to go along with her plan. If necessary, he could easily disarm her when the time came. “Come on.”
She let out a breath. “Good. The sooner we get this meeting over with, the better.”
“You’re tellin’ me.” He led the way up the stairs to the third floor. When they reached his door, Tuck inserted the key and waited for her to enter.
As she passed across the threshold, she turned to face him, the gun tenting the shawl. “Don’t try anything. I know how to use this. And I really don’t want to.”
“I don’t doubt that in the least,” Tuck lied, following her into the room.
Once he had the door closed firmly behind him, he faced the woman, his heart stone cold. “Now that we’re alone, suppose you tell me why the hell a dead woman is holding me at gunpoint.”
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