Guns and the Girl Next Door

“Now,” he said. “Let’s skip to the part where you tell me about this other person.”

She was more concerned with knowing everything about the potential threat in front of her. “You live here?”

Holden exhaled with just enough exasperation to let her know his patience was wearing thin. “I did until your recent redecorating, but I’m not the issue here. You are.”

“I need to call the police.”

Holden didn’t move. “Tell me who you think you killed. Give me his name.”

No harm in sharing that information. Everyone would know soon anyway. You couldn’t kill someone of her boss’s stature without making the news.

“Bram Walters,” she said.

Holden’s face fell. He actually went from looking frustrated to looking confused. “As in Congressman Bram Walters?”

“Same one.”

Holden’s gaze roamed over her face. “I don’t recognize you.”

Maybe the headache was the cause, but that was a comment that didn’t fit. “Why would you?”

“I know Walters.”

Not possible. She’d remember Holden. A guy who looked like him didn’t walk into the congressional office without every single girl fluffing her hair and practicing her smile. Put a suit on this man and he’d still have the Tall, Dark and Devastating thing down.

“I’m one of Congressman Walters’s legislative assistants,” she said.

“In the D.C. office?”

She didn’t understand Holden’s obsession with her employment. His questions swam around in her head until she thought her skull would explode. “I’ve been there about two months.”

“And now you think you killed the man you work for.” Holden said the words nice and slow, hovering over each one.

“I ran him over.”

“With your car.” That comment took even longer for Holden to get out.

“Well, yeah.”

“You’re saying Walters was at my house.”

She pressed a hand against her head to keep it from falling forward into her lap. “In the area.”

Holden blew out a long breath. “Interesting.”

“If I didn’t kill him it wasn’t for a lack of trying.”

This time the corner of Holden’s mouth kicked up in a smile. “I’d recommend you phrase that differently when you talk with the police.”

Police. Trials. The press. This was all bad. The head spinning picked up speed. “I can’t believe this.”

“Me either.”

It wasn’t all that difficult to pick up on the shock in Holden’s voice. Crossing him off the serial-killer list had proved a bit easier in the past few minutes. If he wanted to hurt her, he would have done it by now. Maybe he was the reclusive type, but he didn’t strike her as a threat.

That realization slowed the runaway drumming of her heart. Well, it did until he got up and she got a close-up view of the gun balanced in the waistband of his pants.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He shot her an expression that suggested she wasn’t too bright. “To look for Walters.”

“Why?”

Holden’s eyes widened at that. “In case he’s still alive and needs help.”

“You can’t.” She jumped up and grabbed Holden’s arm, ignoring the tossing and turning in her stomach.

“Why is that?”

“My boss is dangerous.” And the last thing she needed was a second round with him.

Guilt washed over her every time the image of the Congressman falling under her car replayed in her mind. Not that she’d had a choice. In a contest between them over who would live, she’d rather think of her boss as dead.

“Walters wears a suit and sits behind a desk all day making decisions without regard to the facts.” Holden removed her fingers. “Trust me, I’m not afraid of him.”

She focused in on Holden’s comment. Blocked out everything else. “That’s a pretty specific impression.”

“I know politicians.”

She didn’t buy that explanation. Headache or not, this was something else. Something deeper and more personal. “I’m getting the sense you know this congressman.”

“If you’re right about killing him, we should be using the past tense.”

She felt the need to defend her actions. “He went insane out there.”

“Which brings me to my biggest question.” Holden slipped the gun out of his pants and held it at his side. “Why were you on my property with Walters?”

Seeing the weapon brought the panic rushing back and the searing headache right behind. It screamed along her senses, paralyzing her. “I don’t know.”

“Try again.”

“I don’t.”

Holden shifted the gun behind him and leaned down until they were eye to eye. “Mia, I’m not playing around here. I want the truth.”

Law enforcement. She’d bet her life on it. She knew the beast. The way he repeated her name. The steady tone to his voice. She’d dated a cop for two years. Holden had the same calm assurance. He oozed control and confidence.

And he handled that gun like a pro.

“The Congressman drove me out here, kept asking me who I was working for—”

Holden held up his free hand. “I thought you worked for him.”

“I do…did. I actually don’t know what happens now that he’s dead.”

“We’ll go with the assumption he’s very much alive. If so, I don’t get the comment about you working for someone else.”

“Neither did I. The Congressman wanted to know what I was looking for in the system.” The man had screamed it at her. That memory hadn’t faded one bit. “I have no idea what he was talking about.”

“System?”

“His personal computer. He keeps a laptop in the office. The only thing I can think of is he thought I broke into it for some reason.”

A strange look flashed on Holden’s face. Before she could decipher it, the expression disappeared. He morphed back into big-man-blank-look mode.

“Did you?” he asked.

“Why would I?”

“Why would you drive through my house?” He gestured around the room. “See? There are many questions that need answering here.”

“If you say so.”

“I do, but right now we’re going outside.”

“No.” Smart women did not go running around in the dark with strange men. They also didn’t race back into trouble once they’d escaped it. “Definitely not.”

From the frown it was clear Holden didn’t care for her refusal one bit. “Excuse me?”

“The police.”

“You can keep saying that but it’s not going to happen. Not until I know what we’re dealing with here.”

She glanced around for a phone, careful not to move her head too fast. The thing must be under her car because she didn’t see it. “A dead member of the House of Representatives. That’s kind of a big deal, don’t you think?”

“I’m not the one who killed him.”

She stopped. “You’re not funny.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.” Holden’s stare wandered over her, hovering a bit too long on her breasts before continuing down.

“Are you done?”

He had the nerve to look confused at that. “With what?”

“Never mind.”

“Okay. You stay here.”

“I don’t even know where here is.”

He hitched his head in the direction of the hood of her car. “I’d tell you to watch some television, but you drove over it.”

She had bigger problems at the moment and sure hoped he had insurance. “How will you find the Congressman?”

“He’ll be the one on the ground.”

Holden might not be a physical threat, but he sure was a smart-mouth. At the moment, she wasn’t a fan of the personality trait. “I mean in all that space out there. You must have five acres of nothing but woods.”

“More than that but not all of it’s mine.”

“Are you purposely misunderstanding me?”

He shot her his second smile. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’ll be right back.” He made it to the gaping hole that used to be his door before he turned around again. “Forget that. I was right the first time. You’re coming along.”

She could barely stand up and he wanted her to run around in the dark. She was smart enough to know that wasn’t a great idea. “Because?”

“I don’t trust you behind me.”

“You’re the one with the gun.”

“Which is why I’m making the rules.”

Chapter Four

Holden thought about turning on the floodlights. He had rigged the setup in the yard for an occasion just like this. He could outline every corner of his property and start a real search, but he decided against it.

Something was very wrong here, and not just the idea that he might have a dead Congressman on the premises. The problem was the identity of the possible deceased.

What were the odds the guy Holden secretly had been investigating would mistakenly find his way here, to the outskirts of Fredericksburg, Virginia, fifty miles and a world away from the hustle of Washington, D.C.? To a place Holden lived but most people mistook for the wooded back half of a huge horse farm. The answer: not good.

“Can we walk slower?” Mia asked.

He glanced over at her. She tried to hide a slight limp, but he picked up on it. Or, he had now that she complained. “You okay?”

“A bit sore from being slammed into the dash board.”

“Not to point out the obvious, but it wouldn’t have happened if you had an air bag.”

“It was stolen.”

“Tonight?”

“About a month ago. Outside my apartment.” She grumbled something about rotten thieves. “I parked under a streetlight and still.”

“Where the hell do you live?”

“Southwest D.C.”

“I hate the city.” With the Recovery Project office downtown closed pending the congressional hearings, he had no reason to go to D.C. He hadn’t been to the one-bedroom apartment he kept near the office for emergencies in weeks. He didn’t have any plans to visit it now either.

“It’s downright creepy out here,” she said.

A city girl. “You get used to it.”

“Everything looks the same.” She stopped and turned around in a circle.

“That sort of thing happens in the woods.” This time she didn’t grab her head or look ready to throw up. He guessed the adrenaline had kicked in and masked the pain. Either that or this woman could fake her way through any situation. The latter option had him on edge and ready to take her down if necessary.

“How do you know which direction I drove in from?” she asked.

He pointed at the ground. “Following the tire tracks. While we’re on that subject, did you even try hitting the brakes before you crashed into my house?”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, what with killing my boss and all.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

As they walked, he glanced at the tall trees blocking his view of the sky. Her tires had kicked up dirt and spread gravel and leaves everywhere. “I’m not seeing anything out here except for the landscaping you mowed down.”

“Does that mean you don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I know you hit something.”

“Is this a trust issue or do you have some superpowers I need to know about?”

Gone were the initial dazed look and slurred words. The more air she got, the more sarcastic she became. For some reason, he liked this version better.

“I saw the blood on your fender,” he said.

“I have a theory.”

The jump in the conversation threw him for a second but he didn’t let on. “About?”

“You’re not rushing to call the police because you are the police.” She looked pleased with her theory.

“Wrong guess.”

“You’re law enforcement of some type.”

Was. Looked as if those days were over. “How did you get there?”

“It’s an educated assumption.”

“Well, it’s wrong because I’m actually unemployed.”

She pushed branches out of her way as she walked. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Other than the fact you don’t look like the lounge-around-doing-nothing type, I have no idea.”

Holden was about to shoot back an inappropriate comment about what he liked to do in his spare time when a flash of light to the far right caught his attention. The beam cut through the black distance and moved closer. Scanning the wide arc in front of him, he saw two more. Three people closing in fast.

He grabbed her arm and stopped her from taking another step. “Wait.”

A twig snapped under her shoe. “What?”

“Quiet.” When she started to protest, he whispered the necessary information in a rush. “We have company.”

She bent her knees and hunkered down as if trying to hide from anyone who could be watching. “Walters?”

“I don’t think so. No.”

Not police either. Holden didn’t see any of the telltale signs. No sirens. No flashing lights from a cop car. Not even any noise.

This wasn’t an emergency crew checking out a call about a crash. These were the small, green, focused lights of a search party. A deadly quiet group looking for something. Holden guessed the “something” was Mia.

She shook her head. “I don’t see—”

“We’re going back to the house.”

“It’s not exactly a great hideout.”

“Yeah, it is.” It was the perfect place. He’d built it that way. Every member of the Recovery Project had an escape plan. He never thought he’d need one, not way out here, but it paid to be prepared. “Come on.”

He took her hand. The last thing he needed was to lose her in the trees. The growth was too thick and the night too dark to take the risk.

Having one arm under his control also meant it would be harder for her to come at him if it turned out she wasn’t the innocent victim she claimed to be. He hadn’t performed a true search of her body for weapons, but from his visual tour he didn’t see any bumps in her clothing or pockets of concern. But now that they had company, he planned on being a bit more careful.

Crouched down and kicking at a near run, they headed back to the house. As they rounded the back of the battered car, he looked over his shoulder. Mia’s cheeks puffed in and out and her focus stayed on the ground. He guessed she was trying not to fall. Not a bad plan, in his view. It was the scene behind her that had him twitching.

Those lights kept moving, steady and calm, forming a perimeter and pushing in. They, whoever “they” were, descended on the house like pros. The military precision had him thinking Special Forces, but the “why” still eluded him.

Holden knew this might be about him and not Mia. He’d been digging around in private places and that sort of thing tended to make powerful people angry.

They passed through the ripped drywall, stepping over the debris with as little crunch as possible. Without the ability to bar the door, he had limited time to get everything in order. Before she could check behind them, he guided her through the family room and down the short hall.

On the way, he grabbed his satellite phone and telescopic sight and ignored everything else. “This way.”

“We can call the police,” she said in a breathless hush as he hustled her into his stark bedroom.

“No time.” He pressed his back against the wall and peeked out the window. The magnification provided by the goggles let him see the advance of the unwanted visitors.

“Of course there’s—” She stared at him. “Binoculars?”

“An updated version, yes.”

“Are the people close?”

Holden thought about lying to her. If she started crying or went into shaky shut-down mode, he might have to knock her out to rescue her. He didn’t look forward to that possibility at all.

“Stand against the wall and no noise.”

She obeyed. Waited all of three seconds before talking again. “Do you have another gun?”

“Depends. Can you shoot?”

“How hard can it be?”

“So, that’s a no.”

He got a good look at the attackers now. And that’s what they were. Dressed in black and loaded down with ammunition, they moved in unison through a mix of hand signals and nods. Mercenaries. No question these guys were guns for hire.

“We have to get out of here,” he said.

“You have a plan?”

He nodded at the wall. “We’re going through there.”

She followed his gaze and frowned. “It’s solid wood.”

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to sneak out the front? There’s no door, but at least there’s a hole and an obvious exit.”

“The guys we’re trying to avoid are at the front.” He ducked down and crossed under the window. No need to give the attackers a clear target.

“What are—”

From the edge of the bed, he motioned to her. “Get on the ground and come toward me.”

She didn’t question this time and he was grateful.

With his blood pounding through his veins and her breathing echoing in his ear, he dropped to his knees and headed for the far wall. After crawling the short distance, he hit the floor a second before she did and collapsed with his back against the wood.

Panting now, her green eyes filled with fear, she looked over at him. “I don’t understand why all this is happening.”

To calm her, he brushed her wild hair back off her shoulder. “We’ll get to that later.”

“Are we going to have a later?”

“Count on it.” He punched a series of numbers into the square black watch on his wrist until he heard a click and the wall behind them shifted. “Lean forward.”

The partition lifted from the floor. He waited until it drew up about four feet and then rolled into the small room on the other side.

Her jaw dropped. “What are you doing?”

Before she even finished the sentence, he pulled her through the opening and slammed the wall shut behind them. He was on his feet and grabbing for his computer hard drive in the next breath.

Hands moving and mind shifting into gear, he inventoried the L-shaped desk and four shelves and grabbed a small backpack. He couldn’t carry much but some items should come along if possible.

She brushed her fingers across the paneled wall. “What is this place?”

“It’s called a SCIF.”

Her hand dropped to her side but the confusion didn’t clear from her face. “Come again?”

“The technical term is Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility,” he said as he rifled through the desk drawer for a set of keys.

The area was an enclosed, windowless space in his house. In here he could review classified information. It functioned as a secure office within his sanctuary. The bedroom, closet and bathroom surrounded it. No one would check for it unless they knew it was there and started measuring square footage and found some missing.

“If you didn’t look so serious I would think you were kidding,” she said.

“’Fraid not.” He pressed a remote and the monitor on the wall across from the hidden door switched from a blank screen to a shot of the area outside the house. Only one attacker was visible. That meant the other two were circling or already inside.

She watched him unzip an internal pocket of his backpack. “You’re not police.”

“I already said no to that.”

“You’re a spy.”

“Not that either.” He slipped his hard drive inside the space. It was the size of a paperback book but far more important. It held all of the information he’d been gathering on his secret side project, on the congressman Mia insisted she killed.

“Now what?”

“Time to go.”

“Where?” She looked around the six-foot space. Then her eyes locked on the figure on the screen. “He’s not police either.”

“No.” Holden spared the attacker a glance before punching in the password on his watch.

“What are you doing now?”

“Setting the timer to blow the place up and sending a signal for help to a friend.”

“Right.” She shot him a nervous smile but it faded a second later. “Wait, you’re still serious?”

“Yeah.”

Up until that point she’d held it together. She had paced a bit and rubbed her hands together a lot, but otherwise no craziness. With his admission about the planned explosion, her movements became frantic. Her hands flew around in the air and her voice squeaked.

“Holden, this is ridiculous. You know that, right? Please tell me you’re not some lunatic serial-bomber type.”

“Okay.” He held both of her upper arms with a touch he hoped wouldn’t terrorize her further.

“That is not a convincing response.”

“I need you to stay calm.”

“Then get us out of here.”

“We’ll have less than ten minutes.”

Her green eyes turned glassy with fear. “Ten?”

“That means you do everything I say, when I say.” He waited until she nodded. “Good.”

He took her hands and pulled her tight against his body. He figured it was a testament to her fear that she didn’t struggle or slap him. When he reached behind him and hit the small lever under his desk, the floor next to her feet rolled back to reveal a steel-reinforced opening and crudely constructed steps made of dirt wound down into the earth.

Good thing he believed in planning ahead for catastrophe.

“You are just full of surprises,” she muttered as she stared into the hole that was just big enough to fit Holden.

“Here’s another one.” He handed her the light stick. “You’re going first.”

Chapter Five

By the third tread of the twenty-step decline, Mia regretted wearing heels of any type. The narrow passage barely fit a foot and the only railing was the dirt wall next to her shoulder. She had a death grip on that.

Mud caked under her nails and her shoulders ached from holding them stiff. The banging in her head hit orchestra levels.

But she didn’t care. No way was she going to die on an underground staircase.

When she got halfway down, she glanced back up. Holden’s light stick cast a warm glow at the top area, but she didn’t see him.

“Holden?” If there was such a thing as a frantic whisper, she’d just mastered it.

The resulting silence sent the blood churning in her veins. There was no way she could do this alone. Heck, she didn’t even know where she was or where this tunnel led. Those men outside with the big guns sure weren’t going to help her.

With tiny shuffling steps, she turned around, ignoring the way her brain rattled and shifted. Careful not to topple backward, she grabbed on to the step above her and looked up. In the dim light she could see the tips of Holden’s sneakers.

“What are you doing up there?”

“I’m coming.” His voice sounded weak and a little breathy.

She didn’t know how, but between climbing down and closing the door above him, he must have been injured. There was no other explanation and she had no choice but to ease her way back up the steps. “I’ll be right up.”

“No. Stay there.”

She was pretty much done with the whole obeying thing. She’d let him know that if she didn’t slip to her death.

Balancing her hands against the damp walls, she lifted one foot then the other, balancing her shoes sideways on each step, and made her way back up to him. She met him on the third one from the top. “What are you doing?”

His arms were outstretched with his fingers clamping onto the wall on either side of his body. His broad shoulders spanned the sides of the tunnel. One wrong twist and he could wedge his upper half against the dirt walls. If that happened, she’d have to dig him out with her bare hands.

“Keep going down.” His husky tone vibrated.

“What is wrong with your voice?” She lifted her light and shined it on his face.

Sweat gathered on his forehead and his cheeks had bleached snow-white. “Nothing.”

“What is it?” She recognized the look. She had enough training to diagnose trauma when it walked right in front of her.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not.”

“We don’t have time to argue.” He hesitated between each word.

“Are you claustrophobic?” She asked the question even though she knew the answer.

“Of course not.”

Typical male. “Right. So, why is your escape route a tiny tube of mud if you can’t stand enclosed spaces?”

“I’ve been working on it.”

Now that she was paying attention, she saw the signs. The deep breaths and frenzied mumbling disguised as calm. This was something more than claustrophobia. Something worse.