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Dead Aim
Anne Woodard


She wasn't strictly beautiful, but something about Maggie Mann made a man sit up and take notice. Like her warm green eyes.Her honeyed smile. And the gun she carried with confident ease. Yes, there was something about Maggie, all right. And scientist Rick Dornier wasn't letting her out of his sight until he discovered what made her tick–and what she knew about his missing sister.The fact that she stirred his blood was an inconvenience he would have to conceal. Because as they became reluctant partners in unraveling a web of danger and deceit, love might prove the deadliest distraction of all….









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 (http://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.




Chapter 2


Her call was picked up on the first ring.

“It’s me,” Maggie said.

There was a pause at the other end of the line as her listener confirmed there were no bugs on the line, then a brusque, “Talk.”

She shifted in the battered office chair to get a better view of the short hall outside the coffee shop’s cramped office. Steve was busy behind the front counter, but Sharon Digby, the other employee due on tonight, had a useful habit of coming in early.

“Dornier’s brother’s here,” she said, keeping her voice low.

That caught her listener’s attention. “Her brother? He was in Montana yesterday. We checked.”

“Yeah, well he’s here now, and he’s already been around town talking to people. His mother called him. He must have driven all night to get here.”

“Great. Just great.” Another pause at the end of the line. “Is he going to be a problem?”

The door from the shop opened. Maggie craned for a better look, then slid back a ways, out of sight. She waited until she heard the rest room door lock behind the customer before she spoke again.

“He hit the police station. Bursey spun him some story about college kids and hormones being more appealing than class work.”

“He talked to Bursey?”

“Bursey talked to him. Made a point of it.”

More silence while her listener digested that information. Then, “You think he knows anything?”

“No.” She thought about that, then added, “Not yet. Playing cop isn’t his thing, but he’s smart and tough.”

“Guess you’d have to be if you chase grizzlies for a living.” There wasn’t any humor behind the words.

“He’s worried about his sister.”

She fell silent at the sound of a toilet flushing, then water running. The rest room door opened, followed by footsteps heading back. The noise of conversation and the espresso machine working rose as the hall door opened, then dimmed as it swung shut. She craned to be sure the customer was gone, waiting for the confirming click of the latch as the door closed behind them.

“He’s planning on visiting Good Times tonight,” she said at last. “I’m going with him.”

“All right. But keep a sharp eye on him. We can’t afford to have any trouble at this point in the game.”

Maggie frowned at the cluttered bulletin board on the wall above the desk, annoyed. “Anything else you want to tell me? Like how to tie my shoes or blow my nose?”

“Don’t be so damned touchy. And yeah, there’s something I want to tell you. Don’t go off on your own. You’re not a superhero.”

She grinned. “Wanna bet?”

“Dammit!”

“You can say that again.” This time, she wasn’t smiling.

She set the receiver back in its cradle without bothering to say goodbye.

She knew exactly what he’d meant.



Dornier had his jacket on and was waiting near the counter when Maggie emerged. He looked a little tired, but Maggie would swear she sensed a tension in him that hadn’t been there a few minutes earlier. He didn’t say anything, however, and she didn’t ask.

“Steve, I’ve gotta go,” she said to the young man behind the counter. “Sharon should be in shortly. Think you can handle things until then?”

Steve grinned. “Sure. You know me.”

Maggie blew him a teasing kiss. Her odd hours and occasional, abrupt departures had raised a few eyebrows at the beginning, but everyone was used to them by now. She’d worked hard to make sure they were.

She turned to Rick Dornier and found him studying her.

Again there was that odd jolt of intense awareness.

There was nothing rude or even particularly sexual in the way he looked at her, yet still it unsettled her. It was one thing for him to be attracted to her—that might prove useful. But the last thing she needed now was to be as conscious of him as a man as he was of her as a woman.

She forced the feeling down. She couldn’t afford to let anything distract her or throw her off balance. Not right now.

Somehow, without even trying, Rick Dornier managed to do both.

“Ready?” was all she said.

“Ready.” Before she could stop him, he took her jacket out of her hands and held it up so she could slip it on.

Maggie hesitated, then turned to allow him to help her, silently chiding herself for letting so simple a gesture catch her off guard like that. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She started to move away from him, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Hold on a second. Your collar’s turned.”

There wasn’t anything remotely sexual about the way he flipped her collar over, then smoothed it into place, yet her body tensed involuntarily and the back of her neck burned where he touched her. She would swear she could still feel the heat of his hand where it had rested on her shoulder.

He flicked her unruly curls out from beneath her collar and stepped back. “There. That should do it.”

She kept her head down and tugged up the zipper. Her throat felt tight and her breathing was fast and a little shallow, but she managed to keep her words light, teasing, in keeping with the Maggie everyone at Joe’s thought they knew.

“Are all you Montana guys so well mannered?”

He laughed. The sound of it set her pulse racing.

“Blame it on my dad. He was hell on good manners.”

He held the door for her, then automatically took the street side of the sidewalk even if there weren’t any cars to defend her from.

“My car’s parked just around the corner,” she said, forcing herself to look up at him.

She refused to admit that she was disappointed when she found he was scanning the street rather than looking at her.

“I’m a couple blocks farther down,” he said. Yet when she turned the corner, he turned with her.

“You don’t have to walk me to my car, you know.” She couldn’t quite suppress the irritation in her voice. “It’s not that late, and Fenton isn’t that dangerous.”

“That’s good. Which car’s yours?”

“The red Subaru.” She punched the automatic entry button on her key ring. The car beeped and unlocked the doors. The system was a safety mechanism, one she’d relied on more than once when she had to get away fast. Once, it had almost cost her her life.

He waited on the sidewalk while she walked around to the driver’s side.

“I’ll meet you at the bar, all right?” she said, silently willing him to go away now so she could get herself under control.

“Fine.”

He was still standing there when she slid behind the wheel.



Maggie switched the key in the ignition. The Subaru’s engine raced a little, then settled into a steady, comforting purr.

And he was still standing there.

Cursing herself for a fool, she leaned over and opened the passenger’s side door.

“Get in. I’ll drive you to your car.”

It figured. The one man who had the power to addle her wits just by looking at her was also well mannered and annoyingly overprotective. And that was dangerously appealing, too. She would have to be extra careful. She didn’t dare let herself get involved.

The Subaru was fairly roomy, but Rick Dornier took up a lot more space than she liked. She was finding it hard to breathe. The engine hadn’t warmed enough to put out any heat, yet she would swear the temperature inside the car was rising.

By the time she dropped him off at his pickup a few minutes later, her chest was hurting from the effort to breathe. She made sure he knew how to get to the bar, but didn’t wait for him even to unlock his door before her foot mashed down on the gas pedal.

Her tires squealed on the pavement as she roared away.



It was only the middle of the week, yet the parking lot at the Good Times bar was almost full when Rick arrived.

Maggie, shoulders hunched against the cold, was pacing in front of the door. He had the feeling she was regretting her offer to help, but before he could say a word, she yanked the door open and stepped inside. Frowning, Rick followed her.

Even in his college years, he hadn’t been much for bars and partying. His friends ribbed him about his unsociable ways, but these days he generally stuck to the unfashionable places where he could get a beer and maybe engage in a little conversation about whatever game was showing on TV.

Walking into Good Times was like walking into a wall of heat and humanity. The bar was everything he hated—loud, crowded and trendy. A sign outside had advertised a live band for the weekend, but right now a popular country and western pop hit was blaring from hidden speakers that almost, but not quite, managed to cover the deafening roar of conversation and laughter.

The crowd was mostly college kids and young professionals, with an occasional aging, desperate male here and there trying to pretend that the years weren’t catching up with him. Dress was everything from slick business suits to short tops, low jeans and navel rings. Judging from the expressions on their faces, all of these customers had one thing in common—a grim determination to have fun, no matter how much it hurt.

Rick tried to imagine Tina in a place like this and failed. Tina lived in the reverent quiet of libraries and museums, not this kind of insanity.

A tug on his sleeve drew his attention back to Maggie. He had to bend down to hear what she was shouting. She leaned closer, her breast touching his sleeve.

“I’m going to hit a friend at the bar, ask him about Tina, who all the regular patrons are, see if we can find someone who saw her. Order me a diet soda, will you?”

Her breath was warm on his ear. All he would have to do to kiss her was turn his head….

Before he could say a word, she’d handed him her jacket and slipped into the crowd, seemingly as comfortable in this madhouse as she was at the Cuppa Joe’s. Just walking into the place had brought the sparkle back to her eyes.

Before Rick could follow her, a harried-looking waitress dodged in front of him with an overloaded tray of drinks. He edged around her and ran into three giggling females who eyed him with a speculative interest that drove him in the opposite direction. By the time he’d worked his way through the outer fringes of the crowd, he’d shucked his own jacket and lost Maggie completely.

Rick stared about him, baffled. He hadn’t worked out any real plan, just figured he would talk to the bartenders and waitresses until he found someone who remembered Tina and the guy she’d been with. He hadn’t counted on having to deal with a crowd like this or noise levels that made it impossible to talk below a shout.

He wished Maggie were beside him. She seemed to be at home in a place like this.

He would swear he could still catch her lingering scent on his jacket sleeve where she’d inadvertently pressed against him.

Too much time in the wilderness, Dornier, he chided himself, ruthlessly squelching the thought.

Because Maggie was already talking to the people tending bar, and because Rick couldn’t think of anything else to do, he stopped the next waitress and asked if she knew a Tina Dornier. She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“It’s all I can do to remember the drink orders.” She glanced at his empty hands. “You want one?”

He didn’t. It was only after she was gone that he remembered he was supposed to order Maggie a diet soda.

He scanned the crowd, struggling against dismay. What in hell had he been thinking? He dealt with grizzlies, not humans engaged in modern courtship rituals. Maggie had been right—there were a lot of good-looking guys here, any number of whom could have given Tom Cruise a run for his money. The last thing people at a place like this would pay attention to was a quiet woman talking to a man nobody knew.

Was there something else he could do to find out the name of that stranger Tina had been talking to the last time anyone had seen her?

Or, at least, admitted to having seen her.

That thought made him flinch.

As it turned out, the people came to him. The women, anyway, many of them younger than Tina. Several offered to buy him a drink. Not one remembered his sister, let alone the stranger.

Desperate, he grabbed a small table that was just opening up. He draped Maggie’s jacket over the back of the second chair, then stopped another passing waitress and ordered a beer and diet soda.

She was back sooner than he’d expected.

“Tina?” she said in answer to his query. She set the soda on the table. “Sure, I know her.”

She handed Rick the beer, deftly pocketed the twenty he handed her, then brightened when he refused any change. Thus encouraged, she set down her tray and slid into the empty seat across from him.

“Tina’s two years ahead of me, but she helps me and a couple of friends with art history papers sometimes. Real nice. And she’s your sister?” She eyed him assessingly.

Rick found himself blushing. “She was in here a couple weeks ago. Talking to some stranger, according to her roommate.”

The girl frowned. “I remember Tina being here. Good Times isn’t, like, exactly the sort of place she hung out. Know what I mean? But a guy…?”

She scanned the crowd as if hoping for inspiration. “I sorta remember seeing her with someone, because Tina wasn’t really interested in guys. You know? I remember he was good-looking, but there’s, like, lots of good-looking guys here.”

“Her roommate said he looked like Tom Cruise,” Rick offered helpfully.

“Tom Cruise?” She frowned, considering, then shrugged. “I don’t know. We don’t get many guys that old in here, you know?”

Rick managed not to laugh.

Karin stood. “I’d better get going or my boss’ll dock my pay or something. You got a number I can call if I think of anything?”

“Not yet. I haven’t had time to get a hotel room. But here’s my business card.”

“What about your cell phone?”

“I don’t have a cell phone.”

She stared at him as if he’d suddenly grown two heads.

It was a look Rick had seen before. His friends thought he was a Neanderthal, but he’d never understood the modern passion for instant communication. Besides, cell phones weren’t all that useful in Montana’s backcountry—too many places where you couldn’t get a signal. “Can I leave a message for you here?” was all he said. “To let you know where you can reach me if you remember anything?”

“Sure. There’s always someone here who can take a message if I’m not working. My name’s Karin. With an ‘i.’”

“Thanks, Karin.” He smiled. “I’ll remember the ‘i.’”

A couple of minutes later, Maggie slid into the chair Karin had vacated. She snatched up the soda and took a couple big gulps.

“Thanks! Trying to carry on a conversation in this place is hard work.”

Like Karin, she had to lean halfway across the table and shout to make herself heard over the noise. You could plot a bank robbery here and the folks at the next table wouldn’t hear a word you’d said.

“Find out anything?”

She shook her head. The movement made a stray curl on her forehead bounce. “How about you?”

Rick repressed an urge to brush the curl into place.

“Nothing. One person who knows Tina and remembers seeing her here, but that’s it.”

He had to fight not to shove his chair back and put as much distance between him and Maggie as he could.

He hadn’t thought twice about getting close enough to Karin so they could talk, but, then, she hadn’t made his pulse rate soar just by looking at her.

“It would be easier if I had a better description of the man she was talking to,” he said.

“Yeah. I tried that ‘Tom Cruise look-alike’ line on one of the bartenders.”

“And…?”

“He laughed at me.”

Rick stared at her, unsmiling. She stared right back, quietly assessing.

“I’m running out of options here,” he grimly admitted, more to himself than to her.

She considered that, then shook her head. “Not quite. Let’s go talk to Grace, again.”

Maggie stood abruptly, reaching for her jacket. “Come on. We might get lucky and catch her at home.”

“I didn’t get the impression Grace was all that serious about her studies.”

There wasn’t any humor in the look Maggie gave him.

“I didn’t say anything about interrupting her studying.”

Rick followed Maggie as she worked her way through the crowd. He was going on two days without sleep, and the noise of Good Times had given him a headache, but he didn’t even consider finding a hotel. Not yet. There wasn’t much hope they would get anything useful out of Grace—even if they found her home, which he doubted. She was probably so stoned by now that she didn’t even remember who Tina was—but he couldn’t think of anything else to do, and he had to do something.

They were almost to the door when Maggie stopped in her tracks.

Rick placed his hand at the small of her back in an instinctive, almost protective gesture. He could feel the tension in her body even through the thickness of her jacket.

Standing just inside the entrance, watching them, was Fenton chief of police, David Bursey.

Maggie moved forward, deliberately casual. “Chief Bursey.”

Bursey touched the brim of his Stetson politely. “Ms. Mann.”

“Your hat’s still on. Are you coming in or going out?”

“Guess that depends.”

Maggie ignored that barb. “I don’t recall seeing you here before.”

His gaze flicked from Maggie to Rick and back again. “Rumor has it you’re here quite a bit.”

Maggie’s chin came up. “That’s right. Even a coffeehouse waitress likes a little action now and then. Anything wrong with that?”

“Not usually, no.”

Bursey’s tone was casual, bland, even, yet Rick heard the warning beneath the surface. But what was Bursey warning them against?

He shifted to let a patron get past him. The rush of air from the open door was cold and clean, welcome after the stale air of the bar. He caught a glimpse of a man in the doorway, head lowered, his shoulder raised as he awkwardly shrugged into his coat. Then the man was gone and the outer door swung shut.

Beside him, Maggie settled her own jacket more comfortably on her shoulders. “See you around, Dave.”

It was a challenge, not a question.

The police chief nodded. “Sure, Maggie. You know what I think of you and the Cuppa Joe’s.”

“Yeah,” said Maggie coolly. “I know.”

“And you, Dr. Dornier,” the chief added, shifting his attention to Rick. Beneath the broad brim of the Stetson, the man’s eyes narrowed. “You hear anything about your sister, you let us know.”

Rick held that hard gaze for a minute, fighting down anger. What in hell was all this about? More important, what did it have to do with Tina?

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll do that.” He turned to Maggie. “Ready?”

She was out the door before he could open it for her, her car keys in her hand. Swearing, Rick pulled on his own coat and started after her.

From the far side of the lot came the sound of an engine starting. It wasn’t enough to drown the voice from the doorway behind him.

“Mr. Dornier? Rick? Rick! Wait up!”

It was the waitress, Karin. She hadn’t even bothered to grab a coat before rushing outside. From the corner of his eye, Rick saw Maggie stop, then walk back toward them, but he wasn’t concerned about her right now.

Karin came to a panting halt beside him. “That man you were looking for? The one Tina was talking to? I saw him!”

He stiffened, the cold and Bursey both forgotten. “What? Where? He’s inside?”

She shook her head, then wrapped her arms around her body, shivering. “I’m not real sure, you know? But I’m pretty sure it’s him. I noticed him because he’s really good-looking? And then I noticed that he was watching you and Maggie and I thought, Wow! That’s him!”

Rick gritted his teeth against the urge to shake her. “Where is he now?”

Karin was almost dancing from cold and excitement. “He left. Right before you did. He walked right by you. I thought sure you’d see him!”

At the far side of the lot, a black Ford pickup pulled out of its space. The driver, invisible at this distance, pulled into the street without stopping and sped away.

Maggie was already running. Rick caught the beep of the electric door locks on her car.

“Come on!” she shouted. “My car’s closest!”

He barely managed to squeeze into the passenger seat and slam the door shut before she roared out of the parking lot after the pickup.




Chapter 3


The pickup was three blocks away and moving fast.

The speed limit was thirty-five. Maggie was doing fifty by the time she’d reduced the gap to a block and a half. Ahead, the traffic light changed from green to amber.

Her grip on the wheel tightened as she scanned the intersection. She slowed just enough to confirm there were no cars coming, then roared on through as the light changed from amber to red.

Thank God it was the middle of the week and most people were home rather than out partying.

Maggie glanced in her rearview mirror—no cops in sight—then stepped on the gas. When there were only two cars remaining between them and the pickup, she slowed, then dodged behind a minivan.

Beside her, Rick Dornier strained forward, heedless of the seat belt cutting him in half. “You can catch him if you step on it.”

The whiplash urgency of his words told her all she needed to know about his fears for his sister’s safety. Fears he probably hadn’t admitted, even to himself.

“We want to follow him, not scare him off,” she said. But the next chance she got, she zoomed past the minivan, hoping their quarry wouldn’t notice.

Now there was only one car between them.

She easily made it through two more stoplights, but had to push it to slip through the third. And then there weren’t any lights at all for a while. Traffic was steady, but too light. The longer they were behind the pickup, the greater the chances its driver would spot them.

Worried, Maggie dropped back and let another car slide in front of her.

“That guy’s gotta know he’s being followed.” Rick words came out calm, controlled, but Maggie could hear the tension underlying them.

“Doesn’t matter,” Maggie lied. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him glance at her, his gaze sharp, assessing. If her wild driving bothered him, he hadn’t given any sign of it.

“What matters is we don’t lose him,” she amended, braking slightly to let another car slide in between her and the pickup, now three cars up.

“What matters is that I want to talk to him.” Rick’s gaze was still fixed on her, a fact that Maggie, who prided herself on her imperviousness, was finding oddly unsettling.

His eyes seemed to glow gold in the darkness of the car’s interior. Like a wolf’s, she thought, then forced her attention back to the road.

She knew the instant he looked away—it was as if he’d suddenly let go of the invisible cord on which he’d held her.

Ahead, the driver of the pickup slowed and abruptly turned left, without signaling. There wasn’t room to pass the car ahead before the turn, but the instant Maggie got the Subaru’s nose into the turn, the pickup was already at the next intersection and accelerating fast.

“You might want to step on it,” Rick suggested in a voice whose calmness couldn’t quite mask the dangerous tension beneath the surface. “If he didn’t know he was being followed before, he does now.”

Maggie shot him an annoyed glance and stepped on it.

“He’s turning! There! Down that alley.” Rick smacked the dashboard in frustration. “He’s spotted us, dammit!”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to ditch us.”

Maggie whipped the Subaru into the alley. The sturdy little car bucked as it hit a pothole, then another. The headlights carved a mad slash against the unlit blackness, highlighting a battered Dumpster, some abandoned crates and the faceless brick walls of the buildings on either side.

At the other end of the alley, the driver of the pickup shot across the next street and back into the unlit alley beyond. The driver of the car he’d almost rammed laid on the horn in protest. The angry wail grew louder as Maggie shot across the street, then faded again as she drove into the alley after the truck.

Beside her, Rick cursed as she hit another pothole and his head hit the roof.

They burst out of the alley and into a tire-squealing turn as the pickup turned left and roared the wrong way up the one-way street.

He didn’t try that stunt again, but Maggie almost lost him more than once as he wove his way through the traffic and the warren of alleys and one-way streets that marked this part of town.

Eventually, he gave up trying to shake them and turned onto an old two-lane highway leading out of town.

“Where does this road go?” Rick was leaning forward, hands braced against the dashboard, his attention fixed on the truck ahead of them like a hungry wolf hot on the scent of his prey.

In the cramped confines of the car, he seemed a lot bigger than he had in the coffee shop, leaner and more dangerous.

“North,” she said. “Into the mountains.”

“Where all he needs to do to ditch you is find a really bad four-wheel-drive road.”

Maggie couldn’t stop the growl of disgust that rose in her throat. “Yeah. And around here, we’ve got plenty of those.”

Ahead, the truck speeded up to pass a car, then another truck. He slid back into his lane just before an oncoming car prevented Maggie from following him. Then taillights flared as the pickup’s driver braked suddenly, then turned off the highway and headed toward the mountains.

“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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