Perilous Games (Gray Tower Book 3) Page 8

  And of course, she finally did have to come back inside at some point. That’s when she walked in and found Mercer fussing over his crazy rifle.

  “An M4A1 carbine, fully automatic,” he replied casually.

  He continued fussing with the thing.

  Her eyes skimmed over the table and saw the trunk that he had taken in with them at the motel.

  Ah, so that’s what he was carrying in that thing, she realized.

  “Please don’t tell me you’ll need that,” she murmured, suddenly very nervous.

  If Mercer felt the need to tote around that thing with him, maybe she was in big trouble after all? It had only been a day and a half since those thugs had come to her house. She had started to relax a little bit without any shooting or chasing in her life.

  “Better safe than sorry,” he said, shrugging slightly.

  “Is that…even legal to own?” Ashlen stammered.

  “No, not really, but my job has some perks,” he said.

  Oh Lord, please help me, she thought. Is this guy for real?

  Although she did have to say, he did look hot standing there with it in his hands.

  “Well, can you put it away?” Ashlen finally demanded.

  She had had enough guns and shooting for quite a while.

  “Don’t tell me that this thing makes you nervous?” He asked, a slight grin coming to his face.

  “Yes!” She burst out. “Yes, it does! I think I was shot at enough this weekend to hope for a little break from guns for a while, okay?”

  Mercer did something that Ashlen had never seen or heard him do before: he laughed. It was a deep, low laugh.

  Sexy.

  It brightened up his face and made his scars look a little less harsh. She might have even liked it if it hadn’t been at her expense.

  “I take it you’ve never held, fired, or touched a gun before, right?” He asked her, still chuckling a little.

  She nodded slowly.

  “Okay, well here’s the thing,” he continued. “If you’re worried about getting shot at, shouldn’t you at least know how to shoot back? Or at least make it seem like you could shoot back?”

  Crap.

  That was good logic. It was hard to argue with good logic. However, she still didn’t want to be anywhere near that thing.

  “Here,” he said, setting down the “carbine” and pointing toward the back door that led out to the deck. “Come with me.”

  She reluctantly followed him out to the deck. He stood by the wooden railing and took his handgun out of his shoulder holster. He then ejected the magazine and racked the slide. She watched a bullet pop out, and he pocketed it. It unnerved Ashlen a bit to know that it had been loaded.

  “Okay,” he started. “Gun safety 101. Your first rule: always treat a gun like it’s loaded. Never point it at anyone you don’t intend to kill. Got it?”

  “Okay…” She mumbled.

  “Got it?” Mercer questioned a little bit louder. He was going to make sure that she got his lessons down right.

  “Yes,” she told him, much more firmly this time.

  “Alright, now we’re getting somewhere,” he told her.

  During that time out on the deck, he showed her a lot of things. He showed her how to hold a gun, how to take the safety on and off, how to unload and load a magazine, how to stand, and then how to aim. It was when he was showing her how to aim that she started getting those butterflies again. He had gotten up right behind her, pressed himself against her, and showed her how she needed to aim, guiding her arms to where they needed to go.

  “When you shoot it, it’s going to kick,” he told her, his breath blowing against her neck.

  She was trying hard to concentrate, but his proximity was distracting her. She was starting to feel flushed.

  “Be prepared for it. Compensate for it.”

  He was distractingly close, his arms guiding hers. His breath was brushing her neck. His arms felt strong against hers. He was right against her, showing her how to aim.

  So flustered, she said, “I think I’ve got it.”

  Mercer was so close to her that his lips almost brushed against her neck when he spoke to her. She shuddered at the touch.

  “Are you sure?” He asked, his voice sounding concerned.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” she told him, although her voice was shaky.

  She handed the handgun back to him, making sure the barrel was pointed away and her finger was off the trigger. From his expression, he seemed pleased for once. Maybe she had learned something from him after all? He took the gun from her, put the magazine back in, racked the slide, and placed it back into his shoulder holster.

  “Well, since you did so well, how about I make us some dinner?” He asked casually. “There are groceries in the fridge, and I’m starting to get hungry.”

  Wait, what was that? Did he just say he was going to make them dinner? Ashlen checked up at the sky to make sure it hadn’t just fallen.

  “Are you joking?” She finally stammered.

  “I don’t joke about food, sweetheart,” he told her with a slight grin. “Especially about steaks, and I know I put those on the list for the guy to buy. I feel like I haven’t had a decent meal in days.”

  Well, when Ashlen thought about it, he was probably right. He had been running her around for almost two days now. If she thought that she was tired, he was most definitely more so.

  “Come on,” he continued, opening the door to the cabin. “I’ll show you how to cook a steak right.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Paul moved his Ford Taurus to an off-ramp on the West Virginia Turnpike. It was pushing near six o’clock in the evening. Rodriguez sat beside him, drumming his fingers mindlessly on the door. They had been driving all afternoon after both Paul and his partner had gone home and packed bags. They had also called the sheriff up to set up a meeting time.

  Eskdale was a tiny little mountain town that brushed up against a mountainside and the turnpike. Paul couldn’t imagine living in a place like it; he was a city boy and liked all the commotion. Here, though, the only commotion was the sight of the cars on the turnpike.

  Rodriguez pointed to a gas station and said, “That’s the place we’re meeting both the sheriff and the gas station attendant.”

  As Paul pulled in, he could see the sheriff’s car already parked there. When they got out of the car, the sheriff came out of the station to greet them, uniform and all.

  “Yeah, you guys look like feds alright,” the sheriff told them, his West Virginian accent showing through very noticeably.

  Paul glanced down at his dark suit and dress shoes. So, sue him if he happened to like wearing suits.

  The sheriff extended his hand and introduced himself.

  “Sheriff Joe Wilkins.”

  Paul shook the man’s hand. Then, Rodriguez took his turn.

  “Frank’s closing up the station right now. He’ll be out in a moment.

  “Wait, at six o’clock?” Paul asked in disbelief.

  “Small town on a Sunday,” Rodriguez reminded him.

  When “Frank,” the gas station attendant, came out, he gave a youthful wave to Paul and his partner. The guy could not have been older than twenty.

  “Frank, this is Agent Anderson and Agent Rodriguez of the FBI,” Sheriff Wilkins told him. “They’re here to ask you a few questions about Ron Harper and the incident yesterday morning.”

  “Yeah,” Frank said, crinkling his nose. “Like I told the sheriff, this guy Ron comes to the station every morning, drunk as a skunk. Usually, he stumbles around in the parking lot, and I call Sheriff Joe to come and take him. However, yesterday, we had some people from out of town pull up for gas—a man and a woman. Ron attacked the woman, and the man completely decked him to the ground in one motion. I’ve never seen anything like it. He was like a Kung Fu master or something…

  “Anyhow, I tried to get them to stick around so that they could write a statement for the sheriff. But the guy bolted.”r />
  “Can you give me a description of the man and woman?” Paul asked anxiously. If it was Mercer Cade and Ashlen, he particularly did not like the aspect of her being attacked by a drunk guy.

  “Yeah that was the interesting part,” Frank continued. “The guy was distinctive. He had scarring that ran across one side of his face. And he was a big guy, real tall but real lean as well.”

  “What about the girl?” Paul asked, a lump forming in his throat.

  “Yeah, I remember her too because she was really cute,” Frank said.

  Paul could feel his fists start to clench. Yeah, it was common knowledge that Ashlen was attractive, but he hated when other guys noticed.

  “But she looked frazzled—like she was worried about something.”

  Paul and Rodriguez gave each other a look. Taking a deep breath, Paul pulled out a photo of Mercer Cade and a photo of Ashlen.

  “Are these people the ones you saw yesterday?” Paul asked as he handed the pictures over to Frank.

  Frank studied them for only a few moments when he said, “Oh yeah. That’s them.”

  Paul let out a strained sigh through his teeth. In a way, he was relieved to have confirmation that Ashlen was alive and at least somewhat well. But then again, knowing that she was with this Cade guy made him nervous.

  “Okay,” Paul said, trying to focus on the investigation. “This is going to be important, so I want you to think hard. I want you to describe the relationship between the man and the woman. Was she cooperating with him, or did she seem scared?”

  Frank paused for a moment and replied, “You know, there was something a little odd about her. I thought at the time it was because the drunk had grabbed her, but she was acting weird before she bumped into him.”

  “Weird how?” Rodriguez asked.

  “She seemed a little out of it, honestly,” Frank told them.

  “What about her interaction with the guy she arrived with, the guy with the scars?”

  “You know what…she barely made eye contact with him, like she was afraid of him or something. I thought that was strange, but I also thought she was a little flustered from the attack.”

  Paul’s heart sank. He had hoped that his first theory had been right: that she was with a guy that Peter Cole had hired. But the more he investigated, the more he realized that this might be a true kidnapping.

  Oh, Ashlen, why didn’t you try to say something to the attendant?

  “How did the man with the scars treat her?” Paul asked. “Did he seem abusive at all?”

  “No,” Frank said firmly. “I didn’t see anything like that. The drunk was the abusive one.”

  Paul didn’t know if he should feel relieved or angry. Just knowing that Ashlen had been harmed by someone made him crazy.

  “What kind of car was he driving?” Rodriguez asked.

  “Black SUV. It was pretty dinged up, though. The windshield was cracked.”

  Paul and Rodriguez exchanged glances again. At least their hunches were turning out to be right after all.

  “So, what is this all about, anyhow?” Frank asked, an eyebrow raised.

  “Possible kidnapping plus homicide on top of that,” Paul mumbled. “I suppose they probably didn’t mention where they were going right?”

  “Damn…” Frank murmured before saying, “No, sir. But hey, I do remember that the woman made a restroom stop. Maybe you want to check it out?”

  The women’s restroom was disgusting, but Paul scanned through it carefully. There were messages all over the walls and doors of the stalls.

  “This place smells like shit,” Rodriguez mumbled.

  “Agreed,” Paul commented. “But we don’t have a choice right now.”

  After a thorough examination of the women’s restroom, they could find nothing out of the ordinary. Ashlen had not tried to write a message to them.

  When they left the restroom and got back to the sheriff and gas station attendant, Paul said, “Well, for right now, I think our questions are done. Sheriff, we’ll call you if we need any more information.”

  Sheriff Wilkins nodded and said, “Any time.”

  When Paul and Rodriguez got back in the Taurus and got back on 77, Rodriguez turned to Paul and asked, “So what do you think?”

  Paul shook his head and said, “I don’t know. I’m worried more and more that Ashlen was snatched up by this guy. But why wouldn’t she try to leave a message for anyone?”

  “Well, we’re not in her position. She could be frightened out of her mind. You don’t know what’s going on in her head right now.”

  “Yeah,” Paul mumbled. “Well, we have a lead at this point, and that’s more than I could hope for right now.”

  “So where to now?” Rodriguez asked.

  “Well, we’ll stay overnight in Wytheville and start searching Virginia,” Paul replied. “Since Cade is from there, we might want to poke around and see what we can find. He might have holed up there.”

  “Sounds good,” his partner told him.

  Both fell silent.

  Paul was too busy worrying about Ashlen. He wondered how she was fairing tonight.

  Please be okay, Ash, he thought to himself as he continued south on 77.

  Chapter 10

  What do you think?” Mercer asked Ashlen, realizing that he was a little nervous about his meal.

  He had spent the last hour fussing with the cooking while she watched. She had offered to help many times, but he had refused. For whatever reason, he had wanted to cook for her. She had looked so shocked and pleased when he had mentioned doing it. Besides, she would have insisted on girlie frou-frou side dishes, whereas about all he would be able to tolerate were baked potatoes. Normally, he’d just make the steak and screw everything else.

  He watched her cut and take a bite of her steak. He waited tensely to see how she would react. To his surprise and pleasure, she smiled and shut her eyes.

  “Good?” He asked, taking a bite of his steak.

  Oh yes, he had done a good job.

  “Mm-hm,” she mumbled as she chewed.

  Then he remembered the white wine in the fridge. Mercer wasn’t even sure what kind it was. He hadn’t asked for it. Someone from Gray Tower had taken care of the groceries. He certainly wouldn’t have chosen wine as he didn’t drink on ops. Besides, he never drank wine; he preferred whiskey. But remembering that he had first seen her with a glass of white wine—one that she had dropped in fright—he decided that she might like some.

  Her eyes were wide when he produced the bottle and uncorked it. When he found a glass and poured it, she looked almost overwhelmed. He watched her first sip, and she looked strangely contented.

  Frankly, he didn’t know why he was being so kind to her. This wasn’t his style, but he had been so impressed with her when she had shown some interest in a part of his life without the poking and prodding into his history when he had shown her the ropes of gun safety. It had felt good to show her how to handle a gun. She had been quick to learn. And he had been just a bit aroused when he was showing her how to aim.

  Okay, he had been a lot aroused. If he could have taken her right there, he would have. But that wasn’t what a guy did with Ashlen—at least a guy who had any sense. Yeah, she was a lot of sass, but she was also the sweetest most vulnerable woman he had ever met. She had proved that in the kiss they had shared, a kiss that he kept thinking about.

  “Mercer,” she murmured. “Do you know who it is that wants to kill me?”

  It was such an abrupt turn in conversation that it took Mercer a little bit off guard.

  “I thought you knew,” he replied in disbelief.

  Gray Tower had given him all the information, but he had found it hard to believe that her uncle—who had paid the company quite a lot of money to protect her—would leave her in the dark on how dangerous his dealings could get.

  “No,” she said, her eyes looking a bit tired and worn. “My uncle and I…we don’t talk as much as we used to…”

&nb
sp; Yeah, because the guy is too busy buying and selling weapons, he thought.

  Instead, he said, “Your uncle got in some trouble when he brokered an arms deal with the infamous Bruce Marino and didn’t follow through. There were some supply issues, and your uncle couldn’t follow through in the time frame that Marino wanted. It was important enough that Marino threw a fit and decided to try and speed up your uncle’s shipment by snatching his niece up and using you as ransom.

  “Your uncle is frantically working on getting the shipment in for next weekend, but Marino is pissed. Until Marino gets his shipment, you are on his radar. Marino doesn’t want to kill you, Ashlen, but he will hurt you if he gets his hands on you.”

  Mercer waited for a moment as Ashlen processed this.

  She took another sip of her wine and said, “So, all I have to do is wait until next weekend, and I’ll be okay?”

  “Something like that,” he told her. “But there’s a lot that can go wrong, so you’ll have to lay low for a while until Marino gets happy.”

  She nodded and turned her head toward the spectacular mountain view. She looked incredibly sad. Every urge in him wanted to take her into his bedroom and make her forget about everything that was going on.

  Instead, he promised, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She smiled weakly and took another sip of her wine.

  “I hope you’re right,” she said.

  She walked around the counter he had been standing behind and very gently (standing up on her tippy toes for Christ’s sake) planted a kiss on his cheek—on the scarred side.

  “Thank you for keeping me safe,” she told him.

  He had never had a woman be so tender and sweet with him before. It took everything he had to control himself; he was ready to sweep her off her feet and take her to bed.