Riley (The Kendall Family #3) (4 page)

Kris’ eyes narrowed and she took a step toward Jordan. “Fucking bitch. I’ll find out—”

“Whoa there.” Riley put an arm on her, surprised by how much strength he needed to exert to stop his sister. “Let me handle this.”

She turned fiery eyes on her little brother. “Then why did you send the dog for us?”

Before Riley had a chance to answer, Quinn brought up something. “You called Cousin Ryan?”

Riley shook his head. “No. I’ll handle this.”

“C’mon, man. This is attempted murder.”

“If Ryan gets involved, then he’s another Kendall mixed up in this, but even worse is that he’s a cop.”

“That’s exactly why we need him,” Quinn argued.

“No. If the cops come, I won’t get the truth out of her.”

“Of course you will. What makes you think you’d get more out of her than them?”

Riley hesitated and then admitted, “Because I can do things that are illegal.”

Quinn gave him a concerned look. “Tell me you don’t mean torture.”

“Call it whatever you like.”

“Jesus, Riley.”

“Look, don’t get all high and mighty on me. She tried to
kill
me, remember? In war, anything goes.”

Looking eager, Kris admitted, “He’s got a point.”

Quinn frowned. “I don’t like it. And when did
you
get so harsh?”

She shrugged, eyes hard.

“You don’t have to like it,” said Riley, before realizing that sounded mean. He softened his tone. “If I don’t get the truth out of her, whoever hired her can just send someone else to finish the job. I’m not gonna be a sitting duck. That means me leaving. Possibly for good.”

Kris arched an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

“Because if I stay here, you guys can get caught in the crossfire.”

Quinn’s eyes widened. “Shit.”

“Exactly. And do you want me on the run my whole life?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I have to get this information.”

Kris asked, “What about the Marines? Surely they can get it out of her.”

“Probably, but then I have to wait, if they ever tell me. I don’t like it. I want to
know
I’m safe, not
think
I am. That goes for all of you, too. Right now I’m in charge. I want to keep it that way.”

Quinn sighed, crossing his arms and glancing through the closed door. “Okay, I changed my mind. We keep Ryan out of it. For now.”

Kris asked, “What are you gonna do when you find out who hired her?”

The Marine replied, “Track them down and kill them. If there’s a hit out on me, she isn’t the only one willing and able to do the job.”

“Jesus,” said Quinn. “Just what did you do in the Marines?”

“Kill people. Important people. Dangerous ones. With friends. I guess somebody figured out who I am and wants revenge. Can’t say I blame whoever it is.”

Kris asked, “I thought everything was covert?”

“Shit happens. People have ways of finding out things.”

“Wouldn’t support from the Marines make this easier?” Quinn asked.

“Maybe. I want info first. Then I’ll call them, depending on what I learn.”

The big guy looked at the closed door again. “So what now?”

“I want both of you to stay here and watch her. She’s cuffed to the bed and there’s no way she’s getting out, but I don’t want her unattended.”

“You’re sure she can’t escape?”

“I’d say 100% but I’ve never liked overconfidence. She’s a trained killer, so that’s why I want both of you on her.”

Quinn said, “That doesn’t make me very comfortable.”

That surprised Riley, for his older brother could crack heads with the best of them. “Keep your distance, and if she somehow gets off the bed, just hit her with the Taser I’ll give you and you’ll be able to secure her again.”

Quinn nodded. “Yeah I remember practicing with one.”

Kris looked at him askance. “Really? When was that?”

The big guy smiled. “We like to goof around over here.”

“Do tell.” To Riley, she remarked, “So I assume you’re going somewhere. How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“Depends. Shouldn’t take long to find her perch she shot at me from. I’ll radio when I’m done there and if I get a feel for where her car is. I should find a trail toward it, narrowing the search area. I have a key.” He held it up, the manufacturer logo visible. “A Ford. That’s where I’ll find more info, which will help me interrogate her.”

“How long?”

Riley shrugged, glancing at the deepening shadow of Sugarloaf Mountain outside the window. “Minutes for the perch. Maybe an hour for the car. We’ll see. Have to find the gun before it gets any darker out.”

“I think I should go with you,” Kris suggested.

“Why? You don’t know how to do this kind of work.”

“Because you tend to look suspicious and a little scary, especially when you’ve got that pissed look in your eye. Me being with you will smooth things over with anyone we meet while searching for the car. Besides, do you trust me with that girl in there?”

Quinn chuckled. “She’s got a point.”

Riley said, “Don’t talk to her. In fact, stay out of there. Just watch from out here.”

Quinn shrugged. Riley frowned but figured his brother would do as he asked. He usually did despite being the oldest and technically the head of the family since their parents died. Quinn ran the family winery while Kris, the next oldest, ran Sugarloaf Stables. Their younger sister Chloe worked at the stables, too, while Connor and Tristan, the youngest, ran the family bed-and-breakfast and Kendall Motorsports respectively. Only Riley was unattached, working security for all of them. And yet he was the one whose life was in danger, and if he didn’t find out who was behind it, the others could get caught up in it.

“You have to do what I tell you,” he said to Kris, not wanting any screw-ups. “That goes for both of you.”

“Sure,” Kris agreed.

“Stay here a minute. I need to gather some shit.”

Riley went into the master bedroom and closet, stashing Jordan’s gun in his safe and tucking his own into his pants. He emerged minutes later with a Taser, earpieces, three radios, a gun scope, and a small backpack. He gave a radio and earpiece to Kris and Quinn, though Kris would hopefully be staying with him the whole time. Quinn was to stay outside the room, Taser in hand, but leave the door cracked enough to keep an eye on Jordan, so Riley grabbed him a chair to get comfortable.

Downstairs, from the living room where he’d been sitting when the bullet shattered the picture, he looked through the scope to get an idea where Jordan might’ve fired from, marking possible locations in his head. After a final stop in the kitchen to take water with them, he set off with Kris across the backyard, which was empty save for a few tables to use as perches for the range.

“Let’s take to the trees,” he suggested, stepping into the mountain’s shadow. “Stay behind me.”

“Why?”

“She came down from her perch this way and might’ve left signs to follow back.”

“Just what the hell happened, Riley?”

He related the details, leaving off the part about Jordan’s nudity, though he doubted Kris would disapprove. Still, she was a little more astute than he sometimes wanted and he didn’t want her to sense his attraction to the would-be murderer. He didn’t need anyone pointing out that his interest could compromise his investigation. He had it under control, well aware that this was exactly what people who didn’t have it under control thought of themselves.

But he was a sniper. Self-restraint came with the job. So did long hours of holding very still and waiting for one moment of intense action, which was sometimes immediately followed by an all-hell-has-broken-loose run for your life. He wondered about Jordan’s choice to kill this way. She could’ve just knocked on the door and, when he answered, shot him. That had its disadvantages, such as being caught more easily, or blood getting on her, but she must’ve thought the rifle was the safest, least messy way. Maybe he’d interrogate her for that tidbit later. He’d enjoyed their conversation more than he should’ve, not only for her boner-inducing defiance, taut muscles, and silky skin tones, but for the fun he’d had teasing information out of her. She responded so vivaciously that he wondered what would happen if he got his fingers, lips, and tongue on her.

He and Kris climbed a short hill separately, scanning for signs of Jordan’s passage or weapon and not seeing much.

“She may have stashed it,” Riley observed, “but she came to the house quickly.”

“We don’t get much foot traffic here, so maybe not.”

“Never hurts to be careful.” As he said it, he pulled out the scope and looked back at the house, realizing Jordan had likely been farther to one side because he couldn’t see the picture she’d hit, so he moved that way, using his sniper’s experience to figure out where he would’ve taken the same shot from. He began to purposefully survey the area, and quickly homed in on a likely spot, when his eyes caught the black of a bag mostly buried under leaves. By the look of it, hastily. Calling Kris over, he brushed the leaves off and wasn’t surprised to find a soft, rectangular rifle case. Lifting the flap revealed the weapon lying inside, unfastened as if she’d put it in fast and gone for the house.

“Jesus, you really weren’t kidding,” Kris remarked, stopping beside him. “Anything interesting?”

“Not yet.” He rifled through the bag’s exterior pockets, briefly wondering why Jordan hadn’t left the car keys here. But then if someone had found the bag, she’d be out a ride. And likely a purse or something similar, which he expected to find at the car. He only found spare bullets, gun cleaning items, and a few other items of no real interest. Zipping up the bag, he rose and slung it over one shoulder.

“Time to find the car,” Kris suggested.

“Yeah. Let me update Quinn.” Riley clicked the radio’s talk button and got Quinn’s attention, relaying details.

Quinn’s deep voice came over the radio. “She’s been asking for water.”

Riley answered, “Forget it. She hasn’t been captive that long. I don’t want you getting that close in case she tries something.”

“Okay.”

Riley clicked it off and followed Kris, who’d already found signs of recent passage that strongly suggested where Jordan had come from. They began climbing toward the mountain’s top.

“Would it be faster to just take a car up there?” Kris asked. “There are only a few parking areas and the car has to be at one of them.”

“Maybe, but it’s probably about the same.”

“Fair enough.”

It didn’t take long to reach a narrow trail, bumpy with mostly-buried rocks the size of a turkey everywhere underfoot. This required a certain amount of watching their step to avoid twisting an ankle, but the Kendalls had been climbing all over this mountain since they were kids. Both of them were in good shape and easily ascended nearly a thousand feet toward the first parking area. They passed other hikers more often as they neared the top, since that’s where most people started hiking from.

“Good thing that case you’re carrying isn’t shaped like a usual one,” Kris remarked as they neared one of several lookout points for sightseers, where the first parking area lay.

Riley nodded. “No surprise. I use a rectangular one in urban areas, too, so it’s less obvious what I’m carrying.” Other rifle cases sloped along one side in such a way that anyone who recognized that would realize what he carried.

The trail widened and opened into a cleared area where pine needles littered the ground among a handful of widely spaced picnic tables, a trash bin, and a board telling people about Sugarloaf Mountain. Pulling out the car key, Riley approached the two rows of parked cars just beyond, his eyes on the lookout for a Ford. Each time he saw one, he pressed the key fob, but none of the cars reacted.

“Up there,” Kris suggested, nodding at a dozen cars parked around the corner. Like all mountain roads, this one twisted back and forth. Since the lot was full on this warm summer day, some people had elected to park on the winding road. The siblings walked through the stand of trees separating them and on the first click of the fob, the lights on a white Mustang convertible flashed in the growing dusk.

“Interesting choice of cars,” Kris remarked, heading that way.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” he agreed, more intrigued by Jordan. A sniper usually tried to keep a low profile, but a convertible attracted attention. Adopting a casual demeanor, he unlatched the roof and pressed the button to open the top, which peeled back to cast full sunlight on the black interior. Nothing but a water bottle. Kris opened the glove box and arm rest but saw nothing in either.

“Trunk?” Kris asked, moving toward it.

“Almost certainly,” he said, pressing the trunk release button on the fob.

She got there first and lifted the lid. And there sat a small black backpack. Riley poked it with the rifle bag on the off chance it was booby-trapped, but nothing happened and he dumped the gun into the trunk, hauling out the little bag. To be discreet, he closed the trunk and suggested they sit in the car. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he began going through the bag, which had some spare clothes, a knife, rope, more ammo, and her purse. The latter held what Riley thought of as the usual girl stuff, but what interested him was the intel.

“Virginia license,” he noted out loud. “A place in Fairfax. Probably a UPS Store box.”

Kris furrowed her brow. “What makes you say that?”

“I doubt she’d list somewhere she actually stays.”

“Could be a post office box.”

Riley shook his head. “Some places don’t accept one on paperwork because they want a residence. For the post office, you have to indicate it’s a post office box, but at a UPS Store you can use something like Suite 123 instead of Box 123. It’s the same shit but fools government agencies and other places into thinking it’s your residence or place of business.”

She made a sound. “Didn’t know that.”

“Name’s a fake.” He handed her the license while looking through the purse more.

“Julia Thomas, age 25, 5’ 9”, 140 pounds.”