Guns and the Girl Next Door. HelenKay Dimon
do…did. I actually don’t know what happens now that he’s dead.”
“We’ll go with the assumption he’s very much alive. If so, I don’t get the comment about you working for someone else.”
“Neither did I. The Congressman wanted to know what I was looking for in the system.” The man had screamed it at her. That memory hadn’t faded one bit. “I have no idea what he was talking about.”
“System?”
“His personal computer. He keeps a laptop in the office. The only thing I can think of is he thought I broke into it for some reason.”
A strange look flashed on Holden’s face. Before she could decipher it, the expression disappeared. He morphed back into big-man-blank-look mode.
“Did you?” he asked.
“Why would I?”
“Why would you drive through my house?” He gestured around the room. “See? There are many questions that need answering here.”
“If you say so.”
“I do, but right now we’re going outside.”
“No.” Smart women did not go running around in the dark with strange men. They also didn’t race back into trouble once they’d escaped it. “Definitely not.”
From the frown it was clear Holden didn’t care for her refusal one bit. “Excuse me?”
“The police.”
“You can keep saying that but it’s not going to happen. Not until I know what we’re dealing with here.”
She glanced around for a phone, careful not to move her head too fast. The thing must be under her car because she didn’t see it. “A dead member of the House of Representatives. That’s kind of a big deal, don’t you think?”
“I’m not the one who killed him.”
She stopped. “You’re not funny.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that.” Holden’s stare wandered over her, hovering a bit too long on her breasts before continuing down.
“Are you done?”
He had the nerve to look confused at that. “With what?”
“Never mind.”
“Okay. You stay here.”
“I don’t even know where here is.”
He hitched his head in the direction of the hood of her car. “I’d tell you to watch some television, but you drove over it.”
She had bigger problems at the moment and sure hoped he had insurance. “How will you find the Congressman?”
“He’ll be the one on the ground.”
Holden might not be a physical threat, but he sure was a smart-mouth. At the moment, she wasn’t a fan of the personality trait. “I mean in all that space out there. You must have five acres of nothing but woods.”
“More than that but not all of it’s mine.”
“Are you purposely misunderstanding me?”
He shot her his second smile. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I’ll be right back.” He made it to the gaping hole that used to be his door before he turned around again. “Forget that. I was right the first time. You’re coming along.”
She could barely stand up and he wanted her to run around in the dark. She was smart enough to know that wasn’t a great idea. “Because?”
“I don’t trust you behind me.”
“You’re the one with the gun.”
“Which is why I’m making the rules.”
Chapter Four
Holden thought about turning on the floodlights. He had rigged the setup in the yard for an occasion just like this. He could outline every corner of his property and start a real search, but he decided against it.
Something was very wrong here, and not just the idea that he might have a dead Congressman on the premises. The problem was the identity of the possible deceased.
What were the odds the guy Holden secretly had been investigating would mistakenly find his way here, to the outskirts of Fredericksburg, Virginia, fifty miles and a world away from the hustle of Washington, D.C.? To a place Holden lived but most people mistook for the wooded back half of a huge horse farm. The answer: not good.
“Can we walk slower?” Mia asked.
He glanced over at her. She tried to hide a slight limp, but he picked up on it. Or, he had now that she complained. “You okay?”
“A bit sore from being slammed into the dash board.”
“Not to point out the obvious, but it wouldn’t have happened if you had an air bag.”
“It was stolen.”
“Tonight?”
“About a month ago. Outside my apartment.” She grumbled something about rotten thieves. “I parked under a streetlight and still.”
“Where the hell do you live?”
“Southwest D.C.”
“I hate the city.” With the Recovery Project office downtown closed pending the congressional hearings, he had no reason to go to D.C. He hadn’t been to the one-bedroom apartment he kept near the office for emergencies in weeks. He didn’t have any plans to visit it now either.
“It’s downright creepy out here,” she said.
A city girl. “You get used to it.”
“Everything looks the same.” She stopped and turned around in a circle.
“That sort of thing happens in the woods.” This time she didn’t grab her head or look ready to throw up. He guessed the adrenaline had kicked in and masked the pain. Either that or this woman could fake her way through any situation. The latter option had him on edge and ready to take her down if necessary.
“How do you know which direction I drove in from?” she asked.
He pointed at the ground. “Following the tire tracks. While we’re on that subject, did you even try hitting the brakes before you crashed into my house?”
“I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, what with killing my boss and all.”
“I guess that’s fair.”
As they walked, he glanced at the tall trees blocking his view of the sky. Her tires had kicked up dirt and spread gravel and leaves everywhere. “I’m not seeing anything out here except for the landscaping you mowed down.”
“Does that mean you don’t believe me?”
“Oh, I know you hit something.”
“Is this a trust issue or do you have some superpowers I need to know about?”
Gone were the initial dazed look and slurred words. The more air she got, the more sarcastic she became. For some reason, he liked this version better.
“I saw the blood on your fender,” he said.
“I have a theory.”
The jump in the conversation threw him for a second but he didn’t let on. “About?”
“You’re not rushing to call the police because you are the police.” She looked pleased with her theory.
“Wrong guess.”
“You’re law enforcement of some type.”
Was.