Her Assassin For Hire. Danica Winters
women and one child.
During the strike, she and Eli had been forced to camp out under the stars while they waited for the brothers to return to their compound. While she had tracked the brothers’ phones, she and Eli had started out talking about throwaway things—the weather, locations and food preferences. After a few hours, however, something changed and they began talking about those things in life that make a person unique—family, beliefs, culture. He had even told her about growing up in rural Idaho, near Boise, where he had learned to shoot a BB gun and take care of his family’s bevy of animals.
The number one rule of their occupation as hit men was that everything was a secret. To open up, even the tiniest bit meant death.
But as they had talked, she forgot that rule. She was surprised to learn that he was such a sucker for animals. Maybe it was the thought of him holding a puppy, but whatever reservations she had about their growing intimacy quickly disappeared.
Everything between them changed. They became a team. And then that team mentality had taken another turn, and taking aim at killers and thieves had turned into taking aim at each other’s hearts.
She had been a fool to get involved with him. When she kissed him she had stripped her life of one of her best friends and one of just a select few that she had trusted.
The only other person she had trusted in the same way had been her sister. When Trish had been alive, Zoey had been able to turn to her, to talk to her a bit about the things that were going on in her life. Their lives were so unique and challenging that it took someone who had the same lifestyle—one of long nights in bunkers and days spent in the mud—to completely understand what it meant to fall in love.
As she pulled down the road that led to the ranch, her headlights bounced as she hit the obstacle course that had been carved into the dirt by the summer winds and fall freezes. The rhythmic back and forth motion of the car comforted her, knowing that the Widow Maker Ranch was protected by the grounds around it. With potholes and ruts this deep, few would venture down their road; the fewer the people, the better.
After Jarrod and Mindy’s run-in with the Gray Wolves’s—and their leader Bayural’s—hit man, they had been trying to stay out of the public eye. That was, until her reentry into society at the trade show. When it came to protecting the innocent, even if it meant coming out of hiding and putting herself in danger, Zoey had been willing to personally take the risk. Their clothing line would make the world a better, safer place. Women like Trish could use their tac line every day and just maybe Zoey could keep someone else from losing a sister.
She checked her rearview mirror one more time. There was a set of headlights behind her, and in the rural Montana countryside they made her nervous. Though she was sure she was overreacting, she pulled her car to the side of the road and let the person behind her pass by. The sedan was blue and had local plates, but she didn’t get a good look at the driver.
Not for the first time during the drive, she wished she hadn’t gone alone. Mindy had offered to come with her by flying over from Sweden, but Anya—Mindy and Jarrod’s adopted daughter—had come down with a cold and it hadn’t seemed right for her to leave the girl’s side.
Zoey picked up her phone, checking it one more time before she started driving again. As she clicked around her emails and screens, her contacts popped up and front and center was Eli’s information.
Was it a sign that she should call him?
It would be nice to hear his voice one more time—maybe it could provide even more closure and she could put her memories back in the past. She stared at the number and her finger trembled over the green phone icon.
If she called him, for a few moments, it could seem like she wasn’t completely alone. For those few precious minutes, it would be like she could go back in time and fall into the sweet world of flirty banter and the flutter of excitement that always came with hearing his voice.
No. There was no going back in time, no making things right, and no amount of forgiveness that could right her wrongs.
She clicked off her phone and turned back onto the road. She had to be careful not to lead an attacker back to their hideout.
As she slowed down to avoid another rut in the road, a deer careened out of the darkness, sprinting through her headlights and forcing her to slam on her brakes. The phone went flying in the darkness, flipping to the passenger’s side floorboard with a crunching sound. The screen flashed a rainbow shard of colors from the broken screen and died.
The deer stopped on the other side of the road and looked back at her, like it was some messenger of the fates. Bambi killing her phone was one hell of a sign that she was never supposed to get in touch with Eli.
About a half mile from the ranch, the car that had passed her was parked on the side of the road. It looked to be last year’s Chevy sedan. As she slowed down to look inside, she noticed that the driver was gone.
There wasn’t anything near the car, just pastures that led up to the ranch house. Beyond that was public forest. So why would they have pulled over here and gotten out of their car? She glanced around, but the light of her headlights illuminated only a few yards of grass peeking out from under their blanket of heavy snow.
Maybe the driver had to relieve themselves, or it was possible that they were getting high.
No one knew where her family was hiding. Her paranoia was nothing more than her guilt rearing its ugly head. It had been a risk by coming out of hiding for the trade show, but it wasn’t like she had announced to the world that she was going to be there. It had been quick, and she had tried to fly under the radar before the unveiling.
She couldn’t let her anxiety get out of control.
The car was just a car. Besides, her enemies wouldn’t be stupid enough to even give her a clue that they were coming.
She took one more look at the Chevy. Her brother’s favorite joke came to mind. “How do you find a Chevy owner? They’re always sitting in the repair shop.”
It was stupid and not really true, but it made her chuckle. More importantly, it relaxed her nerves.
Jarrod and Trevor were already at the main house, but Chad had gone to Sweden to iron things out with the members of the parliament who had finally come around and allowed them to start work at their manufacturing plants. Only a handful of people knew about Chad’s whereabouts. She hoped that their being split up would make it harder for any one of them to be located by the people who wanted them all dead. They had been smart and prudent.
We are safe, she told herself.
She peeked back at the car. Still empty.
It’s okay. It’s human nature to feed into fear-based paranoia, she thought, trying to put a name to her feelings in an attempt to get them under control.
There was a long-standing conversation that circulated throughout law enforcement and military personnel about the differences between paranoia and preparedness. It wasn’t crazy or over-the-top to think about the “what ifs” and to take steps to mitigate any dangers. What was crazy was believing that all the “what ifs” were real and out to destroy her.
She considered pulling over and running a scan for any unusual cell phone signals that could be found nearby. But she shrugged off the paranoia and just kept driving.
She sighed, finding more comfort in the vast control that was at her fingertips thanks to technology—her bread and butter.
When it came to tech, she was a badass.
Sitting up a little bit in her seat, she blew off the last bits of fear that wafted through her. The car was nothing.
As she pulled through the gates of the ranch, their newest acquisition, Sir Galahad of Lucktown also known as Sarge, their black gelding, stuck his head over the front fence. He whinnied in greeting as she got out of her car. He threw his head has he pranced around near the fence line.
“Heya, Sarge. Hoping for a cookie,