Guns and the Girl Next Door Read online

  Her legs wobbled and every inch of her trembled, but she managed to stumble to her feet with him for support. “Oh, man.”

  “You okay?” he asked when he had her on her feet, standing near what once was his front door.

  “I think so. My head hurts but not too bad.” She wiped an unsteady hand through her hair. Her fingers snagged on leaves and a few pieces of cubed glass. “How did I get here?”

  “I was wondering that same thing.” He guided her to his couch that was just about the only piece of nearby furniture to survive the crash, and only half of that was usable.

  He also took a second to size up his opponent. Late twenties, five-seven or so, slim with an innocent round face that easily could be telling a lie or two.

  She probably needed a glass of water and an ambulance, but he wasn’t ready to offer either yet. No one wandered around these dense woods at night. Beautiful blondes with bright green eyes rarely came out this way unless he invited them, and that didn’t happen all that frequently either. He used hotels in D.C. for that sort of thing, preferring to keep his private life at home very private.

  “Tell me why you were out here,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “On my property.” Except for a historic estate about ten miles away, he was the only one out there.

  Two miles of wooded land separated him from the main road. He used to think that was enough space. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  “I was…” Her eyes grew huge as her mouth fell flat. “Oh, my God.”

  “What?”

  “I have to—”

  She tried to stand up, but he anchored her next to him on the cushions. “Whoa.”

  “You don’t understand.” Her gaze darted around the room. Her hands were in constant motion as if the energy inside her had sparked to life and wanted to get moving.

  He soothed a hand over her shoulder. “Explain it to me.”

  “I have to call the police.”

  “Why?”

  “The accident.”

  The last thing he wanted was a squad of police cars swarming all over his property. If he had to, then yes, but he wanted to put it off until he understood exactly who Mia was and why she was in his house.

  “Did you fall asleep at the wheel?”

  “No.”

  She sounded as if she had her full memory back now. “Was anyone in the car with you?”

  She patted the pockets of her ripped and smudged pants. “It’s here somewhere.”

  Watching her move, he still couldn’t tell what was happening. “What are you looking for?”

  “My cell. I have to call the police and my office.”

  “Mia, listen to me—”

  “Now I remember. I dropped it.”

  He put one of his hands over hers. “Doesn’t matter.”

  She stopped shifting and babbling and stared up at him. “Wait, what did you say?”

  He could barely follow her zigzagging conversation. “Tell me what happened out there.”

  She swallowed hard enough for him to see her throat move. “I hit someone.”

  That’s what he feared. He had not one but two victims running around his property. “So, there was a car accident?”

  She toed the pile of what used to be his coffee table and now barely qualified as kindling. “Look around you.”

  “I meant before you came sailing through the window.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “But you’re saying there’s a person out there who needs help.” He had some training, the usual military survival stuff but not much more. If the injuries were serious, he’d need help.

  “No.” Her voice sounded far away, almost dreamy.

  “Mia?”

  “He’s dead.” Her eyes focused, looking clear for the first time. “I killed him.”

  Holden had no idea who the “he” was or what was happening, but the lady seemed to need soothing and no one else was there to do it, so he tried. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  She stared him down. “I hope it is.”

  Chapter Three

  Mia sat there, looking into a pair of ice-blue eyes and wondering why the guy just happened to be holding a gun when she drove through his wall.

  “You’re not making sense,” the mystery man said.

  That probably had something to do with being terrified. If her body shook any harder, her brain might start rattling. It was bad enough her back teeth kept knocking together. She also had to deal with the pain above her eyes and bones that had turned to jelly.

  First, she got attacked by her usually boring boss. That one still didn’t make sense. Now a guy with a scowl harsh enough to make her swallow her tongue in panic sat just inches away. With his coal-black hair and broad shoulders, he reminded her of some of the secret-service teams that walked through the Rayburn House Office Building where she worked.

  This guy had an air of danger to him. The muscles straining under the sleeves of his black T-shirt should have scared her, but he didn’t give off that serial-killer vibe. Not that she knew how killers acted in these situations.

  Right now, the only confirmed killer in the room was her. “He attacked me. Wouldn’t stop.”

  “Who?”

  The scene ran through her mind. Crazed eyes. Mumbled accusations. “He wanted me dead.”

  “Let me try this again—who?” The mystery man moved his hand to her arm.

  She stared down at his long fingers and tried not to flinch. If he was dangerous, she didn’t want to tick him off. She’d had enough of that for one evening. “What’s your name?”

  This time he didn’t answer a question with one of his own. “Holden Price.”

  Nothing about that name gave her insight into who he was or how much he might want to hurt her. A solid name. Of course, so was Ted Bundy.

  She needed a phone and reinforcements, preferably the type that wore badges and carried bigger guns than Holden. Knowing she was finally safe also would be a relief.

  “Now,” he said. “Let’s skip to the part where you tell me about this other person.”

  She was more concerned with knowing everything about the potential threat in front of her. “You live here?”

  Holden exhaled with just enough exasperation to let her know his patience was wearing thin. “I did until your recent redecorating, but I’m not the issue here. You are.”

  “I need to call the police.”

  Holden didn’t move. “Tell me who you think you killed. Give me his name.”

  No harm in sharing that information. Everyone would know soon anyway. You couldn’t kill someone of her boss’s stature without making the news.

  “Bram Walters,” she said.

  Holden’s face fell. He actually went from looking frustrated to looking confused. “As in Congressman Bram Walters?”

  “Same one.”

  Holden’s gaze roamed over her face. “I don’t recognize you.”

  Maybe the headache was the cause, but that was a comment that didn’t fit. “Why would you?”

  “I know Walters.”

  Not possible. She’d remember Holden. A guy who looked like him didn’t walk into the congressional office without every single girl fluffing her hair and practicing her smile. Put a suit on this man and he’d still have the Tall, Dark and Devastating thing down.

  “I’m one of Congressman Walters’s legislative assistants,” she said.

  “In the D.C. office?”

  She didn’t understand Holden’s obsession with her employment. His questions swam around in her head until she thought her skull would explode. “I’ve been there about two months.”

  “And now you think you killed the man you work for.” Holden said the words nice and slow, hovering over each one.

  “I ran him over.”

  “With your car.” That comment took even longer for Holden to get out.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “You’re saying Walters was at my house.”

  She pressed
a hand against her head to keep it from falling forward into her lap. “In the area.”

  Holden blew out a long breath. “Interesting.”

  “If I didn’t kill him it wasn’t for a lack of trying.”

  This time the corner of Holden’s mouth kicked up in a smile. “I’d recommend you phrase that differently when you talk with the police.”

  Police. Trials. The press. This was all bad. The head spinning picked up speed. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Me either.”

  It wasn’t all that difficult to pick up on the shock in Holden’s voice. Crossing him off the serial-killer list had proved a bit easier in the past few minutes. If he wanted to hurt her, he would have done it by now. Maybe he was the reclusive type, but he didn’t strike her as a threat.

  That realization slowed the runaway drumming of her heart. Well, it did until he got up and she got a close-up view of the gun balanced in the waistband of his pants.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  He shot her an expression that suggested she wasn’t too bright. “To look for Walters.”

  “Why?”

  Holden’s eyes widened at that. “In case he’s still alive and needs help.”

  “You can’t.” She jumped up and grabbed Holden’s arm, ignoring the tossing and turning in her stomach.

  “Why is that?”

  “My boss is dangerous.” And the last thing she needed was a second round with him.

  Guilt washed over her every time the image of the Congressman falling under her car replayed in her mind. Not that she’d had a choice. In a contest between them over who would live, she’d rather think of her boss as dead.

  “Walters wears a suit and sits behind a desk all day making decisions without regard to the facts.” Holden removed her fingers. “Trust me, I’m not afraid of him.”

  She focused in on Holden’s comment. Blocked out everything else. “That’s a pretty specific impression.”

  “I know politicians.”

  She didn’t buy that explanation. Headache or not, this was something else. Something deeper and more personal. “I’m getting the sense you know this congressman.”

  “If you’re right about killing him, we should be using the past tense.”

  She felt the need to defend her actions. “He went insane out there.”

  “Which brings me to my biggest question.” Holden slipped the gun out of his pants and held it at his side. “Why were you on my property with Walters?”

  Seeing the weapon brought the panic rushing back and the searing headache right behind. It screamed along her senses, paralyzing her. “I don’t know.”

  “Try again.”

  “I don’t.”

  Holden shifted the gun behind him and leaned down until they were eye to eye. “Mia, I’m not playing around here. I want the truth.”

  Law enforcement. She’d bet her life on it. She knew the beast. The way he repeated her name. The steady tone to his voice. She’d dated a cop for two years. Holden had the same calm assurance. He oozed control and confidence.

  And he handled that gun like a pro.

  “The Congressman drove me out here, kept asking me who I was working for—”

  Holden held up his free hand. “I thought you worked for him.”

  “I 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.”

&nbs
p; “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. Looked as if those days were over. “How did you get there?”

  “It’s an educated assumption.”