Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls) (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Thunder boomed. Stella opened her eyes. She oriented herself as she recognized Mac’s bedroom in the dark. Erotic images played in her mind.

What a night.

Lightning flashed, illuminating Mac sprawled next to her. The room had been warm—and so had their bodies—when they’d finally fallen asleep. The sheet draped across his waist, leaving his torso bare. Her gaze roamed the lean muscle of his arms and chest. She thought about following her eyes with her hands, but it wasn’t even light yet. Why should they both be awake?

Rain burst from the sky and drummed on the roof. Leaves rustled as the wind whipped at the trees. Cool, moist air blew through the open windows, a welcome chill. Another clap of thunder boomed, closer this time. The loud crack brought back the memory of her nightmare. Gunshots and an endless stream of blood. In her dreams, it flowed until it formed a slick, red lake in the grass.

Nausea welled. Moving away from Mac so as not to disturb him, she curled into a ball.

But he stirred, rolling toward her. His hand settled on her hip. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a bad dream.” She balled up tighter.

He stroked a hand down her back, as soothing as the patter of rain.

“Shouldn’t you close the windows?”

He shook his head, scooting closer and pulling her to him until his body spooned hers. “The roof was designed to protect the windows. The rain won’t get in.”

The wind blew the cool scent of wet pine and earth into the room. Stella shivered, and Mac drew the sheet up over her shoulders.

He pressed his lips to her temple. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She sighed, wiggling her butt closer. She loved the feel of his body pressed against hers. He was solid and real and warm. “Just a nightmare.”

“Do you have them often?”

Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “They started back in November.”

“After the shooting?”

“Yes.” She rolled onto her back, flung an arm over her head, and stared up at the ceiling. “They’d been fading, slowly, over the months, but seeing two dead bodies this week seems to have brought them back.”

He stroked the underside of her arm. Last night, he’d found places on her body she hadn’t known were erogenous. Or was it his touch, pretty much anywhere, that stirred desire until it simmered in her veins, thick and hot and as sweet as syrup?

“Have you seen anyone?” he asked.

“You mean a shrink?” She rolled to face him.

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m considering it.” He slid his hand to her hip. “I never really dealt with Lee’s death.”

“And now your father . . .” She cupped his jaw. “Your family has been through so much.”

“Yeah. Putting the issue on my backburner hasn’t worked out for me. I don’t recommend it.” Grief welled into Mac’s eyes. “You should deal with the problem now, instead of letting it grow.”

Like he obviously had.

Stella nestled her head deeper into the pillow. “I don’t have anything against therapy. My required sessions with the department shrink were important after the shooting, but I thought I was getting over it. Looks like I was wrong. I’m not worried about the actual nightmares. I’m pretty sure they’ll fade when this is over. The doctor said they could come and go, depending on triggers.” But as long as she was a cop, her life would never be free of triggers.

“Then what’s bothering you?”

She tucked the sheet over her breasts. “I blew off my pistol qualification last week.”

Mac waited, patient as always, making her feel like one of the wild animals he studied.

“Every time I pull the trigger, I flinch.” Stella flung a hand over her head. “You know about the shooting back in November?”

“Not all the details.”

“The suspect fled, and I shot him. The bullet struck him in the arm, but it didn’t stop him. He went on to do terrible things. He killed two cops. Your sister and Brody almost died.” She smoothed the edge of the sheet against her skin. “If I had stopped him, none of that would have happened. Those two cops would still be alive.”

“You cannot possibly think any of that was your fault.” Mac shifted closer and took her hand. “There is only one person responsible for their deaths: the shooter.”

“My brain knows this, but my heart sees the police chaplain on the doorstep.” A tear slipped from her eye. “Just like when my dad died.”

Mac pulled her into his arms. Holding her against his chest, he stroked her hair. “You know you’re being completely unreasonable. The mayor gave you a medal for your performance in the shootout.”

“How do you know about that?” Stella lifted her head.

“I might have been keeping tabs on you.”

“From the jungle?”

“I didn’t say it was easy.” He brushed the tear from her cheek. “But you’re worth it. I ran all the way to South America, but I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

She rested her head on his chest. Just being in his arms helped. “I’ll see the shrink, but I still have to get through my qualification.”

“Have you been to the range?”

“Not lately. The cop crowd there makes me nervous. I feel like everyone is staring at me, even though they’re not,” Stella said. “I know this is all in my head.”

Mac glanced at the clock. He stood, taking Stella’s hand and dragging her to her feet. “It’s five o’clock. Grab a shower. I’ll make coffee.”

“Where are we going?” Still groggy, Stella headed for the bathroom. She turned on the spray to let the water warm up.

Mac was sending a text. “Firing range.”

“Who are you texting?”

“Hannah. No one makes shooting more fun than she does.”

“It’s not even light out.”

“She gets up early.” His gaze darkened as he scanned her from head to toe. “It’s a real shame, but I guess you’ll need clothes.”

“I keep a bag in the trunk of my car.” Crime scenes were rough on her wardrobe.

Forty-five minutes later, they pulled into the dirt and gravel parking area. Hannah was waiting.

Stella eyed the building. Nerves swam through the coffee in her belly.

“Trust me.” Mac got out of the car to greet his sister.

Dressed in jeans, boots, and a Syracuse University T-shirt, Hannah didn’t look like a hotshot lawyer. She opened her trunk and unlocked a portable gun safe. She palmed a handgun, and handed Mac one.

Stella looked over Mac’s shoulder. The box contained additional handguns and rifles. “What is this?”

“The Barrett family arsenal.” Mac picked up a magazine and a box of bullets. “The Colonel took his weapons very seriously.”

“He must have.” Stella faced the concrete bunker-type structure. No signs gave away the building’s purpose.

Mac opened the door. “This is a very private club. Mostly former military types. For the retired set, it’s half firing range, half social club.”

Fluorescent lights brightened the reception area.

“Mac! Hannah!” A giant, ridiculously fit man of about sixty vaulted over the counter. The overhead lighting gleamed off his bald head. He slapped Mac on the shoulder. “Hannah practices regularly. Where the hell have you been?”

“Around,” Mac said. “You know I prefer a blade.”

Craig lifted Hannah off her feet with a hug. A wide grin split her face as she returned the embrace.

Mac gestured to Stella. “Craig, this is Stella.” He didn’t provide her last name or occupation, which she appreciated. She wanted to remain low profile.

Her slim hand disappeared in Craig’s as they shook, and she didn’t miss the older man’s quick, approving wink.

Mac put a hand on her back. “Craig served with the Colonel. We’ve been shooting here since we could walk.”

“Maybe before,” Craig said. “I heard the Colonel passed. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Mac studied the cinderblock wall for a few seconds before gesturing with his handgun. “I need to figure out if I can still shoot this thing.”

“I’m sure you can.” Craig crossed his arms. “Not as well as Hannah, but then, she was always my star pupil. If you’d only apply yourself a little more.”

“Story of my life.” Mac laughed.

“Go to it.” Craig waved them toward the door and stepped back. “You have the place to yourselves for now.”

Mac guided Stella into the range. The big room was bare bones: concrete floor, cinderblock walls, wooden partitions.

Craig followed them in, doubled up on ear protection, and leaned against the far wall.

Entering the indoor range, Stella tensed.

Mac put a hand on her arm and leaned close. “None of your cop friends are here. You can relax. Why don’t we hang out and watch Hannah for a while? It’s usually pretty entertaining.” He steered her toward the back wall.

Hannah handed out earplugs, loaded her weapon, and lined up in front of a target. She pulled the trigger. Hannah fired away, emptying her magazine into the paper target. She pressed a button and brought her target in. Seven shots, dead center. She replaced the target and sent it back. “You’re up, Mac.”

Mac gave Stella a questioning look. She nodded.

“Want to make it interesting?” Hannah stepped back. “Maybe a little wager?”

Mac snorted. “Not even tempted. You’ll have to hustle someone else.” He took his time with his shots, and his cluster was more than respectable, but Hannah could practically draw a smiley face.

Several men wandered in. Some lined up at stalls and practiced. Others hung back to watch Hannah, who moved her target back farther and farther. In the next thirty minutes, she accumulated a crowd of admirers, some of whom were now placing side bets or bringing alternative guns for her to try. Hannah kicked butt with everything she touched.

Mac gestured for Stella to take his place.

Though she’d relaxed while watching Hannah, sweat broke out under Stella’s arms and her heart kicked into gear as she stepped toward the stall. She wiped her hands on her jeans, and then unholstered her weapon. She took her stance. Her body stiffened, her arm feeling wooden as she aimed and fired.

“Your hand is drifting as you shoot.” He stepped up behind her, lined his body against hers, and slid one hand along her left arm. His other hand strayed to her hip.

OK. So that was distracting.

Stella glanced back at him. Mac nodded to the target. With his hand steadying her arm, she squeezed the trigger. The air stank of gunpowder, and shots rang on cinderblock as she emptied the magazine. Four shots later, she pulled her target in. The first few shots were left of the human outline, but one by one, each shot moved a few inches to the right.

Mac pointed to two shots in the target’s chest. “Those’ll do.”

Her first decent shots in months! Pleasure flooded her chest as she reloaded and emptied another magazine into the target. Even better. She could do this. Her career wasn’t over.

She flung her arms around Mac’s neck. “Thank you.”

He smiled down at her. “Before today, this wouldn’t have occurred to me as the perfect date.”

“Well, it was. You have no idea how relieved I am.”

A half hour later, Mac, Stella, and Hannah went out into the parking lot. The rain had stopped, but moisture hung in the air.

“I can’t believe it’s actually more humid than before the rain. Thunderstorms are supposed to relieve a heat wave.” Hannah opened her trunk and put her weapon in the gun safe. “That was fun. Thanks for calling me.”

Mac tucked his gun at the small of his back. “I’m going to hold on to mine for a while.”

Hannah kissed his cheek. She tapped her hand on his jaw. “You need to shave.”

Mac laughed. “I shaved once this year. That was more than enough.”

With a roll of her eyes, Hannah left.

“Thank you again. I needed that.” Stella slid her arms around Mac’s neck and kissed him. Mac tapped his temple. “It’s all a head game. All the crazy drills my father made us perform—and the sheer insanity of some of them would make you squirm—did one thing for all of us. They gave us confidence. He taught us that we could do things we never believed possible. He pushed us so far out of our comfort zones, we needed GPS to find our way back.” He reached over and rubbed her shoulder. “You can do it. I just saw you. When do you have to test?”

“Soon.” Relief faded to worry.

“Just remember, when you watch all those guys at the range, that my sister can outshoot all of them. And don’t think she can’t fire in a live action scenario. The Colonel did plenty of live-fire drills with us.”

Stella was horrified. Military recruits died in live-fire drills. Mac and his siblings had been children.

“Oh, yes he did.” Mac nodded.

“That’s crazy.” She shook her head. “They should call Hannah The Gun Whisperer. She’s amazing.”

“She was always that way. We all had our special skills. Grant was our strategist; Hannah the marksman.”

“What about you?”

“I can find my way anywhere.” He scanned the woods around them. “It’s like I have a built-in compass. I can’t explain it.”

“Raised by wolves?” she joked.

“Practically.”

“And Lee?” she asked softly.

Mac sighed. “Lee was awful at everything physical. He was a scholar. The Colonel had no business sending him into survival training drills.”

“How did he get through them?” She imagined a skinny boy, suffering through tasks when his siblings all excelled.

“The rest of us carried him. Lee more than made up for it in adulthood,” Mac said. “He was the touchstone while the rest of us wandered as far away from Scarlet Falls as possible.”

“Sounds like he was lucky to have the three of you.”

“I never really thought about it quite like that, but I guess he was.” Mac was quiet for a few seconds, as if this was a new thought. Then he smiled. “I’m hungry. What do you have planned for the morning?”

“I have to see if forensics could pull prints from that envelope I found under Missy’s closet.” Stella couldn’t imagine the money was Missy’s. So who was she hiding it for?

“Then what?”

“I’m not sure.” She checked the time. Seven-thirty. “I’m supposed to catch up with Brody and Lance at lunchtime. We have to review tips that come in on the hotline. I also have to pick up Gianna from dialysis and take her to the station to sign a statement. What about you?”