Lucky Shot. B.J. Daniels

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      “It’s not that.” He took a breath and let it out slowly. “I can tell you this. Your husband’s former...wife, Sarah Johnson Hamilton, was involved with some...undesirables. One of them paid me a visit.”

      She studied him. “He roughed you up? Not much as far as I can tell, because you look fine.”

      Moose chuckled at that. “Look, I’ve dealt with a lot of scary people in my time.” He met her gaze. “You need to drop this.”

      Angelina let out a bark of a laugh. “Maybe this...undesirable scared you, but I don’t scare that easily. Tell me what you found out.”

      “Nothing, that’s the problem. I didn’t find out anything, but apparently some friends of your husband’s—”

      “Sarah. Her name is Sarah. She is no longer my husband’s anything, all right?”

      “Fine. Sarah Johnson Hamilton has some friends who are very protective of her.”

      “From which past? The one before my husband met her or during the twenty-two years he believed she was dead?”

      “I have no idea, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. Whatever your husband’s—Sarah might be hiding, it isn’t worth it to me to find out.”

      “Well, it is to me,” Angelina snapped. She couldn’t believe this man had been scared off so easily. Clearly, she’d hired the wrong person for this job. “Did this undesirable threaten you? Surely, it wasn’t the first time someone wanted to—”

      “Chop me up into little pieces and feed me to a pit bull? No, not the first time. Just the first time the person threatening me was more frightening than being chopped up and fed to a pit bull.”

      She studied him, realizing he had to know who the man was, what Sarah had been involved in. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so afraid. “I paid you an exorbitant amount of money to—”

      “Here.” He shoved a check across the desk at her. “All of your money back.”

      Angelina stared at him, finally seeing just how terrified Moose was. She wanted to pummel the coward with the first thing she could reach, but she saw that it would do no good.

      “Fine,” she said, snatching up the check as she rose to her feet. “I’ll hire someone with more...guts.”

      “Good luck with that,” he said as he stood. “Before you leave, wouldn’t you like the message Sarah’s friend left for you?”

      She had already started for the door but now turned. “By all means.”

      “He said he’d destroy your husband...after he killed you.”

      She’d expected a threat, but the simplicity of this one definitely hit a nerve. Had she ever doubted that Sarah would do anything to get Buckmaster back?

      Straightening her back so Moose didn’t see the tremor of fear that pulsed through her, she walked back to the private investigator’s desk. “Who are these...friends of Sarah’s? Organized criminals? Gang members? Terrorists?”

      Moose clamped his jaws shut and shook his head.

      “But you believe they’re capable of these threats.”

      It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway.

      “So Sarah does have something to hide, just as I suspected.”

      “Maybe they’re just protective...friends. But if I were you, I’d drop this. You don’t want to make men like them your enemies, let alone your husband’s.”

      “Men? You said only one paid you a visit.”

      Again he gave her his mum look.

      “I’m going to find out the truth. I’ll hire someone who won’t be scared off as easily as you.”

      He shook his head almost sadly. “You hire another PI and you’ll only get him killed—and start a shit storm that is going to rain down on not only you but also your husband and his daughters. You sure it’s worth it just to get some dirt on your husband’s former wife?”

      * * *

      MAX HAD PLANNED to drive back to Big Timber. But as he crossed Main Street, he realized that he was starving. His productiveness had left him ready to call it a day. Stopping at a hotel with a restaurant on the lower level, he decided he’d stay in Bozeman for the night. He was about to leave his camera bag and laptop in his pickup, but changed his mind.

      He knew he was being paranoid, but just the thought of someone breaking in to his pickup, and stealing them and the photos on them, made him take the equipment with him. Earlier at Big Timber Java, he’d put the photos on a thumb drive and stuck it in his pocket. Still, he didn’t want to take any chances.

      He’d just sat down in the restaurant after getting a room, when the calls began coming in. He let them go to voice mail. He’d go through them in his room later. If he seemed too anxious, it would make him look as if he didn’t have the goods. He’d just ordered the restaurant’s largest T-bone steak with the trimmings when he saw a pretty brunette sitting alone at a table, perusing a menu.

      She looked around as if a little lost. They made eye contact. She smiled, then put down her menu and got up to walk over to him. “I know this is going to sound forward...” She bit her lower lip as if screwing up her courage. “I hate eating alone and I’ve had this amazing day.” She stopped. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’d prefer—”

      “Have a seat. I’ve had a pretty amazing day myself.”

      All her nervousness seemed to evaporate. “Thank you. I’ve never done anything like that before. I’m not sure what came over me,” she said as she took a seat across from him. “It’s just that I noticed you were alone and I’m alone...”

      The woman looked to be a few years younger than his thirty-five years. After the day he’d had, he was glad to have company to celebrate with him.

      “Max Malone,” he said holding out his hand.

      “Tammy Jones.” Seeing what was going on, the waitress set up cutlery at the table and took her order.

      Tammy explained that she was a retail buyer for a local department store. She was in town visiting from Seattle. “I’m only in town tonight. I normally don’t invite myself to a stranger’s table. But I’m tired of eating alone and today I got a great raise. I feel as if I just won the lottery.”

      He told her he was on vacation and just passing through town. He’d found when he told anyone that he was a reporter, it made them clam up, too nervous that they might end up in one of his articles.

      “I saw your camera bag. So what all do you shoot?” she asked, leaning toward him with interest.

      “Mostly scenic photos,” he said. “It’s just a hobby.” He didn’t want to talk about his job. Not tonight. He didn’t want to jinx it.

      Their СКАЧАТЬ