Hard Target. Barb Han

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      He reminded himself to focus on the case. This woman fit two-thirds of the description. It was obvious her hair had been bleached. The dye job was bad, and so was the cut. Her hair had been chopped off. Even so, she was beautiful.

      And her legs were long and toned. She could be a runner. He made a mental note of the fact, in case she decided to bolt. It was easy to see she was in good physical condition, aside from events of the past few days.

      She glanced around, antsy. Her expression set, determined, as she skimmed the docks. Was she working with someone? For someone?

      Or was she just a few grains of sand short of a castle?

      The tougher job was to assess her mental fitness. If she wasn’t involved in bringing guns into the country, and, really and truly, she would’ve been smart enough to have one loaded at the ready if she was, he had to consider the possibility she might be a danger to herself or others.

      He’d witnessed all kinds of crazy.

      In fact, in six years with Border Patrol, he’d seen just about everything. And a whole lot of nothing, too, especially when he was a rookie.

      “Eye color?”

      “Green, I think.”

      They were hazel, but lots of people confused hazel with green or blue. The description was close enough. “Thank you, sir. That clears everything up.”

      “She’ll be back to work next Monday, right?”

      Reed figured the boss wanted the answer to his question more for personal reasons than anything else. “I don’t see why not.”

      “And she’s okay? You’re sure?”

      Another sprig of jealousy sprouted. “She is. That’s all the information I need. Have a nice—”

      “I don’t want to ask anything inappropriate, but our job requires a certain level of security clearance. She hasn’t gone and done anything that might jeopardize her position at work, has she?”

      “Why would she do that?” Reed knew she wasn’t telling him something, but he doubted she was involved in criminal activity. Couldn’t rule it out yet. Even though his instincts never lied, he preferred logic and evidence. Did this whole episode have to do with her job? What would she have to gain?

      A relieved sigh came across the line. “She wouldn’t. At least, I don’t think she would. I guess you can never really tell about people, but I don’t have to tell you that. Not in your line of work.”

      The man finally said something smart. “Desperate people can do all kinds of interesting things.”

      “I’m sure. I already asked, but she’s okay, right?”

      “Yeah. She’ll be back to work next week, and I’m sure she’ll explain everything then.” Reed ended the call.

      “I lost my job, didn’t I?” She sounded defeated. “It doesn’t matter.”

      “You didn’t tell me everything,” he hedged.

      She repositioned in her seat.

      “You’re tired and hungry, so I’m afraid you’re going to make a bad choice. Whatever you’re running from, I can help you.”

      She deadpanned him. “No. You can’t.”

      “Not if you don’t tell me what it is.”

      “I won’t run. Please don’t take me in.” Her wide hazel eyes pleaded.

      “There’s protocol for situations like these. You came into the country in a shipment full of guns. Who do they belong to?”

      “I’d tell you if I knew.” Tears welled in her eyes.

      “I need a name. They’ll take it easy on you if you cooperate.”

      “Are you arresting me?” She glanced toward the field to her right.

      Was she getting ready to make her move?

      He started the engine, determined to keep her from making another mistake she’d regret. “Buckle up. We can finish this conversation over a burger.”

      “You didn’t answer my question. Are you going to arrest me?” she repeated slowly, as if he was dim.

      “No. Why? Do you plan on giving me a reason to?”

      The drive to the nearest fast-food burger place was quiet. His passenger closed her eyes and laid her head back.

      She didn’t open them when he pulled into the drive-through lane and ordered two burgers, two fries and two milkshakes at the speaker box.

      Reed gripped the steering wheel tighter, thinking about what she’d been through in the past few days. He also realized she was keeping secrets. Professional curiosity had him wanting to find out what they were. Or was it something else?

      He dismissed the idea as standing in the sun too long back at the docks. His interest in Emily Baker was purely professional.

      At this point, he’d classify her as a witness. However, she was walking a fine line of being moved into another category—suspect—and she didn’t want to be there. He should probably haul her up to Homeland Security and be done.

      But he couldn’t.

      Something in those hazel eyes told him there was a bigger story, one that frightened her to the point of almost becoming mute.

      If she talked, he might be able to track down gun runners, or get the connection he needed to stop another coyote from dumping illegals across the border. Heck, most died of dehydration before they ever reached their desired location. She was weak. No way was she illegal, but they used the same paths for everything from human trafficking to gun running. Besides, maybe she had information that could help him make a bust. The innocence and desperation in her voice had drawn him in. He needed to make sure she’d be okay.

      He couldn’t turn his back on her any more than he could walk away from one of his sisters. Something about Emily brought out a similar protective instinct, but that’s where the similarities ended. Nothing else about her reminded him of his siblings.

      After paying at the window, he accepted the food. There was a shady spot in the parking lot across the street. He pulled into it and parked.

      She blinked her eyes open when he cut off the engine.

      He unwrapped a burger and handed it to her. “It’s not steak, but it should help with your hunger.”

      Her eyes lit up as she took the offering. “That smells nothing short of amazing.”

      A few bites into her meal, she set her burger down. “I don’t understand. I’m famished but I can’t finish it.”

      Poor thing was starving. Another fact in this case that made Reed want to punch something.

      It was one thing for traffickers СКАЧАТЬ