Lone Star Secrets. Cat Schield

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       Two

      Will’s entire world had narrowed to razor-sharp focus the instant he’d heard Megan’s shaky voice on the phone. When she’d called, he’d been working in his office at Spark Energy Solutions, combing through the financials for more missing money.

      Now, as he stormed through the door of the police station and spied Megan sitting whole and unharmed in the reception area, the knot in his gut slowly began to unravel. But when she glanced his way and her expression shifted into delight, it was as if a series of explosions began in his chest.

      “Are you really okay?” he demanded, moving to kneel before her. He reached out and trailed his fingers gently over her pale cheek.

      She caught his hand and drew it away from her face. “I’m fine.” Her steady tone warned him not to coddle her. “Really. He never touched me.” A smile ghosted her lips. “If anyone was damaged, it was him.”

      “Did you really shoot him?”

      “Yes.”

      “I didn’t realize you owned a gun.”

      As Will shifted onto the seat beside her, Megan opened her purse and gave him a peek at the contents. Sure enough, resting between her wallet and a polka-dot makeup pouch was a small pistol with a pink-pearl grip. He couldn’t help himself. Will grinned.

      “It’s a 38-caliber Sig Sauer P238.” Seeing his amusement, her eyes glinted combatively. “Wayne at the gun range describes it as a ballistic bauble.”

      It was hard to take the deadly weapon seriously when it was tricked out in such a way. No doubt Rich had underestimated the gun—and the woman who’d wielded it—and that had cost him.

      “How does it handle?”

      “Nice. There’s not much recoil and the pull is about five pounds. I’ve gotten to where I can put nine bullets in a three-inch target at twenty feet.”

      “Impressive.”

      “Mrs. Sanders,” Special Agent Bird said, coming toward them, his hand extended.

      “Special Agent Bird,” Megan murmured, getting to her feet and taking his hand.

      The FBI agent was a thin man with a thick mustache who looked more suited to pursuing cases involving money laundering and cyber crime than getting his hands dirty with terrorism or murder. After spending long hours with the agent in connection with the funds stolen from SES and the Texas Cattleman’s Club treasury, Will knew the man was well versed in the intricacies of Rich’s money trail.

      “I hear you had an encounter with Richard Lowell tonight.”

      “In the parking lot outside my building.”

      Will had risen at the same time and stood at Megan’s back, scowling at the special agent. Despite his ever-increasing irritation, Will stayed silent. He’d already spoken his piece earlier in the day and venting wouldn’t help anyone at this point.

      “Why don’t you come to the conference room and tell me what happened,” Agent Bird said, gesturing toward the hallway that led deeper into the building.

      Megan nodded and began to move in his wake. She hadn’t done more than shift her weight forward, however, before reaching back for Will’s hand.

      “Will you come along?” she asked, biting her lip in an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty. “I can’t do this without you.”

      Mascara smudges and rubbed-off lipstick were testament to Megan’s upset. Only one other time had Will seen her so out of sorts. Jason’s memorial service. The night they’d made love. Then, like now, glimpsing her vulnerability made him long to pull her into his arms and kiss her worries away, but this was neither the time nor the place for a display of affection.

      Too much remained unspoken between them since that fateful night. Will had to be satisfied with the fact that she’d called him, chose him to be with her tonight.

      “I’m not going to leave your side.”

      With a satisfied nod, she squeezed his fingers and together they made their way toward the conference room Sheriff Battle had set aside as a command post for tracking down Lowell. As they entered the room, Megan glanced around at the whiteboards, taking everything in.

      Will, who had been in this room several times in the months since he’d returned home, was frustrated by the lack of progress.

      Bird gestured toward a chair as he said, “Mrs. Sanders, you told the receptionist that you shot Richard Lowell?”

      “Yes. With this.”

      Before she sat, Megan withdrew the small pistol from her purse. Beneath the fluorescent lighting, the gun’s small size and fanciful handle made it look like a toy and Will glanced at the FBI agent to gauge his reaction.

      “You’re sure you hit him?”

      “I think so. He spun to his left, but I may have only grazed him because he chased me to my car and tried to stop me from driving away.”

      From his seat beside her, Will regarded Megan, stunned by her bravery.

      The FBI agent nodded, his expression impassive. “How СКАЧАТЬ