Page 7 of All Bets are Off
Relieved that Jase agrees with me, I say, “Which means Logan was the target. Colt was several feet away.”
“Only because Logan started walking, though. The shooter could be an amateur and have missed Colt.”
“Logan’s convinced no one would want him dead, and I admit it’s hard to imagine,” I say with a sigh.
Jase carries his plate to the table and sits down. “Same goes for Colt. Who’d want to kill a nice kid like him? Unless maybe it’s a jealousy thing. They’re both good-looking guys. They could have pissed off some crazy boyfriend without even knowing it.”
“I’m worried,” I mutter.
“I know you are. We’ll keep an eye on him, okay?” His gaze meets mine, and I nod.
“Did the police find the bullet?” Jase asks.
“Yeah. 7.62 x 51mm.”
“Military rifle,” he says, and I nod.
“Not too hard to get your hands on, unfortunately.” He bites into his sandwich and begins scrolling through his text messages while I get a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.
“The team’s freaking out. Andi wants to charge out to find the culprit herself,” Jase says after a minute.
I chuckle. Andi is a six-foot-two beast of a woman who, although happily married to a pretty brunette named Tara, has a definite soft spot for Logan. Compassionate and approachable, Logan tends to garner people’s affection like that. He’s always the one people seek out when they have a problem, knowing his calm voice of reason and warm hug of reassurance are waiting for them. It was that way during all our years of service, and, if I’m honest, sometimes it really bugs me. I don’t like to share him.
“Can you think of anyone who might want Logan dead?” Jase asks.
“Not any that sound reasonable, judging from the cop’s reaction when I told him.” I look up as Sean enters the room. “Can you think of anyone who might want to shoot at Colt?” I ask him. Sean and Colt were co-workers in Maryland before they came to Falcon Security and know each other well.
“I told the police the only possibility I could think of. Not too long before we moved here, Colt got into a fight at a bar with this mouthy guy who wouldn’t stop harassing a college-age girl at the bar. Colt took him out with one punch.”
“What are the odds the guy would track Colt to North Carolina months later over something like that?” I ask.
“I’d say pretty unlikely. The police weren’t impressed, either. What about Logan?”
I sigh. “Same kind of thing. Unless cutting someone off in traffic—and Logan wouldn’t even do that on purpose—provoked that kind of rage.”
Grabbing an energy drink from the fridge, Sean says, “I’m about to practice some judo. Wanna join?” We both know that, although smaller than I am, he’ll put me on the mat in the first two seconds. But I’m game. I need to expend some energy. With a nod, I follow him out of the kitchen and downstairs to the gym.
CHAPTER FOUR
Logan
For the next two weeks, West is my shadow everywhere I go. When I bitch about it, he just doubles his efforts to hide from me. But I know all his tricks, and he’s driving me up the wall. The only upside is that concentrating on keeping me alive is keeping his mind off the attraction that’s been brewing between us for months and its awkward side effects.
Over the fifteen years or so of our friendship, West has gone through periods when he’s wanted to be around me all the time. Because of his past, I get that, and it’s never bothered me. Truth be told, I’ve always liked it. But since the shooting, he’s gone way beyond that, insisting on knowing where I am every second of the day. His concern over my safety is turning into an obsession, and if I don’t get away from him for a while, I’m going to explode. I wouldn’t hurt West for the world, so I make a plan to get me some alone time by booking a flight to Atlanta to visit my mother. I need to check on her anyway.
Because I don’t want West to try to go with me, I make Jase swear to not tell him I’ve gone, something he reluctantly goes along with on the condition that I allow him to escort me to the airport for my two a.m. flight to Atlanta. I can’t believe he’s concerned about my safety, too, but whatever. His level of caution is way below West’s overblown anxiety. I leave West a note in his car, knowing he won’t find it for a while.
A couple of hours later, after an uneventful flight, I let myself into my mother’s quiet house in Atlanta and settle down for a few hours sleep in my childhood room.
When I awaken, the sun’s high in the sky and my mom’s waiting for me on her back patio. “Coffee’s in the pot!” she calls to me.
“West couldn’t come with you?” she asks.
“Nope. He has work to do. Can’t I have my mom all to myself once in a while?” I tease, sitting across from her at the small table after kissing her cheek. I’m not jealous of the attention my mom gives West, nor was I when my dad was alive and took him fishing, a past-time I abhorred but West and Dad enjoyed. After years of being my parents’ sole focus, it was frankly a relief to have their attention diverted from me. Plus, it’s always made me happy to see him loved by my family when he’s had so little love in his life.
“Is he doing all right?”
“He’s fine. I just had a few days and wanted to spend some time with you, that’s all. I told you that. West needs to help Jase hold down the fort.”