Page 23 of One in a Million
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Sam fought back a wave of revulsion. He’d read about operations like Grishman’s—people with land who bought old, sick, and otherwise unwanted animals from homes, parks, and private zoos and used them for clients to hunt, for a price that was high, but much cheaper than an outfitted foreign trip. He’d been dismayed by online photos of proud hunters posing with their kills. But right now it wasn’t in his job description to judge.
Charlie Grishman stood up in the front of his vehicle. The position lent him height, an advantage since he didn’t appear to be very tall. A bluster of fury roared out of him.
“You owe me five hundred dollars for that antelope!” he bellowed through the wire fence. “I had a thirteen-year-old kid paid up and ready to make his first kill before it got away. Now I’ll have to refund the money, and that gazelle will only be good for lion food.”
It was Jasmine who answered, raising a fierce face with the gazelle cradled in her arms. “This antelope was on our property, Charlie. The poor, scared thing ran right in front of our Jeep. The next time one of your animals gets loose on our ranch, we’re taking you to court! You need to get out of this awful business! But I know you won’t. The money’s good, and you love playing great white hunter!”
Charlie sneered. “Spoken like the bleeding heart you are. I’m doing a service. Every animal killed on my ranch saves the life of one in the wild.”
“I’ve heard that one before. It’s bullshit.”
Sam had moved to stand next to her. This was no time to step in and introduce himself. The situation was too volatile. He would visit Charlie Grishman at his place later. For now, he needed to watch this interaction play out.
“That’s not all,” Charlie said. “The animals hunted on my ranch get a chance to die a noble death, wild and free, fighting for survival, not being put down like pets or livestock.”
“But they don’t survive. They die terrified, bewildered, and suffering—even the dangerous ones. You’re not getting a cent from us. Go home, Charlie. I’m sick of the sight of you.”
Charlie had spotted a narrow gate along the fence line. He swung the four-wheeler around and headed in that direction, pausing long enough to say, “All right for now. But this isn’t over. Just let me collect my antelope and get it home. The cats will like the fresh kill.”
“This one’s not dead. It has a broken neck. At least put it down first.”
“The cats can do the job. And this one is wild, their natural food, not like the goats they usually get. Revs up their instincts.” He idled the small vehicle while he opened the gate to drive through.
What happened next occurred in a flash. Jasmine’s hand, with surprising strength and speed, seized Sam’s revolver and wrenched it out of its holster. Bracing herself against the recoil, she fired a single shot into the region of the animal’s heart. The gazelle didn’t even shudder as the hefty bullet blasted home.
Blood-spattered, Jasmine righted herself. “Now you can have your antelope, Charlie,” she said. “And keep your animals off our ranch!”
“Damn you to hell, woman—you’ll hear from me.” Charlie pulled up beside the dead gazelle. Worried that a second shot might be aimed at the man, Sam reached down and gently lifted the gun from Jasmine’s hand. She gave it up without resistance, letting it slide through her limp fingers. Charlie slung the carcass over the back of his vehicle and roared back through the gate toward his own place.
“I did that move in aCriminal Mindsepisode,” she said in a flat voice. “It took practice to get it exactly right.”
Sam holstered the gun and reached down to pull her to her feet. She was trembling. There was blood sprayed on her clothes and her bare legs. “Blast it, Jasmine, you could be arrested and charged for what you just did.” He took his clean handkerchief and began wiping the fine blood spatters from her golden skin. “Seizing an agent’s weapon, willful property destruction. You could be in big trouble.”
“But I won’t be, will I?” The fight had gone out of her, but she was still sharp. “You’re not going to let your bosses know I got the jump on you.”
“Smart girl.” Sam caved, not wanting to create a bad situation for her. “This stays between us. But that doesn’t make it all right.”
She drew herself up. Sam sensed she was on the edge of breaking. “So punish me! I couldn’t let that poor helpless animal be torn apart alive! And you would have let that awful man take it away. Thepropertyowner! You and your damned rules!” Her fist struck a glancing blow to his chest. “I could hate you for that, Mr. Agent Sam Rafferty!”
Small, hiccupping gasps rose against her resistance to become racking sobs. Tears flowed as her fists flailed at Sam’s chest. “I’ve never . . . killed anything . . . before. It was so beautiful . . . so innocent . . .”
Sam gathered her close, holding her tightly to control her shaking. For the first moments she fought him, pushing away with her arms. Then she folded, curling against him like a brokenhearted child. His arms gentled, cradling her. She was soft, warm, fragrant, and needing. Holding her triggered a current of warmth in the depths of his body, the first real emotion he’d felt in weeks. It felt good. Too good.
“I’m sorry, Jasmine.” His arms released her, easing her away from him. “If you’d said something, I might’ve shot that poor gazelle myself. But you moved so fast. I never expected that from you.”
“I’m not the little fluff everyone seems to think I am. I’m full of surprises.” She wiped her running nose on her shirtsleeve. “Let’s go.”
In the Jeep once again, they headed back to the ranch. Jasmine had raised the canvas shade against the hot sun. She sat silent at first, her hands clasped in her lap.
“Tell me about Charlie Grishman,” Sam said. “How well do you know him?”
“I know him very well.” She gave a raw chuckle. “Charlie was my high school algebra teacher. Odd duck, even back then. Never married—probably for the best. Nine years ago, his grandmother left him that land on the far side of our property. Not a huge spread. No livestock. No crops, just wild prairie with big patches of mesquite. The old woman hadn’t done anything with it in years. But Charlie had a plan. Now you’ve seen it. He gets a lot of clients. I’m sure the monster is making piles of money off that godawful business.”