Page 17 of Outlaw Ridge: Hayes

“If Duane is our killer, it seems stupid of him to try to eliminate Owen so close to home,” Hayes said.

“I agree.” It was a quick agreement, too, which meant Jemma had probably been giving it some thought as well. “It’s possible that he has a rogue student, one doing his bidding.”

Yeah, and that meant they had dozens of suspects what with Duane’s current students and his former ones. Of course, Duane could have been playing around with a reverse psychology angle and personally took that shot at Owen. Maybe that was something Jemma and he could figure out in the interview.

Jemma was frowning when she pulled to a stop in front of the inn, and as he’d just done, she started glancing around. Looking for a killer.

“How far can a sniper shoot?” she asked.

Hayes drew in a long breath. “That depends on a lot of factors,” he settled for saying.

Clearly, that wasn’t the answer she wanted because she huffed. “How far could you shoot if you were trying to take me out?”

He really didn’t want to imagine Jemma in the sights of his weapon or anyone else’s. Still, it was a valid question. “About six-thousand feet,” he said.

“More like seventy-five-hundred,” Aiden muttered through the earpiece. “He took out a drone at that distance.”

“I got lucky,” Hayes grumbled.

“Seven thousand, five hundred,” she repeated, seemingly accepting that as his norm rather than anything to do with luck or ideal conditions. Which it had been. “If you were setting up the shot, where would you be right now?”

Hell. He really hated playing this what-if speculation, but Hayes had already scoped out the spots for the best sniper positions. He pointed to the left of the inn where there was a side garden with a weird assed mix of sculpted animal hedges and some milky-eyed marble statues that would have seemed more at home, well, anywhere else but here in small-town Texas.

“I’d set up beyond that,” he said, pointing to the wall of massive live oak trees. “Not toward the front of those. Not where I could be seen or detected by the drone. I’d go further back, and I’d climb up about eight feet or so where I’d still have a decent line of sight.”

Once Owen had more manpower in place, those woods would be searched because it was indeed a vulnerable point.

Her gaze swept over that area, and Hayes wasn’t immune to the fear he could see in her eyes. Hell, he wasn’t immune to anything when it came to Jemma, and he soon proved that to himself by doing something totally assed stupid.

He leaned in, and sighing, he pulled her into his arms.

That gave both of them a jolt of…something. Shock, yeah, there was some of that. But there was a hell of a lot more, and he felt the heat creep into her body. When she eased back, he could see that same heat in her eyes, too.

“I’ll bet you’re regretting that,” she muttered. She was still so close to him that her breath brushed against his mouth. Almost a kiss, and that, too, generated a whopping amount of that lust.

“Big time,” he admitted.

But that was sort of a lie. He regretted tearing down a barrier or two between them, but no way he could regret that kick of lust. It had packed a wallop, and that was saying something since it had been merely a peck.

“Full disclosure here,” he heard Aiden say through the earpiece. “I can see and hear what you two are doing.”

Hayes looked behind them and realized that was true. His brother had parked directly behind them so he had a clear line of vision, and Hayes hadn’t turned off the earpiece. Cursing that, and the hug that barely qualified as a hug, Hayes grabbed his helmet. Jemma took hers too, and once they had on the protective gear, they got out to hurry inside the inn.

“You have a visitor inside,” Declan called out to them. “I searched him, and he was armed. I’m holding onto his weapon until he’s ready to leave.”

“Is it Duane?” Hayes asked.

“No. A guy named Royce Bolton. He insisted that Jemma would want to see him. Kick his ass for me if that’s not the case.”

Jemma groaned softly, an indication that she might indeed not want to see this guy. Hayes geared himself up for that possible ass-kicking as she threw open the inn door.

Molly, the Strike Force tech, was now at the reception desk, and she wasn’t alone. There was a beefy forty-something-year-old man standing next to her, and despite Declan’s assurance that he’d taken their visitor’s weapon, Hayes had already moved to step in front of Jemma before the man even spoke.

“Jemma,” he greeted. There was warmth and concern in his voice and expression, but Hayes didn’t see her doling out either of those things in return.

“Royce,” she acknowledged as she took off her helmet. There was something there. Something that made her uneasy, which meant it automatically made Hayes uneasy, too. “Hayes Brodie, this is Royce Bolton, a former Outlaw Ridge dispatcher. Royce is a PI now and has an agency in San Antonio.”

Hayes removed his own helmet as well, and he shook the man’s hand when he offered it. Definitely not a weak grip or a long one. Royce quickly pulled back his hand and shifted his attention back to Jemma.

---