Page 42 of Dead Girl Running

Lights gleamed from the windows of the maintenance garage. Someone was there, working or cleaning up. Kellen let herself in out of the weather. And heard a familiar sound: the click-release of a safety on a firearm.

She froze.

Birdie sat at a table with her feet up, a steaming mug before her, a book in one hand and a pistol in the other.

Kellen waved tentatively. “Hello?”

Birdie clicked the safety back on and slid the Glock 21 SF into the holster she had attached to the table leg. “Shut the door behind you. You’re letting in a draft.”

Kellen let the metal door thud shut. Outside, the storm was roaring, but in here it was quiet and safe. “You heard the news, I see.”

“Yes. Poor kid. When I’m here alone at night, I keep a pistol near at hand.” Birdie smiled without humor. “Although not usually this near at hand.”

Kellen took a moment to breathe in the familiar scents of tires, grease and sweat. Electronics from an ATV were scattered in pieces across the floor.

“Where’s your weapon?” Birdie asked.

When the two women left the military, they had invested in firearms, Birdie because her husband was a police officer and that put her in the line of fire, and Kellen because for a brief and harrowing time she went into security. After examining and handling weapons, they’d both decided on the Glock 21 SF, legendary for its accuracy and light recoil and holding thirteen rounds. They’d both obtained concealed weapons permits.

“In my cottage,” Kellen said. “Carrying a gun is frowned upon in the hospitality business.”

“Are you rethinking that policy?”

Here at Yearning Sands Resort, Kellen had always felt safe, but now she admitted, “I am.”

“Here.” Birdie shoved a thin black metal flashlight across the table.

Kellen examined it. It was small enough to fit in a pocket or purse, had a concentrated beam bright enough to blind an attacker and a jagged edge around the bulb end that could be used as a weapon. She nodded slowly. “I like this. I like this very much.”

“I thought you would. Keep it.”

Kellen slipped it into her shirt pocket. For someone like her and like Birdie, trained in hand-to-hand combat, the flashlight was weapon gold. “First day on the job, I didn’t expect to find myself dealing with murder and mutilation.”

“I remember in Afghanistan when you showed up, all pretty and unsmiling. We pegged you as a typical butterbar. Remember what happened next?”

“We took shelling and we had to move the convoy to meet with reinforcements. Wow. That was a mess.”

“You got us through with no loss of life and only one jeep down.”

“I appreciate your confidence, but there’s no comparison. The resort is different, you know? In Afghanistan, we were soldiers. We were there because we volunteered. We knew full well we could die. Here, we have innocent guests and some nice people who work in a spa.”

“Like civilians.”

“Except in Afghanistan the civilians could kill you. Although, come to think of it, I suppose one of the guests could be a murderer.” Carson Lennex’s face popped into Kellen’s mind, and his foray into the resort’s darkened corridors. Perhaps his movements were innocent. But in these circumstances, she could hardly dismiss them out of hand. She looked around. “Where are the guys?”

“Temo has gone to LA.”

“He said he needed to go to see if he could lure friends up to fill the positions for his staff. But tonight?” Kellen’s finger circled the air.

“It’s not staff he went for. Family shit is coming down. He says he’ll be back late tomorrow.”

“He’s going to be pooped.” Kellen was going to need him to clean up after the storm tonight. “Where’s Adrian?”

“Bed.”

“Mitch?”

“Hot promise.”

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