“I do rehabilitate animals,” Skylar pointed out to Joe, who nodded.
“Right. I just thought keeping a wolf as a pet…”
“I have a permit.”
“Sure. Still, they are a wild animal.” He gave her a side glance that dripped with judgment.
“She had nowhere else to go. I tried to get her to return to the pack, but they wouldn’t have it.”
“Uh-huh.” He wasn’t having it, either.
Yes, wolves were wild and should never be kept as pets. Skylar agreed with that wholeheartedly. But when injured and abandoned by their pack, the wolf’s only future was living as a loner. And for a pup living out in the wild populated with predators, the fate was most certainly a cruel death.
It didn’t matter to her what Joe thought of her choice to keep Stella. Skylar loved her like a family member.
“So you were standing right there and…?” he prompted.
“I was watching the flames, talking to Stella and…at first I felt something on my ear. Thought it was a wicked mosquito bite.”
She touched her ear and Joe stepped forward. It was well past the supper hour, and the forest edging her backyard filtered the setting sun, turning it into a hazy twilight. He dug out a small flashlight from a back pocket and shone it on her ear. The man stood so close she could smell his aftershave—something subtle yet masculine with a hint of lemony citronella.
He examined her ear, which had been nicked on the top and had bled minimally. Of course, she’d gasped at the sight of it in the bathroom mirror. She’d never been so close to being killed in her life. And that had angered more than frightened her. What would have become of Stella and the other animals she cared for if she had died? The thought of them being relocated, or worse, was heart wrenching.
As Joe looked her over, she studied his face. There were three Cash brothers, all born and raised in Crooked Creek, a sister town to Checker Hill. There wasn’t a female in either of the two close towns who didn’t know who they were, because those boys were genetic anomalies, fashion models roughed up by the wild. Sinuous and muscular. So sexy. And Joe’s deep green eyes were a thing to behold.
“If that bullet had been half an inch closer…” The man suddenly bowed his head and winced.
Skylar was taken aback by his reaction. “Joe? What’s wrong? I’m okay.”
“Right.” He lifted his head and his jaw pulsed with tension. “You always were able to take care of yourself.”
He’d learned exactly what she’d hoped to teach him about her. Regrettably.
Skylar lifted her chin bravely. “Still can take care of myself.”
“Being shot at is no way to go about it, Skylar. If anything would have happened to you…” He winced again and looked aside, toward the fire pit.
Skylar found herself leaning forward in hopes of him finishing that sentence. Then again, she suspected how he would finish it. He’d never hidden his interest in her. And she wasn’t prepared for such a statement right now.
If only he’d said as much to her two months earlier. Of course, then he’d been avoiding her like the plague.
It was well deserved on her part.
He placed his hands akimbo and scanned the lake. “Do you know what direction the shot was fired from?”
She pointed out through the gap in the bowed birch trees that she’d always thought of as a sort of pulled-back curtain to the stage of the lake. “I feel like it came from that way.”
“See anyone down by the shore?”
She shook her head. Then she remembered, and turned to point out the bullet holes that had splintered and pierced the hitching post.
“Two?” Joe bent to study the post with the flashlight. “These are clean, and one goes all the way through.” He paused and glanced at her as if to temper his words for her tender ears.
“I’m a big girl, Joe. You can say the bad stuff without offending or scaring me.”
“I guess so.” He returned his attention to the holes and tapped the post with a finger. “I have some evidence bags in the truck. I’m going to grab them, but I should also call in someone to take some photos and—” His attention veered to the ground behind the post. “Here’s a bullet.”
He tugged out a black latex glove from his pocket, pulled it on and picked up the bullet from the ground. It was long, and Skylar leaned in to peer at it as he did.
Joe swore.
“What is it?” she asked.
“My dad collects guns, and he taught me and my brothers a lot about the different types and their ammunition. This is most definitely from a high-powered rifle, Skylar.”
“I don’t understand. Not the usual hunting rifle?”
“Nope. If that had been the case, that hitching post would be pocked with lead shot. As well as you.”
Skylar sucked in a breath.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to say that.”
She nodded, no longer feeling quite as strong as she wanted to.
Joe turned and again cast a glance across the lake. “I don’t think the shooter was close. Could have been across the lake. Which means this is some serious business.”
He turned to face her directly and asked, “What’s going on? Why would someone be shooting at you? Skylar, is there something you need to tell me?”
Chapter Three (#ueb05ea18-7bf2-5e0e-b1a8-d57b7eb837b8)
Joe had rushed to Skylar’s home upon getting the call from Dispatch. Simply hearing her name had been all he’d needed to become immersed in those old familiar feelings he always got whenever he thought about the tall, sexy blonde. Feelings he wasn’t prepared to let emerge right now, because then he’d have to struggle with what had once felt like heartache.
Hell, who was he kidding? It had been, and still was, heartache.
Save for occasionally spying her walking into the grocery store or out of the local café, he hadn’t spoken to her for almost a year. That had been a purposeful avoidance.
Long, tawny blond hair spilled over her shoulders. And that cowboy hat she always wore shaded her blue eyes, but in the rich evening twilight, a flash of sun from across the lake created glints like sapphires in those irises. And when she parted her soft pink lips to speak, Joe’s heart thundered.
“I don’t know what you think I should know, Joe,” she said. “How can I know who was shooting at me?”
Drawn back to the moment, he briefly met her gaze—and almost fell into that heartache again. But he managed to snag a grip on the present and pull himself up and into business mode.
“It’s standard procedure to ask a lot of questions after an incident like this,” he said. “Any details you can provide that might help me figure this out?” He cast his gaze across the lake again. “It had to have come from across the lake.”
“Really? That far away? It’s a good three-quarters of a mile to the other side.”
“Sniper rifles can hit a target miles away. My brother, Jason, used to be one of the best when he was…well.” Jason didn’t like his family to talk about the fact he used to be a CIA agent. And most didn’t know that he had been. “Not that it was such a rifle. Nothing’s been confirmed yet. But whoever made that shot…”
