“Kallie lost a bet to her cousins and had to make a supply run to Modesto. Jake went too, since he’s giving her a surprise night on the town.” Becca grinned. “He likes to remind her she’s a pretty woman, so he had me pack her a suitcase of hot-night-out sexy clothes.”

“Now there’s a Dom for you,” Lindsey said. Since Kallie had been raised with boys, she tended to dress like them.

“Oh, he so is. They’ll be back tomorrow in time for the dungeon party.”

“Good.” Lindsey swallowed the last of the cookie and brushed her hands off. “Now, please tell me you have the baby here. I need some cuddles.”

“He’s always up for cuddles.” Rebecca tilted her head toward a corner. A cradle swing held a black-haired baby with a battered-looking German shepherd nearby.

As Lindsey approached, the dog rose to his feet. No wagging tail. No doggie smile. Someone took his guard duties seriously.

“Thor, right?” She held out her hand for him to sniff. “Becca says I can hold Ansel. S’okay with you, buddy?”

After a minute, Thor relaxed. The tail waved back and forth in permission.

“Good.” Lindsey lifted the baby out of his cradle. Look at those dark blue eyes. “You are totally going to break hearts when you get older, Master Ansel.”

A tiny fist tapped her chin as the baby gurgled back.

“Isn’t that the truth?” Rebecca said. “At least he will be able to have girlfriends. Can you imagine being Logan’s daughter? She wouldn’t be allowed to date until she was thirty.”

“Ha. First she’d have to find a guy brave enough to ask her out.” Lindsey cuddled the warm weight against her breasts, breathing in the fragrance of baby, and felt tears prickle her eyes.

“You okay?” Becca asked softly.

Lindsey bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. “My niece was this size when I left Texas.” Emily was turning one in a couple of months. I missed it all. Homesickness felt like someone had carved hollows into her chest, leaving it echoing with emptiness.

Becca frowned. “I’m sure Xavier would let you go home.”

Hell, betrayed by her own emotions. “I’m…staying away for now. Things were a bit riled up when I left.”

“Your ex-husband?”

Lindsey kept her gaze on the baby and nodded. Guilt tightened her mouth. In her world, friends didn’t lie to each other.

But her world had never included being accused of murder. Worlds change. She wouldn’t give her friends the dilemma of obeying the law or betraying a friend.

“I want to meet that ex of yours.” Zander’s rasping voice cut across the warm kitchen like a chainsaw.

Lindsey turned. “Hey. Business done for the day?”

“Yeah.” Mouth tight, he crossed the room with his predatory gait. He gave her a brief kiss…and stepped away.

Unease ran cold fingers up her spine at the way he studied her. What was with the odd stares today?

In her arms, Ansel kicked and chortled, obviously liking the newcomer. Maybe he too noticed Logan and Zander gave off the same dangerous vibrations.

Zander’s face gentled. “Cute little mite, Becca,” he said. “You do good work.”

“I’d say Logan put more effort into it than I did. Ansel’s nose looks like mine; everything else is pure Hunt.”

Zander ran a finger down the baby’s cheek—and the tiny fingers caught and held. “Tough bugger, aren’t you?”

“He really is.” Lindsey rocked back and forth. “What should I get a macho boy for his first Christmas? Maybe a rattle shaped like a hatchet or a baby bonnet Stetson?”

Becca laughed.

Ansel’s fingers still clung, and Zander hadn’t moved. What was there about seeing a big, powerful man with a helpless infant? Lindsey felt as if hands were squeezing her heart.

But Zander looked at her with an unreadable expression. “You’re gonna miss your family next week. For Christmas, maybe I should take you back to Texas. I can keep your ex from bothering you.”

“Hey, that’s a great idea,” Becca said, busily stirring the meat.

The hands squeezing Lindsey’s heart clenched, flattening it like roadkill. No blood was reaching her brain. Go back to Texas with Zander? Lindsey forced a snicker. “Nah, I’m not sure Texas is ready for the war you might start.”

“You think?” Zander said. “I guess, even in Texas, they’d frown if I murdered your ex.”

His comment was like a dash of cold water in her face, and she barely kept from gasping.

With the baby still holding his fingers, Zander stared at Lindsey. “I’d hate to have the cops after me.”

She couldn’t control her flinch.

His eyes narrowed. “Babe, it’s time for you to—”

“Here, Ansel, let’s see how you do with a rattle.” Her hands shook as she put Ansel in his crib. Were Zander’s comments offhand, or did he know something? Did she want him to know anything? Half of her wanted to run, the other half to bury herself in his arms and blurt everything out.

“DeVries, ready for some shooting practice?” Logan asked from the doorway. “Simon’s bringing your range bag.”

“Lindsey and I are—”

“Lindsey, you’re going to come?” Logan asked, jumping to conclusions.

Ugh. But if she went, she might avoid a discussion with Zander. She wasn’t prepared to lay everything out. Somehow, she couldn’t see him calling the cops on her. Unluckily that meant he could be arrested for not turning her in. God. Okay, go with, and once Zander was occupied, she’d break away. She wanted to talk to him—she did—however, she needed to think first. Somehow. “I don’t have a gun, but sure, I’d love to join you.”

“I’ll grab Becca’s revolver for you, sugar,” Logan said.

Zander lifted an eyebrow before nodding. “Let’s go.”

Already in the clearing outside the lodge, Simon handed deVries a dark bag. “Joining us, Lindsey? Good enough.”

A couple of minutes later, Logan returned and led the way up a trail.

Lindsey felt as if an internal blizzard had arrived, filling her bloodstream with ice. What was she thinking? She hated guns. Hated, hated, hated.

Chapter Sixteen

DeVries studied the shooting range. Fenced-off and backed up to a dirt cliff. Probably to prevent people and animals from wandering into the field of fire. Inside the fencing, various posts held range markers and were topped with head-size metal plates. Along the firing line, waist-high stumps served as tables. “Nice setup,” he said to Logan.

“It works for small arms. We have a rifle range farther out.” Logan handed him a revolver, box of bullets, and earmuffs. “You can start her with the .38s, and I have .357s if she gets enthusiastic.” Choosing a stump, Logan set his range bag down next to it and pulled out a box of bullets.

Simon followed suit.

DeVries motioned for Lindsey to join him at the far end.

Well, his comments about murder had definitely shaken her. Her face was still pale. He should have dragged her back to her cabin, but…dammit, he wanted her to tell him voluntarily.

Think hard, girl. Make the right decision.

“Okay. What am I doing?” She straightened her shoulders, looking sick.

“You know how to shoot at all?” She didn’t like firearms, he remembered, as he put the earmuffs on her.

“Uh-uh.” She stared at Becca’s Smith & Wesson lying on the stump top as if it were a snake.

“Right. You watch me load and shoot this. I’ll walk you through it for your turn.”

Becca’s pistol should do well for her, he thought. She might find the pistol’s six-inch barrel heavy, but the longer length decreased the recoil.

After loading and donning earmuffs and eye protection, he took his stance, feet apart, double-handed grip, sighting, breathing, moving precisely so she could absorb without him having to say anything. Slowly he squeezed the trigger. A high metallic sound gave auditory indication he’d struck the target. When the post swayed slightly, he realized the Hunts had used a car spring as part of the target construction. He glanced over at Logan and raised his voice to be heard. “I like the feedback.”

“Me too. We put the springs in when we taught Becca to shoot. Instant gratification works a treat.”

No shit. Enjoying the dinging and shaking of the targets, he emptied the S&W.

“You didn’t miss once.” Lindsey was wide-eyed.

Her admiration felt good—and made him feel like a fucking teenager. What was he, twelve? “Get killed if you miss.” He wanted to take back the words when she flinched. What the fuck had happened there in Texas? Had she really murdered her husband? He wouldn’t think a cold-blooded killer would cringe at the word.

Tell me, baby, so I can fix it.

“Here.” After giving her the safety glasses, he handed her the pistol and showed her how to eject the spent shells and reload. The revolver was a good choice for a beginner—almost idiotproof when it came to loading. His S&W 1911 semiautomatic was his preferred weapon, but he did enjoy the heft of a revolver at times.

As she stepped up to the line, he adjusted her stance, enjoying the feel of her. Her sweetness. Dammit, if she’d murdered her husband, the bastard must have had it coming. And yet, there was the dead cop. “Ready?”

She nodded and took aim. Squeezed the trigger.


THE GUN BUCKED in Lindsey’s hand, and her world fell in. Even as the muted noise hit her ears and the acrid stench of gunpowder filled her lungs, darkness closed, turning even the snow to black.

She could feel Victor’s body landing on top of her. Hear his screaming. The gun bucked in her hands, the bullet hitting him with a horrible punching sound. Screaming and screaming. Her vision filled with red. Hot and sticky, Victor’s blood soaked into her clothing.