Page 85 of Crosshairs

“No, I haven’t.” His heart sank. He’d hoped it hadn’t been that obvious. “I think it’s a holdover from way back. That, and I’m a link to her brother. She was really devastated by his death. I’m not quite sure how to discourage her. I mean, she was my best friend’s sister, and that’s the only way I’ve ever thought of her.”

“She definitely doesn’t think of you in terms of a brother.”

He sighed. “I’ll try to set her straight Wednesday.”

“The picnic. Seems to me taking her on a picnic is sending a mixed message,” Ainsley said.

“Her father will be with us,” he said. “I feel I should be there for them.”

“Of course,” she said softly. “I wish you didn’t feel his death was your fault.”

Linc wished he didn’t either, but facts were facts, and if he hadn’t hesitated on the mission, Blake wouldn’t have lost his leg.

For the next hour they mingled with the crowd, and Ainsley thanked people for coming and asked them to vote for her dad.

“You’re getting good at this,” he said as they relaxed under a live oak near the bluff.

“My dad owes me big-time,” she said, “and I’m only half joking.”

He laughed with her, and she slipped her hand into his, her touch electrifying. Ainsley looked westward and stilled. Linc followed her gaze and stared mesmerized. Everything faded except for the sight of the yellow ball reflecting off the waters of the Mississippi before it dropped below the horizon amid a brilliant array of orange and golden streaks in the sky.

“That was about perfect,” she said softly.

“It was,” he agreed.

They sat in comfortable silence until she stood. “I guess I better mingle a little more, and then you want to leave?”

“You’re not staying for the fireworks? Shouldn’t be much longer now that the sun has gone down.”

“We’ll see.”

“Can I get you something from the buffet line?”

“Not right now. I think I just want to enjoy the music for a bit before I mingle,” she said as a musician drew his bow across his fiddle.

He understood. Even his two left feet wanted to dance to the lively music as the band played “Uncle Pen.”

“Look,” Ainsley said, nodding toward the stage where two small girls clogged.

“They’re good,” he said. One of J.R.’s security people stood at the edge of the bandstand, scanning the crowd that seemed to have grown since Linc last checked. He’d identified several of J.R.’s security detail, all good men, which should have reassured him. “Big crowd.”

“I didn’t realize he’d invited this many of his donors,” she said.

Linc wasn’t sure that was a good thing, not with Maddox on the loose. Across the way, her dad worked the crowd, shaking hands and slapping a few men on the back. “Your dad seems to be having a good time.”

“He’s in his element,” she said. “Although I haven’t seen him kiss any babies yet, but the night’s young.”

J.R. looked their way and waved.

“I think he wants you to join him,” Linc said.

“So I see. I saw Sarah talking to him, and he probably wants me to redo the clip. Be back in a minute.”

A helicopter made a pass overhead, then swung toward the river as Ainsley struck out across the lawn. Halfway there, she turned and motioned for him to come too.

“Me?” he mouthed and touched his chest. She didn’t have to nod twice, and he jogged toward her. Just before reaching her, he sensed someone watching him and glanced over his shoulder and up toward the back veranda.

A dark figure stood hunched over something. Linc’s breath caught in his chest as he made out a rifle. Muscle memory had him reaching for a gun that wasn’t there.

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