Page 11 of Deadly Attraction
Mitch pulled the gun from his holster and lowered his voice. “Coop, I got to call you back.”
He hung up on his boss, praying he wouldn’t have to call him and tell him Collins was gone. Or dead.
Not on my watch.
Raising his weapon, he listened for her or the dogs. Heard nothing.
Stepping into the living room, he swept his gun around the room. His heart almost stopped when she came into view, sitting in a rocking chair near the fireplace, the shotgun from above the front door lying across her lap.
The dogs were asleep on the floor near her feet. She rocked slowly in the chair, a soft popping sound coming from it as it adjusted to the movement.
Her gaze was fixed on the door as she sipped from her cup. “If Chris comes after me, he’ll want to make a dramatic entrance. Dollars to donuts, he’ll come through that door.”
She was just crazy enough, Mitch feared she might have unlocked it after his last pass. The doorknob held, though, when he tested it. The deadbolt was in place.
He joined her, sitting in the matching rocker in the dark. One of the dogs lifted his head and thumped his tail on the ground. Mitch leaned over and patted the top of the dog’s head.
Collins handed him a cup from the table next to her. A reading lamp towered over a pile of books, their titles difficult to make out in the darkness. Psychotherapy nonsense, most likely.
The cup was warm in Mitch’s hands, the smell of very strong coffee rising up to meet his nose.
She clinked her cup against his. “Cheers.”
He sighed. “What are we toasting to, dare I ask?”
“We’re alive.”
He sipped his coffee and mimicked her, settling his gun in his lap. The shadows were comforting. Her odd presence, along with that of the dogs, was comforting as well.
Honesty bubbled up from his chest. “I’m not sure that’s worth celebrating.”
She let go of a soft chuckle. “Neither am I, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.”
They both sat in the dark, rocking. “Why do you hate Christmas?” he finally asked.
“I don’t.”
“Could have fooled me.”
She snorted. “It reminds me of a great loss, and I can’t…go there. So I’ve declared this house a Christmas-free zone.”
“I like it.”
“So do I.”
They clinked cups again.
After a few minutes, Collins put down her tea and stood, the shotgun hanging by her side from the crook of her arm. “I want to show you something.”
This should be good. “What is it?”
“Come with me.”
Before he could stop her, she unbolted the door and walked out into the night.
The stars were out, the moon nearly full. Fingerlike streaks of smoke cut through the distant sky to the northwest where the wildfires raged on. They were moving away from her ranch, and for that, she was grateful. Emma, shotgun swinging loosely at her side, strode for the barn.
Salt and Pepper took turns running ahead, then doubling back to her. Their eyes caught the flashlight beam here and there as she kept it on the path in case of snakes or other nocturnal critters she’d rather not run into.
