Killer Bunny Hill Read online

  They made it through her sex education. On that same day, her father showed her his secret security compartment. How the two related she never had figured out. As far as she was concerned, they were both his way of showing he cared.

  Until that day, the only other person who knew about the place was her mom. He explained it was their “just in case” place. With his work as a cop he worried something would happen to him, and if it did, he would do his damnedest to be certain his family knew what happened and would be taken care of.

  Back then, the box held anything to do with security, a small 22-caliber pistol, insurance papers, and condoms. Oh, yeah, that was why the sex talk and the secret place related. Like she would ever have sex under her father’s roof. He told her it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Sam walked over to the stairs that led up to the bedrooms and stared until she thought her eyes would cross.

  “Come on. I know you’re there.”

  Then her gaze moved to the closet built into the stairs. Opening it, she pushed aside coats, and looked at the floor. On her knees, Sam felt her way along the floorboards, inching a path to the back of the closet. Finally, she heard a snap and felt a board closest to the back corner of the closet give. Her heart jumped in anticipation and she quickly fumbled with the edge of the wood, working her fingers under it, got a grip, and lifted.

  “Please tell me where Dad is.”

  Too dark to see inside, she reached in blindly and felt around. Her hands halted when they encountered metal. No doubt, her father had upped the 22-caliber to something a little more powerful. Reaching back inside the hole, she found a box of shells and a clip.

  When Sam checked the box one more time, she removed an envelope. In the dim closet, she barely made out her name written on the outside of the envelope in large letters. Her palms grew damp, and her heart pounded so hard she heard blood rushing in her ears. Eyes squeezed tight, she prayed that what she was about to read was not her father’s last will and testament.

  Knees shaking with fear, Sam didn’t dare try to stand. She scooted closer to the closet door, close enough to see her name printed in pink. She inhaled deeply and held her breath. On an exhale, she ripped the envelope open. There was no letter inside.

  When she tipped the envelope, sparkling crystals rained onto her palm.

  “No,” she gasped in disbelief.

  She looked again, and the diamonds twinkled against her skin. Her heart leapt into her throat, a jolt of fear threatened to choke her. In a panic, she scrambled to put the gems back. Instead, they spilled. Diamonds escaped to the floor, tinkled their way out of the closet, winked up at her, taunted her. Amongst the tinkling, came the distinct sound of muffled footsteps.

  It was too late to hide. Too late to shove the rocks that just added another ripple to her life back into their hole. Too late to make certain the pistol was loaded, she would have to risk her life on a bluff.

  Pulse racing, Sam grabbed the pistol, gripped it with both hands and, leaning, turned in time to come face-to-face, barrel-to-barrel, with the weapon the gunman aimed at her.

  FOURTEEN

  Glock trained on the viper in the closet, he bent down and picked up one of the loose stones between his thumb and forefinger. Holding it against the natural light, he watched it refract beams into bright rainbows.

  Rage warred within him, but when he spoke, he managed to control his temper. “Pretty bauble. Is it real?”

  “I assume so.” Her voice sounded irritated, not fearful. Then she started to move.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I was you. I haven’t decided whether I should shoot you or strangle you with my bare hands.”

  Her head snapped up. He saw a hint of fear flash in green eyes glittered with arrogance, watched the shiver crawl up her spine, and shake the weapon she still held aimed at him. Not that he couldn’t kick it out of her talented fingers. In her current position, she was easy pickins’. Right now, it was definitely safer for both of them with her holding the damn pistol. Otherwise, he might accidentally release a round into her lying, cold-hearted chest.

  “I’m putting it down. See.” She laid the pistol on the floor in front of her and started to get to her feet.

  “Don’t move,” he warned her. His voice shook with fury.

  Ignoring him, she stood up, her hands held up in front of her, palms out in surrender.

  A wave of anger pulsed through his body. He gripped the handle of the weapon aimed at her heart, careful to keep his finger away from the trigger. He could not afford to hurt her…yet.

  “You’re not going to shoot me, Max.” Sam breezed by him as though he wasn’t even there, as though he wasn’t holding a gun, that he hadn’t just caught her with a hand in the cookie jar.

  Damn! She knew him, knew he would not shoot her. The idea of a few bruises didn’t bother him much.

  As Sam left him standing there, he bent over and picked up the pistol. Tipping it so he could release the magazine, his heart halted then started again.

  “Not loaded,” he mumbled in surprised horror. “You aimed an unloaded weapon at an intruder?” he accused, walking with such force toward her the candleholders on the windowsill shook. “Didn’t your father ever teach you not to point a gun at someone unless you planned on using it?”

  She whirled on him. “Don’t knock my father! You don’t know him!”

  Whoa. “I didn’t…”

  “Besides, I just found the pistol and had no time to check it when I heard someone. You,” she charged, pointing a trembling finger at him. “No matter what, I figured a bluff was worth a shot.”

  Max stared dumbfounded at the woman who so flippantly took a gamble with her own life without knowing the actual risk. His head ached. This was not the same, clear-headed woman who got them out of the burning fishing shack, shot the crap out of the assholes trying to kill them, and quite easily seduced him into a compromising position so she could escape. No woman had ever done that before.

  Why here? Holstering his weapon, placing hers on the table out of reach, he raked fingers through his hair, desperate to figure out what was going on. Why did he want to kill and protect Sam? Why was he so certain she was the key to his brother’s safety? Glancing around the room his gaze landed on the glittering pool in front of the closet.

  “So you didn’t just happen to know the trivia answer,” he said, glaring at the twinkling rocks.

  “Yes, I did,” she ground out. “Why can’t you believe me?” she asked, exasperation clear in her voice.

  When Max turned his gaze from the diamond-strewn floor to Sam, he saw frustration in the way she had her fists planted on her hips, and her chin jutted out. Was she blind? “Because the evidence says otherwise,” he told her, gesturing to the floor.

  “I…I was looking for my father.” Sam lifted her chin in defiance.

  “And found a mountain of diamonds instead?”

  “Yes, damn it!” Sam’s arms flailed in the air, her face brightened to red with anger. “I found the gun and the diamonds, but no dad. And I’m worried.”

  He watched her with caution. Was there concern in her brilliant green eyes? He shook the thought away. Do not trust her, part of him whispered.

  “Why? Trouble in thief paradise?”

  His accusation hit its mark. Sam gasped, eyes wide, and then her face contorted into a mask of hatred. “I’m not a thief. My father is not a thief!”

  “Prove it.”

  “There’s nothing to prove. The evidence is circumstantial. We don’t know where the gems came from. Don’t know if they were stolen. Maybe my father invested for his future. Better bet than the bank. Maybe they were planted.”

  Max scoffed. “Do you honestly believe either of those, or are you protecting him? And remember my brother is in this mess and he isn’t a criminal.”

  He saw her hesitate, just for a moment, but it was there.

  “I’m not protecting him. I’m scared as hell for him.”

  “Explain. Tell me why
you’re spooked.” He read fear on her face. He ached to touch her, comfort her, but he didn’t dare. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back against the table, and listened from a distance.

  “My father wasn’t here when I arrived and he’s the one who summoned me. If he knew I was coming, which he did, then when I didn’t show he would have searched for me. He would have found me. Then when I got here I checked the refrigerator and it’s filled with spoiled food.”

  “That just makes him a forgetful man.”

  She continued. “Then there was the note he left at the fishing shack.”

  “What note?” Max straightened from his semi-relaxed pose to full alert. “You never told me about a note.”

  “There wasn’t time when we were being shot at, then I lost it, and it slipped my mind.” Sam shrugged. “Next was the voicemail he left for me on his answering machine.”

  He started to speak, but Sam held a hand up in front of his face, cutting him off.

  “After that was the message a man left threatening my dad on the machine. Then I found the diamonds.”

  She muttered the last sentence. Again, Max wondered if Sam believed her father innocent or if she was playing the faithful daughter.

  “Can I hear the messages?”

  Sam pulled the machine at the end of the counter closer to them, hit play, and then tossed him a notepad. Thumbing through it, he saw she had documented each call, efficient and professional.

  The eighth message was for someone named Annie. Max lifted an eyebrow in question and she explained.

  “Annie is my middle and nickname, short for Annie Oakley.”

  The name fit, he thought, nodding, and continued to listen as her father told her to check their secret place. The ninth voicemail made Max’s skin crawl. It was a definite threat, but it wasn’t against Sam’s father, it was against Samantha. His Sam. Shit! Was that the same voice who called him to meet at the mountain? It had to be.

  “That threat was against you. Whoever left it knew your father’s Achilles heel, his daughter.” What had her father gotten Samantha into? Max knew firsthand good people, law-abiding people, turned to the dark side. She didn’t see it. Was she that naïve? Well, time she woke up.

  “If Sam Spenser isn’t involved, then explain how he got those diamonds. Explain why his daughter’s life is threatened. Go ahead, enlighten me.”

  * * * *

  After hearing those messages how could Max doubt her father’s innocence? “You stupid son-of-a-bitch.” Sam spewed her anger out at him. “My father is a retired police chief. Based on what you yourself said, my bet is your brother contacted him.”

  She took a breath, felt heat flush her face, and continued. “And your brother,” she emphasized pointing a finger at Max’s chest, “is probably the reason my father is missing,” she said with acid in her voice.

  “Why would Kevin call a retired cop instead of the current chief?”

  Sam regarded him, unsure of Max’s honesty about his job. “Because he only retired six months ago, and all the locals recognize my father knows everyone and everything that goes on. If he asked around, they would have directed him to Dad.”

  “Let’s suppose you’re right. Kevin contacted your father. They both end up missing? I don’t buy it. Kevin would never put a civilian in that situation.”

  She shrugged. “That’s how it looks. If not, then my father could have followed it up on his own.” Yeah, that sounded like Dad. Who better to do the job of chasing down criminals than him? Max could believe what he wanted, but she knew her father. He wanted to help the FBI agent and keep his town safe. Now he was missing, or worse.

  “Can’t you, as an FBI agent, find out what Kevin was investigating? I mean you’re on the same team.”

  “Former FBI. We’re not on the same team. The government won’t tell me squat. That’s why I’m here, on–my–own.”

  Uh-oh. Max was very adamant about being former FBI. Sam wondered why the FBI was such a touchy subject.

  “All right. Then it seems we don’t have a choice. If we want to find our family, we have to work together.”

  She noticed Max’s skeptical expression, and added. “And trust each other.”

  It took a moment, but he nodded agreement. Like he had a choice, Sam thought. She pulled away from the counter, walking past him. When she did, he grabbed her arm.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Sam looked at the strong fingers gripping her upper arm, then at the man who both infuriated and intrigued her. When would he learn to trust her? She had enough faith to know he wouldn’t shoot her. She trusted him with her father’s life. Why wouldn’t he believe in her?

  “Max,” Sam murmured, put her hand on top of his, slid her thumb under his. His hold loosened, his tension slacked, but he did not release her. “There are a couple of things you should know.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Sam twisted his thumb, forcing his hand, wrist, and arm to follow. In one fluid motion, she flung a foot behind his, and jerked forward. Following his tumbling body, she reached with her other hand, released and extracted his weapon from its holster. When Max hit wood, air whooshed out of his lungs, and she sat astride his chest, barrel of the pistol pressed snug under his chin.

  Max cringed when she pushed it a little tighter against his skin. He peered up at her, astonishment on his face, and anger in eyes gone to coal.

  “I have a Glock aimed at your brain, what little there is. And you know what? This one is loaded.”

  “I did that for your own good. If I wanted to kill you, I could. But I don’t.” To prove her point, Sam holstered his weapon. “If that doesn’t prove you can trust me, I don’t know what will, but get over it. The other thing you should know is that I own a little security business.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. It’s just a little company, but I’m very good at it. As a matter of fact, I’m so good, various government agencies hire me.”

  One eyebrow quirked in question.

  Sam bit her lip to stifle a giggle. She had his attention now. “Um. You see, I train them in covert and special combat skills.”

  Still seated on Max’s torso, she leaned back, crossed her arms, and watched his expression. His eyes went from angry to amused. Then he smiled. Then he laughed, a deep rumbling laugh…and laughed…and…

  Max had lost his mind. She had pushed him too far, and he snapped. That was the only explanation.

  “No wonder I love you,” he declared between fits of laughter.

  Sam gasped and jolted. Her mouth hung open, as if she had been sucker-punched. Max had truly gone over the edge, around the bend, and over the cuckoo’s nest.

  He didn’t love her. He couldn’t. He didn’t know her. Sam glowered at him. Was this another of his games? A test? Before she could answer, he grabbed the front of her shirt, pulled her nose-to-nose.

  “Quit glaring at me. I haven’t lost my mind.”

  Then he yanked her down the last inch until their lips met, and kissed her, thoroughly, until she melted against him. When he released her, they were both breathing heavily. Sam wished she could close her eyes and forget about the rest of the world, but the stabbing pain poking into her knee brought the real world crashing down.

  Sam pushed off Max’s chest and sat up, removing the offending stone from her kneecap. “I need to pick these up and put them some place safe. Wouldn’t want to leave a fortune in evidence lying around.”

  Before she could crawl off him, Max halted her movement. “Sam.”

  She didn’t look at him. She didn’t dare. He made her vulnerable, and that was the last thing Sam wanted.

  “Sam, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Innocent or not, we’ll find your father.”

  A bitter pang of anguish hit her. Her eyes squeezed shut. Max did not believe her. How could he claim to love her and think the worst of her father? Afraid to speak, she nodded, and Max released her.

  With frantic fingers, Sam scooped up the diam
onds, and put them back in the envelope. Max helped.

  “We need to find out more about these diamonds. There has to be a way to tell where they came from.”

  Max stood and tugged Sam to her feet.

  “Was there anything else in your father’s secret stash?”

  She shrugged. “I never got a chance to finish looking before you showed up, guns blazing.”

  “Look,” he ordered, taking her by the shoulders and turning her toward the closet. “And my gun doesn’t blaze, but it is deadly.”

  At the sound of Max’s quiet chuckle, Sam turned around and glared at him. He winked and she made a sound of disgust before spinning back in the direction of the closet.

  She wanted to take offense at his order, but besides being a male pig, he was right. She needed to double-check the closet space. On her hands and knees, Sam crawled to the back and felt around the hidden box. Her arm bent and inserted up to her elbow in the floor. About to give up, her nails scraped against something, something with a different texture.

  If she could just reach a little further. Holding her breath, she tried again. She used her legs and fingers, pushed, stretched. Just…a…little…farther.

  “Got it!”

  FIFTEEN

  Triumph and dust covered her face.

  With his thumb, Max wiped a smudge from her cheek. Then he froze. When he looked down at her, Sam nodded. She heard it too, and went for the weapon on the table.

  He picked up the box of ammunition, handed it to her. While she bent low to load a clip, he withdrew his Glock and peered out the front window. He saw no one, but there were fresh tracks in the snow.

  Max glanced at Sam. She stood at a window facing the rear of the house, weapon ready. She did a quick peek and shook her head, letting him know she hadn’t seen anything. He pointed up, indicating his intent to check out upstairs. He made it three steps when the sound of the basement doorknob rattling stopped him in his tracks.

  Silent as a shadow he came back down the steps, and placed himself near the basement stairwell, out of an intruder’s line of sight. Sam moved to the opposite side, giving them the ability to ambush whoever came up.