Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
The word tasted bitter in her mouth. Relationship. She nearly choked on it. The idea of being in anything with Jarod made her want to vomit.
Christian turned to May. His voice dropped. “Is there anyone who’d want you dead, Doc?”
Amka glanced sideways.
May had gone pale in the glow from the fire Christian had built in the stone hearth. “No.”
Christian’s gaze narrowed. What did he see?
Amka looked straight at May now. “May?”
May shook her head, too fast. “Nobody wants me dead. Nobody would shoot at me.”
Brock cocked his head. “You know, Doc? We’ve had doctors rotate through this town like crazy for years, doing their time for their scholarships and then getting the hell out. Not you. You’re an excellent doctor, and you signed a three-year contract. I wasn’t here, but I’m wondering if anybody asked you why.”
May’s chin firmed. “The signing bonus was helpful, and I actually like it here, Sheriff. There’s nothing more to it than that.”
Brock had the same look in his eyes as his brother.
Amka tried to concentrate. Was May hiding something?
May turned to Wyland. “What about you, Wy? I mean, it was your storage building and you were right out there in the bullets. Does anybody want you dead?”
Wyland snorted. “Huh? Just my kid. He wants to inherit everything and change it.” He paused, the joke hanging limp, and then exhaled. His shoulders settled. “I’m kidding. Of course Sheldon wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
“Are you sure?” Brock had the same easy tone, but the question landed hard. “I assume he’s your only living heir.”
Wyland frowned. “Seriously, Brock. Come on. Sheldon didn’t shoot at us from across the street.” He shook his head, jaw tightening.
If Amka remembered right, Sheldon was a good shot. He’d grown up hunting, like the rest of the town. They all could shoot, so that wasn’t exactly a strike against him. “He did seem to be interested in the insurance claim for the storage building.” She winced. “I’m sorry, Wyland. I’m sure Sheldon would never want to hurt you.” She should’ve kept her mouth shut.
Wyland winked. “It’s been a long day and night, girly. Don’t worry about it.” He looked over his shoulder at Brock. “My guess is that it was somebody local, because the tourists don’t know about that fishing hole where Christian tracked the shooter.”
“Maybe,” Christian said. “With that stupid social media game going on, a lot of those influencers, whatever that is, have asked for tours around town. Surely the Blue’s fishing hole interested a couple of them.”
That was probably true. Had anybody told Christian about that video of him saving her? She wasn’t going to. For now, nobody had questioned him yet. “What about you?”
“Why would anybody shoot at me?” Christian asked, eyebrows raised.
“You’re kind of grumpy,” Amka muttered. The feeling hit her like a slap. She froze. “Oh man, I’m sorry. That came out of nowhere.”
“It’s okay.” He smiled. Not with a polite pull at the corners of his full mouth. It started in the eyes. His lips tipped upward, slow and uncertain, like the motion had to push through rust.
She stared, caught. When was the last time she’d seen Christian Osprey smile?
High school?
Even then, it had never fully formed. It didn’t now either. His mouth curved, but not all the way, as if he wasn’t quite sure how. Her heart ached. She’d love to teach him to smile again. What? No. That wasn’t going to happen.
She looked at his eyes. The left was green. The right, black. Both locked on her. Both alert. Focused.
Alive.
Outside, the wind shifted. The fire popped. Someone’s boot scraped across the floor.
It was impressive how he’d tracked the shooter all the way through town to that fishing hole. Through the drilling rain. Through the suffocating dark. Through probably bad memories. How many people in the world could actually do that? Not many. Not under pressure. Not with that kind of clarity. Amka wasn’t even sure how he had seen the tracks in that mess of mud and floodwater. But he had. And he’d followed them like the storm wasn’t even there.
Brock cleared his throat.
Amka jolted. Had she been staring at Christian? Heat filled her face.
“Amka? I’m going to assume you were the target, but Wyland, you need to be careful as well,” Brock said.
Wyland ran a gnarled hand through his wet gray hair. “I’ll stay sober and armed, Sheriff.”
“Amka, I think you should come stay with Brock and me,” Ophelia added. “At least until Jarod gets home. We have plenty of room.”
“Thank you. I can take care of myself,” Amka said. She had two guns and knew how to shoot.
Ophelia looked like she wanted to argue, but her mouth pressed into a hard line. The coffee in her hand had stopped steaming.
May tugged gently on Amka’s sleeve. “Come stay with me.”
Amka looked at her friend. “What if someone’s trying to shoot me? The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.”