Prey (7 page)

During that time, she noticed her business falling off, and because the community was so small she inevitably heard about the people who were hiring Dare Callahan as their guide, and several of the names were ones she recognized as people she’d previously guided. He was stealing her business! Okay, not stealing, because it wasn’t as if he’d accessed her files and called those people; they’d have searched him out, not the other way around. Still, the end result was the same.

He had asked her out again, months after that first time, and by that time she was so angry she’d simply given him a clipped “No, thanks” and walked away. Go out with him? She’d rather stake him out over an anthill.

Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t completely forget that moment of first meeting him, the sensation of being in free fall as every cell in her body seemed to be supercharged. She tried, but even though she kept her attention focused forward, on getting things done, she was always aware on some level of what might have been.

Nothing. That’s what might have been: exactly nothing. And she had to remember that. Regrets were a dime a dozen.

Harlan was pensive as he drove back along the narrow dirt road that snaked several miles from Angie’s place toward a blacktop. A couple of different things bothered him. He liked Dare Callahan, loved Angie the way you loved a kid you’d known most of her life, and it made him uncomfortable that he was stuck in this situation between them.

His professional loyalty was to Angie; she was the one who had signed the contract with him, she was the one paying his commission. He’d present her counteroffer to Dare, no problem; in fact, he was relieved she’d made a counteroffer at all, instead of turning Dare down flat, which was what he’d been afraid she would do. He didn’t butt in where it wasn’t his business, but what he’d seen yesterday in the parking lot below his office had made it plain the two weren’t on good terms. Watching them had been like watching two boxers in the ring, trash-talking before the swinging began.

He didn’t know what their problem was and in this part of the country people minded their own business. He’d never heard anything
about a disagreement between them, but sometimes people just disliked each other and that was all there was to it. Angie kept more to herself now, after that problem at her wedding, than she had before it all happened, and Dare wasn’t a happy-go-lucky type, period. With the bristles they both toted around, it wasn’t a surprise they’d evidently managed to stick each other; more surprising was that no one had noticed it before now.

Another thing that was bothering him, which was silly because it wasn’t as if the situation was anything new, was Angie going off with two men she didn’t know. Never mind that one was a repeat customer; he sounded like a wimp, and wimps could be dangerous because they tended to go along with whoever was stronger, and not take a stand in a bad situation.

Realistically, Harlan knew this situation was nothing unusual, that Angie had been running the business for three years now and routinely guided people, mostly men, whom she didn’t know. But logic had nothing to do with a gut feeling, and his gut was suddenly uneasy. Maybe it was because this other situation had him feeling protective, but it was the same kind of gut feeling that would suddenly have him slowing down on a highway, without rhyme or reason, and five minutes later coming up on an accident, or a deer would leap across the road in front of him—things like that. His gut was uneasy now, and slowing down wouldn’t fix a damn thing.

He periodically checked his cell phone for service; sometimes he’d hit a service pocket that he hadn’t known was there, or the atmospherics would magically deliver service where five minutes before none had existed. Out here the coverage was sketchy, but in his experience people lived here for a reason, and one of them was the more relaxed pace of life. He didn’t feel the need to be in constant contact with the world, and neither did anyone else. If he moved closer to Noah—hell,
when
he moved closer to Noah and the family, he might as well stop playing with the idea and commit—he’d have to adjust to the barrage of information. Of
course, he could always be the old coot who never turned on his cell phone unless he wanted to make a call, then promptly turned it off again. That worked for him.

He finally got service right before he got back to his office, which was normal. No point then in wasting any of his minutes, so he used the office landline. The answering machine picked up, but he’d have been surprised if Dare had actually answered, anyway; it wasn’t as if he spent his time in the house waiting for a call, and cell service was just as bad out at Dare’s place as it was everywhere else in the area, so he didn’t even bother trying that number. “Dare, it’s Harlan. I gave Angie your offer, and she’s made a counteroffer. Call me.”

The return call came less than half an hour later. Dare’s voice was as raw and rough as January, as usual, and brusque, also as usual. Dare was a good guy and Harlan liked him, but even his friends thought he was as hard as nails and as ornery as a bull. “What’s the counteroffer?”

“Ten thousand less than her asking price. It’s a fair number.”

“It was a fair number two years ago, but property values have tanked. That’s twenty thousand more than I offered. I’m not made of cash,” he said irritably. “I don’t know if I can get the bank to go any higher on how much it’ll finance.”

At least he hadn’t said a flat-out no. “Give it some thought,” Harlan urged. “Nothing has to be done right now. In fact, Angie’s taking two guys out in the morning on a weeklong guide trip, so she’ll be out of pocket anyway. I’ll get with the bank, get an appraisal done, then we’ll both have a better idea on the value of the property. I think she’s in the ballpark, though. I’d have told her if I thought she was asking too much.” And she needed to sell, but Harlan kept that thought to himself. Her financial problems were her business, and not his to broadcast.

“All right, I’ll think about it,” Dare growled.

“That’s good. I’ll get back with you when she’s home again.” Harlan’s gut nudged him; maybe he should get Dare’s opinion on
the situation. Never mind that Dare and Angie weren’t the best of friends, this was kind of a professional consultation. And if he worked this right, he might be able to wrangle something even more important out of the conversation. “Say, there’s something that’s bothering me, and I want your opinion.”

Dare paused briefly; he wasn’t someone who obligated himself without knowing the details. Harlan had no doubt that if they hadn’t known each other Dare would have said “No” and hung up the phone. But they did know each other, so he pushed the advantage. “It’s about Angie.”

A low grunt sounded. “What about her?”

“This guide trip … I feel a tad uneasy about it. She’s going off for a week with two men she doesn’t know. Well, one guy is someone she’s guided before, but she said he isn’t an outdoorsman, so I get the feeling he’s sucking up to a business associate. You ever heard of any women guides having trouble … you know, with men while they’re out on a hunt?”

“Aren’t that many women guides,” Dare said after a minute. “The few I know, other than Angie, work with their husbands. I’m not saying there aren’t more female guides working on their own, but I don’t know about them.”

“Do you think it’s safe?”

“She’ll be armed, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then she’s as safe as any other woman with a rifle in her hand. But she isn’t as safe as I’d be.” He paused. “You asked if I’d heard of any women having trouble on a hunt, and the answer is yes. I’ve heard about it, but I don’t have any firsthand knowledge, so I can’t swear what I heard was true. Common sense says it probably is, though, people being people and assholes being assholes.”

Harlan blew out a breath. “That’s what I thought. Damn it.”

His tone dragging with reluctance, Dare asked, “Where’s she going? Do you know the area?”

“Yeah. She gave me her location, and the name of the men
she’ll be with.” Harlan passed along that information. “She’s supposed to call me when she gets back.”

“What are they hunting?”

“Bear, going by the bear call I saw her packing.”

Dare grunted. “And both of her clients are first-timers?” He meant the first time hunting bear in particular, not hunting in general, but he didn’t have to explain himself to Harlan.

“I don’t know about the client’s client; he might be experienced.” Harlan felt he had to be fair about that, considering all the other bad thoughts he was having about these two men whom he didn’t know. He cleared his throat, bracing himself for a sharp rejection as he moved to the main part of his objective. “Like I said, I have an uneasy feeling about this; don’t know why. Do you know anyone who could check up on her while she’s out there, kind of? You know, so she won’t know she’s being checked up on?”

There was a moment of silence during which Harlan could all too plainly imagine Dare holding the phone out and staring at it in disbelief, then his ear was blasted with a shout so raspy it sounded as if it had been fashioned out of sandpaper. “You want
me
to check up on her? That’s what you’re asking, right? There isn’t some convenient ‘anyone’ who’s going to be up in that area.”

“Unless you’re busy,” said Harlan, totally without shame or guilt; in fact, he felt a sense of triumph. If Dare had had a guide trip himself, he’d have immediately said he was busy, but he hadn’t, which meant he wasn’t. Harlan had taken a gamble.

“I don’t have anyone coming in, but that doesn’t mean I’m not busy,” Dare said, sounding thoroughly pissed.

“I know I’m asking a lot—”

“A helluva lot more than you know. In case you haven’t noticed, Angie and I don’t exactly get along. She won’t appreciate seeing me.”

“I had noticed,” Harlan admitted. “And if she sees you she won’t be happy. But I’d rather she be unhappy than raped or dead.”

“You really think something like that might happen?”

“Normally I don’t even think about it. This time, though, I’ve just got a bad feeling in my gut.”

“Shit,” said Dare, but it wasn’t a dismissal of Harlan’s instincts. If anything, it was an acknowledgment from someone who had been in a lot of tense situations and tight places; cops and soldiers learned to pay attention to their guts, more so than the general population. Harlan didn’t think he was psychic or anything like that, but he did think that people had an animalistic sixth sense that could warn them of impending danger, if they’d only listen to it. Maybe Angie had picked up some of the same sense of danger and would be extra cautious, which might be all that was needed, but maybe she was too preoccupied with her situation to notice some details.

“I’ll think about it,” Dare finally said grudgingly. “But if I do go up there and she shoots my ass, I’m holding you responsible.”

Fuck this. Angie Powell wasn’t his problem. She was a pain in his ass, but she wasn’t his problem.

Dare made a habit—no, a religion—of not taking on other people’s shit if he could find a way around it, and he was no goddamn babysitter. Harlan was just being an old woman, worrying about Angie because his gut told him something wasn’t right. More than likely he just felt overprotective because she was his dead best friend’s daughter, he’d watched her grow up, and all that other psychological crap, so he’d worked himself into a fit of guilt. He was discounting that Angie had chosen to be a guide, knowing damn well that taking men she didn’t know out for days or even weeks at a time would be part of the deal. She was a smart, tough cookie; she’d have thought of all that, and taken precautions.

But Angie was going through a tough time, selling out and
moving, so probably Harlan was just feeling extra protective. That explained it as well as anything else.

Dare snorted as he went through to the kitchen and snagged a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. He could just imagine what would happen if he showed up at her campsite,
checking up on the little lady
like some Old West throwback. Angie Powell would kick his ass if he even hinted that she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself. Well, she’d try.

In spite of his sour mood, a smile twitched at his mouth. She pissed him off with those drop-dead looks she gave him, she got on his last nerve without even trying, but the mental picture of her coming after him with both fists swinging lifted his mood. For one thing, he’d win any tussle with her. For a second thing, the tussling would be fun. For a few seconds he enjoyed the scenario, imagining that almost-skinny body wiggling against him, that world-class ass right there where he could get his hands on it—yeah, right before the part where she head-butted him and broke his nose, which was way more likely than the ass-grabbing part, though if he kept his mind on the fight and his hands where they were supposed to be, she’d never be able to get near his nose, or his balls, or any other vulnerable part. He’d have to decide ahead of time if getting his hands on her ass was worth a knee in the balls.

His dick twitched a
Hell, yeah!
Dare snorted again. Stupid fucker … literally.

Spend a week up in the high country trying to stay hidden and watch over Angie Powell at the same time? What, did Harlan think he lived in a vacuum and didn’t have his own shit to take care of?

Some of that shit was in a pile on the kitchen table, waiting for him. God, he hated paperwork. He loved what he did, but he fucking
hated
the nit-picking shit that went with it, the stack of crumpled receipts that he swore to God multiplied during the night. Maybe he should hire someone to do the books for him. He was making enough money now—though if he bought Angie’s place,
that extra money would disappear. Things would be tight for a while, but if he could make all his plans work …

Damn it, if she got killed on this guide job, all of those plans would evaporate. The property would be tied up for however long it took the estate to be settled. He didn’t know who her relatives were, if she had a will, anything about that side of her life. If he wanted that land, she needed to be alive.