her awareness. They stood in the middle of the parking garage lane. Georgia stepped back to get out of the way when she spotted a man wearing sunglasses and a hat aim a gun out of the driver-side window.
Carson tackled her right as fear consumed her and the gun fired. She landed hard on the concrete behind the protection of a pickup truck. More shots rang out, pinging as the bullets hit the truck. Carson stayed on top of her while tires screeched and the sound of the car grew fainter.
Georgia sat up when Carson stood to peer over the hood of the truck. Georgia could no longer hear the car.
“Who was that?” she asked, breathy with wild adrenaline.
“I don’t know.” He reached for her hands to help her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”
Stepping back from him, she surveyed her body, wiping her hands down her now-dirty skirt suit. She had a minor scrape on her leg and her hands were a little sore, but other than a little shaken up, she was okay. “No bullet holes, so I couldn’t be better.”
Her attempt at humor fell flat on him. His brow was dark and low in grave contemplation. He must have some ideas about who had just shot at them. Wait. Why would anyone shoot at her? The inheritance? It didn’t seem likely. And as she recalled the way the man had aimed the gun, it hadn’t been directed at her. It had been directed at Carson.
“Why would anyone want to shoot you?” she asked.
His eyes met hers but he’d closed up. “Go back inside, Georgia. I’ll take care of this.”
Take care of it how? He ushered her to the elevator.
“But—”
He gave her a gentle push when the doors opened. She stepped inside and faced him.
“The police may want to question you.”
“I can wait for them to get here.”
“Go back inside. I want you out of danger. What if the car returns?”
“What about you?” He was in more danger than her.
“I was a marine. I can take care of myself.” Instead of sounding conceited, he spoke out of honesty and in a teasing tone. Sexy. Manly. A molten shiver ran through her. Then she checked herself. If she wasn’t careful, she could fall head over heels...for an Adair.
After the detective questioned them and AdAir Security gave him the recording of what had happened in the parking garage, he left to begin an investigation. Now Carson turned to Whit, who stood behind his desk, too charged up to sit down. He leaned against the wall with his feet crossed and arms folded, and Georgia sat on a sofa next to Ruby. The detective had asked them about Reginald’s murder and, after cautioning them over carrying on their own investigation, seemed to think the shooting might be related to their meddling.
“Why would Dad’s killer shoot at you and not me?” Whit asked. “We’re both looking into his murder and Jackson’s kidnapping.”
“Maybe he hasn’t tried to kill you yet,” Georgia said.
“I don’t think it was Dad’s killer who shot at me.”
Whit’s brow lifted. “Oh? You didn’t mention that to the detective.”
No, but his thoughts were filled with other possibilities. Disturbing possibilities. “We don’t have anything on the murder. No leads. Our best suspect is our mother and she’s not in the country. Why go to the extreme of killing us when it appears our mother is the one who murdered Dad?”
“Who do you think it could be?” Georgia asked.
Carson looked at her but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure how much he should say.
“What motive would Mom have?” Whit asked. “That’s always bothered me. Why would she kill Dad?”
“Who knows?” Carson said. “She tried to kill Elizabeth. Dad was so distant with her, she could have done it as a result of his neglect. Their relationship wasn’t good.”
“No, it wasn’t. Not true love, that’s for sure. But is that enough to make her kill him?”
Maybe Patsy had taken all she could and finally snapped, beginning with the murder attempt on Elizabeth. But if the kidnapper had killed Reginald for getting too close, then it seemed unlikely that Patsy could have been that person. He supposed the kidnapper could have killed Reginald and was now going after Carson and Whit, but Carson didn’t think that was what happened in the parking garage.
The way the shooter had carried out the shooting, covertly moving in and making a clean getaway, was tactical and planned. Would Jackson’s kidnapper be so professional? Possibly, but Carson didn’t think so.
“What are you thinking?” Whit asked, moving around his desk. He must see Carson’s doubt and concern. He stopped before him.
“What’s wrong?” Georgia asked.
He looked over at her, again unsure of how much he should say.
“Do you have any idea who might have shot at you?” Whit asked.
Slowly, Carson nodded.
“Who?” Georgia asked. Beside her, Ruby followed the thread of conversation by looking from one to another.
“My last mission didn’t go as planned,” Carson said.
“You were shot.”
Yes, he’d been shot, but a lot had happened before that. He glanced at Ruby and Georgia again. “It was a classified mission.”
“Were you in the military?” Ruby asked, innocent of what Carson might be implying—that someone from the failed mission had come shooting at him.
“Yes. I was part of a four-man team in MARSOC, which stands for the Marine Corps Special Operations Command. Our missions were assigned by US Special Operations Command.” He looked pointedly at Whit, who understood the brotherly code. His team had done top-secret reconnaissance missions in some of the most dangerous places in the world. In this case, he’d gone to Myanmar, an arms-embargoed country and a conduit for illicit trade. If Carson had made an enemy there, the shooting in the parking garage could only be the beginning. But it was probably best not to discuss that in front of Ruby and Georgia. He could only trust Whit right now. And for the women’s safety, he’d keep them out of it.
He looked over at Georgia, who sat wide-eyed in fascination he doubted she welcomed. She had known he was in the Marines but not that he’d done special forces. Did that put a chink in her anti-Adair armor?
Seeing Ruby notice with a tiny smile, Carson wondered if she shared Georgia’s animosity or if her disgruntlement centered only on Reginald. Interesting, that Ruby had been the one who’d been hurt by an Adair and it was Georgia who carried the torch. The two were close, but Georgia was Ruby’s champion. Ruby had a frailty about her, whereas Georgia was a rock.
“Georgia
