Loaded. Joanna Wayne
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Stepping over a crack in the sidewalk, she cut across the corner of the parking lot, walked around the rear of an old pickup truck and got her first good look at the extent of the damage to her vehicle.
The whole side of the car was riddled with bullet holes. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the weapon, but judging from the size and number of holes, it must have been a large automatic. Her nerves grew edgy as it hit her how close she’d come to getting killed.
Attacked in broad daylight on the main street of Colts Run Cross. She could see why that might rouse both the sheriff’s and Matt Collingsworth’s suspicions, but what else could it be except random violence?
The only people with reason not to want her here were the Collingsworths, and it was almost inconceivable that they could have learned her identity this quickly. And even if they had, a careless, open attack like this wasn’t their style.
She let her fingers slide over the damage, then walked to the passenger-side door, opened it and climbed inside. The vehicle wasn’t locked, but even if it had been, entry would have been easy enough with two windows shot out.
Her spirits plunged at the first glimpse inside the glove compartment. The contents—including her weapon—were missing.
There was the possibility that Hank Tanner had her belongings inside for safekeeping, but more likely the sheriff had confiscated them. No problem there. The car and gun registrations would check out.
Still, it was amazing how vulnerable she felt without her weapon, despite the fact that she hadn’t carried it on her body since arriving in Colts Run Cross. It didn’t fit the PT persona and chancing someone noticing that she was carrying a weapon would constitute an unnecessary risk when there was no reason to think she was in any kind of danger.
Her cell phone vibrated—not her regular phone but the CIA one, disguised as a compact. It was her signal to call in at her earliest convenience unless she was free to take the call. She wished she could ignore it, because it was likely her supervisor and she wasn’t sure she was ready to handle Brady Owens just yet. She took a deep breath and leaned against the car.
“Shelly Lane,” she said, identifying herself.
“I got the word you’ve been shot,” Brady said, without bothering with a greeting. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, or I will be in a few days. It was only a flesh wound. Left arm. Random violence. Nothing to worry about—really.”
“Any complication is reason for worry. Where are you?”
“At Hank Tanner’s Garage, standing by my vehicle.”
“Who’s with you?”
“I’m alone. I wouldn’t have answered otherwise.”
“I’m just checking.”
To see if the accident had somehow addled her brain and made her a risk. The Collingsworth case was Brady’s baby and he’d made it clear that he wasn’t comfortable with her lack of experience. She was certain he’d be even less thrilled with her now.
“I’m totally aware of the seriousness of this case, sir, but things are under control. What I meant is there’s no reason the assignment shouldn’t still be a go.”
“That will be my decision. I haven’t made it yet.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have there been any new developments since you called in the report?”
“Nothing except that I’ve left the hospital.”
“Were you released?”
“No, sir, but the wound is too insignificant to require hospitalization. I’ll go back in tomorrow to have it checked.”
“See that you do that. Is there anything else I should know?”
“My weapon was locked in the glove compartment of my car at the time of the shooting incident. It’s missing. I assume either the mechanic took it for safekeeping or the sheriff has it. Either way, I’m sure I’ll get it back.”
“Just be sure to explain it away convincingly. Do you think there is any chance the Collingsworths were behind the attack?”
“I’m all but certain they weren’t. Matt Collingsworth was inside the restaurant when it occurred and was the first to come to my rescue.”
“So I heard. That doesn’t mean he couldn’t have ordered a hit. With his money, hired guns are easy to come by.”
“But we have no evidence that any of the Collingsworths have ever used a paid assassin,” Shelly countered. “And Lenora Collingsworth visited me at the hospital. She seemed extremely apologetic about the shooting incident and has asked me to move to the ranch tomorrow. That would be the last thing she’d do if she knew I was with the CIA.”
“It would seem that way, unless you’re walking into a trap.”
“They’re not going to shoot me in cold blood,” Shelly said. “They use money and influence—not guns—to get what they want.” Shelly knew that Brady would have a difficult time denying that.
Besides, she was his best chance—maybe his only chance—to get an agent inside the family circle, and they needed that edge to push things off dead center.
They’d had a mole inside Collingsworth Oil for months. Ben Hartmann was an experienced agent and talented computer hacker, but as yet he hadn’t acquired the proof to seal the case. No proof that the Collingsworths were GAS, Ben’s term for suspects once they had indisputable evidence that they were guilty as sin.
“We’ve spent weeks setting this up,” she argued. “Unless there’s a serious leak in our department, no one could possibly have found out why I’m really here. It would be a major setback if we called this off just because some two-bit hood with a point to prove to his fellow gang members shot up my car.”
“The random violence angle is a huge assumption, Shelly. You know what I think about assumptions.”
“Yes, sir.” But he also knew there was always a gamble in this type of operation.
“I’d like to hear your firsthand, no-spin account of today’s shooting incident.”
She filled him in on the details, leaving nothing out—except for her ridiculous and very momentary attraction to Matt Collingsworth. He listened without questions until she’d finished.
Then the silence on the line seemed thick with apprehension. She knew he was rethinking everything, especially her inexperience. She didn’t breathe easy until she heard the muffled clicking of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a clear signal that he was giving in. All the agents recognized the telltale habit.
“Proceed as planned, while I have this checked into, Shelly. But watch your back and stay on high alert. Never underestimate a Collingsworth.”
“That’s a given.”