Out of the Storm (Buckhorn, Montana #1) - B.J. Daniels Page 0,70
Jon had to assume that Collin had a weapon or that there had been one waiting for him in the house. If this were a drug deal, then everyone in that house would be carrying—except for Kate.
Because the house wasn’t as large as the others in the neighborhood, there wouldn’t be many bedrooms. Maybe the deal hadn’t gone down yet. His hope was that the associates had rented the house but hadn’t arrived yet. Which meant it would only be Kate and Matthews inside.
He knew he could sit here all night speculating on what he was going to find once he reached the house. But there was only one way to find out for sure as he double-checked the weapons. He figured neither was registered, so if he were caught, nothing would trace back to Earl Ray.
With one gun in the top of his boot, another tucked in his back waistband and covered with his coat, he locked the pickup and headed toward the creek. At one time, he’d been a crack shot. He hoped it was like riding a bike.
The night air made his breath come out in frosty puffs as he walked. The snow was deep. He pushed through it, noticing that his limp was getting worse. He was a woodworker now, no longer a cop, no longer chasing down bad guys.
But he knew he could do this because when he was a cop, he was good at it. Only this time the stakes were higher than they’d ever been. He didn’t have a badge, was across an international border and was about to blow his cover if he got caught. None of that mattered as long as he got Kate out of this.
He reached the edge of the park and dipped into the trees. By staying near the creek, he would have cover. But at some point he would have to cross the creek. It looked frozen over, blanketed in snow, but that didn’t mean the ice was thick enough to hold his weight. Nor did he have any idea how deep the water might be at the middle.
But this side of it provided the best shelter. He moved soundlessly through the soft, fresh snow, not worried about leaving tracks. He could see the back of the house ahead through the trees. He would have to cross the creek at some point and then he would be exposed for twenty yards before he reached the rear of the building. Fortunately the neighbors next to the house had a high fence. He just hoped they didn’t have a barking dog.
At the creek’s edge, he tested the ice. It was always thinner along the bank. The ice broke under his weight with a loud crack. He felt his boot break through. He took another step—farther out this time, then another. He would hear the ice groaning under his weight. He was almost to the middle when a light came on at the back of the house, and Jon froze.
CHAPTER TWENTY
MATTHEWS RUBBED A hand over his face as he turned on the kitchen light. He couldn’t sleep. Aimlessly, he opened the refrigerator and peered around inside. Beer. Leftover pizza and a few condiments. He closed the door and tried the cupboards. Empty except for a large bag of Cheezies. What the hell?
He unrolled the top. Someone had already gotten into them. Not that he minded. He took out a handful. Canada’s brand of Cheetos. He could live with that.
His stomach roiled, but he ignored the nauseous feeling, knowing it had nothing to do with what he was putting into his system right now. Nerves. His skin hurt as if his whole body had broken out in a rash. Half the time, he felt as if he would jump out of it.
Too much hinged on this deal going down without any problems. He had to relax. He had to believe that this would work. He’d been assured that the men at this end knew what they were doing and had done it numerous times before without a hitch. He was betting everything on it—including his life.
He had to believe he was in good hands, given the highway patrolman—if that’s what the officer really had been—who’d given him the note. So, he shouldn’t worry. These people had everything under control.
But even as he thought this, he knew the real hitch was asleep in a bedroom in this very house. Kate. He wanted to trust her, but he knew he couldn’t. Earlier, he’d