Lena Diaz - Smoky Mountains Ranger

Adam was left-handed.

And his pistol was holstered just a few inches from where his left hand currently hung down by his side.

Come on, come on. Shake the clueless cop’s hand.

An awkward silence stretched out between them as no one moved. Adam pretended not to notice. He kept his hand out, waiting, a goofy grin on his face. From the corner of his eye, Adam saw the woman watching them closely, her gaze sweeping back and forth.

Finally, the man mumbled something beneath his breath that sounded suspiciously like “stupid hillbilly” before gripping Adam’s hand.

Adam yanked hard, jerking the man off balance. The man stumbled as Adam grabbed the butt of his gun in the holster. But Tattoo Guy was lightning fast. Even as Adam began to draw his pistol, the other guy was already drawing his and swinging it toward him.

“Drop your weapon. Now. ” Adam had both hands wrapped around the butt of his Glock. The bore of his gun was aimed directly at the other man’s head.

Tattoo Guy stood statue still, his weapon aimed slightly to Adam’s left, frozen in midmotion. But one quick twist and a squeeze of the trigger would blast a hole through Adam’s gut. The only question was whether Adam could blow the man’s brains out before that happened. Not exactly a competition he wanted to wage, especially with a woman a few feet away who was dangerously close to the kill zone.

The seconds ticked by. They stood frozen. The only sounds were the woman’s short gasping breaths as she watched the standoff, apparently too terrified to back away to a safer location—preferably behind a thick, solid tree.

Adam didn’t dare say a word to her. He didn’t even blink as he kept his gaze glued to his opponent and his finger on the frame of his gun, just millimeters from the trigger. He narrowed his eyes, letting the stranger know that he wasn’t kidding, wasn’t bluffing and wasn’t the head-in-the-clouds idiot he’d pretended to be moments earlier.

Tattoo Guy must have read the truth and determination in Adam’s eyes, in his stance. He tossed his gun to the ground.

Adam kept his finger right above the trigger, ready to fire at the slightest provocation. Everything about the man screamed danger, and he wasn’t taking any chances. “Turn around.”

The man hesitated, his gaze darting past Adam.

The urge to check over his shoulder to see what Tattoo Guy was looking at was almost impossible to resist. Did the man have a partner in crime creeping up on Adam? Or was he trying to trick him, distract him? His shoulder blades itched, expecting a bullet to slam into them any second. But he didn’t turn around. He focused on the known threat in front of him and waited.

The man finally did as Adam had ordered and turned to face the wall of rock.

Adam kicked the pistol out of reach. “Down on the ground. Put your hands behind your back.”

Again Tattoo Guy hesitated. Adam pulled a pair of handcuffs from one of the leather cases attached to his utility belt. He desperately wanted to check on the woman, make sure she was safe, that no one was sneaking up behind her . But he didn’t dare. Not until he had this guy secured.

When the man finally put his hands behind his back, Adam holstered his pistol in one smooth motion and dropped down on top of him, jamming his knee against the man’s spine to hold him down. The man cursed and tried to buck him off. But Adam used every bit of his six-foot-three-inch bulk to keep the stranger pinned.

He slapped the cuffs on the man’s wrists, then sat back, drawing deep breaths as adrenaline pumped through him. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face in spite of the mild, springlike temps this high up in the mountains. From the moment he’d seen the gunman to the moment he’d cuffed him had probably only been five minutes. But it had felt like an eternity.

He stood and pulled his prisoner up with him. After patting the man down to make sure he wasn’t hiding more weapons, he grabbed the man’s pistol and popped out the magazine. After ejecting the chambered round and verifying that the weapon was now empty, he pocketed the gun and the magazine. Then he slid the man’s wallet out of his back jeans pocket, jumping back when the man jerked around, glowering at him.

“Give that back.” The man’s tone communicated a deadly, unmistakable threat.

“After I check your ID.”

A smug look crossed the man’s face, a look Adam understood when he opened the wallet. Tucked inside was a hefty amount of cash: twenties, tens, a few ones—a thousand dollars, easy. A heck of a lot of money for someone wandering through the mountains. But that was it. No driver’s license, no credit cards, nothing that could shed any light on his identity.

He forced the man to face the rock wall again and returned the wallet with its cache of money to the man’s pocket. “What’s your name?”

Silence met his question.

“What were you doing up here on a closed trail with a pistol? Why were you pointing it at Miss Ingram?”

Tattoo Guy turned his head to the side, watching Adam over his shoulder. Still, he said nothing. He just studied Adam intently, his eyes dark and cold, like a serpent.

Adam glanced toward the woman, then stiffened. During the altercation between him and the gunman, instead of moving down the trail or ducking for cover behind a tree, she’d backed up close to the edge again.

“Miss Ingram.” He kept his voice low and soothing so he wouldn’t startle her. “Jody, right?”

She swallowed, then nodded.

“Jody, I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d step away from that sharp drop-off.”

She glanced over her shoulder. A visible shudder ran through her as she hurried forward and to the side. She’d been mere inches from falling off the cliff and was exceedingly lucky the unstable edge hadn’t given way.

“How about you move over there?” He directed her closer to the wall of rock, a little farther up the path and out of reach of his prisoner if the man decided to launch himself at either of them.

She did as he’d directed. But instead of looking relieved that she no longer had a pistol pointing at her, she seemed even more anxious than before. Her face was chalk white, making her green eyes and matching glasses stand out in stark contrast. Even her lips had lost their color, and her whole body was shaking.

Why?

“Everything’s okay now,” he reassured her. “You’re safe. What’s this guy’s name?”

She exchanged an uneasy glance with the handcuffed man, then shook her head. “I...I don’t know. We, ah, ran into each other on the trail.”

Adam glanced back and forth between them, beginning to wonder whether he should put her in handcuffs, too. They were hiding something. What was going on here?

“You’re strangers? You’ve never met before?”

She swallowed. “We’ve never met. I’d just rounded the curve and he was...there. I...ah...startled him, which is why he drew his gun.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I guess he thought I was a bear.” Again, she gave a nervous laugh that was anything but convincing.

A smile creased Tattoo Guy’s lips as he watched the exchange over his shoulder.

“You don’t know each other’s names?” Adam asked, giving her another chance to answer him truthfully.

“No.”

He shook his head, not even trying to hide his disbelief. “You have a habit of getting into heated arguments with strangers?”

Her face flushed guiltily. “He drew a gun on me. I wasn’t happy about that. Things did get a bit...heated...with him demanding to know why I’d snuck up on him. Which, of course, I hadn’t. But looking back, I can see how it appeared that way to him.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. Subterfuge obviously didn’t come naturally to her. So why was she covering for this guy? Or was she covering for both of them?