Shirlee McCoy - Running Blind

“Would the rest of you like a tour of the house? It was Magdalena’s pride and joy. Showing it off makes me feel a little closer to her.”

The Doughertys were quick to accept the offer, though Nikolai was sure he saw tension in Kane’s shoulders as he walked away. Maybe he, too, sensed something phony about Magdalena’s husband.

And maybe Nikolai was looking for trouble where there wasn’t any.

He didn’t join the group following Romero. Instead, he followed Jenna back through the large ballroom and into the corridor. He expected her to find the basement door and retreat to the playroom, but she veered to the left, walking into a large dining room. French doors opened onto a covered patio, and she pushed them open, walking out into the gray day.

She probably wanted to be alone, and Nikolai probably should have respected that. But there’d been something about the look in her eyes when Romero talked about his wife, something about the tension in her face that begged questions.

He crossed the room, walked out onto the patio. Rain pattered against the roof and dripped from the eaves, the sound quiet and soothing. “Did you come out to get away from the crowd or from Magdalena’s husband?”

“Both,” Jenna responded, not turning to look at him.

“You don’t like him?” He walked up beside her, the wind splattering rain across the porch.

“Magdalena loved him.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“I’ve never thought my opinion of John mattered much. He was Magdalena’s husband. He supported her dreams and her humanitarian missions. He’s a good father to their son.” She shrugged.

“But you’ve never liked him.”

“I’ve never not liked him. It’s just that aside from Magdalena, we had nothing in common. Now that she’s gone, we have nothing to say to each other.”

“Has he asked about your time in Mexico?”

“Once, but the details were too difficult for him to hear. Magdalena and Benjamin are his life, and he couldn’t stand to think of Magdalena terrified and hurt.” She shuddered, and Nikolai put a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry for all you’ve been through, Jenna. I know how difficult it is to lose someone you love.”

“Then you’ll understand why I need your help.”

“I understand that you want your friend’s killer to go to jail, but you have to understand that the likelihood of that happening is slim to none.”

“Did you think that’s what I was going to ask you to do? Go after her killer?” She turned and they were inches apart, her hair dark with rain, her skin dewy. Long lashes brushed her cheeks as she blinked, and Nikolai found himself being pulled into her gaze, losing himself in the pale blue of her eyes.

“Is there something else that you need?”

“Magdalena was a woman of faith. She was committed to God, to her family and to humanity in that order. She never, ever would have done anything that would hurt another person. Ever. Now people are talking about her as if all the things she did while she was alive mean nothing.”

“The circumstances of her death were unusual.”

“That doesn’t mean she was guilty of a crime.”

“What is it that you want me to do, Jenna?”

“I want you to prove that Magdalena had nothing to do with the Mexican Panthers.”

“That’s a tall order.”

“You seem like the kind of person who would be up for the challenge.”

Nikolai could have said no. He’d said it before to other people in other situations. As sorry as he felt for Magdalena’s family, he could have walked away, let things play out however they would. It was the responsibility of the Mexican police and the DEA to uncover the truth about why Magdalena had been executed.

He could have said no, but he’d always liked a challenge, and he’d always had a passion for the truth. And he found he couldn’t look in Jenna’s eyes, couldn’t see the sorrow there and deny her request.

“I can’t promise you anything.”

“I don’t need promises.”

“Then I guess I’m your man,” he said, before he could think better of it.

“Thanks.” Jenna smiled, shivering again as the wind blew more rain under the porch.

“Thank me after I’ve done the job. Come on. We’d better go in before you freeze.” He took her hand, started to lead her back to the door. A sharp crack split the air, and Nikolai dove for cover, grabbing Jenna by the waist and pulling her down, covering her body with his as another crack followed the first. Dirt and grass flew into his face, water and mud splashing into his eyes. He blinked it away, scanning the area beyond the porch. Trees lined the back edge of the property, and he was sure he saw someone there.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Someone called out from the house, and the figure in the trees moved away.

“You okay?” Nikolai looked down into Jenna’s face.

“I will be once I can breathe again.”

“Sorry.” He stood, searching the tree line again, tracking the figure. “Go in the house, okay?”

“What—”

“Have someone call the police. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Nik—”

He didn’t wait to hear what Jenna said. The shooter had disappeared, and if Nikolai planned to catch him, the time for doing so was now.

And he did plan to catch him.

Jenna had escaped death in Mexico, but it seemed that it was hunting her again. Why?

It was a question only the gunman could answer, and Nikolai had every intention of making sure he did.

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