Wild on You (28 page)

Afterward, Sax had let it drop, thankfully. Addie had ridden with Risk until they reached the outer limits of Buck, where they stopped for a meal. Then she got into the car with Sax. No, Risk wasn’t worried about the two of them being together. He just wanted her with him.

He glanced at the map, spread open on the driver’s seat with Elrod’s property marked in highlighter. They were driving along the border, at least the parts where the
road ran along the outer edge. A shiny new fence kept trespassers out. And if that didn’t deter the more monkey-minded, the
TRESPASSERS WILL BE ELECTROCUTED
signs sure would. Risk could see the wiring to back up the threat. There would be no sneaking onto the property.

Which also meant there would be no sneaking off it, if it came to that.

He went as far as he could go, turned around, and headed back to the inn. Calling it rustic would be doing it a favor. Sax and Addie continued down the road, but they would stay close.

The lobby, such as it was, looked no bigger than Risk’s room over at Chase’s. His boots clunked across the wood floor as he approached the desk.

A gangly guy looked up from his hunting magazine. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Saxby Cole. I’ve got a rez for tonight.”

“Ah, yes. I’ll need your driver’s license and credit card.” The guy slapped a piece of paper on the counter. “Fill out this here form.”

Risk produced Sax’s license and card. They looked close enough, if the guy didn’t scrutinize the picture. Risk now had blond hair and green eyes to match the descriptions. Once he processed Risk’s card, he handed both back. “There’s a bed tax and a county tax of fifteen percent each. You’ll have to get a hunting license. Go to Bedford’s Hunting Supplies for that, as well as anything else you might need.”

“Thirty percent in taxes? How much is the license?”

“Two hundred.”

Risk blinked. “Licenses are usually about ten dollars.”

The man’s expression remained placid. “The fees go to land enrichment, wildlife management, and road maintenance.”

Risk put his cards back in his wallet and bit back,
And do they offer you a cigarette after screwing you?
“Thanks for your assistance.”

“Your room’s two-twelve.” He handed Risk a key. Not even a key card but an old-fashioned metal key. “Enjoy your hunt.”

Risk headed out in the truck Chase had arranged for him to rent. He’d driven it
through a muddy field to spray on a respectable coating of red Georgia clay. Sax and Addie were in an SUV with four-wheel drive, in case they needed it.

When Sax fell in behind him, Risk gave him a call. “I’ve got to go get screwed—I mean, a license—at the hunting supply store. I think I understand why the sheriff is covering for Elrod’s activities. His operation probably funds the whole damned town with ridiculous fees and taxes. You and Babbette can wander in on your own. Maybe you’ll glean something I won’t.”

Risk pulled in to the gravel parking lot and waited for the dust cloud to settle before getting out. He was tired of dust, having probably breathed in about eight pounds of it during his deployments.

The bell rang when Risk pushed the door open. The guy behind the counter was big and burly and probably hadn’t trimmed his beard in twenty years. “You must be Cole,” he said.

“Guess the guy at the lodge told you.” Which meant they had an information network going.

“Yep. Got your paperwork all ready. He told you about the license fees?”

“Sure did. About choked.”

The guy chuckled. “Shocks a few, but we’ve got some of the best hunting land in the county. Takes a lot to keep it up.”

“That include Elrod’s land? That’s where I’m going.”

The doorbell dinged, and Risk casually glanced over. Sax and Babbette sauntered in, she looking around the store and snapping her gum. Risk felt a hitch in his chest, and no, it had nothing to do with the sassy wig or fake boobs.

“Anything I can help you folks with?” the guy called out to them.

“Wanted to check out your shotguns,” Sax said. He had dyed his hair darker and sported a mustache so he wouldn’t look like the picture on the driver’s license Risk was using.

“Be right over.” The guy turned back to Risk. “Elrod’s land is private, ain’t got nothing to do with the county. You’re lucky. It’s by invite only.”

“I won an auction for a blind hunt.” Risk flexed his hands. “I’m former military. I’m feeling a need to shoot something. It’s been a while.”

“Thank you for your service. Which branch?”

Probably wouldn’t hurt for these guys to know what they were dealing with. Maybe it would make them think twice before fucking with him. “SEALs.”

The guy’s eyes widened, but he played it cool. “You’re going to like the blind hunt, I promise you that. He’s always got a special surprise.”

Risk didn’t like the sound of that.

Addie’s voice carried like a song. “Lookit there, honey. It’s a fort!”

Sax patted her shoulder in the most condescending way he could probably manage. “Darlin’, that’s not a fort. It’s a deer stand, for waiting until one of those doe-eyed critters comes wandering by so you can shoot it.”

“You are so mean!” Addie probably knew well what it was.

Risk had to fight back a grin. Instead, he rolled his eyes at the clerk, who was shaking his head.

“Come on over to this end of the counter,” he said. “I’ll finish processing your license.”

The desk behind the counter was cluttered in paper. Signs and slogans covered the walls. A handwritten one read:
The only good wolf is a dead wolf. Whack ’em and stack ’em. Kill ’em and grill ’em .—Ted Nugent
.

The clerk followed his gaze. “I keep that up there to rile the people who come in to protest wolf kills.”

As the guy continued with his paperwork, Risk wondered what other incendiary posters were on the wall. Then he saw a wanted poster that sank his heart—it bore Addie’s face, and it stated that she was wanted for criminal trespassing. When the clerk turned and opened a file drawer, Risk snapped a picture and texted it to Sax. Risk could hear them in the back of the store; then he heard the cricket sound of Sax’s phone.

Their conversation went silent. Risk sent one more text:
Get her out of here
. He made a point of asking a bunch of inane questions about local hunting conditions to
occupy the clerk as Sax and Addie meandered out of the shop. He paid the fee, thanked the guy, and headed out.

It was only after he’d driven out onto the highway that he called Addie, who also had an untraceable cell phone. “Even as Babbette, you need to keep a low profile. You do not want to be arrested in this town.”

“I’ll stay in costume the whole time I’m here,” she said. “Which hopefully won’t be long.”

“I’ve got a call coming in.” He glanced at the screen. “Bill. Maybe it’s time to play.”

“Be careful.” Her fear came across loud and clear.

“I will, babe.” He wondered if the endearment would make her smile or freeze. He added a soft “Bye” before disconnecting. He engaged the call. “Sax here.”

“You ready for some shooting? We still got some daylight.”

“You bet. Where do I go?”

“I’ll meet you at the lodge. We’ll personally escort you to the hunting property.” His chest tightened. “I’d rather drive myself. Though I appreciate your hospitality.”

Bill’s laugh was harsh. “Boy, it ain’t got nothing to do with hospitality. If we don’t know you, we don’t trust you. So if we don’t take you to the property, you don’t go. What’s it going to be?”

Son of a bitch. But the fact that the guy was willing to put him off boded well for them not being on to his real identity.

“All right, but this better be good. I’m not going through this cloak-and-dagger shit and paying all this money to shoot some fancy deer, right?”

“It’s no deer. In fact, I guarantee it’s nothing you’ve ever shot before. See you in a few.”

Risk called Addie instead of Sax to update them on the plan. He just wanted to hear her voice. He pulled in to the parking lot and grabbed his shotgun case and ammo out of the back. As was his habit, he patted the Glock at his ankle and the KA-BAR knife
at his back. Sax pulled his truck in to a spot at the far end of the row of motel rooms; he picked the perfect angle so the SUV looked unoccupied.

While Risk waited, he checked in with Chase. After hearing a quick rundown of the situation, Chase said, “My guy hacked in to the website. Even though it’s password-protected, they’re very careful about the information they put out there. They have three classes of hunt: A, B, C. No explanation as to the difference. It’s basically a request form. You check off one of the challenge levels, such as easy, quick and easy, medium, or challenging. There’s also a box where you can request a certain kind of animal. Unfortunately nothing that authorities can use. Hopefully you can get in, get what you need, and get out fast.”

A huge mud-splattered truck barreled into the parking lot and pulled up next to Risk. The mud barely covered an array of anti-establishment bumper stickers. Some of them were so vitriolic that Risk wouldn’t be surprised if the truck’s owner had gotten a visit from the Secret Service.

“My ride’s here.” Risk gave Chase a quick description of the truck and the driver but couldn’t see the license plate. He tucked his phone into his pocket, grabbed his rifle case, and got out.

Bill eyed the case. “Whatcha got?”

“Thirty-oh-six.”

Bill gave an approving nod as Risk got into the truck.

Risk thought the guy was probably Walter Elrod, given the pictures he’d seen. Why he was passing himself off as an employee was a concern.

Bill pulled out onto the road. Risk glanced in the side mirror and saw Sax follow a few seconds afterward. He kept a decent distance between the vehicles. A beat-up truck pulled out in front of Sax and slowed his pace. Though the road had a double line, Sax looked as though he were considering passing. Until the sheriff’s vehicle that was coming the other way did a U-turn and came up behind him.

Bill turned right on the road that bordered the southern boundary of Elrod’s property, and sped up. “We don’t have but about four hours of light left. I guess it
depends on how fast you want the hunt to go.”

“That depends on what animal I’m hunting.”

Bill gave a long nod. “I guess it does at that.”

A glance in the mirror showed no sign of Sax. He must have gotten stuck between the slow truck and a cop. Hopefully both would continue straight, and Sax would catch up.

Risk nodded toward the lethal fencing. “You get a lot of poachers?”

“We get a lot of everything.”

The guy wasn’t offering much in the way of information. Ten minutes later, he turned down a road littered with all kinds of warning signs. One read:
TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. SURVIVORS WILL BE SHOT AGAIN
.

Nice.

Another one read:
WITH THE PRICE OF AMMO, NO WARNING SHOTS WILL BE FIRED
.

Bill hit the button on what looked like a garage door opener, and the gate that blocked their way drifted open. Aside from the road, it was solid woods here. Maples, oaks, and evergreens let through shafts of sunlight, but mostly it was shady. Risk admired Addie for coming onto this land by herself, knowing she wouldn’t be welcome. The woman had some balls, no doubt about it. The place gave Risk a bad feeling, despite the natural setting.

As they continued on for another mile or so, he spotted an internal fencing system intermittently marked with fluorescent ribbons. “Quite an operation you have here.”

“Yep.”

Finally Bill pulled up to the cluster of buildings. A large house sat in the distance, but the rest looked like barns—other than the metal one with glaring fluorescent lights inside that made him think of a veterinarian’s facility.

Bill put the truck in park and nodded ahead with his chin. “Doesn’t look like much, but it supports this whole town. Hunters come here from all over the world.”

“My friend said there were three classes of hunts: A, B, and C. What are those?”

“If he didn’t tell you, he figured you probably didn’t need to know. You’ll be
doing a B hunt—beyond the standard prey.”

He got out, and Risk followed suit. The rifle wouldn’t do much good if he were ambushed. It would take too long to unzip the case and ready the gun. That’s what the Glock was for. He carried the case in his left hand so his right hand would be free to draw.

Two men were pushing a huge steer into a pen. The beast appeared to be drugged. It was resisting, but sluggishly.

“Is that my prize?” Risk asked.

Bill shook his head as he led Risk to another guy. “Take care of Mr. Cole here, get him set up.”

“Got it, boss.” The man held out his hand, more than Bill had done. “Welcome to Live Shot.”

Something sharp pierced Risk’s neck. He spun and grabbed at the knife. Not a knife—a tranq gun.
Shit
. He could already feel the sedative stealing through his senses. They’d drugged him just like that steer.

Risk dropped the case and pulled his Glock. The guy who’d played the distracter shoved him just as Risk fired. The shot went wild. Risk staggered but held his footing. He swung the gun toward Bill, his fingers like rubber, and pulled the trigger again.

The bullet hit the truck, and the other guy hit him, sending him face-first to the ground. Then the son of a bitch jumped on him. Risk fought, rolling to the side and smashing his fist into the helper’s jaw. Except his face was bouncing up and down. Blurring in and out.

Hold on, dammit. Do not fold
.

Risk hit him, and the man fell back. Risk tried to get to his feet and stumbled. Held on. He swung at Bill, who easily dodged the blow.
Too slow
. The guy behind him knocked him back down. A pounding sound preceded the arrival of several more men. Risk blinked, trying to bring their faces into focus. The two thugs. Arms grabbed hold and wrestled him to the ground. He felt another jab, this time in his arm. He kicked at Bill, who was wobbling in and out of focus, holding a syringe. An empty syringe.

“That ought to do him,” Bill said in a muffled voice.

“He should have gone down in seconds.”