Read Love is Murder for Free Online

thought I could help. I thought…” Marissa didn’t finish. “I’m not a prisoner of the Secret Service. I’ve always cooperated. I’ve never stepped a toe out of line.”
    “Unlike Charlie.”
    “He looks up to you and Elijah.”
    Grit didn’t respond. He turned the solid wood kitchen table on its side, then slipped an arm around her waist. “Get behind here. Stay low.”
    Marissa crouched on the floor behind the table. “What about you?”
    “No worries.” He surveyed the array of materials on the floor, giving no indication of what he thought of them. “We’re dealing with a professional. It’s not easy to get past the Secret Service, even for your genius little brother. It’s sure as hell not easy to get the jump on Elijah Cameron.”
    “It was a near thing. I was startled, and I fell and cut my hand. Elijah was farther down on the trail. At that point neither of us had any idea someone was up in the woods with a gun.” Marissa stopped abruptly, felt the blood draining out of her face. She pushed aside the rush of thoughts and nodded to a wall phone. “There’s a landline, but it’s turned off. There’s no cell service. Are you going to search the house?”
    “No. If the shooter’s hiding in here, he’ll find us. We’re good right where we are.”
    “You’re armed,” Marissa said, noticing that a pistol had appeared in his hand.
    “Thanks to your brother. This isn’t Charlie’s fault. It’s not your fault. It’s the responsibility of this shooter. Period.”
    “If you have an extra gun—”
    “You can shoot?”
    “I’ve never fired a weapon, but how hard can it be?” She gave him a faltering smile. “Point and pull the trigger.”
    Grit squatted next to her. “I need you to keep doing what you’ve been doing.” His voice was steady, as if he were telling her about what he’d cooked for dinner. “Stay calm and keep an eye and ear out.”
    “You know what this man’s going to do, don’t you?”
    Grit didn’t answer, but Marissa knew that she was right. The man who shot Elijah Cameron wanted to kill Grit Taylor.
    The cut on her hand ached and she felt blood again seeping into the scarf she’d tied around the wound. “The shooter’s in the house, isn’t he?”
    “Tupelo honey,” Grit said with the barest of smiles.
    “What?”
    With his free hand, he brushed his bare knuckles across her cheek. “When things get rough, I think about tupelo honey. My family makes tupelo honey at home in Florida. Best stuff in the world. What do you think about? Teaching history?”
    “Living a normal life,” she answered without hesitation.
    “No such thing.”
    “Black Falls has had a rough year, but I love it here. It’s so beautiful, and I love the people. I love the Camerons, the Harpers, the café, the lodge.” Grit was still and quiet, but Marissa could see the focus and intensity in his dark eyes. “I’d like to try tupelo honey one day. Do you want to go back to Florida?”
    “To visit. I don’t fool myself into thinking I could live there again.”
    “I’m sorry, Grit. You shouldn’t be here…”
    “Do you want to buy a place up here in snow country?” His dark eyes leveled on her. “If you do, I’m game. I’d chop wood and tramp through snow for you. Any day of the week.”
    “Grit…”
    He winked at her. “It’s okay.” Then he called into the hall. “Hey, ace. I know you’re in here. Let’s talk.”
    A beat’s silence. “I knew you’d come, Grit. You’re so predictable.”
    The shooter’s voice was deep and controlled—and close, not five yards down the hall. Marissa realized Grit must have known he was there. She hadn’t noticed a shadow, heard a movement, the sound of any breathing but her own.
    “That’s right, Grit,” the shooter said, “I know it’s you.”
    Marissa gulped in a breath. It’s Brian. Grit was frowning at her, and she said, “It’s Brian Fenton. He’s—”
    “He’s a private military contractor,” Grit said.