Wintering with George, page 3
“Two into Carter, one into the Honda to break the window, one to break the glass door, two into Billings, two into Moore, and that is…it.”
“So eight total?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’ve got fifteen rounds in that, plus one in the chamber?”
“Correct.”
She nodded. “Okay. As soon as we clear the ballistics, we’ll get this back to you.”
“I have my conceal and carry license if you’d like to get a picture of it.”
“No. The detectives recorded the number. We’ll reach out to your boss at Sutter if we need any additional information.”
She and her assistant put the guns into evidence bags as the detectives and I watched.
“I used my Glock here because that’s what I normally carry in my civilian life as a bodyguard,” I explained to Davis. “But I have my SIG Sauer M17 that I carry into combat with me as well. It’s not government issue, it’s mine just like the Glock. I have a license for each.”
“Understood.” Davis affirmed.
“I didn’t fire the Sig, so you shouldn’t need to take it.”
“No, we don’t,” she agreed, putting my Glock into an evidence bag. “And we’ll tag this and get it back to you, as I said, as soon as it clears ballistics.”
“Perfect,” I said and got up, turning to the detectives, including Davis. “So, shall we take a stroll and I’ll take you through it?”
“That would be so great.”
“Wait,” Kurt called over to me. “Where are you going?”
“I just need to do the walk-through with everyone.”
Kurt looked at Tunney. “You’re not arresting him, are you?”
Tunney squinted at him. “Arresting him for what, Dr. Butler?”
“I don’t— I’ve never been through anything like this.”
He nodded. “No, sir. We’re just gathering information.”
Dennis stood up then, his eyes locked on me. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
“Oh no, I’ll be right back. I promise.”
He nodded quickly but didn’t sit back down.
I smiled at him and then walked the detectives down the hall and out the front door. They were surprised that Geri was trotting along beside us, but Kurt and I had noticed the dogs doing that lately. When we were both home, they would split up, one staying with each of us. Clearly, they felt both of us needed protecting. It was really very sweet.
Crossing the street with the three detectives, I pointed as I explained what I did, holding Deng’s phone that he had passed me, recording every word as Tunney and Deng took notes in their memo books and Davis, who had already walked the scene and taken photos, documented events on her tablet. I went through the order I did things, where I tossed the keys, why I didn’t go in through the front but the back instead, and then my entry into the house.
Once the recording of events was done, Davis thanked me and excused herself. Tunney and Deng had more general questions and so remained. It made sense. Davis just had to make sure that what I said happened could be corroborated by the forensic evidence. That was the end of her involvement. The detectives had to figure out the reason for the crime.
“That was some serious shooting you did,” Tunney concluded.
“Unfortunately, I get a lot of practice.”
Deng cleared his throat. “Special Ops, it said, when we pulled you up.”
“Yeah.”
“Can I ask your specialty?”
“Long range.”
He nodded.
I noticed there were so many police cars on the road, no one was getting through either way. Hopefully there was more than one way up and down the hill.
Tunney took hold of my bicep then, stopping me and meeting my gaze. “I know your Christmas plans didn’t include having to defend yourself and others, but we appreciate your keeping everyone safe.”
“I know that generally, out here in the world, you want to wound, not kill, and normally I do that first, but I just came off an op, so my mind is still there, not here. Also, you know, when you’re outnumbered, the smart thing is not to let people get back up.”
They both nodded. I had no idea whether they’d served or not, but they’d been in situations where there was no time to think, just act, so they understood my head space.
“Why do you think the Carrs were targeted?” I asked.
Tunney was fairly certain that due to Thomasin’s continuous online presence, it was easy for the five men to discern the whereabouts of her home and when her children would be there. “She’s on Instagram and YouTube and all those other platforms, and she streams live about things going on in her life, in her home, and in the lives of her children. She’s an open book. All of them, her whole family, are splashed across the internet twenty-four seven, and it’s not hard to figure out where the house is situated.”
I’d considered this myself. The thing was, though, listening to him reasoning it out loud, it sounded even weaker than it had in my own head. I wasn’t buying it.
“So you’re thinking these guys made the decision to come into the Carrs’ home based on her being an influencer?” I asked, squinting at him, wanting him to hear how implausible it sounded. “Did any of those guys look like people who follow her on Instagram?”
Deng and Tunney looked at me oddly.
“Excuse me if I’m a bit hesitant to get on board with that idea, Detectives. I think maybe you’re gonna have to dig a little deeper on this.”
Deng shook his head. “You saw the cars. Piece-of-shit Honda across the street, classic kidnapper van in the driveway. How could there be more?”
“Unless you run the plates and they both come up stolen, and you can’t tie the cars to any of them.” I shrugged. “For me, I’m wondering if these guys were sent. If you have something very different happening here.”
They were both quiet.
“Well,” Tunney finally said, “if there’s anything else to find, I assure you, we’ll get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, try and enjoy your holidays.”
I’d bet money my holidays would be spent on high alert.
THREE
Once I was back in the house, the first person I saw was Brad. He was on his cell phone, speaking loudly to someone and pacing in front of where the couch had been. It was gone, the cushions that the forensics team had taken clearly more than Kurt’s sister could live with. I understood. I wouldn’t want a blood-spattered piece of furniture in my house, reminding my kids of the worst day of their lives either.
Thomasin was on her cell near the dining room, talking to her assistant. This I knew because Thomasin had been looking around for her after everything happened. Apparently the assistant was supposed to have been in the house with the boys as an extra layer of safety, as well as to coordinate last-minute details for that afternoon’s event. It was good she hadn’t been, as she might have been shot and become collateral damage. Though going by Thomasin’s body language, the assistant might come to regret that.
The sliding glass door was now boarded up. That seemed fast, but it had been a couple of hours since the incident. The police had arrested everyone alive who’d been involved in the crime, the ME took the bodies, and the evidence had been collected to back up my order of events, as well as the eyewitnesses’ accounts. The only thing that would take time were ballistics. That meant that Thomasin was allowed to clean up her house as quickly as possible.
All the floors were hardwood, which made that easy, and the large area rug the couch had been sitting on was gone. Everything else seemed to be untouched, and I had to wonder if she was still going ahead with her event. I watched as she hung up her phone, ran her hands through her hair, pinched her cheeks, then went out the front door, where I knew, having seen them on my way in, that there were several reporters dying to speak to her.
Walking over to the foot of the stairs, I had to grab hold of the banister when I felt myself get lightheaded.
“Hey,” Kurt whispered, there beside me, hand on my back, the other on my hip, making sure I was steady. “How are you, baby?”
There was something so comforting about having him there when my adrenaline was ebbing and I was exhausted.
“Come into the kitchen with me, okay?”
I nodded and let him lead me across the living room and into the kitchen, where he had me take a seat at the island. Once there, I put my elbow on the marble counter and rested my head on my hand, watching him.
Large handle-tie brown paper bags had been set on the island, and out of the closest one he pulled several cardboard containers. The first whiff made me start salivating, and when he opened it and I saw the enormous burger, I whimpered.
“When did you get this?”
“I ordered it as soon as the EMTs arrived to check on you, and it got here while you were finishing up with the detectives outside.”
I had missed the food delivery completely. “You do love me.”
“Yes,” he rasped, hand on my cheek for a moment before he leaned in and kissed me.
I wanted the kiss, it warmed me down deep, and I’d missed him when I was gone this last time more than I had on the previous deployment. Each time I left, the longing for him got worse. I honestly hadn’t expected that. I had no idea that the longer we were together, the worse the pain when I left would become.
“Okay,” he said, smiling against my mouth as he leaned back. “Eat this revolting burger with enough cheese on it to stop your heart. I got onion rings too, though I do plan to kiss you later.”
“Yeah? You’re gonna kiss me? Like, a lot?”
He grinned. “Or maybe not until tomorrow. I think I’m just going to watch you sleep tonight.”
That had been how we started. With him watching me sleep.
We’d met when I was on the job, being a bodyguard. I worked for the in-house security division of Sutter Incorporated, a real-estate development company that did business all over the world. Basically, though I loved the Army, I realized that ten years in, I was bored. There were only so many life-and-death situations you could be in before you lost your edge. Since I always wanted to be an asset to any team I was attached to, I’d returned to civilian life with the stipulation that, being in the Individual Ready Reserve while working in the private sector, all the Army had to do was call me up when I was needed. And while sometimes the timing was total shit, I wasn’t ready to ever tell the men in my unit no. We were all in the same boat at this point, all of us out, doing other jobs, most in law enforcement, some bodyguards like me, others private investigators. But we all jumped when we were called up, ready to fly to the other side of the world when needed.
That night I was guarding my charge, Hannah Kage, whom I could confess to adoring, though nine times out of ten I wanted to strangle her. She was, at this point, the little sister I never wanted but had probably always needed. The expression trouble magnet must’ve been coined for her. How a twenty-year-old junior at the University of Chicago had a hit put out on her by a cartel in Mexico was beyond my ability to grasp. Watching over her, being her guardian angel, was my first priority, as she was the god-niece—and was that even a thing?—of the big man himself, billionaire real-estate mogul, Aaron Sutter. I worked for him, like all the other twenty-eight thousand people at the company all over the world, and my main job was to make sure no harm ever came to Hannah. It had sounded so cushy when she originally picked me, but then, fairly quickly, I realized she had a propensity for danger I hadn’t factored into my thinking.
Horrible.
Not to mention the fact that she had absolutely no boundaries where I was concerned. All in with my health, like my diet and cholesterol, as well as with my love life and whether I should have a pet. She was insidious and obnoxious, and I would have shut her down and put space between us and told her that it was just business, nothing more, that we weren’t going to be friends because I was paid to protect her, but…it was too late from the start. She saw right through the tough-guy facade that worked for most people. I was a cold, deadly Army sniper, but she never saw me like that. To her, I wasn’t her brother, because she already had one. It was worse. She thought we were buddies, and with every passing day that I had to pick her up and take her somewhere, put myself between her and the world, the bond got deeper. I had no idea how it happened, but she got into my booby-trapped heart, under the trip wire, and made herself at home. It was maddening. The thing was, though, caring for Hannah opened me up for others, like Kurt, so really, I owed her for that. Because even though I hadn’t said it, I was head over heels for the man.
When I met Kurt, he was with Hannah at a fundraising event, having been brought along as her plus-one to first, network, and second, to meet me. Not like she was playing matchmaker, but because Kurt, as Hannah’s psychiatrist, wanted to meet me.
A month before, in the process of saving Hannah, her brother, and her brother’s friends from peril, I’d killed a couple of guys. To me, since I was doing my duty, it was not traumatic when I had to put the assailants down. For the kids, they needed to talk to a shrink and make sure there was no buildup of shock or damage that could hurt them down the line.
I understood that. PTSD was a real and terrifying part of life that had to be dealt with.
And because all the kids had sung my praises, their doctor, Kurt, wanted to meet me so I could maybe give him a better understanding of what they went through and who I was.
I didn’t really get that. I had no idea what kind of insight he was going to get from meeting me. But because he had requested it and because I didn’t have time and had to cancel more than once, Hannah had basically bushwhacked me with her psychiatrist.
The thing was, guarding Hannah was not the only thing I did at Sutter. My other duties included detailed threat assessments for executives traveling abroad, putting together security details, and matching bodyguards with those needing protection. I did a lot of interviews, talked to people, and got to know everyone so I could make informed decisions that would save lives. I was effective in my position, I noticed everything about people and their environments, their colleagues and loved ones, and knew almost intuitively who would work well together and those who would butt heads. My track record was exemplary, so much so that I had been promoted to being the number two man to the head of the division. The only thing getting in the way of me moving up higher, or being transferred overseas to run my own division, was that when the Army called, I was gone. Others had to pick up the slack, and though thus far Hannah had had no events while I was gone, a few times I had to have friends cover for me. Like the issue with the cartel that had put a price on her head. I was deployed when they came for her, and a friend had to take care of the threat. Everything had worked out, but I didn’t like to be beholden to anyone. Favors could be called in, and not having the power to decline whatever was asked was hard for me. Having grown up in foster care, the ability to say no had been a hard lesson.
Really, I was a mess. So many triggers, so much damage, lots of untapped rage and frustration, pain and sadness. Some days it was a wonder I functioned at all. But that sounded so whiny, as though I was feeling sorry for myself, so I never told a soul. And really, my ego was strong where my skill set was concerned. I would put my ability to take care of myself and others up there with anyone else’s. I had absolute confidence in that area of my life. On the flipside, my capacity to love another person, and to be loved in return…that, I wasn’t so sure about. I wasn’t certain my heart was really working, and anyone wanting me to begin with, as a partner, seemed like a stretch.
But that night, at the stupid fundraiser, Hannah’s friend David, who came from a crazy-rich family, was the victim of an attempted kidnapping. It only got as far as attempted because I foiled it, and Kurt got to see me in action.
That part was good because he was impressed. It went back to my confidence in my ability. The skill set of being able to kill other people worked by default. I could be nearly comatose, as I was now, and still, if I was attacked, or others in my proximity, I would defend myself and them, and I was going to win. I was lethal, no question, but that didn’t do squat for my love life.
And yet somehow, Kurt saw around all that. My “penchant for violence,” as he called it, a trait he abhorred, did not stop him from taking a step toward me instead of away. All the things that made me run from others, he simply didn’t do. That night had been the start because I had been hurt. No way around that when there were a lot of people with automatic machine guns. But when it was over, he took me home and took care of me. He didn’t want anything more than to watch me sleep. It had been the beginning of a better life for me, and I was grateful and so much more that I wasn’t ready to say out loud.
Two years in, you’d think everything had been sorted out and we were set. And that would probably have happened if I were home all the time, wasn’t deployed or didn’t travel in a non-combat capacity. As it was, we had yet to see what long stretches of time looked like for us. Or periods spent with his family. Small things always seemed to be the death of past relationships. Simple things like getting home by myself instead of waiting to be picked up. I never counted on anyone. But now I waited for Kurt because he wanted to be there. And still I was amazed that he was there, in my life, and didn’t seem to want to leave.
“Hey,” he said, chuckling, “since when do you wait to eat?”
“I’m having an existential crisis,” I groused at him.
His smile was brilliant. “Have it after you put something in your body.”
“I thought I was having your sister’s world-famous pot roast?” I said, then took a bite of the burger. “What happened to that?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, and it was ruined because it was forgotten and overcooked with everything else that happened.”
“Is that something else the assistant was supposed to be here to take care of?”
He squinted at me. “Listen, my sister pays her assistant—Kara, I think her name is—a small fortune to not only watch the boys now and then and take things out of the oven, but keep her on track and on top of her schedule. So let’s not judge Sin. Everything—children, house, the party—was supposed to be in Kara’s very capable and trusted hands.”
