Trained to Kill: Keller County Cops, #6

By Melanie Atkins

Keller County precision marksman Cadence Holly, a member of the Sheriff's Emergency Response Team, believes she doesn't have anything to prove to her new unit because her she's good at what she does. Detective Brody Remington, a former military sniper, along with the rest of their unit, disagrees. Brody spends most of his time berating Cadence, until she proves him wrong by making a shot he can't beat.

Brody regrets the way he's treated Cadence. As he struggles to get back into her good graces, Eugene Dunham, a man seeking revenge for his brother's arrest and subsequent murder, targets Brody. Once Dunham realizes Brody and Cadence have formed a bond, he sets his sights on Cadence, setting up a frightening game of cat and mouse that can end only one way. Will Brody get to her in time?
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melanie Atkins
• Release date: Jul 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393898849

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Copyright © 2013 by Melanie Atkins

ISBN:

Published in the United States of America

First Publication Date: May 1, 2013

Second Publication Date: July 8, 2019

Cover Artist: Jenifer Ranieri

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher. Ebooks are not transferrable, either in whole or in part. As the purchaser or otherwise lawful recipient of this ebook, you have the right to enjoy the novel on your own computer or other device. Further distribution, copying, sharing, gifting or uploading is illegal and violates US Copyright laws.

Pirating of ebooks is illegal. Criminal Copyright Infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, may be investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of up to $250,000. Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents, or persons living or dead are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

Dedication

To Lee Lofland and the excellent instructors at the Writers' Police Academy, one of the best conferences ever. I always learn so much and have great time. You guys are the greatest!

Prologue

Whoompt!

The bullet slammed into the loamy earth less than a foot from Cadence Holley's face, kicking up debris and showering her with dirt and bits of leaves. She sucked in a startled breath.

Thought you'd slinked out of sight, didn't you, bitch? Eugene Dunham's taunting baritone boomed through the falling dusk. He was at least seventy-five yards away, hidden in the trees, but in the deep quiet of the forest his sharp words sent an icy chill ricocheting down Cadence's spine. You can't escape. Might as well give up, Deputy, and step into my sights. I win.

No effing way. Cadence gritted her teeth and brushed the dirt from her cheek. She'd come this far. She was well trained, and she knew how to kill. If only she had her Remington .308 caliber rifle, then she could fight back. Covered in leaves and hunkered down behind a huge rock, she'd thought she was safe, at least for now... but she'd thought wrong.

She took a deep breath, scrambled up, and bolted for a giant oak about ten feet away. Crashing through the underbrush, scattering leaves. Chasing fireflies into the growing gloom.

Eeepht!

Another round burst through a leaf an inch past her shoulder just as she slid to a stop on the cold, wet ground. Heart hammering, she pressed herself against the tree's rough bark and struggled to take a deep breath. The icy air made that impossible, but she knew she had to calm down or she might make a fatal mistake. She'd been out here all day without food or water, and she was past exhausted. Why else would that bastard be taunting her like this?

She turned to face the tree and peeked around it. No sign of him. He must still be hiding, waiting for her to make a move. Plotting her death.

Desperate find a way out of this hunting ground, Cadence plucked her phone from her pocket and checked to see if she had reception.

No service.

Her heart rose into her throat as she read the words in the corner of the screen. How would she ever get out of here when she couldn't call or text anyone for help? She shoved her useless phone back into her pocket and peeked around the tree again. A flash of movement caught her eye. Flickers of light and dark, leaves waving, shadows changing.

Where's he going? she murmured to herself. She searched the heavily wooded terrain until her eyes burned but detected no more movement. No Dunham. Her jittery nerves danced a crazy jig. She didn't need to stay here too long. The bastard already knew where she was. Better to keep him guessing rather than make herself an easy mark.

Her back damp with sweat despite the cold, she got to her feet. She hated to expose herself again but figured she'd better move while he was on the prowl. A large black walnut tree stood about thirty feet away, and below it lay an enormous fallen branch. If she could get over there, she'd have decent cover.

She peered around the tree one more time. No sign of the man hunting her. No bird calls, no telltale rustling of rodents, no thrum of insects. Only that odd stillness that gave her the willies. He was out there somewhere, damn it. Stalking her.

Go now, before he strikes.

The silent admonition inside her head gave her the impetus to drop low and zigzag toward the tree. The crunch of leaves beneath her feet made her cringe. A water buffalo would make less noise.

She dove behind the branch and lay flat, wishing she'd known he was going to grab her before she went on her date so she could have dressed accordingly. Camo fatigues and thermal underwear would be preferable to the skinny jeans and long-sleeve Henley she had on. The dark brown cotton shirt helped her to blend in with the branch's sparse leaves, but it was no match for the chilly March wind.

She lifted her head and peeked between the branches.

Thought you could hide from me, didn't ya, Deputy? Dunham growled, pressing the barrel of his rifle into the back of her neck. Terror streaked through her. She went still. Well, it's just too fuckin' bad you couldn't. I've been enjoying our little game, and now it's time for round three. Last chance for you to outsmart me. So sit up and stack your hands on top of your head like a good little girl.

She did as he ordered, jerking back as another limb fell from the tree and crashed to the ground about ten feet away.

Weren't you listening? Dunham snapped. He dug the barrel into her nape a second time. I don't give a damn about that stupid branch. Hands on your head. Right. Now.

Okay, okay, she said, her empty stomach knotting as she complied. Two leaves floated to the ground and landed beside her knee. She swallowed as the pressure on her neck disappeared. I'll do whatever you say. I promise.

Yeah, you damned well will. Dunham bobbed his head toward the right. Now, get moving toward that ridge.

All right. Cadence gulped back the inclination to run and forced herself to picture the gun at her back. Trying to escape now would be suicide.

Her limbs shook by the time she reached the top of the narrow ridge. Just as she got her bearings, her phone buzzed inside her pocket. She flinched. Leave it to her reception to come back the minute she became an even bigger pawn in Dunham's sick game.

The ex-con leaned so close his hot, foul breath bathed her cheek. "Don't even think about answering that, bitch. Your boyfriend can't help you now."

Chapter One

One week earlier

"Well, turn me over and paint me blue. I know we're short on qualified shooters, but the sheriff's really scraping the bottom of the barrel if he sent you to sniper school."

Excuse me? What did you just say? Cadence spun to glower at Brody Remington, a veteran of the Sheriff's Emergency Response Team—better known as SERT—who'd made detective less than a month before. He was right about the department. Budget cuts had prevented the sheriff from sending more than two or three applicants to the state training academy for specialized training, but who was he to pass judgment on her just because she was new? Seven days immersed in shooting and tactics might not seem like much, but she'd finished at the top of her class, and she had shot competitively for years before that.

He shrugged. You heard me.

Maybe I did. She crossed her arms. Except I'd hoped I was imagining things.

'Fraid not. His expression darkened. A girl on the Emergency Response Team? Give me a break. We need somebody who can do the job, not some chick we have to babysit.

Wipe that thought right out of your brain, you jerk. I might not have any on-the-job experience yet, but I can shoot. Just watch me.

"That one-week class Blaylock sent you to is worthless. I have military experience."

Big freaking deal. I'm just as qualified as you are to be in this unit. Wishing she could slice him in two, she narrowed her eyes. You might be the youngest cop in Keller County to ever make detective, and you might have a military background—hell, you might even be able to walk on water—but that doesn't make you special.

Last time I looked, you were still riding a beat.

So what? I do my job. She fired him a heated glower and clenched her fists. And with SERT, rank doesn't matter. Detectives, patrol—we're all the same. You know that. We just have to be able to perform at a moment's notice, in addition to our regular duties. So far, so good.

Yeah? You've been a member of our team for what? Two weeks? Disdain radiated from his ice blue eyes. "We've had one callout—a hostage situation the bomb squad solved without our help."

True, but trust me... I can do whatever the captain needs me to do. Maybe better than you. Sick of defending herself, she backed down. Explanations never worked with Neanderthals like him. She'd run into enough of them in her short career to know that, so why'd she even bother to try? She shot him a disgusted look. Guess you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?

Probably won't have to wait too long to see you screw up.

Get out of my face, Brody Remington. Barely resisting the urge to slap him, she turned on her heel and stalked away. Her whole body vibrated with anger. Why had he judged her before giving her a chance to prove herself? Was that fair? Hell, no.

Cadence turned the corner and ran smack into Captain Pellerin. Their shoulders collided, and only a swift sidestep kept her from cracking her forehead against his square chin.

She emitted a surprised gasp.

Whoa. He caught her arm. Where's the fire, Holley?

Nowhere, Captain. She did her best to shuck the cloak of fury that had enveloped her while she'd talked to Brody. Wouldn't do to come off as belligerent in front of her new SERT unit leader. Just eager to get in some practice before I go home. I'm heading to the range.

You're working too hard, young lady. He dropped his hand and frowned. No need to prove yourself to me. I know you can do your job.

Well, apparently you're the only one. She forced a smile she didn't feel. Don't worry, sir. I won't be long. I feel an order of Chinese food calling my name.

Pellerin chuckled. Sounds like a good meal for a Friday night. Take it easy, Deputy.

Will do, sir. She gave him a little salute, and then turned and hurried down the hallway to the locker room next to the department's indoor firing range. She kept her equipment there but used the bathroom across the hall whenever she needed to change. That didn't happen often, but she still resented the sex discrimination that ran rampant in Keller County.

The place smelled like sweat, feet, and gun oil. Male scents. Red metal lockers lined the boring beige cinderblock walls, and a pair of scarred pine benches bisected the space in between. Cadence felt at home here whenever she was alone or when she and the guys were suiting up for a call. Running into her fellow SERT officers one-on-one, however, was another matter. Some of them were nice, but a few, like Brody, enjoyed taunting her.

She opened her locker and took out her Remington model 700, the .308 caliber military rifle the department had issued her after she'd completed sniper school. She and Brody were the only two precision shooters in the unit, and with his big head, he probably thought they'd named the weapon after him. Egotistical bastard.

Cadence banished all thoughts of him as she closed the locker door. She hoped to make it to the range without running into anybody else. Fending off that jerk already had her on edge.

Just as she hefted the weapon and turned toward the door, tall, raw boned Mark Bordelan strolled in. With his buzz cut good looks, he looked as if he should be surfing along a California beach instead of working patrol in the Deep South. Right off the bat, he'd told her stories about growing up in New Orleans—using the accent that proved it—or she wouldn't have believed him. He was also pretty much the only guy in the unit who treated her like a person.

What are you doing here this late, Holley? he asked, sauntering over to his locker four down from hers. Aren't you off duty?

Yeah. She backed away. Just ready to get in some range time.

Is Brody on your back again?

Mark, don't go there. Cadence shook her head. And please don't say anything to him or anybody else, especially the captain. I can handle it.

Maybe so, but you shouldn't have to. The guy's an ass.

I agree. She smirked, then realized that Mark wasn't usually here this late either. What's up with you tonight? Aren't you working days now?

Yep, just like you. He opened his locker, pulled out a large gray backpack, and held it up. Forgot to take this home. I picked up a book for Joey at the library today, and he needs to read part of it for school tomorrow. Had to come back and get it.

Ah. She grinned. Guess you'd better get going then.

Yeah, Mandy's really ticked at me for not remembering. Says Joey'll have to stay up past his bedtime to read tonight's chapters. He shut the locker door. She normally handles stuff like this, but she's been stuck in meetings all week.

How does she like her new job?

She hates it, mostly because she doesn't have as much free time anymore. He wagged his head. It's good money, though, so she's determined to give it an honest chance.

At least you guys found a silver lining. Y'all hang in there, okay? Good luck to Joey.

Thanks. He's gonna need it. Reading isn't his strong suit. Mark slung the backpack over his shoulder and disappeared out the door.

Cadence released a sigh of relief. Of all the men who might have walked into the locker room tonight, he was by far the nicest. If her luck held, the range would be empty and she wouldn't have to deal with any of the know-it-all jackasses she dealt with on a daily basis.

She drew in a deep breath and pushed through the door leading to the firing line. Thanks to budget shortfalls, no one manned the desk unless they were holding an in-unit competition. The range had gone self-serve in early November, about the same time Brody had made detective.

He'd been nice enough to her when he'd still been on patrol, and even when he'd first started investigative work—maybe because they didn't see each other very often. Then she'd qualified for SERT, and he'd gone on the offensive.

Well, fancy meeting you here. Brody's voice echoed across the cavernous room. Still trying to prove you belong?

What the— She spun and met his ice cold gaze. W-what are you doing here?

Testing my new scope. He leaned over and sighted in the target with his brand new Leupold scope, and then waited a beat, maybe two, before squeezing the trigger. The Remington emitted a sharp snick, telling Cadence he had a suppressor on it.

Bullseye, center mass.

A lump rose in her throat. He was good, and hot, too, with his dark good looks and ice blue eyes. Too bad he was such an ass.

He straightened and swung around to face her. Can you do that, Holley?

Seriously? You're challenging me? She swung the weapon off her shoulder and stalked up to the firing line, choosing a slot two down from his. No need to hear his taunts up close.

He quirked his mouth. Only if you think you can handle it. Otherwise...

Oh, I can handle it, all right. Determined to change his opinion of her, she adjusted her ponytail so her hair would get into her eyes, then set up, put a target on the clip, and sent it downrange. Her thrumming nerves threatened to derail her concentration, but she shoved them aside, bent forward, and found the bull's-eye at the heart of the target, her finger light on the trigger. Don't think about him. You're alone, practicing so you don't fire too soon and jerk left.

Don't let me bother you.

Jolted, Cadence did just what she'd vowed not to do, and the round smacked the silhouette on the target two inches to the left of where she wanted it. Anger fired through her as she straightened and whirled to face Brody. You did that on purpose.

Did what?

Spoke just as I was about to fire. You made me shoot too early.

I did that? He lifted a brow. Or did you just miss?

Damn you, Brody Remington.

Try again and prove me wrong. He kept his gaze glued to hers. Unless, of course, you know you can't.

Shut up, and I will. She tamped down the urge to turn the rifle in his direction and instead bent and focused on the target. Breathe in. Breathe out. You can do this, damn it.

The bleat of her cell phone, followed closely by the blare of Brody's device, halted the shot before she even put her finger on the trigger.

I don't believe this, she muttered, hoping like hell they weren't about to be called out. She straightened, dug out her phone, and glanced down at the display. Dispatch, of course. So much for going home and ordering Chinese.

Remington, Brody snapped, answering his call first.

Cadence sighed and did the same. This is Holley. What's up?

We have a hostage situation at 1618 Lampton Street, in Bayview Cove off Highway 63 north. One male subject is barricaded inside his home with at least one female. Subject is armed with a variety of weapons and has fired at our officers multiple times.

Text me the address. I'll be there in twenty.

Will do, Deputy.

Not exactly what I need to deal with tonight, Brody grumbled. A dark scowl on his face, he snapped his phone shut, snatched up his rifle, and marched toward the door without another word.

Cadence's adrenaline pump slipped into overdrive as she stuffed her phone back into her pocket. Not wanting to follow him too closely, she picked up her weapon and trailed behind him down the hall and into the locker room.

Joe Cromwell and Zach Garriga, two veteran team members, had already donned their camo fatigues. Busy strapping on his matching Kevlar vest, Joe ignored Cadence, but ruddy-faced Zach bobbed his salt-and-pepper head in greeting.

Better hurry up, Holley, he growled. Always takes you longer to suit up.

Only because I have to go across the hall.

You could take you clothes off right here, you know. We wouldn't mind. Brody's leering gaze stunned her with rays of blatant heat. Would we, guys?

A chorus of Hell, no, 'Course not, and Go for it, Holley echoed through the room.

I don't think so. Her face flamed. Wanting to dig a hole and climb into it, she gritted her teeth, grabbed her duffle, and stormed out the door.

Her heartbeat clamored in her ears as she slipped into the women's restroom and hurriedly donned her fatigues. Why did men have to be such jerks? Her father was a cold fish who'd always kept Cadence at arm's length, and her male cousins had given her grief all through high school and college. Then Cadence had entered the State Law Enforcement Training Academy and had been one of five women in a class of fifty-four. Three dropped out long before graduation, and Sylvia Gonzales now worked as a deputy over in Harrison County. Cadence often wondered if Sylvia's co-workers dished out the same amount of harassment Brody and his pals did, or if her superiors had put a stop to it. Cadence made a mental note to talk to Sheriff Blaylock as soon as she got up her nerve. Nothing would ever change if she kept her mouth shut.

A hard knock rattled the door. Get a move on, Holley. We're ready to go.

Damn it, she muttered, a flash of dismay skittering through her veins. She finished tying her boots, stuffed her clothes into the empty duffle, and dashed back into the locker room.

Only a few minutes later, she had on her vest and camo fatigues. She grabbed her gear, including the Remington, but was still the last one into the armored SUV. Mark had come back in after dropping off his son's backpack, and he flashed her a sympathetic smile. The other men just glared at her.

Glad you could join us, Holley, Captain Pellerin barked over the engine's gruff rumble. Need you and Brody to set up the second we put boots on the ground.

Yes, sir. She gulped back the temptation to rail at him. That wasn't a good idea since he was her team leader, and she decided instead to include him when she spoke with the sheriff about the way she'd been treated since she'd joined SERT. What could it hurt?

*****

Brody aimed a blistering glare at Cadence Holley as Pellerin threw the SUV into gear and shot out of the parking lot. If that hostage died because she'd run late, he'd never let her hear the end of it. Hell, he'd make sure she never touched another sniper rifle or set foot in the SERT locker room again. That male-dominated space was no place for a woman, especially one as pretty as Cadence.

Really, Brody? Is that why you're being such