Page 46 of Hollow Forest

I cleared my throat. “I’m actually seeing someone, and I don’t think he’s the kind of man who’d share.”

My stalker most definitely would not share me. And I didn’t want to be shared.

But also, I didn’t want anything to happen to Joey for an innocent mistake.

Joey lifted his palms in a casual, Italian shrug. “This is as friends, not a date.”

Warm embarrassment flooded my veins. It looked like I was the one misreading the situation. But when it came down to it, I had a one-track mind.

“I want to see if I’m in any real danger if I come over to fix a leaky faucet without telling you,” he added. “So, let’s test those shooting skills of yours.”

“Sure, we can go to the gun range,” I quickly agreed.

We were collecting an audience. The sooner I made his drink, the sooner the attention would fizzle away.

“I’ll pick you up.” With that, the handyman sauntered to his usual seat.

I sagged against the counter with a groan. Joey was hot. He seemed normal. But wouldn’t it be ten times hotter if he chased me, wearing a mask?

I shook my head. It wasn’t him. I’d texted him that day, and I hadn’t seen him responding.

He could have had his phone under the table, my subconscious recalled helpfully.

While that was true, I also didn’t want to catch any feelings if I was wrong. Plus…it wouldn’t matter. By the end of next week, I would be gone.

Yet, as I worked through the drink tickets, spilling the blend of nutmeg, cinnamon, and cloves all over the counter in my haste, a plan started to form in my mind. I wanted to know the truth before I left town.

***

“Ladies first,” Joey offered, setting the last of his weapons on the wooden table.

The gun range was a gravel pit surrounded by forest. We were the only two souls out here. There was enough firepower on the table to arm a small force.

“I don’t know much about these,” I gulped, running my fingers over the rifles.

“You can start with your revolver if you’re more comfortable.”

I shot a glance to the stony man beside me. His arms were crossed over his chest, the flannel straining over his biceps.

The gravel shifted under my boots as I stepped up to the table. Cold wind skimmed across the pit hard enough to sting my cheeks, carrying the smell of gunpowder and damp earth with it. Above the gravel pit, the trees blazed with deep reds, burnt orange, and flashes of yellow so bright they almost glowed against the dark pines mixed between them. The sun hung low enough to turn everything gold around the edges. Another hour, maybe less, before dusk swallowed the pit whole.

That was enough time to carry out my plan.

If only I could calm my nerves....

And I would need luck on my side to accomplish my goal.

I rubbed my hands together once before reaching for a rifle lying on the table. The metal was cold against my palm. I rested the stock against my shoulder, holding it snug.

Joey watched me with that lazy half-smirk as if he thought I was about to do something entertaining. “You sure you can handle it?”

“I've got it.”

He laughed under his breath and shifted his weight. From the corner of my eye, I swore the movement was familiar.

I ignored him and stepped forward, boots sliding slightly on loose gravel. About fifty yards out, pumpkins sat lined across old cinderblocks and busted pallets. Some were perfectly round and bright orange. Others leaned sideways, misshapen and ugly.

Here goes nothing.