Page 101 of Trigger Happy

I try to focus on the road-trip games, but my mind is overflowing with questions. How did Bobbi know Walker? And who killed that woman? Lawton keeps casting curious glances my way, and every time he does, I shrink back into the passenger seat.

When we pull up to the barn, Bobbi’s sitting on the front porch with her legs crossed, like she’s been waiting for us. It actually takes a good amount of effort to plaster on a neutral expression. If I hadn’t been practicing this since I first learned how to shoot a target, I probably wouldn’t be able to paste on a pleasant smile.

“Hey!” Bobbi calls, jumping up. “Where have you been? I was just wondering if you wanted to go for a hike with me today, but it’s probably too late now.” She shields her eyes from the lengthy, bright orange rays.

My mind blanks. Every excuse, every plan, just… poof.

Lawton slides an arm around my waist. “We went on a little road trip up to Montana. Wanted to see a new town.”

“Fun! Which one?” Bobbi says, tilting her head.

“Bo—”

“Great Falls,” I cut in.

Her eyes snap to me, and her smile sharpens. “You should’ve told me. I know the owner of this great brunch spot called Thyme for Dough. Sherry could have given you the locals discount.”

Lawton squeezes my side. “Soph packed us some beef jerky, so it all worked out.”

“What about tomorrow morning?” Bobbi says, looking at me with wide, open eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d trust her. “Want to go for a hike with me? Just us girls?”

Hiking alone in the woods with Bobbi feels like a murder mystery waiting to happen, but I’ll bring my pistol. And an extra load of ammunition. And maybe a machete.

Bobbi could be hiding something harmless like a new scent for her fall candle line (doubtful), or she could be covering up a murder (probable). After that photo, I have to find out, and the only way to do that is to casually—and by casually I mean put a knife to her throat—bring it up during our nature stroll through the Wyoming wilderness. Where no one will be around to hear her scream.

And I can’t let Lawton be by my side, not if Walker’s connected to this.

“Sounds fun,” I say.

“Great. I’ll meet you outside tomorrow morning at nine.” She hops off the porch and follows the gravel path back to the main house.

We step inside the barn.

I start scanning the cowhide rugs, the wooden chandelier, even the smoke detector for anything out of place, but everything is where I left it. Lawton shuts the barn door behind us and stomps into the living room, his heavy boots thudding hard enough to rattle the vase of dried lavender on the coffee table.

He stops at the paneled garage door that overlooks the mountain ridge to stare at the stars peeking out, blinking against the crescent moon. His jaw is tight. I watch him, trying to figure out why he’s muttering curses at the bruised sky.

“What is it?” I say, coming to stand behind him so I can rest my chin on his shoulder.

His back muscles ease a bit. “All right, I know I shouldn’t say this because you’re you, and I’ve seen what you can do with your poisoned-tipped nails, but I don’t like you going on a hike alone with Bobbi.”

Oh.

He’s worried. For me.

I smile into his shoulder blades. “I’ll pack a few extra rounds of bullets.”

He turns in my arms, so he’s looking down at me with heavy brows. “I’m serious, Sabrina. You’re not—” He stops.

“I’m not what?” I prod.

He laces his hands at my lower back. “I’m just gonna tell it like it is, okay? You’re not at the top of your game with that shoulder.”

I’m realistic about my limitations, so I’m not going to pretend like I’m fine, but between the icing and giant-sized ibuprofen pills he’s making me take, I barely even notice the pain anymore. “I’ll pack my lightest pistol so I can lift it one-handed.”

He scowls, then places his hands on my cheeks, fingers rough and gentle all at once. He angles my chin up. “Sabrina.”

It’s cute, his worrying. Part of me wants to hear more, so I say, “I’m right-handed, and I dislocated my left shoulder. I’ll be just fine.”