Riptide

walks
    right up and shoots us."
    "He won't even get close," Becca said and raised her Coonan.
    "Agreed," Savich said. He winked at Sherlock. "You want to tell
    Adam about how we've got everything covered?"
    "Yep. A half dozen guys from Thomas are on their way here."
    She looked down at her wristwatch. "In about an hour, I'd estimate.
    And here we were worried that there wouldn't be enough
    for them to do. We were really wrong on that one."
    "The timing's perfect," Savich said as he wiped all the sawdust
    off his hands. "Don't anyone fret that they'll all be piling into town
    and staying at Errol Flynn's Hammock. Nope, they won't stick out
    at all, but they'll have this place well covered. Now, we need to get
    busy as soon as we're done with this door. We need to bug the
    phone. He'll probably call again, soon. Also, we need protection
    around the house. The guys will be calling in and we'll set up a
    guard rotation. Also, Adam, you can show them where the blood is
    and they can get it analyzed. We'll at least verify that it's human."
    "I know I hit him."
    Savich nodded to Becca. "Yes, I'm sure you did. We'll see if anything
    interesting shows up in the blood work. Now, it would probably
    be a smart thing if you stayed inside, Becca."
    Sherlock said, "If he was trying to kill Adam, to make things easier
    for him, then that makes all of us open season. It would be wise
    if this Tyler McBride kept himself and his kid away from here. It
    isn't safe."
    And Adam thought, Where's my brain? I should have thought and
    said all of that.

Becca said, looking Sherlock straight in the eye, "No, I don't
    want Tyler or Sam in any danger, either. Now, who's this Thomas?"
    "He's Adam's boss," Savich said, well aware that Adam was on full
    alert, "or he used to be. Now Adam is on his own. Actually, as I understand
    it, Adam is doing Thomas a favor. Hey, don't worry about
    it, Becca, you don't know him. Adam, you did a good job of filling
    in all the holes. A bit of stain and the door will look perfect again."
    Becca jumped up. "I left it in the kitchen."
    "I'll go with you," Sherlock said. "I think I'd like to look at that
    gash in the basement wall again."
    "Of course he was after you," Savich said easily, once Becca was
    out of hearing. "He wanted you out of the way, wounded or dead,
    it didn't matter to him. It still doesn't."
    "Yeah, I know."
    "He wants her. He wants to take her so he figured he'd have to
    knock you out of the way."
    "That's what I figure."

Chapter 15

    Becca held the can of stain in front of her.
    Adam, instead of taking the can, found himself just standing
    there staring down at the too thin, formerly pale young woman
    who was now flushed red to her eyebrows.
    "I'm really mad now," she said, and he believed her, and smiled.
    "He shot up Jacob Marley's damned door. That's beyond the line."
    He couldn't cut off his smile, because her eyes were glowing. Her
    soft blue eyes were hard and pulsing with rage. Her dyed hair was
    nearly standing on end. "I heard the two of you talking. He tried
    to kill you, Adam, to get to me. That's beyond the line, too." She
    was panting now. She was major-league pissed, and she wanted to
    protect him. He took her face between his big hands. His mouth
    was nearly touching hers. He immediately straightened and took
    the damned can of stain. He didn't want this, but he couldn't help
    it. An enraged Becca Matlock who still wanted to protect him did
    something to him, something strange and wonderful that seared
    him to the soles of his scuffed boots.
    He looked at her mouth again, but instead of kissing her, he started
    to laugh. And he kept on laughing, he wanted to kiss her that bad.
    She blinked at him and then took a step back. "Don't get stain in your clothes. I'm not going to wash them for you."
    When it's necessary, I'll wash my own clothes," Adam said, then
    added on a grin, "if you'll show me how to work the washing machine."

"Mechanical things defeat you, do they? No, don't say it, only
    mechanical things that involve work could defeat a guy."
    Adam eyed Savich's outstretched hand, grunted, and handed
    him the stain. His arm burned and ached and Savich knew it, the
    damned interloper. He said, "You know something? I'd really like
    to rearrange your pretty face when this is all over."
    Savich stared at him, then laughed. "If you think my face is pretty,
    then you've got a big problem, because that's what I think about
    yours."
    "Bullshit."
    Savich shook his head. "You want to