Game of Fear (Montgomery Justice #3)(3)
A fire lit in Gabe’s belly—a need for revenge, a need to make things right.
By the time he left two hours later, he’d made a decision. No matter what his dad said, Gabe was going to be a cop. A better one than his father. A SWAT cop, not a detective who investigated after the fact. Gabe would be on the front lines, kicking ass and taking names. If he could track down whoever had killed Shannon, even better. He never wanted to feel this helpless—or guilty—again.
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CHAPTER ONE
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SAMMY’S BAR HADN’T changed much since Gabe Montgomery had turned legal almost five years ago. The clink of bottles on glass, the hearty laughter, the strike of a cue against the ball, cops and wannabes talking smack and reliving adventures over a few stiff drinks at the end of the day.
The door whipped open and the bite of the November air assaulted the room. “Shut that thing, would you?” he shouted to the new customer.
Winter had started off vicious this year. At least the warmth of the fire in the corner cut the ice lacing the air. This was exactly the place where Gabe had imagined himself after a shift—drinking a round with the deputies from the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office, easing the stress of the day before.
He sure as hell hadn’t seen himself getting knifed, kicked off the SWAT team, and becoming the guy behind the bar pouring drinks, though. Even if he was deep into an undercover operation.
An op going nowhere at the moment.
This investigation had to move off point zero, and soon. With it stalled, his brother Luke would be retired before he and his family were truly safe.
Luke had poked at rumors surrounding corruption in the sheriff’s office in a series of articles for the local paper, but he fought to remain low-key now, after nearly losing his wife because of his digging.
If Gabe’s investigation could keep his brother’s family out of danger, the deception would be worth it. But he needed a break in the case to walk through that door, and he needed it bad.
A couple of regulars pushed into the bar wearing blue and orange. Sunday Night Football. His bartender, Hawk, strode over to the television above the bar and flipped it on so they could check out the Broncos.
“Hey, Gabe. That show you’ve been waiting for is coming on.”
At the bellow, Gabe glanced up at the muted screen over the bar. America’s Most Wanted was covering an eight-year-old cold case.
Shannon Devlin’s case.
Not that Gabe had forgotten a single minute of that night. Probably the worst night of his life, which was saying something considering in the last few months he’d nearly died at the hands of a gangbanger and was almost blown up by a traitor.
Some would call him charmed for surviving. Gabe knew better.
Images of the Denver bus terminal flashed onto the screen. Every few years, the show reran the episode near the anniversary of Shannon’s death, the producers hoping this time a witness would grow some balls and step forward with information to solve her murder.
Gabe didn’t intend to miss the show, even if it came at the dinner hour. Maybe this time he’d remember something more. Maybe this time there’d be some new lead he hadn’t heard about. “Take over the bar for me, Hawk. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Got it, boss.”
Gabe weaved his way through the kitchen, the scent of barbecue and frying oil permeating even the walls. He nodded at the dynamic duo throwing together sandwiches and prepping buffalo wings and potato skins for football night, grabbed his coat, and stuffed his arms in the sleeves before zipping it up. Bracing himself, he ducked his head down and stepped outside. The frigid wind howled, nipping his face with pricks of ice.
Yep, winter had definitely arrived.
He hurried past the basketball hoop behind the bar and across the small add-on parking lot to his house. Made going to work convenient. Especially now that he was the pseudo new owner of Sammy’s Bar. At least for this op.
Gabe unlocked the door, strode into his kitchen, and flicked on the television sitting on the counter. The segment had already started. Within seconds, the sounds, the images, the words, threw him back to the night Shannon’s life had ended.
The night Gabe’s life had changed forever.
The shooter had never been caught.
He knew the segment by heart. A road between Angel Fire and Taos, New Mexico, five hours south of Denver. Shannon Devlin’s car had broken down while she was driving to meet her teammates for a state math competition. She’d flagged a car down. The driver had brutally attacked her, nearly killing her. When another car had pulled up, the predator took off. The case might have been ignored as a teenager making a bad decision, except none of her other team members had made it to Taos, either. They’d never been found.
Shannon had survived the first attack, but not the second. The shooting that night played out across the television screen. Jumpy black-and-white footage from the bus terminal’s surveillance system. The gunshots. The spattered blood. The screams. The broken bodies ripped apart by a long-range weapon.
Gabe eyed the reenactment. The more he watched, the more the base of his spine tingled. Even at seventeen he’d recognized Shannon was the target, but tonight he saw something new. Shots fired at exact intervals. And more. The shooter’s hits were well placed, back and forth, clearing a path to Shannon, injuring but not killing those in the way. Why had he never seen it before? Gabe leaned forward and touched the screen. Each shot deliberate, accurate. Not random like the cops thought. Maximum chaos and only one dead.