Overkill(44)

Morris definitely had the advantage of weight, muscle bulk, and a lower center of gravity, but Zach was more agile. He scrambled backward, and when Morris came charging, Zach sidestepped at the last possible second. Rather than slamming into Zach, Morris rammed into the grille of Zach’s truck with such impetus, he bounced back from it and dropped to his knees. Zach planted his large hand over the back of Morris’s head and shoved his face into the unyielding metal.

Morris cried out and slumped forward. That’s when Zach saw the holster clipped to his belt at the small of his back. He wrangled the pistol from it and used his famous throwing arm to rocket the handgun into the dense woods bordering the road.

Before Morris could regain his senses and balance, Zach wrapped his arm around his thick, tattooed neck, and pulled his head back until they were glaring at each other upside down.

“You knew I wasn’t involved in that vandalism over at GreenRidge. You only used that as an excuse to hassle me. I want to know why.”

“Fuck you.”

Zach pulled Morris’s head farther back and dug a knee into his kidney. “Aren’t you a little old to be playing back-at-you pranks? Keying my truck? What the hell, man? What’s your problem with me? Kate Lennon?”

Morris ground out, “Let me go.”

“Not a chance.”

“Piss on you, Bridger.”

“Why are you harassing me? You’re jealous because of Kate, right?”

“Jealous of you? Of you? Fuck no.”

Zach pulled back his knee and then drilled it into soft tissue. Having had his share of kidney jabs on the playing field, he knew they hurt like bloody hell.

Morris yelped, then whimpered, then gasped, “Okay, okay, yes.”

“You’re jealous of me and Kate?”

“No.”

“Which is it, Morris?”

“Lemme go. I… I’ll tell you.”

He’d given in sooner and more easily than Zach would have expected. Fearing his surrender might be a ruse, he relaxed his hold on Morris gradually, then backed away.

The deputy used handholds on the grille to pull himself upright. Once on his feet, he turned around unsteadily and propped himself at a slant against the hood, favoring the side Zach had jabbed. His lip was split. His nose and eyes were already becoming swollen and discolored.

Zach felt no sympathy whatsoever for wreaking the damage. If he hadn’t stopped his pickup in time, it would have gone over the cliff, taking him with it. Without his having had years of experience out-finessing rampaging linebackers, this asshole would have pounded him to a pulp. Or shot him. So, no tenderheartedness for Dave Morris.

“Talk to me,” Zach demanded.

“Where’s my pistol?”

“Thirty or forty yards that way,” Zach said, tipping his head. “Search to your heart’s content. What’s behind the harassment?”

Morris raised his hand to his lip and blotted at slobbery blood. “I was asked to keep an eye on you.”

Zach hadn’t expected that. “Keep an eye on me? Spy, you mean?”

Morris raised a shoulder in admission.

“What for?”

“That’s for you to find out, cocksucker,” he sneered. “You may have cost me my job.”

“No, that’ll be your fault, Morris, not mine. I didn’t cook up false allegations just so I could go window peeping into your house. Who asked you to keep an eye on me?”

“You’re such a hotshot. You figure it out.”

With an effort, Morris pushed away from the support and started stumbling away, but Zach grabbed him by the arm and slung him back against the hood of the pickup. “Who’s behind this?”

Morris glared with belligerence and remained stubbornly silent.

“Did you take money to spy on me?”

Morris added malice to his glare.

“So you did. Corruption is a lot more serious than keying my truck,” Zach said. “You tell me now who retained your services, or you’ll tell me in front of the sheriff. I’m sure he’ll be interested to hear that you took a bribe.”

His jaw working, Morris mulled it over. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll tell you. But you gotta clear me with my boss.”

“Wrong. I don’t gotta do shit.”

“Then you’ll die wondering.”

Zach began to chuckle. “No I won’t. I don’t need you to tell me. I already know who it was.”

Through his fattening nose the deputy snorted with scorn. “I’m not falling for that old bluff.”

Zach said, “Eban Clarke.”





Kate didn’t remember ever being as weary as she was when she arrived home. It was almost eleven o’clock. After the drive back to Atlanta, she’d gone to her office as planned. What was intended to be a brief stop had turned into a seven-hour stint.

She’d spent that time with her assistant replying to backed-up correspondence and being brought up speed on other cases she was working on in one capacity or another.

Uppermost in her mind, however, was Eban Clarke. Before leaving for home, she’d emailed the AG, writing, “I’ve had several meetings with Zach Bridger. After some initial reluctance, he became more open to discussing the situation with Eban Clarke, and now understands that our moving forward hinges on his decision regarding Rebecca Pratt. He requested time to think on it.