Taking Aim by Elle James Page A

backup if they’d thought they were in danger.”
    “You think they were expecting to meet someone who wasn’t going to be shooting at them?”
    “Yes.” Zach rounded the truck and climbed up into the driver’s seat. “There have to be other people nearby who knew what was going to happen. Cartel members like to brag about their kills and ambushes.” He paused with his fingers on the key in the ignition. “If we find the right people, we might discover who knows something, like who’s responsible and where they’re holding your sister.”
    Jacie’s eyes lit. “Then what are we waiting for? Go!”
    Zach twisted the key and set the truck in motion, heading down the long, dusty gravel driveway. “Now, don’t get your hopes up. Cartel members tend to be pretty close-lipped around strangers.”
    Jacie slammed a fist into her palm. “Then we’ll beat the information out of them.”
    Zach chuckled. “That’s my girl. Tough as nails and soft as silk.”
    Her cheeks flamed. “I’m not your girl,” she muttered. “And I’m not soft.” She stared at her work-roughened fingers. “And ‘honeycakes’? Really, was that all you could come up with?”
    Zach chuckled, betting she was soft in all the right places, and “honeycakes” was perfect.
    He shook himself and forced his attention back to the road, headed into Wild Oak Canyon.
    “Where does everyone go at one point or another to talk or share a cup of coffee?”
    “That would be Cara Jo’s Diner,” Jacie said. “She’s a friend of mine. Everyone has dinner there at least once a week to catch up on everyone else’s business.”
    “Good. We’ll start there.”

Chapter Seven
    Jacie entered the diner first, her nostrils filling with the comforting smells of meat loaf, roasted chicken and fried okra. Once Zach passed through the door and it closed behind him, Jacie paused, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the aromas calm her.
    “Smells like home.”
    Jacie opened her eyes and tipped her head toward Zach.
    A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
    This was perhaps the first clue he’d given her about his life outside his work. “Did your mother make her kitchen smell that good?”
    “Always. She loved to cook and we always had great food.” His smile faded. “I miss her.”
    “What happened?”
    “She and my father had me late in life. And all that good cooking clogged their arteries.” He sighed. “They died within months of each other. Mom couldn’t imagine life without Dad.” Something about the grim set of his lips spoke more than his words.
    “Where were you during all this?” Jacie asked.
    “I wasn’t there when Dad had his heart attack.”
    “Were you working for the FBI then?”
    He nodded.
    “Undercover?”
    Again he nodded. “I didn’t know until it was almost too late to see my mother before she passed too.”
    Jacie’s chest tightened. She and Tracie had lost both their parents to an automobile accident. “At least you got to say goodbye to your mother,” she said quietly. Then she squared her shoulders. “How about that booth in the corner?”
    “I’d prefer to sit at the bar. We might learn more there.”
    “Right.”
    As she strode across the floor, Cara Jo, the diner’s owner, pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen with her hip and carried a large tray full of steaming entrees to a table of cowboys. “I’ll be with you in a minute. Seat yourself,” she called out.
    Cara Jo’s shoulder-length, light brown hair swung as she spun around in her cute little waitress outfit. The retro-styled dress that hadn’t fazed Jacie in the least in the past suddenly made her more aware of her dusty jeans and even dirtier shirt. Her face probably had the same layer of grime and her hair... “We’ll take a seat at the bar,” Jacie said.
    “Suit yourself.” Cara Jo laid out one full plate at a time in front of the cowboys. No sooner had she set a plate on the colorful gingham tablecloth than a cowboy