The Shelter of His Arms (Harlequin Heartwarming) by Dawn Stewardson Page B

sources.”
    “Then—”
    “But contracts can be called off.”
    “Really?”
    Her hopeful look went straight to his heart.
    “Really,” he said. “A hit man gets paid up front. So if whoever paid him changes his mind, what does he care? He’s already got his money.”
    “Then...there’s actually a chance you could...”
    “A very good chance,” he told her, sounding a lot more confident than he felt.
    The truth was, he couldn’t do a thing about the contract unless he knew either who’d paid for it or who the hit man was. And Hank’s informant didn’t have a clue about the guy’s real identity. He’d only heard him referred to as the Ice Man.
    Still, there was nothing to gain by dwelling on the negative. Especially not when, with any luck, he and Celeste would be able to figure out who’d hired the killer. Or at least come up with a probable suspect.
    Telling himself it was time to get started on that, he said, “Celeste, I know this is an awful question, but I have to ask it. Can you think of anyone who might want you dead?”
    While she stared at her shoes, he rapidly reminded himself how far he’d decided to go here.
    He wasn’t about to get into the possibility that her mother’s “accident” had been step one in somebody’s plan to murder three people. Not yet, at least. It would only make her more upset.
    Besides, after Hank talked to the investigating officers and learned what the witnesses had to say, he might conclude that Adele Langley’s death really had been accidental.
    Regardless of that, though, the important thing right now was to figure out who was targeting Celeste.
    Finally, she looked up again, her blue eyes dark with emotion, and said, “Travis, I honestly don’t have a clue who’d want to kill me.”
    “No, I didn’t really think you would,” he said softly. “But somebody does, and he’s got to have a reason. And...Hank has a theory about that.”
    “What is it?”
    “Well...this entire conversation has to stay strictly between the two of us. You understand that.”
    “Of course. I know you could get in trouble, and I’d never say anything to... You can trust me.”
    He nodded, certain he could, yet feeling strange about the prospect of letting a civilian in on confidential police business.
    That wasn’t how he’d originally intended to play things with her. And under normal circumstances he’d never have changed his mind. But these were hardly normal circumstances, so he simply ignored the uneasy feeling and began.
    “Hank figures that whoever killed Steve is behind the contract on you.”
    “What?” she whispered, her face growing pale.
    After hesitating a second, he took her hands in his. Trying to comfort her hardly constituted as a romantic gesture.
    She gazed at him for a long moment, then slowly shook her head. “I don’t understand. Are you saying Steve was murdered by this hit man who—”
    “No, he was killed by an amateur.”
    “How do you know?”
    “I’m a detective,” he said, hoping she’d let it go at that. When she was already in a fragile state, hearing additional details about Parker’s death wouldn’t help.
    “But how can you be sure? ”
    He hesitated again, then decided that telling her she didn’t need to know would be so patronizing it might only upset her more.
    “Because a pro is concerned about the risk of getting caught,” he said. “So he chooses his time and place carefully. He doesn’t want witnesses. He just wants to do the job and get away from the scene as quickly as possible. That’s why he’ll often shoot someone in a drive-by or do it in a deserted underground garage.”
    “What about those killings you see on the news? Where somebody gets murdered right out in the open? In broad daylight?”
    “Those are usually mob or gang related. And they want witnesses because they’re sending a message.
    “But we’re talking about someone who makes his living as a professional killer. Someone who’d rather