Bounty Hunter Honor. Kara Lennox

it’s been around for more than a hundred years,” Nadia said. “It used to be a huge estate belonging to one of the town founders—I forget what his name was. But he was really into hunting, and I guess he didn’t have children because he left his entire estate to the city of Payton, with the condition that the land and home be preserved and left undeveloped for use by hunters.”

      “How big is it?” Rex asked.

      “Several hundred acres. The Payton Gun Club leases the land from the city. The club renovated the barn, then built onto it for its shooting range and administrative offices. But no one had any money to keep up the old house, so now it’s just a crumbling ruin they use for tactical exercises. The rest of the grounds have been left wild. There’s a tall fence around the perimeter, and barriers to prevent stray bullets from getting off club property. But mostly it’s just wilderness.”

      “And when they have these live hunts—how does that work?”

      “They bring in some deer or javelina hogs or whatever, tag them and turn them loose. Then they turn the hunters loose.”

      Rex had to agree with Lori—it did seem barbaric. The animals hardly had a chance, trapped in an enclosed area, even if it was hundreds of acres.

      The Payton Gun Club was in a rural area outside the city limits. Though Nadia had described it, Rex wasn’t prepared for the actual place, starting with the wrought-iron fence that ran along the road for a half mile before they actually reached a gate and a discreet sign identifying the place. The peeling sign said Members Only in large letters, but the rusty iron gates were open, so Rex drove in. The Blazer’s tires crunched over the limestone gravel drive.

      A smattering of cars was parked in the lot in front of a barnlike structure. Behind the barn was a long cinder-block building with no windows—had to be the indoor shooting range. Through a chain-link fence, Rex could just make out some targets in the distance—an outdoor range, probably not used much in the winter. Farther in the distance, a gray stone house rose up out of the prairie grass and scrubby trees. With its vacant windows and sagging roof, it had to be the former owner’s home, fallen into disrepair.

      Beyond the house were woodlands. At least the poor animals had some place to hide.

      “This place gives me the creeps,” Rex said. He made no move to exit the car as he tried to get a feel for the club. Maybe he’d seen too many spooky movies as a kid, but the Payton Gun Club had an air of shabbiness and desolation that called to mind maniacal killers in hockey masks. Especially that house. “You used to come here, huh?”

      “I like target shooting,” she said. “It sounded like fun. But really, I only came a couple of times. I was never comfortable here, and Peter was just as happy to have me stay home so he could have male bonding moments with his friends. Female bonding, too, if I’m right about rat-face.”

      “So you don’t think you’ll be recognized?”

      “Doubtful.”

      Just the same, he had Nadia pull her distinctive curly hair back with an elastic, then wear a baseball cap and her sunglasses. It was enough to throw off a casual observer, anyway.

      Just inside the barn’s double doors was a reception desk. A bored-looking kid sat behind it reading a comic book. “Hi,” Rex greeted him, causing the kid to jump. “Ace McCullough left a couple of guest passes for me and my wife?”

      “Oh, yeah, they’re around here someplace….” The kid rummaged around on the desk until he found them. “Dennis and Freesia Blankenship?”

      “That’s us.”

      “I’ll need some ID,” the kid said, sounding bored.

      “Oh, Dennis, I left my purse in the car,” Nadia said.

      “That’s okay,” Rex said. “I’ve got my license.” And he did, in fact, have a fake driver’s license. It was Rex’s picture, but Dennis’s name. The kid gave the card a cursory look and jotted down the number which, if anyone checked, would come back as belonging to a deceased person. But he doubted anyone would check. No one ever did.

      Rex told the kid they were there to do some target practice with a gun he was thinking of buying. The kid handed them some ear-protectors, assigned them a lane and pointed them in the direction of the indoor range.

      The range was bigger than it looked from the outside. And despite the rather shabby exterior, the inside appeared to be state of the art. They found their lane. And while Rex opened the leather case he’d brought and looked at the huge .44 Magnum Ace had loaned him, Nadia covertly checked out the other three shooters.

      “I don’t recognize any of them,” Nadia said.

      But Rex did. One of them was a Payton police officer, a young patrolman not long out of the Academy who hung around Lyle Palmer and tried to earn brownie points. Andy Arquette, that was his name. Rex did his best to keep his back angled toward Andy, not wanting a confrontation.

      Rex wondered why a cop would come here when the police had their own shooting range he could use for free.

      Nadia gave a low whistle when she saw the gun. “A Ruger Super Blackhawk .44 Magnum. That is some fancy handgun. I love the blue steel.”

      “Your granny must have been quite a knowledgeable collector.”

      “Well, actually, Nana Tania was a spy.” Some people reacted strangely to that information, but Rex took it in stride, nodding appreciatively. “After she retired, she said she was glad to be out of the spy business, but she must have missed it some, because she had a closet full of guns. When I was little, we would take them out and play with them the way other little girls take out their Barbie collections.”

      Rex just shook his head. “You’ll have to tell me more about your Nana sometime. So, can you shoot this baby?”

      She demurred. “I’m really rusty—haven’t touched a firearm since Lily was born. You go ahead.”

      He’d been afraid of that. But if they wanted this to look good, they would have to actually fire the gun. He took the wicked-looking blue-steel gun out of its foam nest and loaded one of the many full magazines Ace had included. It clicked into place with a satisfying snick.

      A paper target was about fifteen yards down the lane. Rex and Nadia put on their ear protection. Nadia stood back, giving Rex plenty of room. He took a wide-legged stance, put both hands on the gun, stretched out his arms and took aim. But his hands were shaking, and perspiration had broken out on his upper lip and forehead despite the range’s cool temperature. For a few moments, he thought he wouldn’t be able to shoot at all. He thought his stomach would rebel. But somehow, he managed to squeeze off the first shot, then another and another.

      That was when the panic started welling up inside his chest. It was the sound of the gunfire, he realized. In the four years he’d been a bounty hunter, he had never discharged his weapon. He’d drawn it and intimidated people with it, as he had Jethro Banner just a couple of days ago. But he hadn’t actually squeezed the trigger until just now.

      He laid the gun down, pulled off the ear protection and stepped back.

      “Let’s see how you did.” It was Andy Arquette, who’d approached while Rex was shooting. Andy pushed the button that would bring the paper target close for inspection. “Haven’t seen you around here before. Name’s Andy Arquette.”

      It appeared that Andy didn’t recognize him, Rex thought. Good. “Dennis Blankenship.” The two men shook hands. “This is my wife, Freesia.” Hell, Nadia didn’t look like a Freesia. Ace had a damnable sense of humor.

      She mustered a smile and a quick handshake.

      The paper target arrived. Rex didn’t even want to look at it, because he’d practically shot at the thing with his eyes closed. But when he did look, he saw that three of his five shots had actually hit—one in the arm, one in the abdomen, one in the thigh.

      “Ooh, that guy’s