He hurried quickly to the back entrance, slipping and sliding on the way, only to find the back door wide open. A new chilling possibility entered his mind. What if someone had seen Kathleen go in alone and followed? Or what if someone had seen the closed Pub as an easy target, and Kathleen had gone in unsuspecting and... Jack clamped a wall down on those thoughts before they took over. No matter what the situation, that kind of thinking wasn’t going to help anyone.
A pile of snow sat just inside the door, deposited there by the swirling winds. A beam of light shone in from the dusk-to-dawn light in the lot, providing just enough illumination for him to know the room was empty.
Jack paused, listening.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled, forcing him to clamp down on the urge to call out for her. It was an instinctual warning, one he had learned not to ignore. Pine Ridge wasn’t exactly a hotbed of criminal activity, but bad things did occasionally happen. If the feeling in his gut was anything to go by, this was one of those times.
Jack stepped carefully across the floor on silent feet, calling upon his training, opening his senses. He cocked his head, listening beyond the gusts of wind rattling the windows and the normal creaks and moans of the old building.
He went to the bar area first, freezing in the door frame when the smell of hard liquor hit him. In the light of the streetlamps shining through the dirty windows, he saw the winking glass remains of several bottles. By the looks of it, every last one had been removed from the shelves and smashed.
For one brief moment, he wondered if Kathleen might have taken out her fiery Irish temper on the inventory, but quickly dismissed the idea. She had come back to him, told her mother her place was with him. And even if she was still angry with him, she wouldn’t do something as mean-spirited as this.
Which meant that Kathleen had been alone in the Pub with a malicious intruder. Someone had broken in either before she arrived or shortly after. Cold fear gripped his heart and overwhelmed him, nearly bringing him to his knees.
Please, let her be safe in our bed, asleep and unaware, he prayed silently. And let me find the bastard who did this before that changes.
He had to focus, he commanded himself as he fought for breath. Panic, going in half-cocked, wasn’t going to help her. She was a clever, smart woman. And, as he had reminded her only that morning, he was a highly-trained, skilled killer.
Jack slipped behind the bar, running his fingers beneath the taps for the hidden Glock he’d secured there as a precautionary measure, never imagining he would need it so soon.
His heart bottomed out. It was gone.
He moved further down, silently breathing in relief when he found his Ka-Bar knife taped behind the speedrack well. He would have preferred to have both, but he was as skilled with the familiar blade as he was with a gun. And in this case, an up-close-and-personal, silent kill was sounding mighty appealing.
A loud thump sounded on the other side of the wall, as if someone had punched it, followed by the low rumbles of a masculine voice. Jack stilled; it was too muffled to make out the words but the tone was decidedly angry.
The noise had definitely come from the storeroom, an interior room with only one obvious entry and exit. Jack knew of another, a throwback to the days of Prohibition. A feral grin curled his lips as he slipped into mission mode. He had a decided tactical advantage: he knew the layout, had a hidden entry/exit point, and years of SEAL training and combat experience. The bastard intruder didn’t stand a chance.
And if he’d dared harm a hair on his croie’s head, his death would be excruciatingly slow and painful instead of quick and efficient.
Jack tucked the fear away, a cold, practiced calm settling over him. This was what he knew, what he did best.
He crouched down and moved down the length of the bar until he came to the far end of the shelving, feeling along the wall for the release. When found it, he pressed down. The hidden pocket door slid noiselessly aside, revealing the secret passage.
Blade in hand and at the ready, Jack crept silently down the small corridor toward the entrance to the storeroom. The closer he got, the more clearly he heard someone moving around. Heavy feet shuffled across the dirty floor. A few mutters and grunts preceded the sound of a box hitting the floor, followed by muffled thumps and breaking glass.
The bastard was destroying everything in the store room as well!
Jack stayed low, entering the room in silence and shadow. A large flashlight sat on top of an empty keg barrel, providing the only illumination in the room. A dark mass wrestled with another large box atop a stack of others, cursing.
And, thank God, there was no sign of Kathleen.
“Stupid old man... Thinks he can get away with this... Should have been mine...” Another box fell heavily to the floor. The dark figure stumbled, then howled when some of the contents landed on his foot.
The voice was vaguely familiar; Jack struggled to place it. He knew for certain he’d heard it before, but not often enough to immediately recognize. The words were slurred, as if whoever spoke them had not only been wrecking the inventory, but indulging in it as well.