Читать книгу Her Christmas Hero: Christmas Justice / Snow Blind / Christmas at Thunder Horse Ranch - Cassie Miles, Cassie Miles - Страница 16
ОглавлениеLaurel rolled off the bed and yanked on her jeans, slipping on her shirt as she raced after Garrett. She followed him out of the bedroom and into his office. He flipped on a switch on one of the consoles. A map flickered to life on the screen. Two green dots headed directly to the center.
“They’re getting close to the cameras,” he said, turning on another switch. Three monitors buzzed on, the infrared images fuzzy.
A few trees, but nothing more.
Laurel slipped on her shoes and glanced down at the computer monitor where she’d been running the decryption program. “We don’t have the password yet,” she rushed out. “It hasn’t finished. What are we going to do?”
Garrett stared at the monitors. Slowly a figure came into view. She squinted, then recognized a man pushing through the trees, his movements jerky, holding a weapon. A second person followed behind him.
He let out a loud curse. “How did they find us so fast?”
“Who are they?”
“Not the family I saw earlier today. There were three of them. And no one was carrying an M16. I could recognize the outline anywhere.” Garrett scanned the room and grabbed a duffel from the corner, tossing it toward her. “Pack up what you and Molly need. Only the bare necessities. There’s not much time.”
At Garrett’s grim expression, Laurel’s stomach twisted in fear. She raced from the room and quietly opened the door to the bedroom where Molly slept. Using the shard of light piercing through the slit, she fumbled for a few sets of clothes and toiletries. And Ivy’s family’s picture. Everything else was luxury. Except Mr. Hairy Houdini.
She slipped out of the bedroom and back into the office. “Done.”
Garrett sat at one of his monitors. “I’m wiping the entire system. It will disable everything and leave no trace.”
“Are they close?”
“They’re making a beeline for the cabin, but they’re still a half mile away. In the dark in the woods. Idiots.”
“Do you recognize them?”
Garrett grabbed a control stick and zoomed in. “No. How about you?”
She squinted at the grainy green image. “I can’t tell.”
The computer next to her sounded her college fight song. Garrett’s eyes widened, and she flushed. “We were...enthusiastic.”
She plopped onto the chair. “I’ve got the password.” She typed it in. “I can download it.”
Garrett typed in a few commands on his screen. “Copy it. We’re out of time.”
Two figures appeared on the second screen. This time she could see the second man’s gun. Another automatic weapon.
“Military-issue weapons,” she said.
“Good eye. They’ve found us. No telling how many are out there. I’m getting you out of here.”
“We should have had another twenty-four hours at least,” Laurel said. She looked over at Garrett. “This is my fault.”
“Our opponent is better than we both thought.”
“Do you have a thumb drive?” Laurel asked.
He opened the drawer and handed her the small device. She stuck the drive into the system, copied the file, then ejected it.
“We’re out of time.” He grabbed the Remington from a closet, slung the strap over his shoulder and hit a button. The computers started whirring.
“Is it going to explode?” she asked.
“Nothing so Mission: Impossible,” Garrett said. “Just wiped clean and its components melted down. Can you carry this?” He lifted up a small backpack.
She took it from him and stuffed it into a duffel, zipping it up. She took her SIG and placed it in the back of her pants. She wished she had a holster. Next time she went on the run, she’d remember to bring one.
“I’ll carry Molly.” He hurried into the spare bedroom. The little girl had sprawled on her back, clutching her stuffed animal. He slid his hands under her body and lifted her up over his shoulder, settling her on one arm and hip.
“Let’s go,” he whispered, unclipping a narrow flashlight from his belt. “This has a red filter so it doesn’t kill the night vision. I’ll lead the way. Keep your weapon handy.”
He quietly closed and locked the door behind him. Laurel balanced the duffel on her shoulder. They stepped into the darkness. Only the moon lit their way. He pointed the beam of light at the ground in front of him. “Don’t veer off this path. You could walk off a cliff.”
Taking it slow but steady, they picked their way through the trees, around a series of rugged rocks, careful not to make any noise. Garrett jostled Molly once and she whimpered. He froze. Laurel held her breath. If Molly started crying she could give their location away.
They started off again.
A burst of gunfire in the distance peppered the night.
Laurel hit the ground. Garrett knelt, covering Molly. She yelped in fear. He placed his hand on her mouth. “Molly, listen to me.”
Laurel crawled over to Garrett. “I’m here with you, Molly Magoo. We have to be quiet, even if those noises are scary. Can you do that?”
She nodded her head.
Slowly, Garrett pulled his hand away. Molly slapped her hand on her mouth. “Good girl,” he said. “You’re very brave.”
“Will Santa know?” she asked.
“He’s definitely watching.”
“Do Mommy and Daddy know?” Molly asked, her voice muffled through her fingertips.
“They’re very proud of you, Molly Magoo.”
“Lay your head on my shoulder, sugar. We’re getting out of here.”
Laurel could tell, even in the moonlight, that Molly squeezed her eyes shut.
Another bevy of gunfire erupted.
Garrett didn’t slow. “It’s at the cabin. Keep moving.”
A loud curse pierced the night.
“He said a bad word,” Molly muttered. “Santa won’t visit his house.”
“Definitely not,” Garrett said. “Hush now.”
They trudged forward. It seemed so much farther back to the SUV than it had hiking up to the ranch house. Laurel focused on the ground in front of her. All she needed was to fall.
She stepped on a twig and the dry wood cracked beneath her weight. Garrett stilled. She stopped, her heart quickening. He motioned her forward.
Laurel didn’t know how long they walked before she finally recognized the outcropping of rocks ahead. Garrett paused. Laurel stopped as well, listening to the sounds of the night.
In December, not many animals sounded their call. But neither did the men following.
A twig snapped not that far behind them.
“Go!” he shouted. Placing the keys in her hand, he pushed her through a gap in the rocks. The SUV was just feet away.
“Take her.” Garrett shoved Molly into Laurel’s arms and took off running in the opposite direction.
* * *
GARRETT RACED AWAY from Laurel and Molly. How the hell had these guys found them? He slammed through the pine trees, making as much noise as possible. A gunshot echoed in the night, the bullet hitting a pine tree just above his ear. They had night vision. Great.
Garrett took his flashlight and turned the powerful miniature beam on high, then flipped off the filter, shining the bright light in the direction of the fired shot.
A curse of pain sounded toward him. The guy would be blinded for a few seconds. Garrett veered in the direction of the house. Anything to keep them away from Laurel and Molly. He prayed she’d gotten away, that no one else had intercepted them.
“This way!” one of the men shouted. Footsteps pounded at him. They weren’t even trying to be quiet. He took a ninety-degree turn away from the ranch, toward some of the cliffs. He had to keep his bearings. A rock outcropping should be coming up to his right.
Sure enough, the strange formation loomed from the ground.
The men following him kept coming.
The sound of a stumble, then a loud curse, filtered through the night. He hadn’t lost them. Garrett rounded the rock formation and paused. Fifteen feet away was the edge of a steep hill, its base jagged rocks. Dangerous, deadly and convenient.
He flipped off his flashlight and raced toward the hill. Those guys trailed after him as though they had radar on him.
Was he carrying a GPS? His phone shouldn’t be traceable. How did they have a bead on him? He couldn’t hear anything above him; a chopper would be crazy to fly at night in these mountains.
No time to figure it out.
He still couldn’t be sure if he wasn’t walking into a trap, if someone was waiting for him.
“Laurel, I hope you got away.”
He stopped in front of the drop-off. They shouldn’t have been able to find him, but the two men barreled into the clearing just in front of him.
The red-filtered flashlight one of them carried crossed his body, and they stopped.
A smile gleamed in the moonlight. “Two years late,” the man said, lifting his gun.
Garrett dived to the side just as the man charged. The guy tried to skid to a halt, but momentum carried him over the side. He shouted out and disappeared down the hill.
“Strickland!” the second man shouted. Garrett launched himself at the guy and pinned him. “Who are you?”
The man shook his head.
Garrett shoved the barrel of his Beretta beneath the guy’s chin. “I’m not playing games.”
“Yeah, well, neither is my boss. I’m dead if I say anything.”
The man’s eyes were resigned. A bad sign.
“How about we make a deal?” Garrett said, easing the gun just a bit. “You tell me your boss’s name. I let you go. You disappear out here. You’re a few hours from the border.”
A flare of hope flashed on the guy’s face before a gunshot sounded. A sharp burning slammed into Garrett’s back. His gun dropped from his hand. He rolled off the guy and behind a rock, his back screaming in pain. He sucked in a breath and blinked.
His Beretta lay in the open.
Strickland heaved himself up over the edge of the hill and lifted his M16. “Get out of there, Krauss, or so help me, I’ll shoot you, too.”
Krauss scrambled away. Staggering toward Garrett, Strickland peppered the rock. Dust and shrapnel flew into the air.
If it had been daylight, Garrett would be dead.
Another blast of firepower and he was running out of time.
“You’re dying this time, Bradley. Damn you. Your wife and kid weren’t even part of the deal.”
The words slammed into Garrett’s pain-riddled brain. This son of a bitch had killed his family.
“Yeah, that’s right. I set the bomb. You want to come out and face me?”
Garrett rolled over, ignoring the pain in his back. Krauss pulled his weapon. This was a no-win.
Then Krauss moved. Garrett had one chance. With a grunt, he launched himself at Krauss and shoved him into Strickland. Garrett’s weight forced them back toward the edge.
They all teetered on the precipice. Garrett grabbed a protrusion of rock and stopped his fall. Strickland and Krauss disappeared over the side.
Garrett could feel warmth seeping down his back as he climbed up the few feet. He flicked on his flashlight and peered over the side.
The men lay against a rock, motionless. Krauss’s neck was bent at an unnatural angle, his eyes wide-open. Dead.
Garrett moved the beam over.
Blood covered Strickland’s face. He wasn’t moving. Garrett pointed his weapon at Strickland, but the guy didn’t move. He wanted to climb down, be sure. He needed to know the truth.
A wave of dizziness stopped him. He fell down to his knees. A beeping noise just to his side grabbed his attention. He picked up a tablet. A red dot blinked. It was him. Damn it, how were they tracking him?
He pulled everything out of his pockets. He’d bought the clothes in El Paso. It couldn’t be them.
He didn’t have time to figure it out.
He took one last look over the edge—Strickland still hadn’t budged. Garrett stumbled to his feet. He had to make sure Laurel and Molly were gone, out of here. Daniel would help.
Garrett didn’t know how bad his wound was, but he had to make sure they were safe, and then he had to get as far away from them as he could. Because whoever had sent Strickland and Krauss wasn’t giving up.
* * *
THE GUNSHOTS HAD STOPPED. Laurel gripped her SIG, planting her hands firmly along the hood of the SUV.
Molly sat in the backseat, hugging Mr. Houdini close. “Where is Sheriff Garrett? He wouldn’t leave us.”
“He’ll be here,” Laurel said. He had to be here. She chewed on her fingernail.
Suddenly a figure came stumbling out of the trees. Her finger tightened on the trigger.
He looked up at her. “Garrett!” she shouted.
“Get in,” he ordered and bounded into the passenger seat. “Drive,” he said, clearing his throat.
Carefully she backed up and turned the SUV around. “Lights?” she asked.
“On,” he said. “Get us out of here fast.”
The beams hit the dirt road and she hit the gas.
“Why the hell did you wait for me? What if I hadn’t come back?”
“I have the number you gave me.” Laurel gripped the steering wheel. “I was getting ready to call Daniel Adams.”
“I don’t know whether to be relieved you were here or turn you over my knee.” The SUV bounced and Garrett took a sharp intake of breath. Laurel flipped on the interior lights and looked over at him.
His mouth was pinched and the light leather of his seat was streaked with red.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Just drive,” he ordered. “Get to the main road as fast as you can. Maybe we’ll be lucky and those two were the only ones following us. For now.”
She urged the vehicle forward.
Molly stuck her head between the seats. “Do you need a Band-Aid?” she asked. “I have princess ones. You can have my favorite if you want. Which princess do you like the best?”
Garrett smiled at her. “You’re my favorite princess, sugar. And don’t you worry. It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine.”
Laurel’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. He was lying to protect Molly. Tears stung Laurel’s eyes. She’d fallen hard for this man. He’d saved them yet again, but this time she really didn’t know if they’d make it out alive. Blood kept seeping onto the seat. She had to get him help.
The nearest town was Trouble. She’d seen a clinic there. She could go back. Everyone knew him there. Someone would help.
It took forever to reach the county road leading to Trouble. She finally got to the intersection.
“Turn left,” Garrett said through clenched teeth.
“I’m glad you agree. I’m getting you to a doctor.”
“I can’t now.” Garrett leaned his head back on the seat. “Keep driving straight.”
After about fifteen minutes he turned his head to her. In the light of the interior his face had gone pale. “There’s a dirt road not too far from here. Pull over and let me out.”
“No way—”
“Do it, Laurel.”
Against her better judgment, she pulled to the side and stopped the car.
Garrett gripped the door handle and faced her. “Here’s what you’re going to do. Take this road. It circles down some back roads until you reach Rural Route 11. Follow that until you hit this highway again. Get to a phone, even if you have to buy a prepaid cell at a convenience store. Call Daniel Adams. Tell him what’s happening. He’ll take you to Covert Technology Confidential in Carder, Texas. They’ll protect you.”
Daniel’s employer might be the only one that could hide Laurel and Molly from the agency and get away with it.
She shook her head. “I won’t leave you. You’re hurt.”
“Laurel, they’re tracking me. I don’t know how, but they are. You have to get away.”
He opened the SUV door, but as soon as his boots hit the pavement he collapsed.
She shoved open her door and ran around the car. “At least let me stop the bleeding before I leave. You can’t do it yourself.”
He closed his eyes, then gave her a reluctant nod. Why did the thing that attracted her so much to Garrett have to be the very thing that could kill him?
“There’s a T-shirt in my backpack. And a canteen. Wash off the wound and use the cotton as a bandage. Then you have to go.”
“Are you fixing Sheriff Garrett, Aunt Laurel?”
“That’s right, sugar,” Garrett said with a smile. “I’ll be good as new.”
Liar.
Laurel fished out the material and the water. She lifted his shirt and he passed her the flashlight. She gasped. Dried blood caked part of his back, but fresh still oozed from the wound. She didn’t know how he was still standing.
She ripped the T-shirt in two and soaked half in water. She bathed his back, trying to be gentle. He didn’t even wince.
Each pass removed more of the blood, revealing the scars. They weren’t all that bad. The horror of what he’d experienced far surpassed this permanent reminder.
She worked her way toward the area that still bled. The bullet had hit him near his shoulder blade, near where she’d seen his previous wound and stitches. He looked as if he’d scraped his back raw on the rocks, too.
“Just how many times have you been shot in the back?” she asked.
“Since I met you?” he asked. “Or altogether?”
“Wiseass.”
“Aunt Laurel, that’s a naughty word.” Molly gasped.
“Sorry, Molly.” She frowned at his back. “See what you made me do?”
He chuckled. “I’m going to miss you two.”
She ripped the clean half of the T-shirt for a second round and dabbed at the wound.
He could use stitches, and the raw skin had rocks and metal flakes embedded in it. She had to scrub a bit harder. He sucked in a breath.
“Too bad I still have some feeling left right there,” he said, his voice tight with pain.
“Almost done.”
As she cleaned the last bit, a familiar-looking object became visible. Small, metallic. A chip.
“Garrett? Were you ever fitted with a tracking device?”
“Hell, no. If the bad guys caught the frequency...” His head whipped around. “Is one back there?”
“Yes.”
“Get it out. Now.”
“It’s implanted in your back. You need a doctor to cut it out.”
“Hand me my backpack.”
She dug into her duffel. He tugged out the nylon pack and retrieved a small medical kit, complete with a small scalpel and forceps.
“Yank it out,” he said. “We don’t have any time to lose. They could be closing in now.”
Laurel blinked, staring at the tracking device. She could do this. Her hand shook, and she sucked in a deep breath.
“It’s easy. You said there was an incision? Just follow the scar and pull the thing out.
“I don’t suppose you have pain medicine in your bag of tricks?”
Molly stuck her head over the seat. She gasped. “Sheriff Garrett, you have lots of boo-boos. You can use all my princess Band-Aids if you need them.”
“Laurel, just do it.” Garrett smiled up at Molly. “Why don’t you find me those Band-Aids, sugar?”
Molly ducked behind the backseat.
“Now,” he said tightly.
“Brace yourself.”
He gripped the passenger seat. She leaned over him. Taking a deep breath, Laurel pushed the knife into his back and sliced the skin, revealing the entire chip. He didn’t say a word, but when she grabbed it with the medical tweezers, his back tightened. Blood flowed from the wound.
She dabbed at it. “Got it.”
“Oh, yuck. That’s a really bad boo-boo.”
“Not so bad, sugar. Maybe you’ll be a doctor when you grow up so you can fix people.”
Molly’s smile brightened. “I want to fix people.” She hugged her lion tight.
“Laurel, clean the wound with the Betadine. Put some antibiotic ointment on it and use the butterfly strips to close it,” he ordered.
Molly insisted on adding several of her own bandages. When they’d finished, Garrett turned to Laurel. His face had gone pale.
“There’s a clinic in Trouble,” she repeated.
“We can’t go back there. Where is the chip?”
She picked up the small device with the forceps. He took it from her and turned it over in his hand. His jawline throbbed. “Damn him.”
“Who?”
He lifted his gaze and met hers.
“Your father requested these chips. As far as I knew, they were never used, but he had one put into me. He would have been the only one to know the frequency.”
* * *
MIKE STRICKLAND GROANED and pressed his hand to his head. It came away bloody and sticky. He rolled over. His entire body hurt. He tested each limb. Nothing broken, though his head might explode at any moment. Slowly he sat up.
Krauss lay next to him, his neck obviously broken.
He’d been the weak link anyway. A lot like Derek Bradley. The guy was a fool. If it had been him, he’d have put a bullet in both men’s brains...just to be sure.
Strickland struggled to his feet and glared up the steep incline. “I gotta find that guy.”
He searched around. No tracking device. “Damn.” He hoped Bradley didn’t have it.
A phone sounded a few feet from Strickland. His head pounding as if he had an ice pick stabbed in his ear, he followed the sound and bent down, nearly crying out in pain.
The name on the screen caused his stomach to roil. He vomited all over the ground. He should ignore it.
The ringing stopped, then started again.
“Strickland.”
“Don’t ignore me again, Strickland.”
He wiped his mouth.
“Bradley was moving toward Trouble, Texas, and now his signal has vanished. You failed. Again.”
“We have a plan,” Strickland lied.
“Oh, really? Now that we can no longer track Derek Bradley, he’s an even greater threat. Neutralize him.”
“I understand.”
“Do you, Strickland? Do you really? Because this is your second mistake in as many days. That’s one more than anyone else under my command has made—and still lived.”
The phone call ended.
He needed a plan. First to get back to his SUV, and then to find Bradley.
Strickland sank to his knees and emptied the rest of the contents of his stomach next to Krauss’s body.
He’d never find Bradley this way.
If he couldn’t chase after Bradley, he’d just have to find bait that would attract him.
Trouble, Texas, was the way to do it.
