Page 42 of Canyon of Deceit

FORTY-ONE

BLANE

On my ride home, I managed a little conversation with the driver. But I dozed on the passenger side of the car. Adrenaline had been my creditor, and now it called for overdue payment.

“Hey, any effort at making sense is worthless,” I said to stay awake.

“Then don’t. Hate to ruin a negotiator’s reputation.”

“Thanks.” I laughed but everything hurt.

“Want help getting inside your house?”

“I’m good to go.”

“Right. Major Montoya told me to unlock your door. Being a considerate guy, I’m asking first. You and Therese Palmer look like the other guys won that round.”

My eyes fluttered shut. “Depends. One of them is dead. We’ll catch up on sleep and be back on track.”

His phone rang, and he snatched it up. A few words in, and his jaw tightened. “Yes, sir. We’re on our way.” He made a sharp right into a parking lot and turned around.

Alarm ignited with worry. “What’s going on?”

“Active fire at Ms. Palmer’s home. The major suspects we’re headed into an ambush too.”

“Is she all right?”

“No idea. Police and Rangers are en route to the scene. Shooters opened fire the moment the car pulled into her driveway.”

“I’m done with this. We’re within ten minutes of her house. Those guys have made the wrong man mad.” I rattled off Therese’s address. “My shooting arm is itching to pull a trigger.”

—

THERESE

“Have you been shot?” I said to my driver.

“Yes, get inside your house. I’m good to cover you.” His weakened voice told me how badly he’d been wounded.

“I won’t leave you to fight them alone. Where is backup?”

“On its way. Please, get inside.”

“What if—?”

Gunfire whizzed past us. I peered around the car door. Two men approached, firing with each step. I aimed at the man nearest me and squeezed the trigger, sending a bullet into his chest. He jerked back and fell. Blood trickled down the front of a black T-shirt.

The other shooter kept coming and firing.

“I’m hit again,” the Ranger said.

The shooter fired, and I rushed to help Wes. Blood seeped from his side and chest. In the distance, the sound of sirens gave me a twinge of hope. A car squealed to a stop. Car doors slammed. Were they police? Rangers? Or backup to assist the men bent on killing us?

The shooter moved closer. I raised my gun to stop him. My magazine was empty. I grabbed Wes’s gun, but my senses screamed I’d run out of time.

Car doors slammed. The shooter spun away, giving me a moment to dive at his legs. I caught him off-balance, but he righted himself. Law enforcement would neutralize him, but that didn’t help the blood escaping the Ranger’s wounds.

Gunfire pierced the afternoon air.

The shooter startled and fell over me.

Footsteps tapped on the driveway, and I swung around to make sure another shooter didn’t have me in his sights. A Ranger pulled the first shooter off me. Blane’s driver.

“This man needs an ambulance. He’s been shot at least twice.”

The man bent to the injured Ranger and touched his neck for a pulse while calling 911. “Hang on. Help is on the way.” He shot me a glance. “He’s alive. Faint pulse.”

“What can I do?”

He added pressure to the gaping hole in the man’s side. “Pray.”

“On it.” I rolled away from them, sensing the man had more experience about ER care than I did. Had he taken Blane home? “Thank you for saving my life.”

“It wasn’t my shot.”

“Therese!”

A familiar voice warmed me to my bones. Making slow strides up the driveway was my hero. “Blane.”