Trina did share his worries. The cop stopping by the ranch yesterday had made the risks they were running daily damn real, even to someone who’d been trying to bury her head in the sand.
The trouble was, Chloe didn’t want anything to do with the replacement Boyd had found for Diane. The woman—girl—had stopped by the ranch yesterday to meet them. When Trina explained to Chloe that Diane wouldn’t be able to come the next day to stay with her, but Kaylee would be here instead, Chloe shrank away. Kaylee squatted down to her level and coaxed, talking about how much fun they’d have. Chloe wasn’t having any of it.
She’d latched on to Trina’s leg and refused to let go. She didn’t want to watch a movie, or play, or look at her books. The rest of Sunday, she followed Trina everywhere she went, even waiting outside the bathroom door.
He had a suspicion she hadn’t objected to Kaylee, but rather to one more change. And she wasn’t about to give up.
First thing this morning, she’d started whimpering. “I wanna go. Why can’t I go?”
On about her twentieth teary repeat of “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me,” Gabe had relented, but he remained on edge.
He’d tried reasoning with himself. If anyone was watching for Trina, they’d see her go in. Why would they hang around to notice some man bringing a child in later? Between the psychologists and doctors with offices in this building, kids came and went constantly.
Screw reason. If he’d been the hunter, he’d have eyes on this building all day, every day when Trina was at work. Front and back. He wouldn’t let denim jeans, plain T-shirt and a kid-sized baseball cap fool him into thinking this particular child was a boy.
Trina had worried about the lack of a car seat, but since Chloe would then sit higher, she’d be a lot more visible using one. They couldn’t afford that. In fact, as traffic became heavier, he said, “Okay, kiddo, time to lie down.”
Chloe obligingly lay down sideways on the seat. This was a game to her.
Thank God, she didn’t throw a fit when Trina got out in the back of her building. Instead, she waved bye-bye without apparent alarm. Gabe had no idea how a kid’s mind worked, but he was thankful she considered him to be safe. Her trust actually gave him a little bump in the chest, but he wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone.
He drove a winding route through town watching for a tail, but not identifying one. Finally, he parked several blocks from Trina’s building, put on a black Stetson and got out. He’d come in disguise today, too: black dress slacks, a crisp white shirt and shiny black cowboy boots. A Western-cut jacket hid his gun. The Stetson would make it more difficult to get a good look at his features. Then, after nixing the purple unicorn, he carried what appeared to be a little boy casually along the sidewalk and walked right in the front door. Father bringing his kid to an appointment.
Well, he got Chloe to her day care safely. He even texted Trina to let her know.
His real fear was how they’d get her out unseen at the end of the day.
Good thing he had plans to keep him busy today.
* * *
CLOAK-AND-DAGGER STUFF was so not for her, Trina realized, as she clutched Chloe close and squeezed between bodies so that they’d be initially hidden when the elevator opened. She could get a look at anyone in the lobby and, if she saw something worrisome, maybe take some kind of evasive action. She’d made sure to get on an elevator with several other parents who’d also picked their kids up at the day care, plus one unknown woman carrying a baby, probably after a visit to the pediatrician on the same floor.
The elevator lurched and the doors opened. Her pulse raced, but nothing obvious leaped out at her, so she hustled toward the back exit that led into the parking lot.
Of course Gabe had been watching for her, because the black truck roared right up, only feet from the door. Some people looked annoyed, having to circle around it, but she jumped into the back seat with Chloe and said, “Go!” even as she was buckling the seat belt around the little girl.
As planned, she stayed in the back seat, keeping a hand on Chloe, who was once again lying down. Her own gaze roved anxiously, even as she saw that Gabe’s flicked unceasingly from the road ahead to each mirror and back again.
He drove a different, meandering route through town each day. Usually, she sensed some relaxation, but today he seemed tense.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
That was it. I don’t know. Her fear ratcheted up.
Eventually, he did turn onto the highway, driving fast. The landscape blurred. It felt as if he was accelerating.
Then, suddenly, he said, “Hell. This is an ambush. They’re coming up behind, and someone is waiting up ahead for us.”
Her teeth wanted to chatter, but she refused to surrender to that kind of cowardice. “What do we do?”
His lack of an immediate answer was an answer.
The locks snicked. Their speed climbed.
Chapter Eight
“You and Chloe stay down,” Gabe said, keeping his voice level. “Do not raise your head for any reason. Do you hear me?”
“Yes.”
He opened the glove compartment and removed his SIG Sauer. It fit comfortably in his hand.
Trina must have seen him, because she sounded shaken. “Isn’t it likely this is the police?”
“No. If it was, they’d have had no reason not to turn on flashers and pull me over back in town. Aside from refusing to disclose Chloe’s whereabouts, you and I have been cooperative. Stayed in touch, passed on what we’d learned.”
“Yes. Oh, God. What are you going to do?”
“We’ll see.”
He couldn’t lose focus enough to comfort her. A car had just sailed past going south. In seconds, it would be out of sight. Otherwise, the highway was empty in both directions but for the obviously powerful dark sedan closing the distance on his truck from behind—and the big black SUV that had been waiting on the shoulder ahead, but was now moving. To make a U-turn? No, it had pulled across the highway to form a barricade.
Son of a bitch. He’d almost called Boyd earlier and asked him to make the trip to town so they’d have an escort home. My mistake, he thought coldly.
The sedan was close enough that he could see it carried a driver and passenger. He’d count on at least two men in the SUV, too.
He’d begun slowing down, as if he didn’t know how to handle this. Braking. The broadside SUV reared ahead.
“All right,” he said harshly. “Down. Both of you on the floorboards.”
Chloe’s squeak of surprise came from behind him, but the click of the seat belt and rustlings let him know Trina was doing as he said. When he took a last, hasty look behind him, he saw that she was lying on top of Chloe. Using her own body to protect a child who didn’t deserve any of the crap that was happening to her.
A man had stepped out of the SUV and was waving his arms, signaling Gabe to stop. Looked innocent enough...if the guy hadn’t made the mistake of leaving his door open, allowing Gabe to see the rifle aimed right at him.
“Trina, I need you to memorize a license plate number.” He didn’t wait for any assent, reading off the one displayed on the sedan closing in on them.
He lowered the passenger-side window, waited until the SUV was no more than thirty feet ahead and the sedan was braking—and then slammed his foot down on the gas pedal while yanking the wheel sharply to swerve toward the far shoulder.
The man standing, exposed, leaped back, momentarily blocking any shot from the gunman.
Time slowed, as it always did for Gabe in combat. There was an almost surreal clarity. The tumbleweed and sagebrush land to each side of the highway could almost have been Iraq or Afghanistan.
Judging his moment, he took his first shot out the passenger window. Back tire.
Still c
oldly, without compunction, he fired at an angle into the windshield. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a web form in the safety glass...and the gunman slumping to one side.
Then he accelerated, the left wheels off the pavement, tilting the truck. Metal screamed as he scraped the passenger side against the SUV bumper.
Same color paint jobs, he thought, in that strange way one did. In the clear, he braked briefly, long enough to take out another tire—and to ping a bullet off the sedan.
It rocked, swerved, the driver losing control. The left side crumpled as it came into hard contact with the bumper. But—hell!—it was still in pursuit.
Gabe had a head start, though, and he’d halved the enemy. Rocketing down the highway, he set his weapon down on his seat long enough to grab the phone and speed-dial.
“Got a problem,” he told Boyd.
* * *
MINUTES LATER, THE SEDAN, built for speed in a way the truck wasn’t, once again closed in on his bumper.
Two more minutes, he told himself. One...
His back windshield exploded and he heard a thump.
The hair on the back of his neck rising, he swerved, driving in an unpredictable zigzag pattern that would make it hard for a gunman in an also-moving vehicle to make an accurate shot. The big tires squealed. A bullet pinged off metal. Tailgate or fender. Son of a bitch. The Ford F-250 was almost brand-new.
Up ahead, another pickup truck waited on the shoulder. He was almost on top of it before he was able to see the man crouched low in the bed, rifle barrel resting on the tailgate. Just as he flew past, he heard the crack of the rifle. Once, twice, three times.
The sedan spun in the middle of the highway, skidded toward the embankment...and plunged over.
In seconds, Boyd’s truck fell in behind Gabe’s. The turnoff was several miles beyond. He took it carefully, slowed to a near crawl. A cloud of dust would have been a dead giveaway.
“You okay back there?”
“Yes.” Trina was breathless but didn’t sound panicky.
“You can get up now. We’re almost home.”
Home. The word felt like an unexpected speed bump. Despite his investment in the place, he’d never thought of the cabin or ranch as “home.” But he didn’t let himself dwell.
“Did I squish you?” he heard her ask Chloe. He didn’t take in the response, but relaxed when he saw them both pop up and take their seats. Trina didn’t even reach for the seat belts, obviously recognizing where they were.
Boyd stuck with him when he veered right at the Y, following him behind the cabin but giving him room to maneuver so he could back into the outbuilding, as always.
Gabe unlocked the doors, using the moment when Trina got out carrying Chloe to slip his gun into his waistband at his back. He tugged the white shirt out to disguise it and followed them.
Boyd was already waiting. Leon Cabrera hopped out of the bed, landing lightly on his feet. No sign of the rifle.
Trina smiled at them. “Thank you for...for coming.” She looked down at Chloe, resting her on one hip. “You remember Mr. Chaney, don’t you?”
Chloe buried her face.
“Trina Marr, meet Leon Cabrera. He’s another retired Ranger. I’m sure Joseph would remember him. I was lucky enough to talk Leon into coming to work here as our foreman.”
Leon happened also to be a trained sniper as well as unflinching in action. Lucky he’d been readily available, although Boyd had tried as much as possible to hire people with a military background. Made the ranch damn near impregnable, although neither he nor Gabe had ever expected to have to defend their property.
“Come on in,” Gabe said. “You’ve got time for a beer, don’t you?”
“Sure.” Boyd sounded as if this were a casual stop by to say hey.
Inside, Trina got out a tin of the cookies she’d baked and plopped it in the middle of the table, then poured milk for Chloe. The two left the room. The men didn’t say much until they heard the TV come on in the living room.
Finally, Boyd said quietly, “Whoever this is has an army.”
Trina returned to the kitchen and sank down in the fourth chair at the table. “Tell me what happened.”
Realizing how blind and helpless she must have felt, Gabe gave her a quick summation.
She stared at him. “Did you kill anyone?”
“I don’t think so.” At this point, he wasn’t sure he cared if he had, but he didn’t say that. “I winged one of them. Shot out a couple of tires.”
“That’s what I did, too, Ms. Marr,” Leon said. He managed to look boyishly guileless rather than deadly.
“Trina, please,” she said with a tremulous smile. Then she looked at Gabe. “They shot at us.”
“Yes, they did, and they weren’t going for the tires.” Thank God; it had been a miscalculation on their part. “In fact, I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to dig a bullet out of one of the seats. It came through the back window but didn’t make it to the windshield.”
One of Boyd’s eyebrows lifted. The bullet would be of limited value unless and until they had a rifle it could be matched with...but Gabe had become grimly determined to bring these scumbags down.
Trina blinked several times as she took in the hard reality that they’d been ambushed by men ready and willing to commit murder to get their hands on a little girl. She finally said, “They were trying to shoot you.”
“Yep.” Although he doubted they’d have quit shooting if they’d seen her.
“They knew Chloe was with us.”
That hardly bore comment, since killing Chloe was the idea. Still, frustrated but not surprised that his efforts hadn’t been enough, Gabe said, “They did. What’s more, they must have seen me taking her inside this morning, otherwise there wouldn’t have been time for them to set up.”
“And they’d seen which way we went on the highway.”
Also not a surprise.
Her gaze stayed fixed on him, as if she’d forgotten the other two men were there. “Do you think they know we’re here?”
Gabe shook his head. “I’ve been damn careful not to turn off the highway when any other vehicle was in sight. Twice, I’ve kept going when I saw another vehicle, even if it was barely a pinprick.”
She nodded, having asked him about the first time he’d continued past the ranch road without even having slowed. He’d had to backtrack several miles on both occasions.
“If only the press hadn’t found out about me.”
“The fire drew a lot of attention,” Gabe said gently. “Neighbors were eager to talk about how brave you were, how you saved the life of the little girl you were fostering. The Sadler PD may have trouble keeping secrets, but your name getting out there wasn’t their fault.”
Trina seemed to sag. “No. Of course not.”
Boyd pushed back his chair and rose. “Let me get you something to drink. A beer?”
“Oh...no, thank you.” She started to rise, too, but Gabe laid a hand over hers, stopping her. Her startled gaze met his again, and she subsided. “A pop would be great. No, wait. Milk. Milk and cookies, right?”
Boyd smiled, found the right cupboard, and soon brought her a glass of milk. “Beer and cookies work, too.” He sat back down and studied the tin. “What kind are those, with the Hershey’s Kiss on top?”
“Mint flavored. And those are peanut butter, and I guess the molasses are obvious. I think Gabe ate all the chocolate chip.”
He smirked.
He was glad to see her nibbling on a cookie and drinking her milk. An adrenaline crash could do a number on a person. A boost to her blood sugar would help. As soon as the guys left, he’d offer to cook dinner tonight.
“The little girl,” Boyd said. “Was she scared?”
Trina nodded. “She sort of...shrank. When bullets started flying, I covered her ears, but...that h
ad to have thrown her back to when her parents and brother were shot, don’t you think? She looked glassy-eyed when I put her in front of the movie. I wouldn’t have left her, except she did take a bite of her cookie, and I wanted to hear about everything I missed.”
“I don’t want her to be in the middle of any more violence.” The roughness in Gabe’s voice had the other three staring at him.
After a minute, Boyd asked matter-of-factly, “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
Gabe’s teeth ground together in his effort to give her a chance to make the right decision before he had to force a heated confrontation.
“I can’t go to work again.” Trina sounded numb. “I shouldn’t have insisted.”
No, she shouldn’t, but... “You had good reason,” Gabe said.
“Thank you,” she said softly, then jumped up. “I’ll start getting dinner on.”
He pushed back his chair, too. “Let me do that.”
“No, I need to keep busy.” She smiled at Boyd and Leon. “You two would be welcome to stay. I’m going to stir-fry, so it won’t take long.”
Both stood, as well. “Thank you,” Boyd said, “but I’m sure Leon’s wife expects him. My housekeeper probably already has dinner on, too.”
“Oh. Well.” This smile appeared brittle. “Another time.”
“Sounds good.” Boyd gave a slight nod toward the back door.
Gabe moved toward the door, too. “I’ll be right back.”
He had no trouble interpreting Trina’s expression. She knew they wanted to talk out of her hearing.
Outside, dirt kicking up from every step, Boyd said, “Looked like your truck sustained some damage.”
Gabe ground his teeth.
“I know someone over in Salem. I bet I can get him to come over and replace that window.”
He sure couldn’t replace it locally. If Boyd “knew” this guy and trusted him, he was undoubtedly also retired military. The scrapes and dents from bullets would have to stay for now. He counted his blessings that the idiots hadn’t taken out a tire.
“They didn’t know about me,” he said thoughtfully. “If I didn’t have plenty of experience with ambushes, their plan would have worked fine. They got flustered when I didn’t stop like a good boy.”
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