by Linda Conrad
Taking another cleansing breath, Sam ignored the silky sheen of her hair and the haunting smell of strawberries he had always loved about her, and tried another tactic. “Come on, Grace. You’re a single mother with a child. You can’t do this alone. Let me help you. Two people can better protect Mikey. I won’t let Serrano get to him, I swear it.”
She swung around again and narrowed her eyes. “I’m not going back to L.A. or anywhere else the government wants to put me. Not until Jose is safely returned to his prison cell. Someone in your agency must be helping him.”
Sam opened his mouth to argue that the U.S. Marshals Service did not help gang informants or turncoats. But then thought better of it. It was possible she could be right. Serrano’s escape from jail during trial had looked all too easy. And then it had seemed impossible that anybody could’ve been sniffing around trying to get information on Grace and Mikey in Denver. No one should’ve had access to their whereabouts in hiding except for other agents in his department. But Serrano’s men had shown up in Denver just the same.
“Okay. We won’t go back.” His mind raced with different scenarios for keeping his two charges safe. “I won’t even contact anyone in the Marshals Service to let them know where we are. I’m on leave anyway, and I have another idea.”
“You’re on leave? You took a leave of absence to come looking for me and Mikey? Why?”
Her voice had returned to its whiskey-smooth tone, the sound music to his ears. He loved the way she talked when she was relaxed and easygoing. Her voice rolled over him like a warm ocean wave. Maybe he could make things work out okay after all.
“I promised you when we left L.A. and put you and the baby in protective custody that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you two. I don’t make promises lightly, Grace. And I intend to see you have a new life that doesn’t include any overhanging threats from a drug lord.”
She stayed quiet for a few moments, and he could see her facial expressions as they reflected the struggle for answers that would keep her safe. He held his breath and hoped to hell she came up with the right answer soon.
“All right,” she whispered at last. “I appreciate the help. But if you’re lying, I swear…”
She sighed, resigned to having little choice. “Let’s go get Mikey. And hurry, please. If Jose Serrano found me, he can just as easily find his own son.”
Chapter 2
Grace shivered and turned up the heater as Sam started the SUV and drove at a crawl out of the alley onto a downtown street. But the deserted street that had seemed so small-town friendly in the daylight suddenly felt cold and dangerous. For the first time since she’d come here, she wished this West Texas town didn’t roll up its sidewalks at nine at night in the winter.
“You’re cold.”
“I didn’t have a chance to get my coat when I left.”
Sam grimaced. “You want mine?”
“No. No, thanks. I’m feeling warmer already.” She didn’t want his coat in case she had to take off in a hurry. She wasn’t a thief.
“We make too good a target alone in the open like this.” Sam drove through the misty rain to the corner stop sign, lightly hit the brakes and turned to her. “We need to get out of town. Fast. Which way to pick up your son?”
“Left toward the main highway.” As he turned the wheels, she opened her mouth to explain that Mikey was staying with a neighbor. “He’s probably asleep but…”
The screech of tires behind them kept the rest of her sentence firmly stuck in her throat. Along with her heart.
“Ohmygod, they found us again!” The words exploded from her mouth.
Sam stepped on the gas and shot down the quiet street. Without a word, he made four quick right-hand turns.
“What are you doing? We’re back to where we started.”
He took one more right. “We’re becoming the hunters instead of the prey. These guys need a nasty little surprise. And we’re going to give it to them.”
Grace held her breath and hung on as Sam tore up behind the black truck. He rolled down his window and pulled a gun from his coat pocket.
“Scrunch lower in your seat. Keep your head down.”
She did as he said. And closed her eyes for good measure. But nothing could keep the loud cracks of gunfire from assailing her eardrums. Jerking with every round, with every ping of bullet hitting metal, she braced her feet to keep from rolling into Sam’s way as the SUV swerved, braked and raced.
Between firing and driving, Sam muttered a string of four-letter curses. After their SUV took what felt to her like a one-eighty, she held on to her seat as Sam sped off with another burst of gas. They were going back the way they’d come? Running away? Fine by her.
Opening her eyes, she was surprised to see the pickup heading straight at them. Sam fired a couple more shots out his window just as the truck passed. Then it turned off in an erratic move. Apparently her U.S. Marshal had won his game of chicken.
“I think I hit the driver on that last pass. That should keep them busy long enough for us to pick up Mikey and get out of town.”
Speechless and out of breath, Grace tried to piece her scrambled brain back together. What if Mikey had been in the SUV with them during that little scene?
Not a chance. “I’ve changed my mind. My baby and I will leave town on our own. Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. Drop me off at my apartment.”
“You…can’t go back to your place now.” Sam drew a ragged breath and the sound caused her to look in his direction. “What makes you think they won’t be there waiting for you?”
“Why would they know where I live? But to be safe, drop me off somewhere and I’ll walk back to my place. I think those characters are following you, not me.”
Groaning, he muttered, “Gracie, please…”
That’s when she saw it. Blood. Soaking through his coat and dripping down the limp left hand resting on the steering wheel.
“You’ve been shot! Stop. I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
He did come to a stop and turned to her. “It’s really nothing. Besides, we can’t show up at any hospital. That’s the first place they might look. I’ll find an all-night convenience store and pick up a few supplies so I can take care of it myself.”
Grace wasn’t crazy about staying in the SUV while they drove down public streets. And she sure as the devil was not happy about being tied to Sam this way. Serrano’s men knew Sam’s SUV. Maybe that’s how they’d followed them in the first place.
Scared beyond reason, she came up with a plan. Sam didn’t know where she lived. When he stopped at the store, she would sneak away while he was inside. She’d walk back to the apartment. Get her car and her baby and leave town before he could locate her and catch up.
She had been doing okay without him for the past six weeks. She could do okay without him in the future.
Pulling up in front of the store, he parked in the middle of a row of pickups and SUVs. “Looks like half the town wants something from the store tonight. It should give us a little cover while I get what I need.”
He put the SUV in Park, but left it running. “It’ll only take a minute or two. Stay warm.”
Reaching for the door handle, he winced and groaned, grabbing his left shoulder. “Hell.”
“You’re hurt badly, Sam. Tell me what you need. I’ll go.” Had she really said that? There went her great plan.
But she couldn’t stand to see him hurting like this and not offer to help.
He released a deep breath and stared at her. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
After listening to his list, she turned to climb out but turned back. “Move over while I’m gone. I’ll be driving from here on. We need to tend that wound of yours as quickly as possible.”
“No hospitals.”
She shook her head with exasperation. “Fine. No hospitals. We’ll think of something else.”
“Are you sure you don’t want my coat?”
“I’m okay.�
� A bloody leather coat would catch a lot of attention she didn’t want. And since she’d decided not to run, she really didn’t need a coat.
Making a dash for the convenience store door, Grace chided herself for being a fool. An idiot.
Sticking with Sam could easily mean her death. But leaving him hurting like that had suddenly become the most impossible thing she’d ever attempted.
And she had to wonder why.
* * *
Sam’s mind raced with wildly varying thoughts. He needed to find a way to lose those gunmen for good. More importantly he had to convince Grace to stay and let him help her.
But face it, if he were her, he wouldn’t stick around, either. She’d been safe for weeks without his protection and the moment he’d showed up she was in trouble again.
Some protector he made. The idea of not being able to protect Grace sent a shiver down his back. For years he’d tried to put his past mistakes, the guilt and pain, far behind him. And he had been so all-fired-sure he had. Up until now.
This situation somehow seemed too vaguely familiar. Too much like his past. It brought up painful memories he’d worked hard to erase.
Needing to push them aside the same way he’d been doing for years and start acting in a professional manner, he forced his training and years of experience to the front of his mind. He must be smarter than the bad guys.
Why couldn’t he shake the drug lord’s men?
Sam was absolutely positive that no one had followed him. He was too good to let that happen. So how had they found him?
And they had found him—not Grace. That was abundantly clear.
But how?
Had to be some kind of tracking chip—the only sensible answer he could come up with. The Mexican drug lord must’ve stepped right into the twenty-first century and used satellite technology to locate him.
Okay. Where was the chip?
A couple of possible answers sprung to mind. His cell phone and the SUV. A tracking chip could’ve been secretly placed on either one with some ease.
But he didn’t figure he’d be able to find something as tiny as a chip in the darkness and rain, or in a big hurry. So it looked as if he would have to do things differently. Make new plans. Starting immediately.
* * *
Grace was fuming as she left the store. It had seemed every person in the whole town had been there buying cold medicine in the middle of the night. The lines at the register had been slow and long. She had hated leaving Sam alone for such a protracted amount of time.
Looking up, she was stunned to find the SUV was not in the same parking place where it had been when she’d left. What had happened to Sam?
A moment of panic gave way to surprise. She spotted him standing in the parking lot in the drizzle next to an old, dusty pickup truck and looking as though he was waiting for her.
“What’s going on? Where’s the SUV?”
“I traded it for this pickup. I sure hope you can drive a stick shift, ’cause I’m not sure I’m in any shape.”
“You traded a nearly new, loaded SUV for this old heap? Are you crazy?”
“No. I’m finally getting smart. Climb in the driver’s seat. We need to move.” He eased himself into the passenger seat.
She could see the pain etched in the lines around his eyes. He must be really hurting to ask her to drive. This was life and death. Their lives. So she quit thinking and just moved.
The pickup’s door creaked and groaned as she opened it. Piece of junk truck. Throwing her plastic bags full of drug supplies on the little half seat in back, she jumped up into the driver’s seat.
Then cranking the motor, she carefully steered the truck out of the lot. “Where to? Can we go get Mikey now?”
“First I need…help…with this bleeding. The bullet was a through and through and didn’t do much damage, but the bleeding won’t stop.” He groaned, closed his eyes and laid his head back on the headrest.
“And you still think we can’t go to my place? You really believe they could find it without following us there?”
He didn’t answer, just moaned and gripped his upper arm with white-knuckled fingers.
Yeah, she knew what he thought. She also knew that he needed help in a hurry.
Swinging the pickup around, she headed across the highway into a not-so-nice part of town. In two minutes they were driving past auto mechanics’ garages, ancient diners and sleazy motels. She picked a motel that at least looked well tended from the outside.
“Hang on a sec.” She put on the parking brake and left the truck running while she ran inside the motel office to register.
But within minutes she was back and opening the truck’s passenger door. “Sam, do you have any cash? They insist on money up front.”
He winced and tried to move, but finding it too painful, he said, “Inside jacket pocket. Take what you need.”
Carefully she slid her hand inside his coat and reached into his pocket. But when she pulled out a fistful of bills and found them to be fifties and hundreds, she gulped down her surprise. What was he doing carrying so much cash?
Taking only what was needed, she replaced the rest and ran back to get the key.
The real trick was getting Sam out of the truck and into the motel room. He stood at least a half foot taller and had maybe sixty or seventy pounds on her. But Sam helped as much as he could and eventually they were locked inside, with him sprawled out on the bed and her fighting to remove his jacket.
By the time the jacket was hanging over the back of the lone chair in the room, Grace was sweating and huffing.
Then she looked at the wound on his arm and felt sick to her stomach. Nasty-looking tear, but by now it only oozed a trickle of blood.
“I have to clean the wound and use the antibacterial cream before we can bandage. It’s going to hurt, Sam. Is that okay?”
He opened his eyelids and stared up at her. “Do what’s necessary. I trust you.”
Their gazes met, held. Through his clearly visible pain, she saw something else. An emotion she hadn’t ever seen in Sam’s eyes before. An emotion she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen in anyone’s eyes when they looked at her.
It was something she wasn’t sure she deserved: respect. And the sight so unnerved her that she broke the awkward moment and turned away.
She did what she could for the wound. But not being a trained nurse, she had to pray the bandage would hold back any further bleeding and yet not be so tight that it cut off the circulation to his hand. Next she gave him a couple of Tylenol, hoping that would help with his pain.
When it was all over, she said, “You need rest. Sleep. At least a couple of hours. Can I use your cell phone to call Mikey’s sitter? She can keep him overnight, but I need to let her know.”
“I tossed it into the truckbed of a Ford F-150 with Oklahoma plates. It’s probably a hundred miles from here by now. No phone in this room?” His eyes were still closed and she wasn’t sure he could focus if he opened them.
“You threw your phone away? Why?”
Opening his eyes, he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Determined to lose those bastards. I would do anything to save you and Mikey. Whatever it takes.”
He held her hand so tightly, it almost hurt. And he was giving her another strange look. A look that said she mattered.
Flustered and not at all sure what she felt, Grace tried to back out of his grip. “Sleep, Sam. Don’t worry about a thing. It’ll all look different in the morning.”
Dropping her hand and closing his eyes, Sam immediately fell into a deep sleep. Grace looked down on him, and absently worked a palm across the ache that had developed in the vicinity of her chest.
No one but Mikey had ever trusted her so completely as to fall asleep in her presence. She was amazed by the confusing kinds of feelings that kind of trust brought up inside her.
She tugged off Sam’s boots and slipped a clean-looking blanket over his still-dressed form. For now she needed to put emotions asid
e and do what was needed. First find a phone, then watch over Sam as he slept to be sure his wound didn’t become infected and cause a fever.
She couldn’t let him down. His trust in her would not be misplaced. At least not for tonight.
Chapter 3
A loud bang jerked Sam out of a deep sleep. Sitting straight up in bed, he tried to get his bearings.
Was that a gunshot? He reached for his weapon before realizing he wasn’t wearing his jacket.
No coat. He must be in bed. Whose bed? Blinking the fuzziness out of his eyes and shaking his head, Sam started to swing his feet over the side.
The ache in his left shoulder pulled him up short. Oh, yeah. He’d been shot—just winged, really. But the loss of blood had left him weak.
He heard a key going into the door lock. Someone was coming. Forcing his feet to the ground, he stood and looked around for something to use as a weapon.
“You’re up. How are you feeling?” Grace, arms loaded with plastic bags, kicked the door closed behind her.
She looked up at him with a sunny expression and those big, wide eyes he had always been a sucker for.
“Nothing wrong with me.” He checked his watch while waiting for his heartbeat to settle. Ten in the morning. Hell.
“I brought you some orange juice and heavy-duty painkillers.” She handed him the orange juice carton and a couple of pills. “The pharmacist says you need to stay hydrated and rest for a couple of days until you get your strength back.”
“Screw resting. And screw these pills. I’ve been out cold for twelve hours. Enough. We need to leave town. Where’s Mikey?”
“He’s fine. Still with the neighbor. I ran by and saw him this morning. Told them I’d be back to pick him up in a couple of hours.”
Sam drank half the orange juice straight from the carton. “No sign of Serrano’s men?”
Grace shook her head. “I also went by my apartment—before daybreak. But I parked around the corner and walked there the back way. I changed clothes and cleaned out as much as I could carry before telling my boss and his wife that I was quitting. Didn’t like doing that but they understood when I told them about Serrano finding me. They’ve been so nice to me. I gave them my last week’s pay and the pink slip to my old Honda to take care of the damages from the gunfight.”
