by Beverly Long
He held his gun with both hands, willing his aim to be steady, sure. He heard them hit the water. Two separate splashes.
Heard one of them grunt and swear and then he didn’t hear them in the water anymore. He counted to three. Moved from around the tree. Raised his gun.
Target One had put his flashlight down, exactly like Chase had hoped. The light was still on but at that level it wasn’t blinding to Chase. He saw the man’s head. Then his torso. Waited still.
Saw the second target come over the edge. No flashlight. Maybe he’d dropped his when he’d stumbled in the stream. He was big, and having difficulty pulling himself up over the bank.
Chase waited. One second. Two. The first target was reaching for his light. Chase fired. Saw the target fall backward.
Swung his gun fifteen degrees to the right. Fired again. Target Two took a step forward. Chase hit him with a second round. He went down.
Chase counted to ten, didn’t sense any movement and cautiously moved away from his cover. The light at ground level was still shining. He hurried forward. There had been three, he was sure of it. He had to find him before the man found Raney.
When he approached the bodies, he picked up the flashlight and used his foot to flip the second target over. Looked at his face. Didn’t recognize him. Checked his carotid pulse, made sure he was dead.
He shined his light down into the stream. Saw the first man. He’d landed on his back. Chase didn’t bother checking his pulse. He could tell he was dead. His head was underwater.
Chase crossed the stream, flashlight in one hand, gun in the other. He kept the flashlight pointed down, with his fingers spread over the lens, partially obscuring the light. He needed some help to see the way, to avoid making a misstep that would call attention to his location, and also to see the broken-off branches and other damage he’d caused as he’d charged through the forest. It was the only way he was going to find Raney’s tree. He didn’t know how far behind he’d left her. He’d thought he’d been running hard for at least five minutes before he’d slipped into the stream, but the terrain had been challenging so maybe a half mile at the most.
He couldn’t go as quickly now. Ten minutes, Raney. Ten minutes. Hang on.
Chapter Seventeen
Chase had been walking for seven minutes when he heard a noise behind him. He threw himself sideways, managing to avoid the bullet that whizzed past him and hit a tree. He rolled and tried to get his own shot off but his gun was kicked out of his hand by a damn giant.
“Get up,” the man said, his voice thick with an accent that Chase didn’t recognize. The man picked up the flashlight that Chase had dropped and shone it in Chase’s eyes. “Where is she?” the man asked.
“Who?” Chase asked.
The giant backhanded him. Chase hit the ground hard.
“Get up,” the man snarled.
Chase did. Slowly.
“Where is she?”
“I have no idea.”
The man swung his gun, catching Chase on the side of his head. Chase went down to his knees.
“I will ask one more time. Then I will start shooting. Your elbows first. Those are very painful. Then your knees. And you will be helpless when the coyotes come and get you. Where is the woman?”
Chase tried to make it look as though he was considering the question. He was really trying to give his ears time to stop ringing. “I told her to run in the direction of the cabin.”
“What cabin?”
“It’s at the edge of the forest.”
“I did not see any cabin.”
“You have to know what you’re looking for. I grew up in this area,” Chase said, hoping the man knew that to be true. “I showed it to her earlier this week. Just in case. Listen, this is just an assignment for me. I’ve only got seven years until I can retire with twenty years. Just leave me here and go find her. Shoot me in the arm or something if you want to slow me down.”
“Take me to the cabin. Then I will shoot you like you asked.”
The giant would kill him. That was for sure. But he needed to lead him away from Raney and find an opportunity to disarm him. “I’ll need the flashlight,” Chase said. “To get my bearings.”
The giant tossed it to him. Chase started walking.
“So Malone must be paying you pretty well for this,” Chase said, looking over his shoulder.
The giant didn’t answer.
“You guys old friends?”
“Shut up.”
“You killed a cop. That doesn’t go over well here.”
The man pushed him from behind. Chase stumbled but managed to stay upright.
“If the price was right, I would kill a hundred of you,” the man said. “And Malone has a great deal of money. But my work here is done. After I provide proof that the woman is dead, I will leave your country and no one will ever find me.”
Chase had taken forty-three more steps, with the giant close behind him, when he heard the shot. He hit the ground rolling, thinking the man had changed his mind about killing him.
He flipped over just in time to see Raney, her feet planted, her arms extended at shoulder height, fire five more rounds into the giant.
The man fell like a big tree, facedown in the mud.
* * *
RANEY HAD NEVER shot a man before. Had never fired a gun. And when it was over, she sank to the ground. Shaking badly.
Chase, sweet Chase, gathered her in his arms. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Raney,” he repeated.
“He hit you,” she said. “Your poor head.”
“I’m fine. I’m not hurt, honey.” He pulled back a little. “I’ve got to tell you, that scared about five years off my life.”
“I know you told me not to get out of the tree.”
He laughed. “I don’t think I’m going to give you much grief about not following orders.”
“I just couldn’t wait any longer. I heard the first shot, then two more, and...I thought you’d been shot. And that you might be lying there, bleeding, needing me. I thought about you, the man who always takes care of everybody else. You, the man who never assumes that somebody might care enough to take care of him.”
“Raney,” he said, his voice sounded strangled.
“I could not stand back and do nothing,” she said. “And when I saw him hit you and then do it again, I knew I was going to kill him if I got the chance.”
He brushed her hair behind her ears. “Blonde Raney in action. I love you so much. Whether your hair is blond or brown or Sunset Wonder. I love you. Just you.”
She kissed him. “I will love you forever. Now take me home.”
* * * * *
Don’t miss AGENT BRIDE,
the second book in Beverly Long’s miniseries
RETURN TO RAVESVILLE, on sale wherever
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Lone Wolf Lawman
by Delores Fossen
Chapter One
Addie Crockett heard the footsteps behind her a split second too late.
Before she could even turn around and see who was in the hall outside her home office, someone grabbed her.
She managed a strangled sound, barely. But the person slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the scream th
at bubbled up in her throat.
Oh, mercy.
What was going on?
This was obviously some kind of attack, but Addie wouldn’t just let this person hurt her. Or worse. She rammed her elbow into her attacker’s stomach, but it did nothing to break the grip he had on her.
“Stop,” he snapped. “I won’t hurt you.”
Addie wasn’t taking his word for it. She turned, using his own grip to shove him against the wall and into an angel Christmas wreath. The painted wooden angels went flying. But not the man.
Addie tried to get his hand off her mouth so she could call out for help. Then she remembered her brothers weren’t at the ranch. Two were still at work, and the other was Christmas shopping in San Antonio. Only her mother was inside the house, and she had a sprained ankle. Addie didn’t want her mother to come hobbling into the middle of this.
Whatever this was.
“Stop,” he repeated when she kept struggling. His voice was a hoarse whisper, and he dragged her from the hall into her office.
Addie gave him another jab of her elbow and would have delivered a third one if the man hadn’t cursed. She hadn’t recognized his order for her to stop, but she certainly recognized his voice now.
Wes Martin.
The relief collided with the slam of adrenaline, and it took Addie a moment to force herself to stop fighting so she could turn around and face him. Even though the sun was already close to setting and the lights weren’t on in her office, there was enough illumination from the hall to see his black hair. His face. His eyes.
Yes, it was Wes all right.
The relief she’d felt didn’t last long at all.
“What are you doing here?” Addie demanded. “And how’d you get in the house?” Those were only the first of many questions, and how much else she told him depended on what he had to say in the next couple of seconds.
He didn’t jump to start those answers. Wes stood there staring at her as if she were a stranger. Well, she wasn’t. And he knew that better than anyone. He’d seen every last inch of her.
Ditto for her seeing every last inch of him.
And despite the fact that it was the last thing Addie wanted in her head at this moment, the memories came of Wes naked and of her in his arms. Thankfully, he wasn’t naked now. He was wearing jeans, a button-up shirt and a tan cowboy hat.
But there was something different about this cowboy outfit.
Beneath his jacket, he was wearing a waist holster and a gun.
“I came in through the side door.” He tipped his head toward the hall. “It wasn’t locked.”
That wasn’t unusual. Because the ranch hands—and the family—were often coming and going. They rarely locked up the house until bedtime. Even then, that was hit-or-miss since security wasn’t usually an issue.
Until now, that was.
“I didn’t see your car,” she said, and since she’d just come in from the main barn, Addie would have seen any unfamiliar vehicles in the circular driveway in front of the house.
“I parked just off the main road and walked up. I’m sorry,” he added, following her gaze to his gun. “But I had to come.”
That didn’t answer her other question as to why he was there, and Addie wasn’t sure if she just wanted to send him packing or try to figure out what the heck was going on.
She went with the first option.
Wes had crushed her heart six ways to Sunday, and there was no need for her to give him another chance to hurt her again.
“You’re leaving,” Addie insisted, and she turned around to head to the hall so she could usher him right back out the side door.
She didn’t get far because he took hold of her arm again. Not the tight grip he’d had before, but it was enough to keep her in place. And enough to rile her even more. “Let go of me.”
“I can’t.” Wes opened his mouth, but any explanation he was about to give her ground to a halt. “We have to talk,” he added after a very long pause.
“And you had to sneak in here and grab me to do that? You could have called.”
“I had to see you in person, and I grabbed you because I didn’t want you shouting out for someone. I didn’t want to get shot before you listen to what I have to tell you. And you have to listen.”
It was partly her bruised ego reacting, but Addie huffed, folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. “You slept with me three months ago and then disappeared without so much as an email. Why should I listen to anything you have to say, huh?”
Still no quick answer. Probably because there wasn’t one. Not one she’d want to hear anyway. But what she did want to hear was why he had on that gun holster that looked as if he’d been born to wear it. Also, why hadn’t she been able to find out anything about him online?
Everything inside her went still.
“Who are you, really?” she asked.
Another long pause. “I’m not the man you think I am.”
A burst of air left her mouth. Definitely not laughter. “Clearly. Now tell me something I don’t know.”
The hurt came hard and fast. Addie felt as if someone had put a vise around her heart. The tears quickly followed, too, and she tried hard to blink them away. No way did she want this man to see her cry.
“I’m sorry.” He added more of that profanity and reached out as if he might pull her into his arms.
Addie put a stop to that. She batted his hands away. “You knew how vulnerable I was when you slept with me.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “You’d recently found out your birth father was a serial killer.”
There it was, all wrapped up into one neat little summary. Stripped down to bare bones with no details. But the devil was in those details.
Well, one devil anyway.
Her biological father.
“Is everything you told me about your childhood the truth?” he asked.
She hadn’t thought Wes could say anything that would surprise her, or stop her from forcing him to leave, but that did it. Addie just stared at him.
“When you were three, some ranch hands found you in the woods near here,” Wes went on, obviously recapping details she already knew all too well. “You said you didn’t remember your name, how you got there or anything about your past. You don’t remember how you got that.”
Before she could stop him, he brushed his fingers over her cheek. Over the small crescent-shaped scar that was there. It was faint now, just a thin whitish line next to her left eye, but Wes had obviously noticed it.
Addie flinched, backing away from him. What the heck was going on?
“Is all of that true?” he repeated.
Addie mustered up another huff and tried not to react to his touch. Wes didn’t deserve a reaction. Too bad her body didn’t understand that. Of course, her body was betraying her a lot lately.
“It’s all true,” she insisted.
For thirty years, Addie had tried not to think of herself as that wounded little girl in the woods with a cut on her face. Because she hadn’t stayed there.
Thanks to Sheriff Sherman Crockett and his wife, Iris.
When no one had come forward to claim her after she’d been found, Sherman and Iris had adopted her, raised her along with their four sons on their Appaloosa Pass Ranch. They’d given her a name. A family. A wonderful life.
Until three months ago. Then, there’d been the DNA match that no one wanted. That’s when her world was turned upside down.
“Why did your adoptive father put your DNA in the database when he found you?” Wes asked.
Again, it was another question she hadn’t seen coming. Her adoptive father had been killed in the line of duty when she was just twelve, so she couldn’t ask him directly, but Addie could guess why.
“Because he could have simply been looking to see if I matched anyone in the system. But I believe he wanted to find the birth parents who’d abandoned me and make them pay.” That required a deep breath. “I’m positive he had no idea i
t’d lead to a killer.”
And not just any old killer, either, but the Moonlight Strangler. He’d killed at least sixteen women, and fifteen of those crime scenes hadn’t had a trace of his DNA. But three months ago number sixteen had. And while the DNA wasn’t a match to any criminal already in the system, it had been a match to the killer’s blood kin.
Addie.
Wes took her by the shoulders, forcing eye contact. “The Moonlight Strangler’s really your father?”
It took Addie a moment to realize that it was actually a question. “Yes, according to the DNA match, he is. But Sherman Crockett was my father in the only way that will ever matter.”
If only that were true.
Addie wanted it to be true. Desperately wanted it. But it was hard to push aside that she shared the blood and DNA of a serial killer.
“I need to hear it from you,” Wes said. Not an order exactly. But it was close. “Is everything you said true? Do you have any memory whatsoever of why you were in those woods or who put you there?”
Addie threw up her hands. “Of course not. The FBI has questioned me over and over again. They even had me hypnotized, and I remembered exactly what I’d already told everyone. Nothing.”
She had no idea why Wes was asking these things, but it was time for Addie to turn the tables on him.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “And why are you here?”
His grip melted off her shoulders, and now it was Wes who moved away from her. “My real name is Weston Cade, and I’m a Texas Ranger.”
Addie had to replay that several times before it sank in. After learning she was the daughter of a serial killer and having Wes leave without so much as a goodbye, she hadn’t exactly had a rosy outlook on life. She’d braced herself in case Wes was about to confess that he, too, was some kind of criminal. But this revelation wasn’t nearly as bad as the ones she had imagined.
“A Texas Ranger,” she repeated. Addie shook her head. “You told me your name was Wes Martin and that you were a rodeo rider.”
