The Marshalls Boxed Set (Texas Heroes: The Marshalls Books 1-3)

by Jean Brashear

  If such a thing was possible.

  But she couldn’t find the knife.

  Keeping her eyes on the men, she backed away, easing her purse down, frantically searching for her only weapon and praying they wouldn’t pay attention, though the car headlights seemed bright as spotlights.

  Meanwhile the driver was closing in.

  She’d sell her soul for a cellphone, but Richard had not allowed that, only one of his many rules about what made a lady, a fit wife for the king he basically was in his domain. Even if she could summon the air to scream, out here in this nothingness, who would hear her?

  “What’s the matter, puta? Your last customer ditch you?” The stocky man’s voice thickened.

  She shuddered. Alcohol had fueled her most terrifying nights at Richard’s hands. She tried to think calmly, but panic flapped in her chest like a trapped bird. She backed away, fighting the urge to turn and run, even though she knew from experience that running only made a predator more determined. More deadly.

  The passenger hadn’t made a move on her yet, but how long would that last?

  Suddenly, a new flash of headlights.

  Oh, please. Help me.

  But help had never been there for her in all the years of her nightmare.

  “I don’t wanna have to chase you down, little girl,” the stocky man threatened. “You and me, we could be havin’ a good time already. Now come on back here. Me and Lester, we’re just tryin’ to help you.”

  Sure they were.

  At last her finger felt the bite of the knife blade, and she choked down on a yelp. Thank God. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but maybe she’d have a fighting chance.

  “Hey there, fellas,” a deep voice called out from behind her tormentor’s car. “Somebody need help?”

  “Get the hell out of here, man,” the stocky man snapped. “We’re doin’ just fine.”

  “Ma’am, you okay?” the newcomer asked.

  Did she dare trust him? Exhaustion and hunger made her head light.

  “I said get the hell out,” barked the driver.

  Then she saw the new arrival silhouetted, a tall, powerful man walking slowly toward them.

  Richard was big, too. She poised to turn and run.

  “Ma’am? Are you all right?”

  Even locked within her terror, she had the fleeting thought that he sounded kind.

  But so had Richard, in the beginning.

  “I’m tellin’ you, asshole, to go on now.” Her pursuer had stopped and turned in his direction. “This little señorita is comin’ with us.”

  “Let’s ask her what she wants,” her champion said calmly. “She doesn’t look willing to me.”

  Her pursuer stiffened, fists clenching.

  Elena saw the one called Lester reach into the car. Metal flashed off a gun barrel.

  Her rescuer whirled toward him and kicked out with one foot, dislodging the gun. Then he waded in, and she heard the dull thump of fist connecting with bone.

  The driver reversed course and headed for them. Elena wanted badly to run, but it would be wrong to leave her savior to fight two alone. She pulled the knife from her purse.

  And prayed as she edged closer to the driver.

  He didn’t hear her approach, so she swiped at his back with the knife, hoping to delay him. When the knife sliced through flesh as though it were meat, she nearly gagged.

  He rounded on her and roared. “You goddamn little bitch!” One beefy arm shot out, cuffing her head so hard she lost her balance. Her ears rang.

  Darkness beckoned. The cloud of his hatred rolled over her in a smothering fog.

  And she began to reel. No. Not now. I can’t feel this. She fought to block the crippling effects of his emotions the same way she’d had to do with Richard. Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me again. She backed away, desperately shaking her head to clear it.

  He kept coming, fists clenched. His face and Richard’s merged, and it was all she could do not to drop and curl on the ground to protect herself.

  He is not Richard, she struggled to remember. Richard has no power over you now.

  But she’d never been able to fully block Richard’s evil, and it had been her undoing.

  Richard will always control you, a part of her mocked.

  No. He will not, a small spark of fury answered, and her head cleared a little.

  Elena steadied, stood her ground. She fingered the knife, holding it out before her as though the tiny blade were a shield.

  “Oh, man, you’ve done it now, puta.” He came after her, meaty fingers curled to grab her. “No little Mexican whore is gonna cut me.”

  She tensed to run, but that had always enraged Richard more.

  Behind him she heard a muffled shout, then a groan as a body thudded against the metal of the car.

  She didn’t know who was winning. She might be on her own again.

  Run! Everything in her screamed. The driver was almost on her. Time had run out.

  She dropped to her knees and brought the knife up in one shaking fist aimed straight at his belly.

  He yelled when it sliced, but momentum kept him coming and knocked the knife from her hand.

  He crashed down on her. Her breath whooshed out.

  Sparks burst inside her eyes.

  The man’s emotions rolled over her, extinguishing everything she was but one last thought.

  She’d escaped Richard, only to die at another brutal man’s hands.

  “Are you all right—oof!”

  Elena blinked. Gasped for air. Fought her way back from the poison cloud of hatred.

  Movement beside her brought her all the way back. Two large bodies locked in a deadly struggle right next to her.

  Her attacker.

  And her savior.

  She rolled away. Surveyed her surroundings. Where was the passenger? Where was her knife?

  “Find—Gun—” her rescuer managed as he fought for her.

  She stood. Wobbled. Spotted the gun on the ground near the passenger lying next to the bumper.

  She froze in fear of him.

  “Get—the gun!”

  She stirred and made herself approach the passenger, still giving him wide berth. Metal gleamed, and she reached down, but…couldn’t. She knew nothing about guns. What if she shot the man who was trying to protect her?

  “Ow! Goddammit, you broke my nose!” her attacker yelped. He struggled to rise, one hand on his face. He swung out wildly, but a fist connecting solidly with his middle doubled him over. He dropped to the ground, retching.

  “Bring it here,” her rescuer ordered.

  “I…”

  “Just pick it up by the handle,” he said gently, as if speaking to a child. “Point it toward the ground. Keep your fingers out of the trigger guard.”

  Heart pounding, she complied. It felt…awful. She didn’t want to touch it, yet as deadly and frightening as it was, the gun was power. With this, no one would ever hurt her again. Her fingers tightened on the handle.

  “Hey,” her rescuer said softly. “Bring it here, okay?”

  He seemed nice. He sounded nice.

  He was bleeding. For her.

  But.

  “Never mind. Just keep it away from either of them.” He pulled something from his pocket. “The cops can take care of it.” He punched the screen of his phone.

  “No! No police!” she cried.

  He looked at her, startled. “They attacked you. We can’t let them go.”

  “Please.” Her voice was barely a whisper, all the air she could manage. “Please…don’t.” She wasn’t far enough away yet. Richard owned the sheriff.

  His brows snapped together. “Why not?”

  “Just let me go. Please.” Even though that meant being alone again.

  “Are you in trouble?”

  She bit her lip.

  “You’re on the run,” he decided, approaching her.

  She backed away. Lifted the pistol. “I—I’ll shoot.”

&n
bsp; He held his hands up. “Honey, I’m no threat to you. If it’s all the same, though, I’d like to finish my trip in one piece.” His voice was rock-steady. Kind.

  And she was so tired.

  His eyes studied her face. At last he nodded. “Okay, no cops.” He held out one hand. “But let’s trade. Let me take that off your hands before somebody gets hurt.”

  She hesitated. “I might need it again.”

  “Not if you let me help you.” He held up his phone. “But right now, I won’t make the call, and you give me the weapon for safety’s sake. Fair trade?” When she didn’t move, he sighed. “Look over my shoulder. That guy is waking up. I really don’t have time to chat right now. You want to have to handle him?”

  She shook her head. “But I need the protection.”

  “A weapon you don’t know how to use is no protection.”

  “Do you? Know how?”

  He nodded. “I grew up on a ranch. Started hunting when I was six.”

  “Did you ever use one on a person?”

  “Oh, honey…whatever has happened to you, I’m real sorry.”

  She went rigid. “I don’t want your pity.”

  “All right.” Still he remained calm, but she would be alert for the backlash. “The answer is no. I’m a good shot, and I know my way around a variety of weapons, but besides hunting, all I’ve done is target practice. I know you don’t trust much right now, but I swear all I really want to do is render that weapon safe for both of us.”

  Behind him, she heard cursing.

  Her rescuer sighed. “Never mind. Just try not to shoot me in the back, okay?” But she heard no anger in his voice, maybe even a touch of humor.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Forget it.” He glanced over at the still-prone figure of the passenger, then turned on his heel. Jerking her tormentor to his feet by the collar, her rescuer spoke with menace dripping from his voice, all traces of the kind stranger gone. “Consider yourself damn lucky that the lady doesn’t want your ass thrown in jail. You and your buddy get the hell out of here right now, do you hear me?” He shoved her attacker roughly toward the car.

  The driver moaned and staggered. Eventually made it into the front seat.

  Her rescuer checked the pulse of the man’s still-unconscious companion, then hefted him over one shoulder, carried him to the car and deposited him in the back seat. “You’d better get him looked at, pronto.”

  The tires squealed as the car sped away.

  Elena shoved the gun in her purse as her rescuer returned to her.

  His gaze sought out the missing weapon. “Let me check the safety, okay? Better yet, let me teach you how.” He approached, hands spread at his sides, palms out in surrender. Halted at a respectful distance.

  Elena hesitated. Limned in the headlights he’d left on, his powerful frame loomed.

  She was a small woman. Oh, God. She’d lived in terror for so long.

  She’d trusted wrongly before. Learned a bitter lesson about trusting appearances. She’d once thought Richard handsome and kind.

  “Okay, let’s try this. Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head.

  He frowned. “You hit your head hard on the pavement. You should be examined by someone.”

  “No.” Even though she had less than no plan, she was positive she couldn’t allow her name on any official record, not yet.

  “Will you let me give you a ride to somewhere safe?”

  She was still shaking from the violence of the day. The danger was far from over—she had nowhere to go, no one to trust.

  But she couldn’t go back.

  The man didn’t make a move toward her, for which she was grateful. “I can see why you’d be hesitant to trust me after what they tried to pull, but if you can tell me how to ease your mind, I’ll do whatever that is.” He sounded genuinely worried. “I can’t just leave you out here. Is there someone I can call for you?”

  How could she admit there was no one?

  “I tell you what. I’m going to throw you my car keys, and I won’t come any closer. Let’s take care of the weapon first. If you’ll turn on the headlights, so you can see it clearly, I can tell you how to check for a safety, okay?”

  She looked for the hidden trap. Sucked down a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.

  “You’re big,” she pointed out.

  A short laugh of surprise. “That’s true.” He scratched his head. “Not much I can do about that, though.”

  “You could overpower me while I was driving.”

  “Yeah, but I’m kinda partial to my health. Great way to get us both killed, doing that.”

  A good point, but she still wasn’t certain she was prepared to be any more impulsive this night. Once she’d been a free spirit, but caution had been her guiding principle for a very long time.

  “Okay, how about this? Once the weapon is safe, you can check out my car. If it seems okay to you, you can be the one to drive us to the next town, and I’ll keep my hands on the dash so you can see them.” He paused a moment. “If you’d be willing to reconsider your position about the cops, you could head for the nearest police station and get them to check me out for you. If I’m a wanted criminal, then you’d have all the help you needed right there. Sound reasonable?”

  It did. She was amazed at how calm he was, how relentlessly cheerful, even in these circumstances. “No police.” She couldn’t risk being taken back.

  “Yeah, I was afraid of that. So…you got any ideas on how to feel safe? I’m all out.” His voice sobered. “Except I am not leaving you out here alone.”

  She found her lips curving just a little. He was certainly putting all the chips on her side of the table. “Okay, I’ll look in your car.” She started toward the vehicle.

  “Here,” he called out, “the keys. So you can also check the trunk for dead bodies.”

  She turned back. Saw his grin as she watched the keys arc through the air, heard the clink as they landed at her feet. She reminded herself that he was a total stranger. Even murderers could have a sense of humor. She picked up the keys and paused.

  “Meanwhile, do you have anything I need to retrieve?”

  Chivalry. She’d once believed in that. She shook her head. “No. What you see is all there is.”

  “Well, traveling light has its advantages.” He nodded toward the car. “Go ahead, turn on the lights first.”

  She neared the car and couldn’t suppress her amazement. She couldn’t tell the year, but it was one of the big old convertibles, maybe made in the late 60s. Remembering her father remarking that such cars were like driving your couch, she smiled.

  “Like it?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “You don’t see cars like this anymore.”

  “Sometimes the old ways are better,” he answered. “It gets lousy mileage because it weighs a ton, but I love the ride.”

  She opened the door and looked inside, feeling increasingly foolish for maintaining her suspicions. She started to back out without checking.

  “Don’t back down now,” he urged. “I don’t know why you’re out on this road by yourself, but you can’t afford not to be careful. Don’t take my word for anything.”

  She forced herself to open the glove box and found nothing but a stack of paperwork. She glanced under the seats, but the entire interior was clean as a whistle. A well-worn brown leather jacket lay on the back seat, along with a couple of magazines and a paperback thriller. She backed out of the car.

  “Check the trunk, too,” he commanded. “I could have an arsenal in there—or an accomplice.”

  He made her want to grin. “Wouldn’t your accomplice be banging on the trunk lid by now?”

  “Nah,” he answered. “I chloroformed him just before I left L.A. He won’t wake up for a little while longer.”

  Elena’s mouth curved in response to his teasing tone. Opening the trunk, she scanned the contents, amazed to find children’s toys covering as much of the trunk space as
she could see. “You have children?”

  He laughed. “Not hardly. I don’t think I’m the settling down type. Those are for my brother’s children.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “Along the east side of the Caprock in the Texas Panhandle. Ever been there?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s beautiful there,” he remarked. “Where are you headed?”

  She remained silent. How smart was it to tell him that she had no idea? Her only friend was Carmen, and Carmen was out of town. Her spirits sagged.

  “It’s okay. Maybe later,” he said softly.

  A gust of wind made her shiver, reminding her that she was all but soaked through.

  Still, she had the keys and she had the gun—even if she had no idea whether it was loaded.

  But he didn’t either. He hadn’t touched it.

  She walked back to the driver’s side and felt around for the headlight switch. Once they were blazing, she moved where she could see better. “What am I looking for?”

  He started to approach, but when her head whipped up, he halted. “See if there’s a red dot near the top of the gun butt.”

  She perused it cautiously, then finally spotted one. “There is.”

  “Okay. There should be a small lever right next to it. The red dot means the safety is off—red for danger, right? Flip the lever so it covers the red, and the safety will be activated.”

  She followed his instructions. “It’s heavy.”

  “We need to see if it’s loaded. There should be a button near the trigger that you can push to eject the magazine. Is there?”

  She frowned and looked closer, then spotted it. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now before you push it, put your other hand below the butt to catch the magazine.”

  She quailed. “What will happen?”

  “Nothing. The ammo is harmless out of the weapon—well, in this situation, anyway.”

  She swallowed, then did as he’d instructed. The button was very resistant, but at last a rectangular piece popped out. “Oh!”

  “Is it loaded?”

  “Yes.”