High-Caliber Holiday. Susan Sleeman

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       TWO

      “Dumb cops,” Craig muttered as he gestured at the door with his gun. He obviously thought Archer was no longer listening, but Brady knew his teammate was not only listening, he was intently watching.

      “I could help you with them,” Morgan Thorsby said. “As an attorney, I can act as a go-between to negotiate your demands.”

      “Demands? I don’t have demands. I just want to get off the stupid train with you in tow.” He massaged his forehead with his free hand.

      “They’ll let you off if you surrender your gun,” Morgan continued.

      Brady was surprised she had the presence of mind to talk so calmly to a man holding her life in his hands. Even more surprising, Archer didn’t shut her down. Maybe she was saying the right things and Archer thought she could help.

      “And then what?” Craig asked. “I step off the train and some hotshot kills me? No, thanks.”

      “You have it backwards. If you don’t surrender the gun, that hotshot you mentioned is going to go to work and you won’t get off the train alive.”

      “Fine. But if that happens, I’m taking you with me.” He grabbed Morgan and jerked her head back, planting the gun against her temple again.

      “Wait. Let me talk to the negotiator when he comes back on. I’ll tell him you haven’t harmed anyone and that you’re going to surrender. You can give me the gun, and we can walk out together. Then I’ll represent you or find a good criminal lawyer for you.”

      Brady heard the underlying tremble in Morgan’s tone but it was still soothing, almost hypnotic. If Brady were the shooter, he would gladly do what she asked.

      Craig took a step back. “You’d represent me, even after this?”

      “Yes,” she said. “You’ve been drinking to mask your loss. If you had a clear head, you—”

      “I’d do the same thing.”

      The guy’s biting tone said he was planning to pull that trigger. It made Brady want to end this now, but he wouldn’t do so without Jake’s authority.

      Craig stood unmoving and staring at her. Suddenly, something caught his attention in the distance and he spun.

      “No!” he shouted. “It’s a trick. I can see them—all of them—cops...coming for me. Well, they won’t find me. I’ll make my own way out.”

      He jerked his finger. The gun erupted. Bullets blasted into the window, the safety glass cracking and splintering, but holding.

      “Falcon, you are clear to take a shot,” Jake announced.

      “Roger that, Papa Bear.” Brady’s gut cramped as he dropped his finger to the trigger. Took a deep breath. Released a long hiss of air. Prepared to squeeze. Craig—no, the target, Brady reminded himself—shifted, his eyes coming into view. Filled with rage, with pain.

      Brady hesitated.

      Craig started for Morgan, bending toward her. Brady had to act now or the window of opportunity would be gone. He quickly adjusted and squeezed the trigger. The bullet sliced through the air. Craig suddenly lurched forward, Morgan falling in the other direction. She hit the ground, disappearing from the scope.

      Brady’s mouth dropped open. He didn’t think his shot hit Craig. Looked more like he’d fallen. But what about Morgan? His bullet couldn’t have hit her, could it? Even if it hadn’t, his moment of hesitation had given Craig a chance to move closer to Morgan and changed Brady’s angle. Maybe it had put Morgan in the path of shattering glass. He wouldn’t know until he had a chance to get inside the train car and look around.

      “Move, move, move,” came Jake’s voice as he dispatched the team to secure the gunman and train.

      Brady kept his scope honed on the train when all he wanted to do was race across the street and see if Morgan was alive. He couldn’t, though. He had to hold his position until Jake gave the all clear.

      He waited. Watched.

      The team charged the train. The doors slid open. Brady caught a look at Craig and Morgan on the floor. Blood colored Morgan’s arm. Good. If Brady had hit her, it wasn’t a body shot. She should make it.

      She held up Craig’s gun. Looked like it hadn’t been her injury taking her down. Instead, she’d dropped to the floor to retrieve the gun. Archer put a knee in Craig’s back and cuffed him. Jake retrieved Craig’s gun while Cash went to Morgan and comforted her.

      “Stand down, Falcon,” Jake said.

      Brady wasted no time strapping his rifle over his shoulder and taking off toward the train, moving as fast as he could. His gaze went straight to Morgan. On the floor, sitting up and alert, she’d clamped a hand over her injured arm. Blood had oozed through her fingers. Fresh. Red. But no longer increasing.

      Brady sighed out his relief. Guilt flooded in. His hesitation had likely caused her injury. Still, it could have been far worse. He could have severely injured her.

      Thank You, God, for protecting her, he thought and joined Cash who was standing over her and calling on his radio for Darcie.

      “Hang tight,” Cash said to Morgan. “Our medic is on the way.”

      “Seems like the bleeding has stopped,” Morgan said, not sounding as fearful as Brady expected.

      Sure, lingering fear darkened her eyes, but he liked the strength he saw in her. She was something else. Most women would be fainting or falling apart in this situation, but Morgan remained strong.

      Brady’s kind of woman. Not clingy. Not needy. Her own person, standing strong. Until he shot her. Or his bullet sent glass flying into her arm.

      Right. She’s hurt because of me. He should apologize for the injury, but to do so, he’d have to admit he’d frozen, and his hesitation could very well have caused her injury.

      He’d have to find a way to deal with that. Because one thing he knew for certain, a sniper who froze wasn’t good for anyone, least СКАЧАТЬ