Relentless Protector. Colleen Thompson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ got away,” Cole said. “But when I saw the dust coming off this road, I thought—did you see them? Did they pass you? We have to get our Tyler back before they—”

      “No, sorry. That was only me, comin’ up to grab the tackle box I forgot. No car could go any fu’ther back. There’s a big tree ’cross the road, and no way past but over.”

      Cole cursed softly, his heart sinking at this failure. A mistake that might cost Lisa Meador’s child his life. “Damn, I’ve just given them an even bigger lead. I’ve gotta get back after them on Sunset.”

      “You report this to the sheriff?”

      “No time.” He shook his head, the knot in his gut tightening. “We have to hurry.”

      “Wait! We need to call 9-1-1 and get you some backup. And what about your wife? Is she hurt?”

      But Cole was already sprinting back to his truck. Leaping inside, he jammed it into gear and made a sloppy three-point turn, taking out a couple of small trees with his bumper. By that time he was past caring about any dents and scratches, or whether or not the fisherman actually called for help. Waiting for a patrol car would take too long and result in hours of interviews. He had to get back on the road and catch up with the Camry fast.

      Reaching the end of the dirt track, he waited for traffic. “Come on, come on,” he said, foot tapping. As the clutter of vehicles passed, however, another glance at the unconscious woman stopped him from pulling out again.

      A few more drops of blood had dripped down her temple, a startling contrast against her pallor. Full and parted, her lips had gone as colorless as a corpse’s. Which meant that her injuries might be more serious than he’d thought.

      As badly as he needed to get going, he was seized with the fear that his bullet might have killed her just as surely as his failure had cost her husband his life. Throwing the truck into Park, he felt for the carotid pulse beside her windpipe, a practiced move he had repeated on many a military mission.

      His pounding heart pushed into his throat, but this time, thank God, he was not checking a dead body. He felt the flutter of her pulse, more rapid than it should be, but she was alive. Determined to keep her that way, Cole found a first-aid kit he kept beneath the seat, along with a clean T-shirt he had stuffed inside the bag he’d planned to take to the gym later. Thankful for the basic combat medic training the Rangers had provided, he got out and went around to her side, then ripped the shirt at the seams and improvised a pressure bandage for her arm.

      Every second delayed what he now saw as his mission, so he worked with swift efficiency, thankful to be finished before the fisherman showed up with more questions to delay them.

      He snatched up an old army blanket from behind the front seat, then tossed it over Lisa to help protect her from shock. After slamming the door behind him, he made his way behind the wheel.

      Strapping in, he pushed the pickup’s powerful V-8 to eat up the lost miles and within minutes overtook the knot of traffic that had delayed him. He deftly passed one vehicle after another until a blind curve obscured his vision and he was forced to flash his high beams at the clueless driver of an ancient rust bucket puttering at the head of the parade. When the car still failed to yield, he tapped the horn twice until the old woman finally pulled onto the shoulder.

      After that the road unspooled before him in a dark, unbroken ribbon. He goosed the gas again, quickly gaining speed. But what if he was wrong, if right at the outset he’d guessed incorrectly that the kidnappers were heading out of town on this rural farm-to-market road? And what about the intersection he knew was coming up? Though they might well keep to the smaller roads in the hope of avoiding capture, that would be slower than the interstate.

      Each option had its advantages and pitfalls, so how was he to choose the right one? And how could he be certain he wasn’t chasing after a mirage, a desperate wish to find redemption for the unforgivable?

      * * *

      L ISA FOUGHT HER WAY through the blackness, through her pain, and toward the son who needed her.

      “Tyler,” she murmured, forcing her eyes open, blinking at the way the landscape had shifted into grassy hills studded with occasional rocky outcrops.

      All too quickly, memory roared back and she choked down a cry. Bolting upright, she looked toward the man who might have cost her everything.

      “Where’s my son?” she asked helplessly. “What happened?”

      “He wasn’t down that dirt road.” A grimace tightened Cole’s square jaw. “They didn’t go that way.”

      “You’re sure?”

      “Sure as I can be about anything right now.” He flicked an assessing look in her direction. “You feeling any better?”

      A laugh slipped out, dry and mirthless. “You really don’t want to know the answer to that question.”

      “There’s some aspirin in the first-aid kit if you can reach it.”

      Though her head pounded with the movement, she picked up the plastic box off the floorboard, mostly relying on her uninjured left arm. She found the bottle but couldn’t open it one-handed.

      Passing it to him, she asked, “Could you, please?”

      He popped the top and handed back the open container. “Take that water from the center console. It’s not the freshest, but you need to drink as much of it as you can. It’ll help keep you from blacking out again.”

      She forced herself to wash down two of the tablets, then finish every drop of the water.

      “Thanks,” she managed, struggling to stave off the panic flashing through her brain like summer lightning.

      “We’re coming up on an intersection with the interstate in just a couple miles. I’m figuring they’ll stick to back roads, since for all they know, there’s already an AMBER Alert out for your son. What do you think?”

      Anxiety paralyzed her. Maybe they should make finding a phone a priority so the police could really activate the alert. But she couldn’t bear the thought of losing their chance to catch up with Tyler. If only she had some way of knowing which route the kidnappers might have taken.

      A single thought pierced the fog: the final errand on her day’s list. “They’ll have to stop for gas soon. I was going to fill up on my way home from the groomer’s.”

      “If they cut over to the interstate, there’ll be an exit in about ten miles if they backtrack or another twenty-five or so if they keep heading west.”

      “If they stay on this road, there’s a little town up ahead.” She’d driven through it last month, on the way to a friend’s ranch, where Tyler had taken his first horseback ride. The memory of his laughter choked her, but she swallowed hard and forced herself to focus. “There’s a mom-and-pop store on the main drag—look, you see the sign?”

      “Be pretty hard to miss that,” Cole said.

      Large and crudely painted, the homemade billboard stood along the grassy roadside. Texas Two-Step, Gas-Groceries-Grill, 8 Miles Ahead, Y’all Come See Us!

      Not far ahead, she saw a more official sign, with its arrow pointing СКАЧАТЬ