Shot Through the Heart (Crimson Romance)

by D'Ann Lindun

  Once they got home, they’d go their separate ways and that would be the end of it.

  He didn’t think she’d take off without him at this point. That didn’t seem like what he’d learned of her. But after a thorough search of the area, he reluctantly had to admit she’d left. Exhaustion forgotten, he stalked down the mountain.

  If Laramie wanted to take off without as much as it’s-been-real, then what did it matter to him? The sooner he got home, the sooner he could regroup. Getting back to normal sounded like heaven. Maybe a little lonely and a bit dull, but good enough for him. He nearly tripped over Turbo when the dog came to an abrupt halt in front of him. “Dang it, boy. What’s the deal?”

  The dog whined and looked up at him.

  Derrick took a step, and Turbo ducked in front of him again.

  “I’m too tired to play,” he said, moving around the heeler.

  Turbo growled, his hair rising along his back.

  Derrick froze mid-step. In the last couple of days, the dog had known every time something was wrong. Obviously he felt strongly now. Giving him a quick pat, Derrick tried to figure out what was bugging the dog. At first, nothing seemed out of place. Just a gentle breeze swaying the meadow grass and quakie tree leaves.

  But when he followed Turbo’s line of sight, Derrick’s blood ran cold. Through the trees, he spotted Laramie. She stood with her back to the door of a sheriff’s Jeep, a man holding a rifle on her. What the hell? Motioning the dog behind him, Derrick hurried toward Laramie, keeping quiet as a mountain lion stalking prey.

  As he grew closer, he could see the terror on Laramie’s face. From his vantage point, Derrick could see her attacker. A sheriff. Her brother? She’d been telling the truth all along. Lawrence Porter, respected lawman, had thrown his own wife and sister off a cliff? And now held Laramie at gunpoint? Laramie said he was on drugs. Why hadn’t Derrick listened?

  He was listening now.

  What to do? Picking up a stick, he rushed Lawrence.

  “Derrick!” Laramie screamed. “Look out!”

  Just before he swung, the other man spun around, and slammed his rifle butt into Derrick’s arm. The stick flew through the air, leaving Derrick defenseless. Turbo growled.

  Lawrence pointed a rifle at Derrick. “Quite the big man, huh? Not you or anybody else is going to keep me from getting rid of Laramie. And I think I’ll toss your ass in jail.”

  Gasping, Derrick glared at him. His wrist throbbed, and he resisted rubbing it. “For what?”

  “Assaulting a police officer.”

  “Are you nuts?” Derrick asked. Turbo growled again.

  Behind him, Laramie said, “He’s on drugs, Derrick. He’s off his rocker.”

  He had to agree. The other man’s carrot red hair stood out at crazy angles, he hadn’t shaved in days and his clothes were rumpled. His light eyes looked empty. Nothing about him now resembled the immaculate, sharp dressed law officer Derrick remembered. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Shut up,” Lawrence snarled. He pointed the rifle at Laramie. “Get over there beside your boyfriend.”

  Laramie snapped her mouth shut and moved beside Derrick. He glanced her way, trying to reassure her, but her eyes were huge, and her freckles stood out against pale skin like beacons.“What’s the matter with you?” Derrick asked Lawrence again.

  “Not a damn thing,” he said.

  “Look at yourself. You’re holding a gun on your sister and me, a virtual stranger.”

  “It’s exactly right,” Lawrence said, “because I’m going to get rid of the two of you and go on with my life. Who do you think will figure it out? Nobody around here’s as good at the law as me. ”

  “How could you go on like nothing ever happened?” Laramie cried. “After what you did to Julie?”

  Lawrence’s eyes narrowed. “She had it coming.”

  “For what? Being a good wife, caring about you, trying to help you get on the right path?”

  “She was going to turn me in, ruin me.” He aimed the rifle at her head. “Just like you plan on doing. But I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “You can’t kill three people and get away with it.” Derrick moved slightly so he shielded half of Laramie’s body. If her crazy brother pulled the trigger, maybe the bullet would hit him instead of Laramie.

  “Oh, but I can,” Lawrence said. He waved the rifle toward the Jeep. “Get in the truck.”

  “For what?” Derrick stalled, his mind racing. If they got in the vehicle they were as good as dead. Lawrence could drive any direction, shoot them, and hide the evidence. If anyone ever found their bodies it would be a miracle.

  “You don’t think I’m going to just drive away and leave you standing in the middle of the road, do you? Don’t make me ask again. Get in.”

  “No, I won’t.” Laramie moved beside Derrick and lifted her chin. “If you’re going to shoot me, get it over with. Right here, right now.”

  “Fine.” Lawrence aimed the rifle at her chest.

  Derrick reacted without thinking. He threw himself at Lawrence’s knees, slamming them both to the ground. The rifle flew out of Lawrence’s hands, landing several feet away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laramie scramble for the weapon. Although lighter than him, Lawrence was wily as a garden snake. He slipped out of Derrick’s grip, jumped to his feet, and with a well-aimed kick to the head, nearly knocked him out. With a growl of fury, Turbo launched himself at Lawrence, biting his ankle.

  With a roar, the cop lashed out with his foot. Turbo lunged out of the way and circled, barking like crazy. Through a blurry haze, Derrick watched Lawrence wrench the gun out of Laramie’s hands. Certain they were both going to be shot, Derrick pushed to his feet. But he was too groggy to stand and fell back with ringing ears.

  Turbo lunged at Lawrence’s arm, digging sharp teeth in his elbow, hanging on with fierce determination, making the man dance and scream like a crazy fool. The rifle again fell from his hands. Laramie lunged for it and aimed the muzzle at her brother.

  To Derrick’s amazement, Lawrence opened the Jeep’s door and heaved himself inside.Turbo finally released him as the car tore away, showering them with gravel.

  Laramie ran to Derrick’s side and fell to her knees beside him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah? Turbo?” The dog came to him and licked Derrick’s chin. He hugged the dog with one arm. He nodded, and his brain felt like it was going to explode. “I’ll be all right. You?”

  “I’m okay.” She put an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s get out of the middle of the road before my insane brother returns to run us over.”

  “I didn’t believe you — ”

  She shushed him. “Later. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  He let her help him to his feet, and together they managed to get to the trees. In a small clearing, they sank down against the trunks of thin-trunked quakies, with Turbo pacing restlessly between the two of them. Anyone could find them without much trouble. Laramie took a look at his head. “You’re bleeding.”

  Derrick touched his throbbing head, and brought his fingers back covered with sticky blood. “It’s not too bad.”

  “You need stitches.”

  “It’s nothing. I’ve been run over by cows a few times that hurt worse.” He tried to smile, but grimaced instead.

  “We need help. Maybe Clive Reeves’s place?” Laramie looked around. “But that’s at least fifteen miles, plus it’s the way Lawrence went. We need to stay out of sight until dark. But where?”

  Derrick couldn’t think; his head hurt too much. “We’ve got Lawrence’s rifle now. We’re safe enough. But I need to lie down.”

  “Not here.” Laramie squeezed his arm. “Lawrence has other weapons. We have to get out of sight.”

  “The cave, maybe?”

  “It’s a trap with the fire at the other end.” She looked around with desperation. Suddenly a light dawned in her eyes. “I know where to go. Come on, it’s not far.”

  With a groan
, Derrick pushed to his feet. He swayed, but managed to stay upright by holding her shoulder. “Letting your crazy brother shoot me might be easier.”

  “Don’t even joke like that,” she said. “Because he will do exactly that if he gets the chance.”

  Without another word, Derrick waved her to lead the way.

  Chapter Ten

  Laramie led Derrick across the road and down to the river. From her trips to Clive Reeves’s ranch, she remembered a cabin. “There’s a summer place not too far from here. Can you make it?”

  He nodded, but lines of pain etched his face. Laramie’s stomach knotted. If not for her, he wouldn’t be injured. Although he tried to hide it, she had caught him rubbing his wrist a couple of times. Damn Lawrence and his drugs.

  They made their way along the riverbank, listening for any vehicle. Unless a tourist had stumbled on the county road or a fisherman was playing hooky from work, there wasn’t much chance of anyone being here, though. If the sounds of a car reached them, it would probably be Lawrence’s Jeep. Just thinking about her brother made Laramie pick up her steps.

  Finally, they reached a bridge and crossed it.

  “We’re close to the cabin now.” Laramie guided Derrick back off the road and into the trees.

  “I don’t know if going there is such a good idea,” Derrick said, “because if we thought of it, so will he.”

  “You need attention for your head.” She pointed. “The cabin’s just ahead.”

  They hurried their steps and quickly reached the log building. Set in a copse of aspens, the A-frame structure seemed perfectly serene. The windows were covered by shutters and the door had a large padlock on it. They sat on the steps for a minute to rest. “I don’t know how to get in.” Laramie’s shoulders sagged in defeat. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

  With effort, she stood and walked down the steps and looked under the flowerpot by the walkway. Nothing. She glanced around. Where would she leave a key? An empty birdfeeder caught her eye. Lifting it out of the base, she wanted to shout, but held up the key and waved it instead. ”Let’s get out of sight,” she urged.

  Derrick took the key from her and opened the padlock. He brought it inside with them and flipped the light switch, but nothing came on. “The owner has the electricity turned off.”

  “Damn it,” she muttered.

  “Maybe it’s better. We wouldn’t want to tip off your brother to our location by the lights.”

  She looked around, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. Sheets covered furniture. A fireplace took up most of the west wall. Covered deer and antelope heads gave the place a spooky feel. “We can’t use the phone without electricity.”

  “I bet there’s a generator,” Derrick said. “Let me look out back.”

  Before Laramie could stop him, he went outside, Turbo on his heels. While she waited, she went into the tiny kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards until she found candles, matches, and a pan. In a drawer, she located dishtowels. There was no food, though. Not even a can of soup. Just coffee grounds. Laramie’s stomach hurt so much she didn’t think she could hold down a cracker, but Derrick was a big guy and probably starving.

  With a whirring sound, the lights came on.

  The front door slammed, and Derrick came into the kitchen. “I was right, there’s a generator out back. We’ll have phone service now.”

  “If there’s a phone here,” Laramie said. “I’ll look now.” She searched both floors, but couldn’t find a phone anywhere. Not even a phone jack. Laramie sank down on one of the beds and massaged her temples. “Why can’t anything go our way?”

  No sense feeling sorry for herself. Derrick needed her now. Pushing herself up, she went downstairs. “How are you feeling?”

  “Lousy,” he admitted.

  “Stay there, and I’ll see what I can do.” She hurried to the kitchen and filled the pan with water, then put it on the stove. Digging through a drawer, she found a bottle of aspirin. Taking a glass of water and the medicine into the living room, she handed them to him. “Here, take this.”

  He swallowed four aspirin and the water.

  “How’s your head?”

  “Aches,” he admitted, “but I’ll live.”

  “Let me see.” She took his head in her hands and bent him forward. Parting his hair, she examined his scalp. “You’ve stopped bleeding, but you’ve got a pretty deep cut. I put some water on the strove to clean it with.”

  She ran to the kitchen, poured the steaming water into a plastic bowl, grabbed a couple of dishtowels from a drawer, then carried everything into the living room and placed it on the coffee table. Kneeling beside him on the sofa, she wrapped his injured wrist with a clean dishtowel, tying it securely. Then she washed the dried blood in his hair away as new blood welled up in the wound.

  “You need stitches,” she pressed a soft dishtowel onto the cut, “but until then stay still and put pressure on it. Hopefully, that will stop the bleeding.” Taking his hand, she placed it on the makeshift bandage. “There’s no food but would a cup of coffee taste good to you?”

  He nodded, then winced. “Sounds great.”

  Laramie hustled into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. How were they going to get out of this mess? With Derrick’s head split open, he was in no condition to walk. She didn’t want to admit it, but taking off on her own scared her. If Lawrence found her alone, no telling what he might do. She had his rifle, but if she took it, Derrick would be unprotected. If she left the gun with him, she would be vulnerable.

  After the coffee boiled, she poured two mugs and delivered them to the living room. Derrick had stretched out on the sofa, snoring softly. Should she wake him? She knew most people with head wounds shouldn’t sleep, but maybe the rest would do him good. Pulling the quilt off the back of the couch, she covered him. Against his unnaturally pale skin, dark stubble covered his chin making him sexier. Laramie wished she didn’t feel like the bride of Frankenstein, dirty, smelly and hair no doubt tangled like a tumbleweed. The rustic bathroom upstairs had a narrow shower, but no toiletries in sight.

  Carrying her mug, she flipped off the lights and settled into the rocking chair near the fireplace. Laramie savored the hot, bitter drink as a peaceful silence settled over the room. Derrick rested, and Turbo slept near the front door, chin resting on crossed paws. She could get used to being with Derrick. The raw emotions of the last two days were making her wish for things that couldn’t be. She would never get serious about anyone again because she had no intention of ending up brokenhearted. Julie was an extreme example of what could happen to a woman in love, but before Lawrence got hooked on drugs he had been wonderful to her.

  The only way to stay safe was to keep her heart to herself.

  • • •

  A noise pulled Laramie from a light sleep. Her startled gaze flew to Derrick. He was sitting up and petting his dog. Laramie’s heart slowed down and she asked, “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  “What time is it?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. After dark, I think.”

  “Did you sleep?” She stood and moved to the couch. “How’s your head?”

  “I feel a lot better.”

  Turbo moved aside, and Laramie knelt beside Derrick on the couch. “Let me look at your cut.” With careful fingers, she parted his hair and examined the wound. The bleeding had stopped. “Looks good.”

  He caught her hand in his. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, but I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

  “Didn’t we already cover this?”

  “I guess. But if it weren’t for me you wouldn’t have all these troubles.”

  His eyes went somber. “It’s not your fault. You can lay all this on your brother’s shoulders.”

  “It’s the drugs, Derrick. They’ve made him nuts.” She took her hand from his and ran it up and down her arm repetitively. “I never would have believed he would do such horrible things.
I’ve got to turn him in, so he can pay for what he did to Julie.”

  “Let’s get some rest so we can walk out of here in the morning.” Derrick scooted over so there was room for her next to him. “Come on. You’ve got to be exhausted and that rocking chair can’t be comfortable.”

  She was bone weary. Every fiber in her body ached. A few hours’ sleep would do her good. And it wasn’t like Derrick was asking her to go to bed with him. Rest, not sex, was on his mind. “Okay.”

  She lay on the couch with her back to him, tense as a board.

  “Relax,” he whispered. His arm went around her middle as naturally as if they had been sleeping together for years. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Hard as she tried, she couldn’t relax. The events of the last few days played through her head like a continuous reel. Turbo moved beside the couch, curling up on the floor, and she stroked his sleek fur. When she got home, she would have to bury Zeke and Zephyr. And Julie. She refused to think too much about Julie. If she did, the tears would come and she wasn’t sure she could stop them. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hard. Home, only a few miles away, but it seemed farther than the moon.

  While she mulled things over, Derrick slept. His leg slid between hers, and when she tried to shift, his weight kept her pinned. Her nipple rose, reacting to the warmth of his palm. When she tried to wriggle away, the friction increased. So she lay still.

  In spite of her tumbling emotions, she finally slept.

  • • •

  Derrick woke not sure where he was.

  For a moment, he couldn’t figure out whose curvy behind meshed against him, but then it all came rushing back, and he realized Laramie had snuggled up to him. His hand cupped her breast and his leg was between hers. Just for a minute, he savored the feeling of having a woman in his arms again.

  Turbo growled.