The Sheriff

by Angi Morgan

  The extra protectiveness and responsibility weighed on him. It had nothing to do with giving anyone his word. Had nothing to do with his job responsibility. He flat out liked this woman. Everything about her shouted that she was special.

  He’d never forgive himself if she was shot or—worse—abducted.

  “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  “I am not helpless, Pete. I’ve been in self-defense courses my entire life. And I know how to shoot. My gun’s in the bag we left outside.”

  Good to know, but he wasn’t letting her near that bag. He dropped the key ring on the floor near her hands. “Find one that looks like it’s to a regular inside door. Like a broom closet. I’m going to lock you inside.”

  “Are you sure they’re still out there?”

  “The chopper’s on the ground. The blades are still rotating. No telling how many were already here ready to ambush us.” He watched two shadows cross the patio. “Let’s move. Next to the snack bar, there’s a maintenance door. Run. I’ll lay down cover if we need it.”

  They ran. He could see the shadows but no one followed. Hopefully they didn’t have eyes on him or Andrea. He heard the keys and a couple of curses behind him, then a door swung open enough for his charge to squeeze through.

  He saw the glint of sun off a mirror outside. They were watching.

  “Can you lock the door? Will it lock without the key?”

  “I think so.”

  “Keep the keys with you. I don’t need them. Less risky.” Bullets could work as a key to unlock, but they might not risk injuring Andrea. He was counting on that.

  “But, Pete—”

  “Let me do my job, Andrea. Once you’re inside, see if you can get into the crawl space. They just saw you open the door. Hide till the cavalry arrives.”

  “You mean the Navy. He won’t let us down,” she said from the other side of the door. “This is his thing, after all.”

  Pete had done all he could do to hide her. Now he needed to protect her. He turned the café tables on their sides. If he had to run, it would give him some cover. The thickest defense was the café counter itself. He plunged over the bar—taking the condiments with him—just as the first shots pierced the windows.

  He heard the shouts—in Spanish—and the entrance doors open. More shots, from a machine pistol. The cartel’s weapon of choice. Another burst of fire hit the café’s menu.

  “We know the chica is in here. You give her to us and nobody gets hurt.”

  Pete answered in not so flattering Spanish and blindly fired two rounds toward the front. He was answered with another burst from a machine pistol and plenty of curses.

  Static over his radio. Maybe the cavalry would arrive sooner than he’d anticipated. He couldn’t make out any words, but he turned the volume down so none of his adversaries would hear them when he could. He spoke into the microphone with a low voice. “This is Morrison. Pinned in the café. Numerous civilians in the classroom area. No eyes on multiple hostiles with machine pistols.”

  “We know it’s you and you be all alone, Sheriff. We got no problem with you, man. We just want the girl.”

  “Didn’t hear me the first time?” He popped off two rounds over the counter again, preserving his ammo. Cursing exploded from his opponents, followed by scrambling. “Why her?”

  “No help’s getting up the mountain.”

  So did they know about Commander Allen’s helicopter or not? He knew how many rounds he had left. There wasn’t much he could do until they made a move on the door.

  Rapid fire pinned him to the floor, ricocheting off metal objects in the kitchen. His biggest worry yesterday had been if he’d have a job after the election. Today the only future he was worried about was surviving the next couple of hours.

  And making certain Andrea did, too.

  Chapter Eleven

  Andrea could hear them through the door. Balancing on the mop bucket wasn’t easy, but it did get her close enough to the ceiling to push the tile to the side. Her wrist ached before the men trying to kill her had landed. She was extremely aware of every tendon as she did a chin-up into the ceiling.

  Her muscles shook with the strain. She bit her lip to silence the grunt of pain. She spread her weight over the steel supports, breathing hard, wanting nothing more than to roll over to her back and rest. But that wasn’t an option.

  Silently, she moved the tile back into place. Shouting. More gunfire sounding like a machine gun. Come on, Commander! Where are you?

  The ceiling wasn’t the safest place. One wrong move and she could fall through. One wrong sound would alert the men with the automatic weapons that could penetrate the tiles hiding her.

  So she needed a way out.

  They both did. That rapid fire would cut through Pete in a matter of seconds. She heard him, heard his weapon. He was still alive, but for how long? She could do this. She wasn’t your average astronomy PhD student. She’d never been average, with a dad who trained her well. She could shoot and hold her own in a fight. If those men were on the inside of the center, then she needed to get to the outside and her gun.

  * * *

  “PETE, PETE, ARE you there? We’re in the parking lot. You doing okay, son?” His dad’s voice was a welcome reprieve from the bullets flying over his head.

  “Just great.”

  “Let’s assume they’re tuned in to our frequency, son. Let’s change it up. Remember the colt’s birthday last month?”

  “Do it.”

  Pete changed frequencies on the hand radio. They wouldn’t have long before the men sitting on top of him would circle through the numbers and overhear.

  “Pete? You know what these guys want?”

  “Yeah, Andrea. Is Commander Allen with you?”

  “Separate entry point. How many?”

  “Four that arrived by chopper. I don’t know about outside.”

  “We’ve cleared the parking lot and are ready to evacuate the classroom through the emergency exit. Change frequency to Peach’s birthday.”

  “Got it.” Pete twisted the dial again. It was another date easily remembered. They had just celebrated it last week.

  “Sit tight, Pete. Just sit tight. We’ll have you out of there in two shakes.”

  He checked his rounds. Three remained.

  He’d left his extra clips in the truck and hadn’t been prepared for a shoot-out.

  Sit tight. As if he had a choice. He heard low grumbling in Spanish, words he couldn’t distinguish other than complaints about a madwoman. Shuffling.

  “Who’s out there?” one of the men asked in English.

  Pete slid to the edge of the counter and peered around, expecting one of the Jeff Davis deputies to be in a position to take these guys down. Shocker of shocks. Andrea drew her hand out of her bag and raised a weapon.

  Three shots. That was all he had to get to her. He couldn’t stay put. She fired, and he ran straight through the shattered door under her cover. She stood at the ready, waiting for him.

  A fifth man came around the brick wall, a large gun barrel pointed at them. “Down!” Pete shouted. He reached Andrea, they spun, the man fired, Andrea fired.

  The bullet seared Pete’s flesh and knocked him sideways. Their assailant fell to the patio concrete. Pete managed to stay on his feet and kept them moving forward. “Run!”

  They both took cover at the wall of the ramp leading to the closest telescopes. A five-foot-wide path bordered on either side with a three-foot-high brick wall that was one foot thick. It would stop a spray of machine-pistol bullets.

  Too much space. Wide-open fields. No cover.

  But if he jumped the brick wall he could draw fire and possibly disable their helicopter. Andrea could make it to the front of the building and his father.

  “Follow the sidewalk to the front. Deputies are on sight evacuating the civilians.”

  One of the men jumped through the glass, and Pete tugged Andrea to the ground behind the brick. He covered her with his
body. They heard several rounds and saw red shards splinter into the air. The strength in his left arm where he’d been shot was waning.

  “Where are you going?” Andrea didn’t seem fazed. She spoke from under the protection of his body, taking everything that happened with a deep breath and calm logic.

  “We need a distraction so you can get around front,” he answered, breathing hard from the exertion. “I’m heading to their ride and you’re heading to my dad.”

  “The helicopter? Can you fly that old relic? I can.”

  He shook his head. “But I can disable it. We go on three.”

  “But I said I could fly—”

  When a new blast broke more of the brick into splinters, he ducked his head again, reaching around Andrea, tugging her closer, covering as much of her body as he could. If she wouldn’t cooperate, he’d take her to the front himself. The men might be able to escape, but that wasn’t his highest priority. Getting Andrea to safety was.

  The burst ended and he moved past her, clasping her hand with his right to get her started in a low crouch below the wall and up the path. His left arm was getting harder to move, but he still had clear vision and a clear head. “I don’t need your help. We need to move.”

  She tugged him to a stop. “You’re getting my help, so don’t argue. I don’t want those men to get away. So, do you want to jump the wall or go around the far end by the telescopes? I’m thinking jumping is faster. I’ll lay down a cover while you run.”

  “Hand me your gun.” He stuck his weapon in its holster and covered her weapon with his hand. “I’ll disable the chopper. You’re going around front.”

  She placed the handle of her Glock in his. “We’re wasting time. It’s not a one-way ticket if I fly that hunk of junk out of here. Cover me.”

  Spunk or confidence or just plain stubbornness. He didn’t know which. She stuck her head up, evidently didn’t see anyone and took off, crossing the path and rolling over the brick wall separating it from the field. He didn’t have the chance to stop her and didn’t think he could have. He hadn’t radioed his dad to say they’d left the building.

  He stood a little slower than normal—probably the blood loss—he could see it soaking through the sleeve of his shirt. He backed to the opposite wall, keeping his eyes on the doorway to the Visitor Center. He heard gunfire, but from the opposite side of the building.

  Those men would want to make their escape...fast. They’d be heading toward their escape, and Andrea was almost at the chopper. Dammit, all they had to do was sit tight as his dad had instructed.

  A man came through the door again. Pete fired two shots, breaking the glass next to him. His aim was off, missing the man’s body mass, but he’d forced him back inside. Maybe he was closer to passing out than he’d thought. The chopper was warming up. Pete ran, firing his last rounds that kept the machine pistol inside the building silent.

  Now, if he could just keep his feet moving.

  * * *

  FORTUNATELY, THE HILLER wasn’t that far and there wasn’t anyone inside it to deal with. The man who had come up behind her had probably been left to stand guard. Andrea concentrated on getting ready to get in the air and let Pete deal with the men wanting to kill her.

  Pete opened the opposite door and slowly climbed inside. “You sure you can fly this thing?”

  He leaned on the door, so tired his head thudded against the plastic.

  “Definitely. Buckle up.” She didn’t wait on him, moving the stick and lifting into the air.

  They were away from the observatory in seconds. She could hear machine gun fire but didn’t hover to see how many men or find out what they looked like. The former sheriff could round up the bad guys.

  She was a bit rusty, but it felt good to be behind a stick again. She’d loved flying with her dad while she was growing up. He’d take her into the air with him as often as he could get private fly time. He’d been Dad then, back before he’d permanently become the Commander.

  “Hey, I meant it when I said buckle up, Pete.” She swatted his arm to get his attention. Her hand came back bloody. “You were shot? Stay with me, Sheriff! Don’t you dare pass out.”

  He didn’t answer. She took a quick glance at her passenger, who was seriously slumped toward his door. Shoot, she wasn’t even certain he’d closed the thing correctly. He was out cold.

  There were a couple of wild bumps as she jerked him closer to the middle. It was a nervous couple of minutes as she looped his arm through the seat’s shoulder strap.

  One thing missing on the Hiller was the radio. She couldn’t call anyone. She couldn’t reach Pete’s cell phone and couldn’t see his department radio.

  “I guess I should put this thing down somewhere and try to keep you alive.”

  The controls weren’t responding as fast as she would have liked. They were as sluggish as peddling through pudding. They had probably been hit by the last gunfire as they were taking off. She wouldn’t let them crash. But wherever she set this thing down, they were going to be trapped there.

  Stuck without medical supplies, food or water. Each minute they were in the air, the controls got worse.

  “Hold on, Pete. We’re going to land.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Soft lips. Pete wasn’t too familiar with being awakened by a kiss, but he recognized the sweetness. He reached out with his arms to catch Andrea’s body and hissed between his teeth instead. The pain in his left arm was manageable, but he’d rather not push it.

  “I was shot.”

  “Yes, you were. I’ve been patiently waiting for you to wake up. But let me tell you, it was getting pretty boring around here again without your company.”

  “Can’t have that.” He sat up with a little help from Andrea. “We know what happens when you get bored.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha,” she said, plopping down next to him and crossing her legs.

  He carefully lifted his arm without the same pain he’d experienced a few minutes earlier. The chopper was thirty or forty yards away, seemingly intact. Drag marks from his boots left a trail to where they currently sat. He’d be lucky if there weren’t holes in his jeans.

  “I’m sort of glad I wasn’t awake for that.” He nodded toward the chopper.

  “We’ve been here awhile. I couldn’t leave you baking in the sun. You lost your hat.”

  “It’s late afternoon already.” They had an hour, maybe an hour and a half of light left before the sun was obscured by the mountains.

  “That’s right, tough guy.” She swayed into his good arm before bringing her knees up and resting on them. “You finally got that nap you needed.”

  “No cell reception?”

  “No nothing reception.” She pointed to the department radio, then jumped up to retrieve it. “I thought for sure the Commander would be swooping in for the ultimate I-told-you-so. But I haven’t heard anything except a cow mooing.”

  “Thanks for fixing my arm.”

  “I can’t believe you were shot. Okay, never mind, I can believe it. I mean, there were a lot of bullets flying around. You should have told me when it happened. You might have at least tried to tell me before I ran to the Hiller. Though, honestly, I don’t think I gave you time to tell me—”

  “Andrea,” he said, covering her hand with his good one. She was talking fast without taking a breath. Nervous or scared or maybe a little of both.

  “Yeah?”

  “You didn’t shoot me. We got out of there and I doubt those men escaped. There was nowhere for them to run when you took the helicopter.

  “Can I assume something’s wrong with that thing?” He pointed toward the chopper.

  “One of those men shot the engine before we got safely away. Well, almost safely away. We were very lucky, considering he could have sliced that trainer in half with his machine gun.”

  “Machine pistol. We’ve known they were smuggling those for some time, but it was the first time I’d faced one.”

  “How’s your arm? You
know, you were lucky. The bullet tore a hunk of your flesh away. You’ll just have a wicked scar.” She picked up a pebble and tossed it across the path. “But I got the bleeding stopped and didn’t have to dig around with a penknife for a bullet. And believe me, I could have, too. My dad saw fit that I have lots of practical survival training.”

  “I see that. You’re pretty good with a gun, too.” He held her hand, resting it on his thigh. “Come on, just catch your breath and give me a minute to figure this out.”

  “Oh, sorry. I’m babbling again, aren’t I? I do better when I’m moving. Less stressed.” She tried to release his fingers with the intent of getting to her feet. “I’m not certain why you passed out. It bled a lot, but did you hit your head or something?”

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” Pete kept a firm grip on her hand, wanting her next to him for multiple reasons, but touching her skin was the first one that came to mind. “Give me a second. Then we’ll take a look around. See if I recognize where we are.” He knew they hadn’t flown far and were still pretty much close to nowhere.

  “Oh, I know exactly where we’re at,” she said with confidence.

  He knew the peaks, the general vicinity. “Maybe twenty-five miles northeast from the observatory.”

  “Very good, Sheriff.”

  “I’ve traveled these mountains enough to recognize the terrain. That puts us darn close to the Scout ranch. We’ll need to get started up one of those trails if we want to sleep in a bed tonight.”

  “Is that an invitation?” She winked. “If so, I think you could at least buy a girl dinner first.”

  “I’ve already bought you breakfast,” he teased in return. “But I’m sure your father will have strong words objecting to your spending another night in Marfa.”

  He groaned as he stood up. Feeling like he hadn’t slept in a week and that he was as old as sin. Andrea helped him until he was steady on his feet.

  “You know, I am an adult. I make decisions all on my own.”

  “Maybe we should start with dinner after we determine exactly why those men would make such a stupid move today.”