by Aimée Thurlo
“Then that’s the way it is. You’re under arrest,” Kendra said. “Turn around, and place your hands behind your back. I’m going to cuff you.”
“Hey, come on. You know this’ll never hold up in court. Where’s your search warrant?”
Kendra smiled. “Didn’t need one. You gave us permission to look in the box, remember? He just took you up on that offer.”
Davis responded with a one-word curse.
It didn’t take long for a deputy to show up, and Kendra remanded Davies over to the uniformed officer. “He’s under federal jurisdiction, so you need to notify the marshals service. Our department will be responsible for the expense of housing the prisoner. And expect a visit from ATF on those gun parts.”
Kendra made a call to that agency and reported the situation. By that time, close to noon, two more deputies had arrived on the scene, along with a search warrant based on information Kendra had forwarded.
As one deputy took Gil Davies away, others began to tape off the area in preparation for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms agent now en route from Durango, Colorado.
While the deputies worked to preserve the scene, Paul and Kendra searched the barn for any more surprises. After several minutes they met outside the barn.
“There’s nothing else here for us,” Paul said. “You might want to leave word for the ATF agent to contact you if there’s anything in the main house that connects to Miller.”
“Good idea,” Kendra said. “After that, there’s another lead I want to follow up.”
“What’s on your mind?”
She took a deep breath. “Gun shows usually have security monitors for the safety of their vendors. We need to figure out who handled that, then take a look at what they recorded from that Durango event.”
“Security is Daniel’s business, and if he didn’t handle it, he probably knows who did. Let me give him a call.”
Paul moved away as Kendra spoke to the remaining deputies about the arrival of the ATF agent. A few minutes later, she joined Paul again.
“I’ve got the information we need,” he said. “Daniel subcontracted the job to a guy named Mickey Carson. He lives in Cortez. We passed through there on the way here, so it won’t take us long to drive back. Do you want to leave now?”
“Yeah. Let’s go pay him a visit. If his video of the event includes any outside surveillance, I’m going to ask to look at the footage. I’d like to try and ID the guy selling black market gun parts. It’s possible he may have done business with Miller, or he might be able to point us to someone who has. Miller gets his gear under the radar, so you can bet he’s got contacts all over the country.”
“We’re getting close to finding answers,” he said as they set out. “I can feel it in my gut.”
“Yeah, but in my experience, that’s when things can start going wrong,” she said.
“Is that what happened when you were trying to track down John Lester, the gunrunner?”
She nodded. “Lester’s a slippery son-of-a-gun who’s always one step ahead of whoever’s after him. The other dealers want him dead because he controls a very big share of the illegal weapons market. The problem is he’s got too many allies and informants,” she said. “Once I capture Miller, I’ll try to get reassigned to that case. I want to bring Lester down next.”
He smiled. “You’ve got a lot of courage, Kendra, and you hate backing off. That’s what I like about you.”
“Yeah, I’m a fighter.” Yet even as she spoke, she knew that was only partly true. In her heart she longed to surrender, to be swept away by the fires she’d found in Paul’s arms.
As she glanced at Paul and saw his steady hands on the wheel, she bit back a sigh. Paul was a man trapped in the past, and he’d only break her heart. She had to keep her emotions locked safely away.
* * *
A LONG SILENCE had stretched out between them, and Paul didn’t interrupt the quiet. He needed time to think. For the first time since he’d left the marshals service he thought he had a chance to find closure—to put away the man who’d killed Judy. Kendra was relentless, just the kind of partner he needed to close the case that continued to haunt his dreams.
“You said you know Mickey Carson. Any chance he’s involved?” Kendra asked at last.
“I don’t think so, but it’ll be better if we don’t assume anything.”
“Yeah, better safe than sorry,” she said. “The stakes are too high.”
More than she even realized. Trying not to look at her, Paul kept his eyes on the road ahead. He liked being with Kendra way too much for his own good. Beneath her toughness lay a core of gentleness that drew him to her.
Many women had passed through his life over the years. Some had tried to mother him, others had offered him love, and sex, too. But his instinctive distrust of women had always kept things from going too far.
Kendra had offered him nothing more than a temporary working arrangement. She wasn’t interested in a relationship, not even a physical one, though it was clear the sparks were there. Yet his feelings for her had continued to grow.
Although he could have tried to work on her emotions and persuade her to give in to the attraction between them, the final outcome would still be the same. Kendra would eventually leave and go her own way. The only thing he could do was walk on. He’d forget her...eventually.
“The video...” she said, cutting into his thoughts. “Are you sure you’re ready to deal with whatever we see?”
“I don’t follow. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s possible that someone in this community, someone you know and maybe trust, is one of Miller’s suppliers.”
As he glanced over at her, he suddenly realized what she meant. “Wait—do you think Preston’s been feeding us false information? That he’s dirty? No way. He lives and breathes the job. He sees police work in Navajo terms—as restoring the balance between good and evil.”
“All right, then.”
“Are you really ready to let go of that idea?” he asked, watching her reaction.
She nodded. “I never thought Preston was involved, I just wanted to know where you stood, and that I could count on you no matter what turned up.”
“You have your answer.”
They arrived at Mickey Carson’s upscale home outside of Cortez a while later and drove up the long, paved driveway to the front door.
Kendra, out of habit, stood to one side of the massive double doors as she rang the bell, and Paul did the same.
Moments later the door on their right opened. A tall, light-haired man around forty, wearing expensive wool slacks and a V-neck cashmere sweater, greeted them with a pleasant smile.
“Paul, it’s good to see you again. Daniel called a while ago, and I’ve got a flash drive ready with what you need. Sorry I can’t stick around. I’m meeting a new client at two o’clock.”
“No prob. I’ve got my laptop in the truck. I’ll make sure it loads, then we’re gone,” Paul said.
“Okay. Here’s the flash drive. Let’s do this.”
Mickey followed them to the pickup, and on the way Paul noticed three vehicles parked under a big carport. There was a white sedan, a gray SUV, and an older model black pickup. As he glanced at Kendra, he noted that she’d also been checking out Mickey’s transportation.
“Hang on while I boot it up,” Paul said, bringing out his laptop. Moments later, the data files were being transferred to the laptop hard drive.
“You can manipulate the images to accentuate whatever you want,” Mickey said. “You have a little over eight hours of feed there, but the files are still manageable because we used time lapse photography. Images are taken one per second, not continuously.”
“Thanks, Mickey,” Paul said. “Appreciate it.”
“You bet.”
As Mickey walked back to his house, Kendra went around to the driver’s side. “Let me take the wheel, Paul. I’ll drive while you deal with the laptop. It’s set up for you anyway.�
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“Sure.” He went to the passenger side, carrying his laptop. “Treat Cassie gently, okay?” he said, climbing into the cab.
“Who?” she asked, then smiled. “You gave your truck a name?”
“Yeah. Cassie’s as tough as they come, but she still deserves a gentle hand,” he said and winked.
As Kendra reached down to turn on the ignition, he saw the tiny smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.
* * *
THE GRAVEL ROAD leading back to the main highway was well maintained, but a giant rooster tail of dust still trailed in a thick cloud behind them. “The drought has really taken its toll this year, even up here in southern Colorado.” Paul said, rolling up his window.
Kendra slowed down to thirty miles per hour as she saw an approaching SUV traveling down the center of the road.
Paul, engrossed in the screen, said nothing.
“Move over, dummy,” she muttered, honking the horn.
Paul looked up and saw the vehicle. “He’s probably used to being the only driver on this road.” The large, older model, green Ford SUV was closing the gap at a rapid clip.
Kendra leaned on the horn again, then inched closer to the shoulder of the road. The empty irrigation canal on her right was less than ten feet away now.
Blaring her horn, Kendra touched the brakes and eased over to the side even more. “Maybe the guy had a seizure or something.”
“Or he’s drunk,” Paul said.
Kendra swerved across to the left, but the SUV did the same. Seconds from impact, she cut back to the right. “Hang on!”
Her heart thumping in her chest, Kendra slammed on the brakes. As the truck skidded alongside the canal, she felt the right front tire drop off. “We’re going in!” she yelled, swerving into the ditch and praying they wouldn’t roll over.
The pickup dropped into the ditch upright, metal screeching as the sides of the truck ricocheted back and forth off opposing banks. With one final bounce off the bank, they hit sand, slamming their heads on the roof as the truck came to an abrupt stop. A vast dirt cloud enveloped them.
Paul looked over at her immediately. “You okay?”
Kendra still had a death grip on the steering wheel. “I’m in one piece. Now I need to find a way to stop shaking.”
Paul lifted the door handle and pushed, but the door only opened an inch before hitting the steep inside wall of the canal. The top of the earthen wall was at least a foot above the cab. “No clearance over here, not even through the window. How about your side?”
Kendra released the wheel and tried her door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Nothing. We’re jammed, and the window is right up against the bank.”
Paul turned slowly, sniffing the air. “Do you smell that?”
“Gasoline. We must have ripped open the fuel line or the gas tank.” She took a whiff. “I think it’s coming from behind the seat, not the engine compartment. Is that better or worse?”
“I have no idea, but we better find a way out of here.” Paul turned in his seat and checked the rear cab window. Through the glass he saw a man wearing a hoodie and sunglasses standing at the top of the embankment. “We’ve got an audience.”
“Maybe it’s the jerk who ran us off the road. What’s he up to?” Kendra said.
Paul saw the man pull something from his pocket. Acting on instinct, he yanked Kendra down. A heartbeat later the windshield shattered, and they heard two loud pops in rapid succession, followed by a third.
“Stay down!” Paul yelled, covering her with his body.
As two more bullets struck inches from them, they heard a whooshing sound, followed by a boom that shook the truck. A blast of heat and flame erupted from the engine compartment.
Raising his head slightly, Paul saw the hood had blown open. Acrid smoke was billowing up around the front end of the truck, and vile fumes began seeping into the cab through the vents.
“We’ve got to get out of here right now.” Gun in hand, Paul risked a look through the rear cab window, searching for the shooter, but thick black smoke obscured his view. As it was, he could barely make out the pickup bed, which was just on the other side of the glass.
“Our only chance is to break this window and squeeze through onto the bed of the truck—right into his field of view,” he said, coughing hard as the air became increasingly thick.
“Go for it,” she said.
“Hold my weapon,” he said, handing her his pistol. He twisted around in his seat, placed his back against the passenger’s side dash, and kicked the rear cab window with his boot heel. The glass cracked but held. He kicked it again, even harder than before. This time the entire window gave way, rubber seals and all, and fell into the bed of the pickup with a thump.
He took a quick look, but the guy had disappeared. “I’m going first,” Paul said. “If he’s still out there, I’ll keep him pinned down. Hand me my weapon.”
“No. I’ll go first. I’m the one with the badge.”
“I can get through the opening faster. You’ve got too many curves.”
Before she could answer, he took the pistol from her hand, then angled his body up and through the narrow opening, leading with his weapon. A few seconds later, he landed on the bed of the truck with a thud.
“Still can’t see him. I think he’s gone,” Paul yelled back, reaching for her hand. “I’ll pull you through, but watch the edges. The metal is sharp.”
“I’m gonna leave body parts behind for sure,” she muttered, trying to protect her breasts with a forearm as she wriggled through the opening. The second half of her posed another problem. “You’re built straight up and down, but I’ve got hips. It’s just not fair.”
“You’re doing great,” he said, standing on the flatbed of the truck and lifting her up and out.
Something in her pants pocket suddenly caught, but with a painful twist to her left, she managed to slip through.
“Thanks,” she said, then took her first good look at Paul. “Your arm’s covered in blood,” she said, her voice rising.
He glanced down at the long tear on his sleeve, and the scrape beneath. “Aw, hell, this is just a scratch.”
Paul pulled her into his arms and held her for one precious moment. Then something up front popped, and the truck shook again.
“Time to bail.” Paul took her hand, they ran to the tailgate, and together they jumped down into the sandy bottom of the dry irrigation canal.
“Keep running!” he said, tugging at her hand.
They were barely fifty feet away when a thunderous explosion rocked the air. The nearly simultaneous blast of hot air threw them facedown to the ground.
Paul covered her with his body as burning truck parts rained down all around them. Seconds stretched out, and each heartbeat became an eternity. Finally, all they could hear was the roar and crackle of the fire behind them.
Paul raised his head and looked back at what was left of his truck. “Goodbye, Cassie.”
“We’re lucky to be alive, and your first words are ‘goodbye, Cassie’?” She shook her head and pushed him off of her. “Men!”
Paul laughed and gave her a hand up. “Our luck held and we’re okay,” he said, reaching to wipe away a trickle of blood that was running down his forehead. “That makes this a good day.”
Kendra checked her weapon, making sure the barrel and action weren’t clogged with dirt, then removed her holster from her belt and emptied out the sand. Finished, she looked him over and smiled. “I look like something a cat dug up, but even dirt and blood looks good on you. How do you do that?”
He laughed. This was the side of Kendra he was sure most people never saw. The girly-girl who wanted to look good and cared about things like that even now, after crashing, dodging bullets, and almost getting fried. “You look pretty good to me, woman,” he growled playfully, pulling her closer and taking her lips in a deep, satisfying kiss.
This time she didn’t pull away, and heat blasted through him. As she drew back to tak
e a breath, he saw her moist lips part. He took her mouth again, devouring her slowly.
She whimpered softly, then nuzzled the hollow of his neck. “No more. We can’t.”
“Death came calling for us today, but we’re still here. Celebrate life with me. No more wasted moments.”
He took her mouth again, not giving her a chance to protest. The way she melted against him nearly drove him over the edge.
“No,” she managed with a broken sigh and moved away. “We can’t wait around here in the open. We have to find some place safe.”
“The guy who did this probably thinks we’re dead, but you’re right. We need to leave in case he decides to come back and make sure,” he said.
“Any suggestions? Your friend Mickey’s not at home, so hiking back there is out.”
“How about Two Springs Ranch? It’s in the area and belongs to my brother Gene,” Paul said. “He’ll come get us and provide a safe place for as long as we need. I trust him—with my life and yours.”
Chapter Fifteen
An hour later Kendra was riding in the back seat of Gene’s four-wheel drive SUV. The Colorado state patrol officer had assured her that they’d sealed off the crime scene and that an ATL, attempt to locate, was out on the shooter and his green Ford SUV. The problem was that in this ranching community that was a common make of vehicle, and tracking down the right one would take time.
Gene soon braked to a stop and went to open the gate leading to Two Springs Ranch. He was still saying goodbye to someone on his cell phone when he returned. “Just checking. My wife keeps the bunkhouse ready for guests.”
“So Kendra and I are going to rough it?” Paul said, grinning.
“Not at all. You haven’t seen the changes we’ve made since you were here last,” Gene said, then looked at Kendra and explained. “The bunkhouse was initially supposed to be the rancher equivalent of a man cave, but Lori had different plans.” He glanced back at his brother. “So, should I get Doc Riley to drive over and take a look at you two?”
“Let me guess. He’s your vet?” Paul asked.
Gene laughed. “No, he’s an M.D. He had a big city practice, retired, then decided he didn’t want to sit around doing nothing all day long. He bought the ranch north of here next to Deer Trail Creek and donates time to a clinic in Dolores. He even makes house calls a couple of days a week.”