Lawman Protection

by Cindi Myers

  He lay on his stomach at the top of the opening and drew the pistol once more. Extending his arm, he squeezed off three shots in rapid succession. Then he threw himself farther to the side, out of reach of the barrage of gunfire that immediately answered his challenge. He picked up at rock and fired a fastball toward the shooters, drawing another round of fire.

  He slid back down the rubble to where Emma waited, arms folded across her chest. “Since you seem to be all right, I won’t waste my breath lecturing you on the foolishness of risking your life,” she said.

  “There’s two of them, and they’re both positioned under one of those pop-up shade shelters, next to a Jeep, to one side of the mine entrance. They’ve got a perfect view of the opening, and at that close range, even in the dark they’d mow us down with no trouble at all.”

  “Then why do you sound so cheerful?” she asked.

  “Because—since they assume they have all the advantages, they’ve gotten lazy. They’ve positioned themselves too close to the entrance, they’ve lit a lantern and both of them are together, instead of spread out.”

  “So you’re going to shoot them before they shoot you?” She shifted her gaze to the pistol.

  He shook his head. “I couldn’t get a good aim without presenting myself as a clear target, and they could too easily see me first and duck down behind the Jeep.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to give them a bigger problem to think about than the two of us.” He started back down the tunnel, retreating the way they’d come.

  “Where are you going?” she cried, hurrying to follow him.

  “I just need to retrieve a couple of things.” Now that he knew where he was going, the trip down the narrow corridor didn’t seem to take as long. He dragged himself along, ignoring the pain, focused on his plan. If this didn’t work, he and Emma would probably both end up dead. Maybe the smart thing was to wait for help to arrive. By now the other Rangers must be looking for them.

  But any moment now, the two guards under the shade canopy might grow bored with waiting and decide to come in after them. He and Emma and his pistol stood little chance against the two guards and their AR-15s. Better to risk escape while they still had a chance.

  He stopped at the entrance to the storage tunnel that held the missile and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Not that I don’t love the sight of you naked, Captain, but now doesn’t quite seem the time,” she said.

  “I don’t want to bother taking off the sling.” He extended one arm to her. “See if you can start a tear and rip most of the shirt off me.”

  “This is sounding more interesting all the time. What are you planning?”

  “I need the torn fabric to make a fuse.”

  She didn’t ask “a fuse for what?” Instead, she grasped the hem of the shirt and bit at it, then ripped at the resulting small tear, splitting the shirt in half. She slid it off his shoulder and held it out to him.

  “Could you tear it into strips, about an inch and a half to two inches wide?”

  While she worked on the cloth, he ducked into the storage chamber and fished two glass Coke bottles from the pile of trash. Then he headed for the gas cans stashed in the corner. Grasping the nearest one, he heard the satisfying slosh of the contents. Quickly, he filled both bottles two-thirds full, then he made his way back to Emma, careful not to spill the gas.

  She wrinkled her nose as he approached. “Do I smell gasoline?”

  “You do.” He knelt and stuffed a long strip of rag into each bottle.

  “Molotov cocktails?” she asked.

  “Exactly. How’s your pitching arm?” he asked.

  “I throw like a girl. But I was on a pretty good interleague softball team two summers ago and I held my own.”

  “Do you think you could throw one of these about thirty feet?”

  “I could probably manage that. What am I aiming for?”

  “Their Jeep. I’m going to try to pitch the other one into their shade canopy. While they’re dealing with the resultant fire and explosions, we make a break for it.”

  “Do you have a lighter?”

  “I do.” He reached into his pack. “Once these are lit, we have to get rid of them fast. And be careful not to spill any gasoline on you on your way over the rubble.”

  “We’re not in a big hurry to get up there, right?” she said. “I’ll crawl carefully. And here. I’d better ditch these.” She slipped off the red high heels and stuffed them into the pack. “I might want them later, but for now I’ll do better without them.”

  He slipped the pack over his shoulder once more and, each holding a bottle, they crept back up the tunnel to the mine entrance. “You’ll need to stand up to get the best trajectory,” he said. “The moment right before you release the bottle is the most dangerous, when they might see you and fire. So I’ll go first.”

  “How chivalrous.”

  “It’s not just chivalry. I can throw harder and farther, so I don’t have to move as far forward into the opening.” None of that played into his reasoning, of course. But in order to protect Emma, he needed to appeal to her sense of independence and fair play. She’d appreciate logic and facts more than emotions.

  “I don’t know whether to be insulted or impressed that with one arm in a sling you still think you can throw farther and harder than me.”

  “Emma, this isn’t up for debate. I’ll throw my bomb, then you throw yours.”

  “I wasn’t objecting to your orders, merely your reasoning.” She stepped forward and kissed his cheek, her lips a soft caress, unexpected in the tension of the moment. “Thanks for trying to distract me,” she said. “And for not getting mushy. I don’t think I could take that.”

  “I’ll save the mush for later.” He stared into her eyes. If these were his last moments on earth, he couldn’t think of a better last image to take with him. “We’re going to get out of this,” he said.

  She nodded. “I trust you.”

  He angled his hip toward her. “The lighter’s in my pocket. You’re going to have to ignite the fuses.”

  She fished out the lighter, fumbling a little. “Sorry,” she said. “My hands are shaking.”

  “You’re doing fine. Light mine, and as soon as I’ve launched it, light yours, throw it and run like hell. Head right, as far away from them as you can.”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready.”

  The lighter flared, and she held the flame to the end of the cloth fuse. It smoldered, then caught. “Step back,” he said as he raised his arm for his windup.

  The bomb sailed in a perfect arc and landed on top of the shade canopy, where it exploded, raining fire down onto the two guards beneath. Graham stepped to one side and Emma moved up. She tossed underhand, but her aim was just as effective. The bomb exploded in the front seat of the Jeep.

  “Run!” he shouted, and took off.

  * * *

  EMMA WOULD HAVE given a month’s worth of chocolate for a pair of tennis shoes just then. Sharp rocks cut into her feet, and she repeatedly stumbled on the uneven ground, stubbing her toes and twisting her ankles. But terror was a powerful anesthetic, and she scarcely felt the pain as she followed Graham on an undulating course through the rock and scrub. She struggled for breath and clutched at the stitch in her side. Tears streamed down her face and one knee began to throb. But still she ran, too afraid to stop, or even to risk a look back.

  After what felt like an hour, but was probably only ten minutes or so, Graham slowed and dropped down behind a large boulder. “Let’s...rest...a minute,” he panted.

  She collapsed beside him and rested her forehead on her drawn-up knees. “What’s happening back there?” she asked. “Can you see?”

  “I can see the glow f
rom the fire. They’re probably trying to put it out. It doesn’t look like they’re following.”

  “But they probably will follow, eventually,” she said. “We won’t be that difficult to track.” She looked down at her bruised, bleeding feet. “And I won’t be able to go much farther without shoes,” she said.

  He rummaged in the backpack and pulled out a pair of thick wool socks. “Put these on. They won’t help much, but they’re better than nothing.”

  She slid on the socks. “What else do you have in that magic pack of yours?” she asked. “Any chocolate?”

  “No chocolate. A space blanket, duct tape, a whistle, a mirror and fire starters. Basic survival gear.”

  “Socks.”

  “Wet feet or blisters will slow you down faster than almost anything.”

  “Well, I’m glad you have them. I think they’ll help some.”

  “If things get too bad, I’ll carry you,” he said.

  The image of Graham trying to lug her five-eleven, well-padded frame across the prairie surprised a laugh from her. “You will do no such thing. I’d be more likely to be able to carry you.”

  “Don’t test me, Emma. A fireman’s carry can be pretty uncomfortable, but effective. Don’t think I won’t sling you over my shoulder if I have to.”

  “You won’t have to.” She wouldn’t make another complaint, and she would keep up, even if her feet fell off.

  “Are you about ready to move on?” he asked. “We shouldn’t stay in one place too long.”

  “All right.” She shoved to her feet, biting her lip to keep from crying out.

  “We don’t have to run.” He took her hand. “We can walk.”

  Even walking was painful, though she forced herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other without complaint. They stayed in the cover of trees and rocks as much as possible, but the added darkness made walking that much more difficult. She kept tripping over rocks and roots and she felt bruised all over. That last drink of water in the mine was a fond memory. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “We’re headed for the highway. Once there, we should be able to flag someone down and call headquarters.”

  “How do you know which way to go?”

  “I have a good sense of direction.”

  Of course he did. Not that she wasn’t glad he was so competent, but being in a relationship with a superhero was just a little intimidating. She wasn’t used to having someone who was so capable of looking after her. After so many years of relying only on herself, the idea that someone else was looking out for her unsettled her. Not that she couldn’t get used to it. A little more time in his arms and she might willingly let him carry her—or at least try.

  A low droning, like the buzzing of a large bee, vibrated the air around her. She looked around, but saw nothing. “What is that?” she asked.

  Graham stopped and listened. “I don’t know.” He looked around them, then pulled her into the shelter of a group of piñons. The buzzing noise grew louder.

  “Is it a glider, or something?” Emma pointed at a light in the sky. The glowing light gradually grew larger, the buzzing louder. “I know—it’s one of those remote-controlled planes,” she said. “My neighbor used to belong to a club for people who met every weekend to fly their planes, some of which cost thousands of dollars. Someone must have driven out here to practice their hobby. Maybe he has a phone.” She started to move out from the cover of the trees, but Graham pulled her back.

  “No one’s going to be out here in the middle of the night flying a hobby plane.” He’d fished a pair of binoculars from the pack and had them focused on the light. “Though you’re right that it’s remote-controlled, after a fashion.” He handed her the glasses.

  She studied the gray, futuristic-looking craft. She’d seen photographs in the newspaper, but surely this couldn’t be. Did thirst make people hallucinate? She swallowed hard, and forced the words past her parched lips. “Is that a drone?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Graham restowed the binoculars in the pack. “It’s a drone,” he said. More proof that Prentice was behind this. Who else in the area could afford such an exotic toy? “Instead of sending men to look for us, Prentice sent out his drone. He can use it to pinpoint our position, then send someone out to pick us off.”

  The drone buzzed slowly over the copse of trees that shielded them. “Can it see us down here?” Emma asked.

  “Probably not, if it’s just equipped with a camera. An infrared scanner could spot us, though.”

  “Prentice can afford all the hottest technology toys,” she said. “I’m betting he sprang for the infrared.”

  “Whether or not it can see us, as soon as we can, we should move on,” he said. “We need to find a good place to hide, and to make a stand if they come for us.”

  “I’m not going to cower behind some rock and let them kill me.” Anger brought a flush to her pale cheeks and glittered in her eyes. “I’m sick of these people seeing me as a victim—someone they can pick off at will. I’m going to show them I’ll fight back with everything I have.”

  “You were never a victim.” He pulled her close. “You’re one of the strongest women I know.”

  “So you’re not going to tell me if I had minded my own business and let the police do their work unhampered by my badgering, I wouldn’t be in this fix—and you wouldn’t, either, for that matter?”

  “I’d as soon try to tell water to run uphill.”

  “That’s not how you acted when we first met. You made it plain I was the enemy.”

  He wanted to deny the charge, but Emma would see through the lie. “I might have thought that when we first met, but no more. You were right to push for more information, and though I didn’t always agree with your methods, it’s clear you’ve struck a nerve. Thanks to your prodding, Prentice has showed his hand. I think this case is about to break wide-open, and I owe part of the credit to you.”

  “You’re not the only one who’s big enough to admit to a change of opinion,” she said. “I’ve seen how hard you work, and how good you are at your job. You would have solved this case without me. I only sped things up a bit.”

  The buzzing of the drone increased as it made another pass. “We haven’t solved anything yet,” Graham said. “I’m more sure of my suspicions, but I don’t have proof. But as soon as we’re safe again, I’ll set about getting it. Prentice and his expensive lawyers won’t slip away this time.”

  The drone passed overhead, then headed west, away from them. Graham took his arm from around Emma. “We’d better go,” he said.

  He kept their course toward the road, moving as quickly as they could. Emma limped along, grim faced and in obvious pain, but uncomplaining. Her fashionable dress was streaked with dirt from the mine, the hem undone on one side and her hair a wild tangle. Most of her makeup had worn off. But her spirit and determination struck him as more beautiful than any physical perfection.

  After this was all over, he’d ask her to go on vacation with him. To the beach, or a lake, where they could be alone and truly get to know each other better. Somewhere far away from drug runners and drones.

  “Do you see any place to hide and make our stand?” she asked.

  “No.” Unfortunately, the closer they got to the main highway, the more open the terrain. The ground sloped gradually toward a valley, the coarse, gravelly soil pocked with clumps of sage and bunchgrass and the occasional spiky prickly pear. If there had ever been trees here, they’d been cut down a generation ago to build fences, houses and corrals for the ranchers who had once homesteaded the land. The almost full moon shone down like a spotlight, making him and Emma visible to anyone who might be searching for them. Their only hope was to reach the highway, and help, before their enemies found them.

  “Then I think we’re in trou
ble,” Emma said. She sounded calm, but when he turned to look back at her, she’d turned sickly pale. She pointed behind her. “Someone’s coming, and they’re in a hurry.”

  Two headlights headed directly toward them. Within minutes, the vehicle would be on them, but long before that, they’d be in range of a rifle.

  “Get behind me.” Graham pulled her behind his back and drew his gun. If a gunman in the Jeep decided to pick them off they’d both be dead within seconds, but if their goal was to take the two of them prisoner, he might have a chance, at least, to do some damage before they were taken.

  Emma’s fingers dug into his unhurt shoulder. “Should we surrender?” she asked. “Ask for mercy?”

  “These people haven’t shown a lot of mercy so far.” He tightened his grip on the weapon. “When they get closer, run,” he said. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”

  “Graham, that’s suicide.”

  “Then at least I’ll have died protecting someone I love.” It was the closest he could come to professing his feelings for her. He hoped she didn’t think the words sounded forced or phony. He meant them with all his heart, even if he would have chosen a better time to say them.

  In answer, she squeezed harder and pressed her face against his back, saying nothing.

  The vehicle was close enough now that he could make out that it was similar to the ones Prentice’s guards drove. The glare of the headlights prevented him from seeing much, though he thought he saw the silhouette of two men, a passenger and a driver. At least one of the men was armed, the butt of the weapon braced on his thigh. Graham took careful aim. A few more seconds, and they’d be within range.