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“I was right. Great, just great,” Garrett said under his breath, cradling a sobbing Molly in his arms.
He rocked her slightly. She tucked her head against his shoulder and gripped his neck, her little fingers digging into his hair. He held her tighter while his narrowed gaze scrutinized the alley behind his house. A chill bit through the night, and Molly shivered in his arms. He needed to get them both inside and warm, but not in the place he’d never called home.
Another thirty seconds passed. No movement. The shooter probably didn’t have an accomplice, but he couldn’t assume anything. Assumptions got people dead.
A quick in and out. That was all he needed.
He led Laurel into the backyard of the house James McCallister had purchased on Garrett’s behalf and closed the gate. He wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. His time in Trouble had ended the moment he’d tackled Laurel to the ground.
But he needed his go-bag and a few supplies. On his own, it wouldn’t have mattered. He shifted Molly’s weight in his arms. These two needed more shelter than to camp out in the West Texas desert in December.
Molly clung to him tightly. He rubbed her back and his heart shifted in his chest. God, so familiar. The memories of his daughter, Ella, flooded back. Along with the pain. He couldn’t let the past overcome him. Not with these two needing him. He led them to the wood stack.
“Give me a minute,” he whispered. “Stay out of sight, and I’ll be right back.”
He tried to pass Molly to Laurel, but the little girl whimpered and gripped him even tighter.
“It’s okay, sugar. Your aunt Laurel will take good care of you.”
With one last pat, he handed Molly to Laurel, his arms feeling strangely empty without the girl’s weight. Laurel settled her niece in her arms, her expression pained. He understood. “She’s just afraid,” he said.
“I know, and I haven’t protected her.” Laurel hunkered down behind the woodpile. She pulled out her pistol. “I won’t fail again.”
Laurel McCallister had grit, that was for sure. He liked that about her. “I’ll be back soon.”
He sped across the backyard, slipped the key into the lock and did a quick sweep of the house, eyeing any telling details. He couldn’t leave a trace behind. Nothing to lead any unwelcome visitors to his small cattle ranch in the Guadalupes or to his stashed money and vehicle.
Garrett pressed a familiar number on his phone.
“Sheriff? What happened? Practically the whole town is calling me.” Deputy Keller’s voice shook a bit.
“Old man McCreary’s not putting a posse together, right?” Garrett had a few old-timers in this town who thought they lived in the 1800s. This part of Texas could still be wild, but not that wild.
“I talked his poker buddies out of encouraging him,” Keller said. “It’s weird ordering my old high school principal around.”
Garrett pocketed a notebook and a receipt or two, then headed straight for his bedroom. “Look, Keller, I’ll be incommunicado tracking this guy. I don’t want to shoot anyone by mistake. Keep them indoors.”
“You need me, Sheriff?”
“Man the phones and keep your eyes out for strangers, Deputy. Don’t go after them, Keller. Just call me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Garrett ended the call. If the men following Laurel and Molly had a mission, his town was safe. Assassins tended to have singular focus. He probably wasn’t the target, except as an opportunity. Still, Ivy had known his name. She’d said he was right. He couldn’t be certain how much of his identity had been compromised.
If anyone had associated Derek Bradley with Garrett Galloway before today, he’d already be dead. He might still have surprise on his side, but he couldn’t count on it. And if he’d been right...well, that was all fine. It didn’t make him feel any better. There was a traitor in the agency, and he didn’t know who. Ivy’s message hadn’t identified the perp.
Garrett grabbed his go-bag from the closet, then opened a drawer in his thrift-store dresser. He eased out an old, faded photo from beneath the drawer liner.
“It’ll be over soon.” He glanced at the images he’d stared at for a good two hours after his shift earlier. Hell, it was almost Christmas.
Tomboy that she’d been, his daughter, Ella, would have been after him about a new football or a basketball hoop, while Lisa would’ve rolled her eyes and wondered when her daughter might want the princess dress—or any dress, for that matter. His throat tightened. He’d never know what kind of woman Ella would have become. Her life had ended before it had begun.
Garrett missed them so much. Every single day. He’d survived the injuries from the explosion for one reason—to make whoever had murdered his family pay. He wouldn’t stop until he’d achieved his goal. He’d promised them. He’d promised himself.
He ground his teeth and stuffed the photo into the pocket of his bag. The perps should already be dead. He and James had failed for eighteen months and now...what the hell had happened? Now James’s daughter Ivy had paid the ultimate price. And Laurel was on the run.
James was... Who knew where his mentor was?
The squeak of the screen door ricocheted through the house. He’d been inside only a few minutes. He slipped his gun from his shoulder holster and rounded into the hall, weapon ready.
Laurel stilled, Molly in her arms. “She has to go to the bathroom,” she said with a grimace.
“Hurry,” Garrett muttered, pointing toward his bedroom. “We can’t stay. I wore my uniform and badge tonight. If they saw it, they’ll find this place all too easily.”
Laurel scurried into his room and Garrett headed to the kitchen. By the time they returned, he’d stuffed a few groceries into a sack. “Let’s go.”
Gripping his weapon, he led them outside. The door’s creak intruded on the night, clashing with the winter quiet. Pale light bathed the yard in shadows. A gust of December wind bit against Garrett’s cheeks. A tree limb shuddered.
He scanned the hiding places, but saw no movement, save the wind.
Still, he couldn’t guarantee their safety.
“Where are we going?” Laurel asked, her voice low.
Garrett glanced at her, then Molly. “I have an untraceable vehicle lined up. We’ll hole up for the night. You need rest. Then after I do a bit of digging, we’ll see.”
Laurel had brought his past to Trouble. No closing it away again. If his innocent visitors weren’t in so much danger, Garrett would have welcomed the excuse to wait it out. His trigger finger itched to face the men responsible for killing his wife and daughter. Except a bullet was too good for them. They needed to die slowly and painfully.
Garrett might have failed to protect his family once, but he wouldn’t allow their killer to escape again. He didn’t particularly care whether he left the confrontation alive, as long as the traitor ended up in a pine box.
He just prayed he could get these two to safety before the final battle went down.
* * *
LAUREL STOOD ALONE just behind a hedge at the end of the alley, out of sight, squeezing the butt of her weapon in one hand, balancing Molly against her with the other. Garrett had risked crossing those streets to retrieve his vehicle, putting himself in the crosshairs in case the shooters came back.
Every choice he’d made focused on protecting them, not himself. She shivered, but it wasn’t the winter chill. She’d made a choice eighteen hundred miles ago to come here. Garrett’s immediate response to their arrival had frozen her soul. Now instinct screamed at her to run, to disappear, to try to forget the past and somehow start over.
Maybe she should. He knew what they were up against. He was worried. Maybe vanishing would be easier. She didn’t see Garrett Galloway as a man who would give up easily. But sometimes accepting the reality and moving on was the only way to survive.
A dark SUV pulled into the alley, lights off. Garrett stepped out. “Laurel?” he whispered, searching the hedges with his gaze.
She almost stayed hidden, frozen for a moment. She had some cash. People lived off the grid all the time. So could she.
She could feel his penetrating gaze, compelling her to trust him. What was it about him...?
With a deep, determined breath, she stepped out from behind the hedge. Beads of sap still stuck to her pants from hiding in the firewood pile. The scent of pine flashed her back to memories of camping and fishing and running wild without a care in the world. Her heart broke for Molly. Could Laurel help her niece find that joy after everything that had happened?
Laurel was so far out of her element. She’d taken a leap of faith coming to Trouble and to Garrett, trusting her sister’s final words. Her sister had known she was dying; she wouldn’t have steered Laurel into danger. Laurel could only pray she had understood Ivy correctly.
She carried Molly to the vehicle. Garrett didn’t say anything, but his dark and knowing eyes made Laurel tremble. Did he know she’d almost taken off?
“You decided not to run,” he said, opening the door. “I pegged it at a fifty-fifty chance.”
He could see right through her. She didn’t like it. “I almost did,” she admitted. “But I can’t let them get away with what they’ve done.” She pushed back a lock of Molly’s hair and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Our lives have been turned upside down. Can you help us?”
She didn’t usually lay her vulnerabilities out so easily, but this was life and death. She needed his help. They both knew it.
He gave her a sharp nod. “I’ll do what I can.”
She placed Molly in the backseat and buckled her up. Laurel climbed in beside her. She tucked the little girl against her side. “Where to?”
“I contacted a friend. We need food for a few days. He runs the local motel and does some cooking on the side.” Garrett paused. “I don’t know how long we’ll be on the road. His sister is about your size. I noticed that Molly has a change of clothes, but not you.”
Laurel could feel the heat climb up her face at the idea he’d studied her body to determine her size. But he was right. They’d left so quickly, she hadn’t had time to do more than purchase a few pairs of underwear at a convenience store. How many men would even think about that?
Garrett didn’t turn on the SUV’s lights. He drove the backstreets, then pulled up to the side of the Copper Mine Motel behind a huge pine tree, making certain the dark vehicle was out of sight from the road. A huge, barrel-chested man with a sling on one arm eased out of the side door. His wild hair and lip piercing seemed at odds with his neatly trimmed beard, but clearly he’d been on the lookout for them.
Garrett rolled down the passenger-door window. “Thanks, Hondo.”
The man stuck his head inside and scanned Laurel and Molly. The little girl’s eyes widened when she stared at his arm. “Who drew on you?” she asked.
Hondo chuckled. “A very expensive old geezer, little lady,” he said. He placed a large sack on the seat, then a small tote. “You’re right, Sheriff. She’s about Lucy’s size. These clothes are brand-new. Just jeans and some shirts and a few unmentionables.” His cheeks flushed a bit.
Laurel scrambled into her pocket and pulled out some bills. “Thank—”
Hondo held up his hand. “No can do.” He looked at the sheriff. “If you want them to stay here—”
“After what happened last time, Hondo, I won’t let you risk it. Thanks, though.” Garrett handed Hondo his badge. “When folks start asking, give this to the mayor.”
“Sheriff—”
Laurel clutched the back of the seat, her fingers digging into the leather. She wanted to stop him from giving up his life, but she’d brought trouble to his town. She’d left him with no choice.
“We all have a past, Hondo. Mine just happened to ride in tonight. Something I have to deal with.”
Hondo nodded, and Laurel recognized the communication between the two men. The silent words made her heart sink with trepidation.
“Keep an eye on Deputy Keller. He’s young and eager, and he needs guidance.” Garrett drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Come to think of it, you’d make a good sheriff, Hondo. You’ve got the skills.”
“Nah.” Hondo’s expression turned grim. “I won’t fire a gun anymore, and I couldn’t put up with the mayor. He’s a—” Hondo glanced at Molly “—letch and a thief.”
“And willing to take a payoff. I should know. It’s how I became sheriff.”
Hondo’s eyebrow shot up. “You still did a good job. Best since I’ve lived here.”
Garrett shrugged and shifted the truck into Drive. “Goodbye, Hondo.”
A small woman with wild gray hair shuffled out of the motel, a bandage on her head. “Hondo?” her shaky voice whispered. “Cookies.”
Hondo’s expression changed from fierce to utter tenderness in seconds. “Now, sis, you’re not supposed to be out of bed. You’re just out of the hospital.” He sent Garrett an apologetic grimace.
“But you said you wanted to give them cookies,” she said, holding a bag and giving Hondo a bright smile.
Laurel studied the woman. She seemed so innocent for her age, almost childlike.
The older woman’s gaze moved to Garrett and she smiled, a wide, naive grin. “Hi, Sheriff. Hondo made chocolate chip today.”
“We can’t say no to Hondo’s famous cookies, Lucy.”
Garrett’s smile tensed, and his gaze skirted the streets. Did he see something? Laurel peered through the tinted windows. The roads appeared deserted.
Lucy passed the bag to Hondo. An amazing smell permeated the car through the open window.
Molly pressed forward against her seat belt. “Can I have one, Sheriff Garrett?”
Hondo glanced at Laurel, his gaze seeking permission. She nodded and Hondo pulled a cookie from the bag. “Here you go, little lady.”
With eager hands, Molly took the treat. She breathed in deeply, then stuffed almost the entire cookie into her mouth.
Lucy giggled. “She’s hungry.”
Hondo placed a protective arm around his sister. “They’ve got to leave, Lucy. Let’s go in.”
She waved. “’Bye.” Hondo led her back into the house, treating her as if she were spun of fragile glass.
Garrett rolled up the window, lights still off. He turned down the street. “She was shot in the head a couple months ago. We didn’t think she’d make it.”
Laurel wiped several globs of chocolate from Molly’s mouth. “You’ve made a place for yourself in this town.” She resettled the sleepy girl against her body. “I’m sorry.” What else could she say?
“They’ll find someone else. Things will continue just as they did before I came to Trouble.”
The muscle at the base of his jaw tensed, but Laurel couldn’t tell if he really didn’t mind leaving or if something about this small town had worked its way under his skin. She didn’t know him well enough to ask, so she kept quiet and studied the route he took. Just in case.
He headed west down one of the side streets almost the entire distance of town.
Laurel couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Where are we going?”
Garrett met her gaze in the mirror. “I’m taking the long way to the preacher’s house. The church auxiliary keeps it ready, hoping they can convince a minister to come to Trouble. It’s been empty for almost a year.”
“We’re just hiding across town?”
“Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight,” Garrett said. “Besides, I want to do a little searching online. See what I can discover about your sister.”
“There was never a news report on the car bomb,” Laurel said quietly. On the way here, she’d searched frantically at any internet café or library she could. She kept expecting some news story on an investigation, but she’d seen nothing except a clipping about a tragic accident. In fact, they’d simply stated the entire family had perished in a vehicle fire.
She hugged Molly closer.
