Christmas Justice (Carder Texas Connections #7)(15)

Laurel would have every right to run once she learned the truth, but he couldn’t allow that. James’s call had done more than warn them. James had risked Garrett’s life—and his own—to save the McCallister family. Garrett wouldn’t let him down. He owed James too much. He owed the men who had killed his wife and daughter, Laurel’s sister and her family—and maybe James—justice. Not courtroom justice, though. The kind that couldn’t be bought or bargained for.

“Let’s call me a friend and leave it at that,” Garrett finally said. “A friend who will try to keep you safe.”

“A friend,” Laurel mused. “Why doesn’t your comment engender me with faith?”

Garrett gripped the steering wheel tight.

“You came to me, Laurel.”

“And if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be putting our lives in the hands of someone I don’t know if I can trust to keep us alive. I like to have all the facts, all the data. You don’t add up, Sheriff Garrett Galloway. And that makes me nervous.”

What could he say? Her words thrust a sword into his heart. He hadn’t been good enough to protect his family. He hadn’t seen the true risks when he’d followed up on a small leak at the agency. That one thread had led to their deaths.

Within minutes, the small dirt road appeared. He veered the SUV onto it, the narrow lanes barely visible. The farther they drove in, the bumpier it got. And the more the tension in his chest eased.

Soon they’d started a climb into the Guadalupe Mountains. Leafless branches scraped the sides of the vehicle. Before too long an outcropping of rock blocked their way.

Relieved that the county hadn’t seen fit to clear the debris off the glorified cow path, Garrett backed the vehicle into a small clearing. Branches closed over the windshield, barricading them in.

With a sigh he shoved the gear into Park.

“Waiting again?” Laurel asked. “I can’t imagine anyone would follow us here.”

“The rest of the way to the cattle ranch is on foot. I didn’t want the place to be too easy to find.”

“I’m known for my sense of direction and I studied the terrain, but even I’m not sure I could find my way here.”

“That was the point of buying it,” Garrett said. He pressed a button on his watch and the face lit up. “Several hours until daylight. To dangerous to go by foot. One wrong move and we step into nothing and down a two-hundred-foot drop.” He reached behind his seat and pulled out a blanket and pillow, thrusting them at her. “Get some rest. When the sun comes up, we’ll hike the rest of the way.”

“We’ll start the search for my father tomorrow?” she pressed, taking the pillow and holding it close to her chest. “I can help. I have my own contacts.”

He nodded, but he had his doubts. Laurel might be a gifted analyst, but the moment they ran a few searches, whoever was behind this would start backtracking. Garrett might not know the names of the traitors, but he knew a few dollar amounts. It was in the billions. Too much money was involved for them not to be tracking. Loyalty shouldn’t be for sale, but it was.

Which was why Ivy was dead.

Damn it. Garrett should have come out of hiding sooner. He shouldn’t have listened to James. He’d wanted to believe his old mentor was close. He’d wanted to believe justice was in their grasp.

“Try to sleep,” he said. “Light will come soon.”

Laurel snuggled down under the blanket. Garrett shifted his seat back a bit. He’d slept in far worse places.

His hand reached for his weapon. He had to find a way to end this thing. Not only for his family, but before Laurel and Molly paid the price their family had.

The question was how.

James had obviously slipped up.

Garrett couldn’t afford to.

A small sigh of sleep escaped from the woman beside him. He tilted his head toward Laurel.

Her blue eyes blinked at him.

“Are we going to get out of this alive?” she whispered. “Truth.”

“I don’t know.”

*

THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS decorating every damn corner in Trouble, Texas, twinkled with irritating randomness. Strickland’s eye twitched. He leaned forward toward the steering wheel as far as he could and still maneuver the vehicle.

He passed by the sheriff’s house for the fifteenth time.

Still dark, still deserted.

Headlights illuminated a house ahead.

Strickland whipped the steering wheel and turned down a side street to avoid the deputy crawling all over town. He plowed through a mailbox. With a curse he righted the car.

“Face it,” Krauss said, propping his leather work shoe against the dash. “We lost them.”

“We can’t,” Strickland muttered. “She has to die. Her and the kid.”

He made his way to Main and pressed the gas pedal. Trouble was a dead end. The SUV shot ahead. The deserted streets of the small town slipped past. They headed into the eerie pitch blackness of the desert without headlights to light the way.

“We have to tell the boss that the McCallister woman is alive, Mike. There’s no way we can keep it a secret.”

“We still have another day or two,” Strickland argued, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. Just the thought made his chest hurt. His pulse picked up speed. He knew what the boss would do. What had been done to others.