Christmas Justice (Carder Texas Connections #7)(16)

“Too risky. If we come clean—”

“We’re dead.”

Strickland’s phone rang.

He yanked the steering wheel and nearly drove off the road. Cursing, he straightened the vehicle.

The glowing screen on the phone turned into a beacon in the night.

Krauss shoved it at Strickland. “It’s the boss.”

“How—?” He pressed the call button. “Strickland.” He forced his voice to sound confident, arrogant.

“The car made the papers,” his boss said. “The coroner believes the family died. Well done.”

“Thank you.” A shiver tickled the back of his neck, as if a black-widow spider had crawled up the base of his skull.

“I have another job for you. It’s important.”

A string of curses flooded through Strickland’s brain. Another job. He had to finish this one first. He couldn’t leave it undone. “Of course.”

“Two years ago. Another car bomb. Another family. You were in charge.”

Strickland remembered it well. No mistakes that time. He’d earned the boss’s trust on that job.

“Our target is alive.”

Strickland slammed the brakes. The car skidded to a halt. “What?”

“You told me he was dead.”

“He wasn’t breathing. No way he could have survived those burns.” Strickland pulled at his hair. God, a mistake. No. He jumped out of the SUV and paced the pavement. His hand shook as he gripped the phone. Mistakes weren’t tolerated. Ever.

“Well, he did. I’m taking care of that loose end. I want you to finish the job. Make certain this time.”

Strickland turned on his heel and glared at the twinkling lights of Trouble. He was so screwed. “I’ll find him. You can count on me.”

“We’ll see.”

His heart thudded against his chest; his stomach rolled. Bile burned his throat.

“I’ll search for him. He can’t hide.”

“He’s not living under his real name.”

Krauss rounded the vehicle. Maybe they could split up. It was the only way either man would make it off this assignment alive.

“How do I find him?”

“Your target is Sheriff Garrett Galloway. Trouble, Texas. Kill him this time, Strickland. Be very sure he’s dead.”

Strickland met Krauss’s wide-eyed gaze. He’d heard the words. His partner shook his head in disbelief.

“Oh, and, Strickland? This is your last chance. One more less-than-adequate performance and you’ll pray your life will end well before I allow it.”

*

A SLIVER OF SUN peeked over the horizon, the light pricking Laurel awake. She blinked. The muted blue of the winter sky through the windshield brightened with each passing moment. Her cheek pressed against the leather seat. Awareness of the past week washed over her, drowning her in grief.

Ivy, her family. Her father.

Molly.

She jerked her head to one side, then the other, her gaze finally resting on Molly’s sweet face.

“She’s hasn’t stirred,” Garrett whispered, his voice low and husky.

Laurel longed to reach out and cuddle her niece, to touch her, to be certain. Molly’s pink cheeks were just visible at the edge of the blanket; a small frown tugged at her mouth.

“No nightmares?” Laurel asked, shifting in her seat, combing her hair back from her face with her fingers.

“A few whimpers in the middle of the night. She’s obviously exhausted.”

“She can’t wrap her mind around what happened.” Laurel avoided Garrett’s sympathetic gaze. She pretended to study the rugged bark of the pi?on branches rapping gently against the window. “I can’t understand most of the time.”

He said nothing, and for that she was thankful. What could he say?

She sent him a sidelong glance. She’d avoided thinking about him as a man, but now, in the close proximity, she couldn’t deny her heart stuttered a bit when she looked at him. He was handsome, but that wasn’t what drew her. The hard line of his jaw, the determination in his eyes. And his gentleness with Molly. He was the kind of man she could fall for.

Smart, driven and deadly, but with a kind soul. And a heart.

She wanted to reach out and touch him. Just once. She blinked, staring at him. His gaze had narrowed, an awareness in his eyes.

He felt it, too.

The next moment, she wondered if she’d imagined the spark between them. He blinked; the heat doused.

Garrett pulled her SIG from below the seat. “You have extra ammo?”

“Of course,” she said. “In my duffel. Dad trained me to go everywhere prepared.”

“Not to mention the agency.”

“They weren’t as tough as my father.”

A small grin tugged at the edge of Garrett’s mouth. “So true. I’m going to check out the ranch house. If I’m not back in one hour, I want you to leave.” He handed her the keys and a slip of paper. “Contact Daniel Adams. He’s the only other person I know who can get you the kind of help you need.”

She pocketed the number and clutched the butt of the SIG.

“I’ll be back,” he said, opening the door.

“Be careful.”

He tipped the brim of his Stetson before closing the door softly.