Christmas Justice (Carder Texas Connections #7)(2)

Laurel’s training took over. She plastered herself flat to the ground. A shot hit the tree behind her. With a quick roll, she cursed. Her weapon was locked up in the gun safe inside the house. A loud thwack hit the ground inches from her ear. The assault had come from the hedges.

“Traitor!” Ivy’s raspy voice shouted a weak curse.

Another shot rang out.

The bullet struck true, hitting Ivy right in the temple.

Horrified, Laurel scampered a few feet, using the fire as a shield between her and the gunman. She panted, ignoring the pain ripping through her heart. She would grieve later. She had one job: protect Molly.

Sirens roared through the night sky. A curse rang out followed by at least two sets of footsteps, the sound diminishing.

Thank God they’d run. Laurel had one chance. She flung open the door and grabbed a sobbing Molly in her arms. She hugged her tight, then kicked the door closed.

Through the break in the curtains, she watched. A squad car tore into the driveway. No way. That cop had gotten here way too fast. Laurel pressed Molly against her, then locked the dead bolt.

She sagged against the wall. “Oh, Ivy.”

“Aunt Laurel?” Molly’s small voice choked through her sobs. “I want Mommy and Daddy.”

“Me, too, pumpkin.”

Laurel squeezed her niece tighter. She had two choices: trust the cop outside or follow her sister’s advice.

After the past two months... She slipped the bracelet from her father into her pocket, then snagged a photo from the wall. Her sister and family, all smiles. She had no choice. The high-tech bomb, the cop’s quick arrival. It smelled of setup.

Laurel raced through the house and grabbed Molly’s antibiotics and the weapon from the gun safe, half expecting the cop to bang on the door. When he didn’t, Laurel knew she was right. She peeked through the curtains. Her sister’s body was gone. And so was the police car.

The flames sparked higher and Laurel nearly doubled over in pain.

The sound of a fire engine penetrated the house. No time left. She snagged the envelope her father had sent and stuffed it into a canvas bag along with a blanket and Molly’s favorite stuffed lion.

She bundled Molly into her coat, lifted her niece into her arms and ran out the back door. Laurel’s feet slapped on the pavement. She sprinted down an alley. Shouts rained down on her. Smoke and fire painted the night sky in a vision of horror. One she would never forget.

She paused, catching her breath, the cold seeping through her jacket.

“Aunt Laurel? Stop. Mommy won’t know where to find us.” Molly’s fingers dug into Laurel’s neck.

Oh, God. Poor Molly. Laurel hugged her niece closer. How could she explain to a five-year-old about bad people who killed families?

Laurel leaned against the concrete wall, her lungs burning with effort. She wished she didn’t understand. She wished she could be like Molly. But this wasn’t a child’s cartoon where everyone survived even the most horrendous attacks. Reality meant no one had a second chance.

Laurel had to get away from the men who had shot at her, who had killed her sister and her family.

But Laurel didn’t know what to believe. Except her sister’s final words.

Which left her with one option. One man to trust.

Garrett Galloway.

Now all she had to do was find him.





Chapter One

Normally Trouble, Texas, wasn’t much trouble, and that was the way Sheriff Garrett Galloway liked it. No problems to speak of, save the town drunk, a few rambunctious kids and a mayor who drove too nice a car with no obvious supplemental income.

Garrett adjusted his Stetson and shoved his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket to ward off the December chill. He’d hidden out in Trouble too long. When he’d arrived a year ago, body broken and soul bleeding, he’d trusted that the tiny West Texas town would be the perfect place to get lost and stay lost for a few months. After all, the world thought he was dead. And Garrett needed it to stay that way.

Just until he could identify who had destroyed everyone he loved and make them pay. He’d never imagined he’d stay this long.

But the latest status call he’d counted on hadn’t occurred. Not to mention his last conversation with his mentor and ex-partner, James McCallister, had been much too...optimistic. That, combined with a missed contact, usually meant the operation had gone to hell.

Garrett’s right shoulder blade hiked, settling under the feel of his holster. He never left home without his weapon or his badge. He liked to know he had a gun within reach. Always. The townsfolk liked to know their sheriff walked the streets.

He eyed the garland-and tinsel-laden but otherwise empty Main Street and stepped onto the pavement, his boots silent, no sound echoing, no warning to anyone that he might be making his nightly nine o’clock rounds.

James McCallister’s disappearance had thrown Garrett. His mentor had spent the past few months using every connection he’d made over his nearly thirty-year career, trying to ferret out the traitor.

Big risks, but after a year of nothing, a few intel tidbits had fallen their way: some compromised top secret documents identifying overseas operatives and operations, some missing state-of-the-art weapons. The door had cracked open, but not enough to step through.

Garrett didn’t like the radio silence. Either James was breaking open the case or he was dead. Neither option boded well. If it was the first, Garrett contacting him would blow the whole mission; if the second, Garrett was on his own and would have to come back from the dead.