Christmas Justice (Carder Texas Connections #7)(39)

Garrett took his flashlight and turned the powerful miniature beam on high, then flipped off the filter, shining the bright light in the direction of the fired shot.

A curse of pain sounded toward him. The guy would be blinded for a few seconds. Garrett veered in the direction of the house. Anything to keep them away from Laurel and Molly. He prayed she’d gotten away, that no one else had intercepted them.

“This way!” one of the men shouted. Footsteps pounded at him. They weren’t even trying to be quiet. He took a ninety-degree turn away from the ranch, toward some of the cliffs. He had to keep his bearings. A rock outcropping should be coming up to his right.

Sure enough, the strange formation loomed from the ground.

The men following him kept coming.

The sound of a stumble, then a loud curse, filtered through the night. He hadn’t lost them. Garrett rounded the rock formation and paused. Fifteen feet away was the edge of a steep hill, its base jagged rocks. Dangerous, deadly and convenient.

He flipped off his flashlight and raced toward the hill. Those guys trailed after him as though they had radar on him.

Was he carrying a GPS? His phone shouldn’t be traceable. How did they have a bead on him? He couldn’t hear anything above him; a chopper would be crazy to fly at night in these mountains.

No time to figure it out.

He still couldn’t be sure if he wasn’t walking into a trap, if someone was waiting for him.

“Laurel, I hope you got away.”

He stopped in front of the drop-off. They shouldn’t have been able to find him, but the two men barreled into the clearing just in front of him.

The red-filtered flashlight one of them carried crossed his body, and they stopped.

A smile gleamed in the moonlight. “Two years late,” the man said, lifting his gun.

Garrett dived to the side just as the man charged. The guy tried to skid to a halt, but momentum carried him over the side. He shouted out and disappeared down the hill.

“Strickland!” the second man shouted. Garrett launched himself at the guy and pinned him. “Who are you?”

The man shook his head.

Garrett shoved the barrel of his Beretta beneath the guy’s chin. “I’m not playing games.”

“Yeah, well, neither is my boss. I’m dead if I say anything.”

The man’s eyes were resigned. A bad sign.

“How about we make a deal?” Garrett said, easing the gun just a bit. “You tell me your boss’s name. I let you go. You disappear out here. You’re a few hours from the border.”

A flare of hope flashed on the guy’s face before a gunshot sounded. A sharp burning slammed into Garrett’s back. His gun dropped from his hand. He rolled off the guy and behind a rock, his back screaming in pain. He sucked in a breath and blinked.

His Beretta lay in the open.

Strickland heaved himself up over the edge of the hill and lifted his M16. “Get out of there, Krauss, or so help me, I’ll shoot you, too.”

Krauss scrambled away. Staggering toward Garrett, Strickland peppered the rock. Dust and shrapnel flew into the air.

If it had been daylight, Garrett would be dead.

Another blast of firepower and he was running out of time.

“You’re dying this time, Bradley. Damn you. Your wife and kid weren’t even part of the deal.”

The words slammed into Garrett’s pain-riddled brain. This son of a bitch had killed his family.

“Yeah, that’s right. I set the bomb. You want to come out and face me?”

Garrett rolled over, ignoring the pain in his back. Krauss pulled his weapon. This was a no-win.

Then Krauss moved. Garrett had one chance. With a grunt, he launched himself at Krauss and shoved him into Strickland. Garrett’s weight forced them back toward the edge.

They all teetered on the precipice. Garrett grabbed a protrusion of rock and stopped his fall. Strickland and Krauss disappeared over the side.

Garrett could feel warmth seeping down his back as he climbed up the few feet. He flicked on his flashlight and peered over the side.

The men lay against a rock, motionless. Krauss’s neck was bent at an unnatural angle, his eyes wide-open. Dead.

Garrett moved the beam over.

Blood covered Strickland’s face. He wasn’t moving. Garrett pointed his weapon at Strickland, but the guy didn’t move. He wanted to climb down, be sure. He needed to know the truth.

A wave of dizziness stopped him. He fell down to his knees. A beeping noise just to his side grabbed his attention. He picked up a tablet. A red dot blinked. It was him. Damn it, how were they tracking him?

He pulled everything out of his pockets. He’d bought the clothes in El Paso. It couldn’t be them.

He didn’t have time to figure it out.

He took one last look over the edge—Strickland still hadn’t budged. Garrett stumbled to his feet. He had to make sure Laurel and Molly were gone, out of here. Daniel would help.

Garrett didn’t know how bad his wound was, but he had to make sure they were safe, and then he had to get as far away from them as he could. Because whoever had sent Strickland and Krauss wasn’t giving up.

*

THE GUNSHOTS HAD STOPPED. Laurel gripped her SIG, planting her hands firmly along the hood of the SUV.

Molly sat in the backseat, hugging Mr. Houdini close. “Where is Sheriff Garrett? He wouldn’t leave us.”