Texas Outlaw (Rory Yates #2)(79)

“This is outrageous,” Tom shouts. “You have no authority to walk in here and—”

Harris slams the butt of his pistol against Tom’s nose, sending him flying backward onto the floor.

“Here’s my authority, you son of a bitch.”

Ariana moves to intervene but freezes when she sees Humphreys’s pistol pointing at her chest. Harris grabs Ariana by the hair and yanks her head back. He places the barrel of the pistol under her chin.

“You couldn’t just leave it alone, could you?”

“You’re a disgrace to that badge,” Ariana says.

Harris throws her into a corner and tells her to put her hands against the wall. He places the gun in the small of her back and begins searching her. His hand lingers on places she doesn’t want him to touch.

Humphreys grabs Tom and pulls him to his feet. His nose is clearly broken. Blood cascades over his mouth and chin. He blinks back tears and looks woozy.

Humphreys shoves him over the desk and cuffs his hands behind his back. Tom’s face is pressed against his notebook, blood dripping onto the pages. Harris picks up the notebook, glances at the notes, and flips it closed. He shoves it into his back pocket.

“What’s wrong, Chief?” Ariana says. “Don’t like what you see there?”

“This is a violation of the First Amendment,” Tom says, his voice nasal and hoarse. “My lawyer—”

Harris pulls his gun back and jams the barrel against Tom’s nose. Tom winces in pain and turns away from the barrel.

“You can take your lawyer—and your First Amendment—and shove them up your ass.”

Ariana thinks of what Rory might say in this situation.

“It’s not too late to come out on the right side of this, Chief.”

Harris grabs her by the hair again and shoves her against the wall. He leans his body against her and places the gun against her lower back. His mouth is by her ear. She can smell the coffee on his breath.

“Keep talking and I’ll smash that pretty face of yours,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Ariana doesn’t respond. She knows that won’t get her anywhere.

Harris looks at Humphreys and says, “Take Tom to the station and wait to hear from me. Lock him up. Don’t let him make a phone call. Not to his lawyer. Not to his wife.”

“What about Ariana?” Humphreys says, pulling Tom by his cuffed wrists.

“The Rio Lobo Police Department is about to have an opening for a detective,” Harris says. “If you want the job, shut your goddamn mouth and don’t ask any more stupid questions.”





Chapter 98



I TRY TO stay hidden, but I position myself to watch McCormack’s ranch through the scope of the .223 M4. The telescopic sight doesn’t have the magnification Gareth’s M24 does, so I can’t see much. But I see enough.

A trio of ATVs peels off from the house and heads in the direction of the open space. No doubt going to look for Ariana. One of my reasons for making up the story was so they might do that. That’s six fewer of McCormack’s soldiers I have to worry about right now.

I’m beginning to wonder if Gareth isn’t going to come out here after all. If he doesn’t climb up on the tower, I’ve already decided I will climb down and walk over to the ranch.

We’ll have that showdown.

It will be suicide, of course.

Even if I shoot Gareth in an honest-to-God duel, there’s no way Carson McCormack will stick to his word. His men will gun me down within seconds.

But I’ll do it.

As long as he doesn’t double-cross me, I won’t double-cross him. That’s just the way I was raised.

When I’m almost convinced he’s not coming, I spot a figure leaving the ranch house and heading this way on foot. I focus the sight. The person is Gareth, and he has his sniper rifle slung over his shoulder and his SIG Sauer holstered at his hip. He’s dressed in black clothes, no doubt so he can stay hidden atop the derrick, where I’m hiding now.

The platform is a square with a hole in the middle. To one side of me is the metal mesh railing, which will keep me from rolling off. But in the center, where the drilling equipment would be if the derrick was operational, there is nothing but a straight drop to the ground.

I lie flat on my back to stay out of sight. I keep the rifle at my side. I don’t pull my pistol out of its holster.

Not yet.

I don’t want my hands to sweat on the grip.

Gareth has half a mile to walk. I try to calm my nerves, slow my breathing. I stare at the sky—blue from horizon to horizon without a single cloud.

I think of Willow.

I think of Ariana.

I think of my father telling me, A Texas Ranger is justice.

When Gareth gets close, I can make out the sound of his pants moving through the overgrown weeds. When he’s below, I hear the crackle of a walkie-talkie.

“Gareth, come in,” Carson says over the walkie-talkie.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Gareth says.

I’m eighty feet above him, but the air is so clear and silent that I can hear every word of the exchange.

“Harris has the girl. Delgado. She’s alive.”

“Copy that.”

“Yates lied to us. He’s up to something.”