Texas Takedown (4 page)

Chapter Three

Before Samantha had time to argue, Dylan had her on the floor. He needed to find cover in order to put mass between the two of them and the shotgun blasts firing toward them. He urged Samantha forward, crawling on hands and knees toward the kitchen. The feel of a body like hers underneath him, especially the way hers fit his, gave him a thrill of sexual excitement, but right now he didn't need his body reacting inappropriately. Nor did he need the distraction.

The three-foot crawl space between the fridge and the wall in the kitchen would offer some shield. Guiding her there, he followed. “Do everything I say.”

Her cobalt-blue eyes were wide when she nodded.

Time to move.

Dylan shouldered his duffel and entwined Samantha's fingers in his, ignoring the pulse of electricity vibrating up his arm. His vehicle was parked two streets over. If they could make it out of the back of the house, circle around and cut across the street, they had a chance to break free.

He carefully zigzagged through the bushes along the path, hoping like hell they didn't run into whoever was shooting at them. With any luck, the shooter would be inside the house by now.

The glint of metal shone between houses directly across the street. That was what he got for wishing.

Dylan squinted against the bright sun, tucked Samantha behind him and ran like hell, darting side to side as he crossed the street.

Halfway across, a bullet struck the center of his chest, knocking the wind out of him. The impact, equivalent to being hit with a rubber mallet, knocked him back. He stumbled a few steps before falling on his backside and then scrambling behind a car so he could catch his breath. The Kevlar he wore kept the slug from piercing his chest.

Samantha's scream made the hair on his neck stand up. She obviously thought he'd been shot. And he had been. But it was okay.

She dropped down next to him.

There was no time to explain, so he gripped her hand tighter. Dylan dragged in a few breaths, and then pushed on, hoping the shooter hadn't readjusted, ready to fire another round.

Dylan guided them in between the buildings.

Forging ahead, he cleared another block and palmed his keys. His vehicle was in sight when he disarmed the alarm and unlocked the doors remotely.

If he could get the pair of them out of there, they had a chance at escape.

Dylan let go of Samantha's hand in time for her to dash around to the passenger side and get in. She sat there, stunned.

Out in the open like this, they were extremely vulnerable to attack.

Key ready, Dylan fired up the engine and peeled out of there.

“You're going to be fine.”

“They shot you.” The disbelief in Samantha's voice indicated she hadn't had time to process everything that had just happened. It was a lot for a civilian to take in, and she was doing better than expected.

“I'm good. See.” Dylan used his right hand to pull up his shirt enough for her to see his thin Kevlar vest. His left gripped the steering wheel as he wound through the residential area and away from the shrieking sirens. His focus had to be on the road as he assessed everyone they passed for potential threat. “I'll end up with a nasty bruise. That's all.”

“Okay.” That one word was spoken soft and small, almost without air. Her vulnerability pierced a different set of his armor.

He dropped his shirt and returned his hand to the steering wheel, checking the rearview to see if they had any company. So far, so good. One wrong turn and the story could change drastically. “We need to find the closest police station.”

“No, please. He'll find my father if I involve the law.” The desperation in her voice had him thinking twice.

“Samantha, we were just shot at. You're scared beyond belief. I believe you when you say you aren't involved in anything illegal. So let's go to the police and get protection.”

“As soon as this car slows, I'll jump out. You shouldn't be part of this.” She gripped the door handle. “Promise you won't go to the cops.”

“Tell me why not.” That was the second time she'd specifically insisted he shouldn't be involved. What the hell was that all about?

“I already did. He's going to kill my father.”

“Who is?”

“Thomas Kramer, the Mason Ridge Abductor.”

“He's dead, Samantha. He can't hurt you.”

“You asked about the phone calls before.” Her voice sounded resigned.

“And?”

“I was walking home from work last Tuesday. It was late. I stayed to finish up a project and was the last one to leave the office. Someone jumped me. I was shocked, scared, but I fought. I somehow managed to get away.”

“Did you report it?”

“Of course. The police said it was most likely an attempted robbery. At first I thought the whole incident was random, too. When I told my father, he started freaking out. Made me promise not to leave my condo. Begged me not to get the police or anyone else involved. Said he'd make everything right. Told me to give him a little time and that he'd done a bad thing. I didn't know what to think or do. I panicked. Took a few vacation days and didn't leave my condo. Then the phone calls started. Someone saying he was the real Thomas Kramer said he wanted to meet. Said he had something of mine. He said if I involved the police, he'd kill me and my father. I stopped answering. When a stranger knocked on my door, I panicked again. I gathered a few of my things, waited for the guy to leave and then took off.”

“Sounds as if someone is hiding behind Kramer's name. There's a cell phone in my duffel. I need you to take it out,” he said.

“Please, no. Don't call the police.”

“I won't. Not until we figure this out.”

“Not ‘we.' I need to lie low until I find a way to reach my father.”

“I'm not going anywhere, Samantha.”

“You can't be here.”

“Why not? Whoever is doing this can't hurt you or me. We'll get to the bottom of it. I'm not leaving until we figure this out. I need to make a call to arrange a place for us to stay. Will you get me the phone?”

She blew out a sharp breath but didn't immediately move.

“I'm your only chance, Samantha. You need to decide.”

“Okay. Fine. Where is it? Here?” She pointed to one of four zippers on the front of the pack.

“Inside the main compartment.” He didn't take his eyes off the road. She'd find other things in there, too. Another gun. A hand grenade. Things she could use against him if she completely freaked.

“I found it.” Her delicate skin had gone pale. She looked exhausted.

“Look in the contacts for Brody.”

“Got him.”

A helicopter flew overhead.

Dylan glanced over at Samantha in time to see her hand shaking.

She drew in a breath.

“Call Brody and put this on speaker.” Dylan searched his rearview. So far, no one had followed them. He banked a U-turn.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Not on I-35. Whoever that was will be expecting that. And we don't know how many people are involved.”

“Won't he scour the city until he finds us?”

“He'll try.”

Brody answered on the first ring. “What's going on?”

“You're on speaker and I have Samantha in the car.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yes.”

“Rebecca will be so relieved. She's been worried sick. You guys heading home?” Brody asked.

“Can't.”

“Why not?”

“Long story, but we need your help.” He didn't want to repeat everything that Samantha had told him. It would only dredge up bad memories for Rebecca, especially since this couldn't be Thomas Kramer. Thomas Kramer had acted alone. And Thomas Kramer was dead. Not to mention the fact that he was part of the breakdown crew for a traveling festival. Not exactly someone who had the connections or money to hire men like the ones who'd come after Samantha. The only person in town who could financially back an operation like this would be someone like Charles Alcorn, the town's wealthiest resident. But it couldn't be him.

Alcorn had played a critical role in the investigation fifteen years ago. Everyone in town had been thoroughly investigated. Dylan was getting punchy.

It could, however, be someone tied to Kramer.

Whatever game this creep was playing was about to end.

“What do you need from me?” Brody asked.

“Get me what you can on Thomas Kramer. I want to know everything about him. Friends, family, known hangouts.”

“You got it.” Brody cursed under his breath.

“Why him?”

“I'll explain later.” Dylan cut a hard right and then a left. “But we need a safe place to stay.”

“Why not go to the police?” Having served in the military, Brody still had connections—connections that could come in handy.

“Not yet.”

“I'll make a few calls and find a place for you to hide within the hour. I have a lot of friends in Austin. Until then, stay on the move. We'll figure this out,” Brody said. “I'll let the others know what's going on, too.”

Dylan looped around downtown four times before the phone rang again.

“I have a location for you. I found a small place behind a bar on Sixth Street.” Brody relayed the address. “I would've liked to get you farther out of town but I figured you'd want internet access and you needed someplace quick. Plus, with all the foot traffic, it'll be easier to disappear in the crowd. Big Mike is working the bar and he's expecting you both. He'll have keys and can give you any passwords you need to use the internet.”

“Hey, thanks, Brody.”

“Keep me posted. And good luck.”

Luck? He blew out a sharp breath. Since he'd left his four-leaf clover in his other pants, he'd have to rely on skills the US Army had taught him to stay alive.

* * *

S
AMANTHA
 
WAS
 
BEGINNING
 
to shake off the mental fog that came with the hard slap of reality that she was now on the run with Dylan. She shouldn't notice his thick, muscled arms. Nor should she get too comfortable in the sense of relief being this near him brought.

If she was going to be running for her life, she certainly wanted to be with a man who looked as if he could handle whatever was thrown at them. That was a given. But feeling as though somehow everything was magically going to be all right because Dylan had shown up was naive, no matter how capable he was. And her father was still in danger. “What's the plan now?”

“You tell me everything. We put our heads together and figure this out.”

“I already said. He's going to keep coming until both my father and I are dead. Dad said as much.” She rubbed her temples to stave off the headache threatening. It was a potent mix of frustration and exhaustion.

“Then, we need to write another ending.” He touched her hand to reassure her but instead it sent fissures of heat swirling up her arm.

“We can't hide forever. Whoever is behind this will find us.” She hated how weak and fearful her own voice sounded. But she was afraid. And there was no use hiding it.

Dylan's gaze shifted from the rearview to the road as he jerked the steering wheel in another hard right turn. “We have company.”

Horns blared as Dylan made a few quick turns, navigating the crowded streets of downtown. Samantha's “fight, freeze or flight” response rocketed through the roof and she battled against the urge to jump out of the car and set out on foot.

Traffic was so thick the black sedan couldn't get close. Yet it kept pace with every turn six cars back.

Dylan muttered a curse at the same time Samantha thought it. With Dylan involved, she feared the threats against her, her family and her friends were going to be delivered on.

“I'm scared.” She hated admitting it, but acknowledging her feelings had always made them less overwhelming. Especially after her mother's death.

“Think of what you'll be doing next week.”

“What?” Damn weakness. Growing up in a house full of boys had taught her to fend for herself. Yet she was so out of her league here that her nerves were spiraling out of control. She needed to calm down and figure this out. Everything had happened so fast she hadn't had a chance to process it.

“You know what I'll be doing?” he said, his calm voice settling over her.

She shook her head.

“I'll be picking Maribel up from school about now.”

The image of him, all muscle-and-steel man, tenderly holding his little girl, stirred her heart in ways she'd never experienced. She'd seen him at the grocery with Maribel a few times, witnessed his tenderness with his daughter.

“You need to drop me off somewhere and go to her.”

“I'm not leaving you alone, Samantha. End of conversation.” A mix of emotion played out across his features, determination rising to the top. “What about you? What are you going to be doing this time next week?”

“My dad invited me to go fishing with him.” Her dad. Where was he?
What have you done, Daddy?

“Good. Focus on that when you get scared. Know that you will be sitting next to him on his boat, hauling in the largest catfish either of you have ever seen.”

“That's his favorite. Loves the taste of blues.”

“The man has good taste.”

Samantha had a clear mental picture, and it was working.

“Better?”

“Yes.” Much to her surprise, it was helping a little. Then again, Dylan's confidence was addicting. She'd have to work harder to ignore the sensual shivers his touch brought.

“Hand me the duffel.” His voice was level and calm, the complete opposite of the emotions still trilling through Samantha.

“Okay. What now? What do we do?” The sheer amount of foot traffic on the sidewalk and the streets made it impossible to get away. If they didn't make a move soon, the driver would edge his way closer until he could get a good shot.