Cowboy Commando. Joanna WayneЧитать онлайн книгу.
a car exactly like Linney’s pulling out of a service station on the opposite corner.
He waited for the traffic to clear the intersection, then sped through the red light and passed two cars on the right to put him almost directly behind Linney as she turned onto the entrance ramp to I-10, going west, not toward the precinct where she was supposed to give a statement to Goose.
She accelerated, switching lanes quickly, jumping right in between two speeding vehicles. He kept her in sight until some jerk with a suicide wish cut right in front of him on his Harley. Stamping on the brake and swerving to the right, Cutter just managed to keep from colliding with the biker and the babe clinging to him like plaster.
Kidnapping Julie was a crazy stunt. Impulsive. Irresponsible. Coming to him tonight had probably been just as crazy, but then he seriously doubted that Linney had spent six years trying to get over their five nights of fun and games and sexual fireworks.
Cutter had grown up fast in Afghanistan and Iraq, learned the difference between instinct and impulse, discovered how one misstep could cost a life. He knew to pick his battles wisely. At least he thought he had until Linney had shown up and in trouble.
Linney switched lanes again, this time two at a time. She was going to exit, a sudden decision, he guessed. The car behind her switched lanes as well. There was no siren or flashing lights, but Cutter had a strong hunch that the nondescript black sedan held an undercover cop.
Linney pulled into the exit lane. The car behind her stayed on her tail. Cutter swerved in front of a pickup truck and exited a couple of cars behind the sedan.
Linney turned right at the first traffic light. The sedan pulled into a service station. Cutter breathed a little easier. He was certain it would go better for Linney if she returned Julie before there was any police confrontation.
She took a quick left, crossing a set of railroad tracks and turning onto a road that ran beside it. The area grew instantly darker as they left the illumination of streetlights.
A tall fence dominated the side of the road nearest the tracks. There were scattered businesses on the other side. A machine shop. A brake and muffler repair center. A white brick building with a sign promising the best prices in Texas on body work. All closed.
Theirs were the only two cars on the isolated road, and he seriously doubted that Linney had a clue where she was going. He increased his speed, narrowing the space between them as she rounded a curve.
He’d pull up next to her and let her know he was onto her scheme. Maybe she was having second thoughts. With luck, she’d be nervous on this dark road and desperate enough by now that she’d stop and listen to reason.
No such luck. Linney accelerated, leaving him behind. He’d spooked her by getting so close and now she was driving dangerously fast.
Cutter caught a glimpse of movement ahead, then watched a car that resembled the same dark sedan that he’d thought was tailing Linney on the freeway. It pulled out from a deserted lot and onto the road in front of Linney.
The car was driving slow and inching toward the center of the road, straight at Linney. She slowed and headed for the shoulder to avoid a collision if he swerved too far into her lane.
Cutter’s apprehension swelled. If the driver of the approaching car kept coming at the same angle, he’d swipe the side of Linney’s car—or worse. The car kept coming, but now the barrel of what appeared to be a machine gun jutted from the window.
Son of a bitch. This was a setup. The man was going to gun her down and there was no time to stop him.
In seconds, she’d be dead.
Chapter Three
The adrenaline rush hit the way it had hundreds of times before, producing an instantaneous honing of all Cutter’s instincts and training.
Cutter lay on his horn, then veered to the left, crossing the center line and ramming the right-front fender of the shooter’s car just as the crack of gunfire thundered in the night.
His breath burned in his lungs. His move had been worse than risky. It was damn near suicidal. But better than doing nothing while Linney’s head was blown off at close range.
The shooter’s car raked the side of Linney’s, then sped away. Linney’s sports car skidded out of control. She careened off the right shoulder, kicking up dirt and dry leaves before lurching down an incline and slamming into a ditch. Miraculously, the sports car didn’t flip.
Cutter skidded to a stop on the muddy shoulder, grabbed his flashlight from the glove compartment and raced to Linney’s vehicle.
His heart was racing as he peered through the window. The airbags had inflated and were pushed against Linney’s chest so that all he could really see was her face. Blood trickled down her left cheek but there was no visible gaping wound.
“Were you hit?”
“Cutter?” Her eyes were wide, riveted to his, though even in the moonlight he could see that her flesh was ghostly white. “How did you get here?”
“Lucky move.” His breath scorched his lungs. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. Nothing hurts, but someone just took a potshot at me.”
He gasped huge gulps of air and the burning in his chest eased to the point that he could breathe without searing pain.
Julie started to wail. Cutter opened the back door and slipped into the backseat to check on her. Linney managed to extricate herself from the airbag and tumble over the back of the seat, squeezing in between him and Julie. She cradled Julie’s head in her arms.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m right here with you.”
Cutter did a quick visual scan for injuries while Linney tried to calm her. There was no sign of a bullet wound. “She appears okay,” he said.
“Thank God! Does anything hurt?” Linney cooed.
Julie wrapped her arms around Linney’s neck and clung to her as if she were afraid her protector would disappear into the darkness if she let go. “I want my mommy.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
Linney’s voice dissolved into a quake that felt like shrapnel exploding in Cutter’s gut. Linney had come to him for help and he’d practically kicked her out of the condo.
Chances that the attack was random were slim to none. She’d been ambushed. Was that why Dane hadn’t called? Had he killed his wife and then tried to kill Linney to silence her and her suspicions? If he had, he’d risked killing his own daughter as well.
But then he wasn’t expecting interference from Cutter. A sharpshooting cop would have been able to place the bullet exactly on target at that speed and distance.
Cutter crawled from the car and did a quick assessment of damage to the vehicle. It would require towing and bodywork, but there were no bullet holes. Apparently, the shooter had missed his target altogether. But if Cutter hadn’t been here…
He swore under his breath as fury raced through his veins like a roaring river. He scanned the area. The road was deserted. No sign of headlights. No sign of trouble, but that didn’t mean this was over.
Let down your guard for an instant and the enemy gained the advantage.
This enemy was already armed, while he wasn’t. And the enemy had known exactly where to find Linney, had likely followed her when she left Cutter’s condo. There was only one valid explanation for that.
With the help of his flashlight, Cutter searched every inch of the car, working quickly, and making a call to Goose as he did. He explained the latest developments.
Goose let fly a few expletives Cutter hadn’t heard since leaving the Navy.
“Were you able to get in touch with Dane?” Cutter asked.
“I left