Lone Defender (Love Inspired Suspense) (19 page)

“Yes,” Jonas answered.

“No,” Skylar responded at the same time, and Skylar frowned.

“I thought we’d head over to the sheriff’s office. I want
to check in with Mitchell, see if he got my message,” Skylar explained.

“Calling would be easier,” Jonas suggested.

“I’d also like to speak with the sheriff. I want to find out if he knew about Redmond’s connection to New Day before I got to town,” Skylar continued.

“If you need a car to get there, I have an extra one you can borrow,” Richard offered.

“Don’t help, Dad,” Jonas muttered, and Skylar smiled.

“I wouldn’t want to put you out, Mr. Sampson.”

“You’re not. I have an old station wagon sitting in my garage. Nothing fancy, but it runs. You’re welcome to it if you want,” Richard said.

“That’s generous of you, but—”

“Just smile and say thank you, dear. We’ll drop it off at Jonas’s house later today.” Debby patted her hand, tugged Richard away.

“Together, those two are like a runaway train,” Jonas said as he climbed into the truck.

“Maybe, but I like them.”

“Me, too, but I don’t want you driving around in their station wagon alone. Just so we’re clear on that.”

“Does that mean you’re going to drive me to the sheriff’s office?”

“Is that blackmail I’m hearing, Grady? I take you or you go on your own?”

“Blackmail is such an ugly word. Let’s call it a friendly little bribe. You take me, and I won’t drive the station wagon there.”

“Sweeten the pot, and I might agree.”

“You drive me, and I won’t drive the station wagon
or
visit New Day?”

“So, you’re still thinking about that, huh?”

“Thinking about it, but I know when to back off. This is one of those times. Whether I like it or not.”

“Good, and since that’s off the table, we’re back to you sweetening the pot.”

“How about a meal?”

“You can cook?”

“Only if it’s from a box, but I do buy a mean pizza.”

“Is dessert included in that?”

“Cookies? It’s the one dessert I know how to bake myself.”

“I can’t resist a homemade cookie, so I guess you’ve got yourself a deal. Let’s go visit Mitchell and the sheriff. You can buy me that meal after this is all over and the bad guys are behind bars. But, for the record, I would have taken you to the sheriff’s office without a bribe.”

“For the record, I know.”

He laughed, pulling onto the highway. “Once we’re through there, I want to go back to my place and do some more research on the Clovis brothers. The name is familiar, and I’m thinking I might have read it in connection to a criminal case that was in the paper a couple years ago. One of the brothers was arrested, maybe both, but I don’t remember what for.”

“Murder?”

“That would make things easy, wouldn’t it? But I think it was something more mundane. Weapons or trafficking.”

“I—”

“Do you have your seat belt on?”

“Yes. Why?” Surprised, she looked down, double checking.

“It looks like company is coming.”

“Where?” Skylar shifted in her seat, trying to see out the back window. The road was dotted with vehicles.

A black sedan.

A red sports car.

A few jeeps.

An eighteen-wheeler.

So many vehicles surrounded them that, for a moment, Skylar didn’t see the danger coming.

When she did, she couldn’t look away.

Large and bulky, an oversize SUV barreled through traffic, weaving its way from one lane to another.

“He’s coming fast.”

“Hang on. I’m going to try to outrun him.”

“Outrun him? Are you nuts? This truck is a hundred years old!”

“Don’t dis the truck, Grady,” Jonas growled, pulling past a slower moving vehicle.

“We don’t have the horsepower to outrun them. We need another plan.”

Fast.

Because the SUV was closing in.

“Call for backup and hang on. I’m going to jump the median.”

But it was too late.

The SUV kissed their bumper, and Skylar braced for impact as she punched numbers into her cell phone. Prayed she was hitting the right ones.

Come on.

Come on.

The phone rang. Once. Then, again.

Jonas shouted something, but Skylar could barely hear past her thundering pulse. A 9-1-1 operator picked up as the SUV slammed the back of the truck.

Skylar screamed, the phone dropping from her fingers.

“Hold on!” Jonas swerved to the left, bouncing into the median and braking hard, the SUV speeding past them. Stopping.

“They’re getting out!”

Young guy. Short blond hair.

Handgun pointed straight at Skylar’s head.

She dived for cover as glass shattered, exploding into the truck, showering down on her.

“Stay here.” Jonas opened the glove compartment, pulled out a pistol.

“No! It’s too dangerous.” She shouted the protest, but he was already opening the door, firing.

An engine roared.

Jonas edged out from behind the cover of the door.

And silence fell as quickly as chaos had descended.

Skylar straightened, grabbing the phone, giving the operator their location and getting out of the truck, her legs so shaky she didn’t know if they’d hold her weight.

“Get back in the truck, Grady.” Jonas strode toward her, blood dripping from a cut on his cheek, staining his white shirt.

“You’re hurt.”

“A scratch.”

“Scratches don’t bleed like that.” She pulled him to the truck, shoved him into the driver’s seat.

“We don’t have time for this. The perp is getting away while you’re poking at my face.”

“I’m not poking, I’m looking. You’re going to need stitches.” She took off her jacket, pressed the sleeve against the three-inch gash.

“It’s fine.” He tried to push her hand away.

“No, it’s not. Now let me take care of it.”

“I can take care of it myself, Grady.”

“So, it’s okay for you to take care of me, but not the other way around?”

“I never said that.”

“Then stop fighting me, and let me see if I can get the bleeding to stop.”

He scowled but didn’t protest again.

“Did you see a license plate?” Skylar hadn’t seen much of anything. Just the color of the vehicle, the make. Dodge SUV. Black. Newish.

“It didn’t have one, but I did get a good look at the driver, the gunman and the vehicle. Hopefully, that will help the police track them down quickly.”

Sirens filled the air as the sheriff’s car pulled up behind them, but Skylar kept applying pressure to the wound, kept imagining something worse than glass striking Jonas’s cheek. A bullet piercing his flesh, taking his life.

She shuddered, and Jonas hooked an arm around her waist, tugged her into the space between his knees.

“It’s okay, Grady. I’m fine.”

“But what if you weren’t?”

“I am. That’s all that counts. Come on. Let’s go see what the sheriff has to say.” He took the jacket from her hand, pressed it to his cheek and stood.

“He’s going to say what he always says. I need to go home. And I’m going to say what I always do.
No.
”

But she followed Jonas anyway, across a dozen feet of median to the sheriff’s idling vehicle.

SEVENTEEN

F
ifteen stitches weren’t too bad compared to being dead.

Jonas thought about telling his stepmother and sister that. Both hovered by his side, offering water and pain meds and all manner of comfort foods.

He didn’t want any of it.

What he wanted was to find Skylar.

She’d hung out at the hospital while the E.R. doctor stitched him up, driven him back home, stood at the edge of the entourage of people who’d heard about Jonas’s injury and come to visit. He’d felt the weight of her stare, knew she was there even when he couldn’t see her.

Her presence was that strong, his awareness of her that compelling.

And now she was gone.

He frowned, glancing around the living room. “Where’s Skylar?”

“She and Dad went over to the apartment. She had to make a few phone calls and didn’t want to be intrusive.”

“I take it those were her exact words.” Jonas stood, brushing off Debby’s concern as he walked to the door.

“Yes. But I have a feeling you’re not worried about being intrusive, and I have a feeling you’re going to head right over
there to see what she’s up to.” Rayne smirked as he opened the door, strode out into bright sunlight.

He ignored the words and the smirk.

He always did what he had to, and what he had to do right then was make sure that Skylar was exactly where she was supposed to be. The gunman who’d run them off the road had meant business. It was only by the grace of God that Skylar hadn’t been injured.

Or worse.

Just the thought filled him with fury.

He’d seen her scars. He knew what she had been through.

She wouldn’t go through it again.

He’d make sure of it.

“Mom said you and Skylar sat next to each other at church today.” Rayne followed him across the yard.

“That’s right.”

“She said you looked real chummy. She even said Skylar makes you smile and since even I can barely do that, I figure that says a lot about your feelings for her.”

“I’m assuming there’s a point to this, sis?”

“Just that Skylar is exactly the kind of woman you need in your life, and I hope you’re not going to mess up your chances with her.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just that you always overthink things, always try to plan everything so there aren’t any variables and no surprises. Real life is filled with spontaneous opportunities. When they come, we need to grab them with both hands and hold on tight.”

“What makes you think I’m not already doing that?” He stopped at the top of the steps, turning to face Rayne. She looked tired, dark shadows beneath her eyes, her face pale.

His little sister.

Grown up.

Living her own life.

Maybe even keeping her own secrets.

“I think it, because you loved Gabriella. Because you blame yourself for her death, for your baby’s death. Because, maybe somewhere in that warped brain of yours, you’ve decided that you don’t deserve another shot at happiness.”

“Whether I deserve it or not, it’s been handed to me. I’d be an idiot not to take it.”

“I’m glad we agree. Now go in there and get your girl. Otherwise, you’ll have to spend the rest of your life regretting that you didn’t. That kind of regret isn’t the kind I’d wish on my worst enemy, and it’s definitely not something I’d wish on my favorite big brother.” She smiled, but there was something in her eyes. Sadness? Fear?

“I’m your
only
big brother.” He ruffled her hair, looked into her eyes. The sadness was still there, changing her from carefree college student into burdened adult.

“What’s wrong, Rayne?”

“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix. I’m beyond exhausted. This thesis is kicking my butt. I can’t wait to get it finished.” She wasn’t telling him the whole truth, the words brittle and tight.

“I’m your big brother. I know you, and I know there’s more than a thesis weighing on your mind. Spill it.”

“You have enough on your plate, right now. I’m not going to add more to it by telling you my tales of woe. Go find Skylar. I’m going to take a nap. We’ll talk when both of us have more time.”

“I always have time for you, you know that, right?”

“Of course, but I’m still going to take a nap.” Her smile was more genuine this time, her eyes less haunted, and she walked away, her blond hair swinging as she jogged down the stairs and back to the house.

He’d need to keep an eye on her. Make sure she wasn’t
burning the candle at both ends, working herself too hard. Make sure there wasn’t a guy standing in the wings somewhere, pushing her buttons and making her miserable. Rayne had a need to please and a strong desire to help and heal. It’s why she’d decided to become a social worker. But the same need that made her good at her job also made her vulnerable, her need to help and heal attracting men who took advantage of both those things.

Men like the scum Skylar had been engaged to.

He frowned, not liking the thought.

His baby sister deserved a lot better than that.

Skylar deserved better.

He hoped he could give it to her.

He stepped into the apartment, greeted his father, scanning the otherwise empty room. “Where’s Skylar?”

“She left about twenty minutes ago. The sheriff called and asked her to come in and look at mug shots. He has a lead on the guy who shot out the window of the truck.”

“She’s gone?” He hoped he’d heard wrong.

Really
hoped he’d heard wrong.

Skylar out on her own with an armed gunman hunting her wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

“The sheriff was pretty insistent that she go, so I let her borrow my car. Rayne can give me and Deb a ride home if Skylar isn’t back before we’re ready to leave.”

“Please, tell me you’re kidding, Dad. Tell me you didn’t hand car keys to a woman who has half the state of Arizona gunning for her.” His voice rose, and he took a deep breath, tried to calm down.

“You’re exaggerating, son. Even if you weren’t, Skylar is a grown woman with a good head on her shoulders. She’s a former police officer, a current private detective. She survived a week lost in the Sonoran and a couple days hanging
out with you. She’s tough as nails. She asked for the keys. I said yes. Seemed like a no-brainer to me.”

“Someone is trying to kill her. No-brainer or not, you should have told her to wait.”

“For you?”

“For
someone.
Me. A police escort. Anyone with a gun who might actually be able to protect her if she gets into trouble.”

“She’ll protect herself. That’s the kind of woman she is.”

“Would you say that if she were Debby or Rayne?”

Richard’s lips tightened, and he shook his head. “No, but the closest Deb has ever gotten to defending herself is swinging a fly swatter at a wasp. Your sister wouldn’t know the barrel of a gun if it jumped up and hit her in the face. Neither of them has the experience or training Skylar does.”