Cowboy Behind the Badge (12 page)

But it was too late.

The shot came right at Laine and him.

 

Chapter Twelve

Laine didn't even have time to react. But Tucker did. He pulled her to the ground.

They landed hard, the concrete scraping against her hands and knees and nearly knocking the breath right out of her. Before Laine could even regain that breath—or think—Tucker had gotten her moving again. He hooked his arm around her, and they rolled to the side of a cruiser.

Barely in time.

Another bullet slammed through the air, landing in the spot where they'd just been.

Cursing, Tucker drew his gun and took aim at the diner across the street. The front of the small building was a wall of windows, and Laine got just a glimpse of the stunned expressions of the diners before Tucker pushed her even farther to the ground.

Sweet heaven. Was the shooter in there with all those people?

If so, not only did Tucker not have a clean shot, but it was also possible he could hit an innocent bystander. At this time of day, there could be families inside.

“You see the shooter?” Reed shouted, and it took her a moment to realize he'd shouted it from an open window in the sheriff's office.

“He's on the roof of the diner,” Tucker answered, but then he cursed again when another bullet slammed into the concrete just inches from them.

So the gunman wasn't actually inside, but he could do a lot of damage from the roof. Worse, some of the diners were obviously starting to panic. Laine could hear their screams and shouts for help, and she prayed none of them would run out into the line of fire.

“Call the jail and have them send some guards for backup,” Tucker yelled. “Did the guard already leave with Buford?”

“No. Buford's still in the interview room talking with his lawyer.”

That obviously didn't please Tucker because he groaned. “Tell them to stay put.”

That's when Laine remembered that Reed was the only deputy inside the sheriff's office. Colt was back at the ranch guarding the babies, and Cooper was away on his honeymoon. The night deputies wouldn't be coming in for several hours, and there was no way Tucker would want Buford left alone. It would be too tempting for him to try to escape.

In fact, that might be why this attack was happening.

If someone connected with Buford had been watching the sheriff's office, then they would have known this was the perfect time for an attack. A gunman could take out her and Tucker while freeing Buford, and it likely wouldn't matter to this shooter how many innocent people could get caught up in the cross fire.

“Unlock the cruiser,” Tucker called out to Reed.

More shots came, and in between the loud blasts, Laine heard the slight clicking sound. A moment later, Tucker threw open the passenger's-side door of the cruiser. Obviously, Reed had managed to unlock it from inside, no doubt using a remote key. The police car wasn't ideal cover because it was parked out in the open, but Laine was thankful for anything that would get her and Tucker out of the path of those bullets.

“Get in and stay down,” Tucker told her.

He stayed perched behind the door and in front of her, his gun ready. And with his left hand, he pushed her into the cruiser.

Laine scrambled across the seat, reaching for Tucker to pull him in with her, but he stayed put and adjusted the aim of his gun.

Tucker fired.

The sound was deafening. It was so close that she could have sworn it rattled the windows.

Laine couldn't tell if his shot hit its target, but she guessed it hadn't when the next shot flew into the cruiser's front windshield. The glass was obviously bullet-resistant, but it still cracked and webbed, making it even harder for her to see what was going on.

Tucker levered himself up to fire another shot, but then immediately flattened himself on the ground when a bullet slammed into the cruiser door. The sound of metal ripping through metal caused her heart to pound against her ribs. The door might be bullet-resistant, too, but if the shooter kept it up, the shots could eventually get through, and Tucker could die.

“Get inside the car,” she insisted.

Of course, he ignored her and leaned out of the door again.

This time, he didn't even get off a shot before a bullet smacked into his gun. For one heart-stopping moment, Laine thought he'd been hit, and she heard herself call out his name again. The sparks flew, and Tucker dropped his weapon only to snatch it back up again.

“I'm pretty sure this is the moron who tried to kill us at my house,” Tucker relayed to her.

It didn't surprise her that he'd come back for them. Laine could still feel his arm around her throat and his gun jammed to her head. He wasn't close enough to do that now, but he could continue to blast his way into the car.

But why?

Why had he or his boss targeted Tucker and her to die?

Laine had gone back to that question over and over, and the only thing she could come up with was Dawn. Maybe the gunman thought Dawn had told her something incriminating. Something that would link back to the person behind not just these attacks but the baby farms themselves. But Dawn had barely managed to say anything before the killers had come for her.

“What the hell's he doing here?” Tucker mumbled.

Laine lifted her head just a fraction and caught a glimpse of Darren across the street. He was in front of the antique store just to the left of the diner. He had his back flat against the store's door, and he, too, had drawn his gun.

Tucker had asked a great question—what was he doing there?

Darren had left the sheriff's office a good half hour before, and while Laine wanted to think that maybe he was still in town just doing errands or something, she didn't like the timing of this.

Was Darren there because he'd hired that shooter on the roof, or was he in the same wrong place/wrong time situation as the diners?

“Get inside the store, Darren!” Tucker shouted to him.

Even over the din of the gunfire, Laine was fairly certain that Darren had heard him, but he ignored Tucker's order and stayed put. Sweet heaven, Tucker didn't need to have that kind of distraction now.

“Two guards are on the way!” Reed shouted out to them.

Good. But they wouldn't be able to get close enough to the shooter without running the risk of being gunned down.

Tucker fired another shot, took out his phone and tossed it to her. “Tell Reed to get those guards at the back of the diner. I want this idiot stopped now.”

Laine managed a shaky nod, and with equally shaky hands, she scrolled through the numbers until she located Reed's. The deputy answered on the first ring, and she relayed Tucker's message. Tucker no doubt hadn't wanted to shout it out because he didn't want the guy to have any warning as to what was about to happen.

Maybe he hadn't wanted to alert Darren, either.

“The guards will be at the rear of the diner in just a couple of minutes,” Reed confirmed after she heard him make a call. “But we got another problem. That social worker, Hague, and his lawyer just came running into the back of the sheriff's office. He claims he heard the shots and figured this was the safest place to be.”

Oh, God. Definitely not good. “He could be there to help Buford escape.”

“That's what I figured. I'll keep an eye on him.”

That wouldn't be easy because she could still see Reed at the window. He had his gun ready, and his attention was focused on the shooter.

The bullets continued to come at them, but the direction changed a little. Instead of the door, they all seemed to be coming through the windshield. Each one chipped away at the glass and sent her adrenaline soaring.

“Get on the floor,” Tucker told her.

He fired some shots at the gunman, reached in the glove compartment, reloaded with a fresh magazine and fired again. Still the bullets kept tearing through the glass, and one finally broke through just as she dropped to the floor. It tore through the car and slammed into the rear windshield.

The shooter might have seen her move, because again the shots shifted and he began to fire into the engine. Where the bullets could eventually reach her. Maybe reach her before the guards got to the diner.

“Do you know how to hot-wire a car?” Tucker asked. Because of the gunshots, he had to yell it.

Laine shook her head.

“Then you're about to learn, because there's no remote starter for the cruiser. Stay on the floor, get that Swiss Army knife in the glove compartment and use it to open the ignition cover.” He motioned toward the plastic panels above and below the steering column.

Laine cursed her hands, which were shaking even harder now, and despite her out-of-control heartbeat and breathing, she tried to tamp down her responses. Hard to do with that with those bullets eating their way through the car. Even if she managed to hotwire it, those bullets might have already disabled the engine.

It took some doing, but she finally managed to get the panel off, and some wires spilled out.

“Take the red one—” Tucker's explanation was cut off by more shots.

Different from those that had been coming at them.

Laine hadn't thought the noise from the gunfight could get any worse, but she'd obviously been wrong.

She glanced out at Darren again to see if he was responsible for this new round of gunfire, but he was still in place against the antiques store. He was holding his gun in both hands against his chest with the barrel pointed up. The stance of a man who was waiting, not firing.

“Disconnect the red wire from the cylinder,” Tucker continued. “And strip off the plastic ends.” His voice was calm enough, but she saw the concern in his eyes. If she didn't get the cruiser started soon so they could escape, they'd be killed.

That gave her another shot of adrenaline that she desperately needed. Laine used the knife again to start scraping off the plastic. She'd barely gotten started when Tucker's phone rang.

“It's Reed,” she told Tucker. She put the call on speaker and kept working on stripping the wires. Obviously she wouldn't make a good car thief because she was working at a snail's pace.

“There's a second shooter,” Reed said the moment he came on the line. “And he's covering the rear roof. The guards can't get close enough to take out either of the men.”

Tucker cursed. Laine groaned. She kept working.

“Tell the guards to stay in place and wait for a shot,” Tucker told the deputy. In the same breath, he tipped his head to the wires again. “Twist the ends together, but don't let it touch anything else. Then strip the brown wire.”

Even though the instructions were simple, the shots were more than enough of a distraction to make the task next to impossible. Laine grabbed the brown wire just as a shot slammed through the engine and made it all the way into the interior. It nicked the sleeve of her shirt.

Maybe her arm, too, since she felt the stinging pain.

That didn't stop her. In fact, it caused her to speed up, and the moment she had the brown wire stripped and the ends tied together, she glanced over at Tucker.

“What now?” she asked.

“I'll finish it.” That was the only warning she got before he finally climbed into the cruiser and threw himself across the seat.

Laine hadn't ended the call, so she could still hear Reed yelling something. And she could also hear another voice.

Hague's.

That put her heart in her throat, and she hoped the man wasn't launching some kind of attack inside the sheriff's office. But she also heard something else.

A scream.

Not from Hague. This was from a woman, and Laine couldn't be sure, but it sounded like Rhonda. Mercy, had all their suspects managed to converge on this spot?

And if so, why?

It was a sickening thought that they could all be in this together. But if that were true, why would they have shown up right in the middle of this attack?

Ignoring the scream, Tucker touched the ends of the wires together. There was a spark, and the engine roared to life. Laine said a quick prayer of thanks that the bullets hadn't damaged it. He didn't waste even a moment maneuvering himself behind the wheel.

“Hold on,” Tucker warned her.

There was no clear spot left on the windshield for him to see, but he hit the accelerator, and the cruiser practically flew out of the parking lot. There were no oncoming vehicles, thank goodness—probably because the sound of those gunshots had kept everyone at bay.

The bullets kept coming at them, even as the cruiser screeched away from the diner. The shooters adjusted their positions and continued to fire, but the bullets didn't go into the interior of the car.

They went into the tires.

Laine couldn't be sure, but it felt as if at least two tires had been shot out. Tucker had no choice but to bring the cruiser to a stop, and he got out.

“Stay on the floor,” he warned her, and he started back toward the diner.

“It's too dangerous for you to do this,” Laine called out to him.

“I won't go far. Can't risk those shooters coming out here to kidnap you.”

That caused the skin on the back of her neck to crawl. The killer had come too close to taking her last time, and if they were bold enough to attempt another attack in broad daylight, then they'd have no problem gunning down Tucker and anyone else who got in their way.

Tucker kept a firm grip on his gun and shooting wrist as he inched away from the car. There were no more sounds of shots. Just eerie silence punctuated by an occasional shout.

Laine tried to keep watch. Tried to keep the panic in check, too. Still no shots. She figured it was too much to hope that the guards had managed to capture them. It was more likely that the shooters were on the move.

“You'd better be down,” Tucker said to her over his shoulder, and he pivoted in the direction of one of the buildings just up the street from the diner.

He fired.

Tucker immediately jumped to the side behind a concrete park bench. Laine couldn't see who or what he was aiming at, but she certainly heard what followed.