Gabrielle looked at the sheriff. “Are there charges against him?”
“Not yet. They’re still trying, but SAPD hasn’t been
able to link him to the gunmen who held the women hostage.”
“And they won’t be able to do that,” Cordell said. “I’ve done nothing wrong. Yes, those gunmen owed me money, but I wouldn’t have committed murder and other various felonies for the sake of cash.”
“You sure about that?” Houston asked in challenge. “Then why are you here if you’re not up to something bad?”
“I was just visiting Willow Ridge and looking for you. No crime in doing that. For the record,” Cordell added, staring right at her, “I was trying to do you a favor.”
“How? By trying to run Houston and me off the road yesterday?” she fired back. Despite the shaky nerves, Gabrielle met his gaze head-on.
He shrugged. “That wasn’t me.”
Houston inched slightly forward. “We have a photo of you, stepping from the vehicle, that says otherwise.”
“You’re mistaken. It must have been someone who looks like me.”
She glanced at the sheriff again for some kind of confirmation or denial. “The car he was driving wasn’t black. And it didn’t have any damage consistent with running someone off the road.”
Gabrielle choked back a groan.
“What about his partner?” Houston demanded. “There were two men who got out at Jay Markham’s apartment. That second man could have been the one driving the black car.”
The sheriff shook his head. “When we picked up Cordell, he was alone.”
That sent Houston’s gaze slashing toward Cordell. “So, who’s your partner?”
“Don’t have one. I occasionally hire assistants, but most of time they just end up getting in the way. I prefer to do things myself.”
“Like trying to hurt Gabrielle,” Houston fired back.
“I wouldn’t want to hurt her.” Cordell’s voice was calm and filled with mock concern. “But it doesn’t surprise me something like that would have happened. You got any idea how much trouble your brother is in?”
Gabrielle folded her arms over her chest. “No. But I suppose you’ll tell me.”
“Gladly.” He flashed another smile. “He owes me money. Lots of it. But I’m not the only one. Jay made some bad investments out at the horse racing park, and I figure someone wants to collect that money from you. With you being an attorney and all, I’m guessing you got some savings stashed away somewhere.”
Gabrielle didn’t intend to discuss her finances with this man.
“Is that what you were trying to do—collect Jay’s debts from Gabrielle?” Houston demanded.
Cordell shook his head and dropped the smile when he looked at Houston. “I said it wasn’t me who went after you, but Jay owes people who’d do something like that.”
The sheriff moved a tablet of paper and a pen closer to Cordell. “I want the names of those people.”
Another shrug from Cordell. “Don’t know their names. You’d have to ask Jay about that.”
Gabrielle huffed. This was another runaround, and after dealing with her brother the night before, she was
tired of not having answers. “You said you knew who was after me,” she reminded him.
The man looked ready to shrug again, but Houston pushed himself away from the door, moved in and bracketed his hands on the table. He was close enough to Cordell to violate his personal space. “Cut the BS. If you’re not the one after Gabrielle, then who is? I also want to know how you knew she was here in Willow Ridge.”
“I don’t have a name,” Cordell insisted. “And as for how I knew she was here, well, someone told me. In confidence.”
Houston eased back and looked at the sheriff. “Arrest him. I have the photo of Cordell getting out of the black car that came after Gabrielle and me. That should be enough to take him into custody for attempted murder.”
That surprised Gabrielle, but not as much as it surprised Cordell, when Houston started to walk away.
Cordell jumped to his feet. “Wait a minute. Doesn’t ‘in confidence’ mean anything to you?” Cordell shook his head, and any trace of his smile vanished. “I don’t want to make the wrong enemies.”
“You already have,” Houston assured him. “Because I’m your enemy now.” And his low, dangerous tone left no room for any doubt about that.
Cordell and Houston had a staring match, and Gabrielle could see the exact moment when Cordell conceded that he was going to have to give them some real information. Houston was a formidable foe, and Cordell didn’t want any part of that.
“Like I said, Jay owes me money, and when he told
me he couldn’t pay, I started watching his place. I wanted to keep tabs on him and make sure he was doing everything possible to get me the cash. That’s when I saw his visitors, and I figured out where Gabrielle was.”
Houston glanced back at her, probably to see if she understood that comment, but she only shook her head.
“What visitors?” Houston demanded.
This time, when Cordell lifted his shoulder, the shrug seemed more genuine than cocky. “Your father, of course. Mack Sadler. I figured, if a man like Mack came out to see a man like Jay, then it probably had something to do with Gabrielle, so I took a drive out here to Willow Ridge—”
“My father came to see Jay?” Houston interrupted.
Cordell nodded, as if the answer were obvious.
Gabrielle tried not to react, but it was hard to remain calm after hearing that. Maybe Mack had gone to see her brother so he could, in turn, find Lucas and her, but if that’s all there was to it, then why hadn’t Mack volunteered that information?
“Cordell could be lying,” Houston reminded her.
Gabrielle hung on to that as if it were a lifeline, because she truly didn’t want Houston’s father to have been the one who tried to hurt them. But just in case he was, Gabrielle didn’t want Lucas at the ranch.
Mack could come back anytime.
“I have to get back to the ranch,” Gabrielle insisted. She turned, but then stopped when Cordell called out to her.
“I’m not the one after you,” Cordell insisted, when she glanced back at him. “You got a lot more trouble on your hands than just me if you’re trusting the Sadlers.”
Gabrielle slowly turned back around to face him. “What does that mean?”
“It means, Mack wasn’t alone when he visited your brother day before yesterday. There was another man with him.”
She pulled back her shoulders. “You’re not suggesting Houston was there.”
“No. Not Houston. But the next best thing. His foreman, Dale Burnett.”
“Hurry,” Gabrielle insisted.
Houston did. He caught on to her hand, and together they raced out of the sheriff’s office. They jumped into his silver Porsche and sped out of the parking lot.
This would no doubt be the longest twenty-five-minute drive of their lives.
Gabrielle took out her phone from her purse. Houston didn’t have to ask who she was calling. He knew. She needed to get in touch with Lily Rose.
“I don’t want to scare you,” Gabrielle said, when the nanny answered, “but I need you to keep Lucas with you at all times, and lock your door.” She paused. “I’ll explain everything as soon as I get there. Just don’t leave your room.”
After slapping the phone shut, she yelled “Hurry” to Houston.
“Remember, Cordell could be lying,” Houston reminded her.
“I know, but I can’t take that chance.”
Neither could he. Houston trusted Dale, or at least he thought he could. After all, he’d known Dale for the better part of twenty years; but Houston also knew his
father, and Mack could be a persuasive man. It was possible that Mack had talked Dale into doing something stupid.
Like visiting Jay.
Still, even if Cordell had told the truth about that, it didn’t mean his foreman would have done anything to hurt Gabrielle, Lucas or him. But if that were so, Dale should have been the one to tell him about the visit to Jay. He shouldn’t have had to learn something that big from Harlan Cordell.
The anger slammed through Houston. He was damn tired of all the lies and lies by omission. One way or another, he would get to the bottom of this, even if it meant grilling his father and Dale.
Houston pressed harder on the accelerator, once he was beyond the town limits and away from other vehicles. Beside him, Gabrielle had a death grip on her cell phone, probably so she could answer it immediately, if Lily Rose called back to tell her of some problem that had arisen at the ranch.
“It’ll be okay,” Houston tried to assure her, but he knew there was no way he could guarantee that.
He considered calling someone else at the ranch, maybe one of the maids or another ranch hand, but he didn’t have their personal numbers. If he dialed any of the landlines at the house, Dale would be the one to answer, since all calls were routed through his desk phone or cell. Houston didn’t want the man to have any kind of heads-up or warning when he confronted him about what Cordell had said.
But there was one person he could call.
Houston took out his cell, scrolled through the
numbers and made the call to his father. The phone rang and rang, and then went to voicemail.
That didn’t soothe Houston’s temper.
“I need to speak to you now,” Houston said, leaving the message for his father.
He hung up and was about to try yet again to comfort Gabrielle, but then he saw a white car in his rearview mirror.
Even though this was a country road that led primarily to the ranch, it wasn’t unusual for there to be other traffic. Still, Houston got an uneasy feeling, and that uneasy feeling went up a notch because he couldn’t see the driver or anyone else in the vehicle. The dark-tinted windows prevented that. So did the sun bouncing off the glass.
“What?” she asked.
Gabrielle had obviously noticed his expression, and she followed his gaze to the rearview mirror. Then she looked behind them.
“You don’t think…” But she didn’t finish the thought.
Houston didn’t want to finish it, either. He focused on the road ahead, specifically the curves and the rickety wooden bridge that he practically flew across. He damn sure didn’t want to wreck the Porsche just because of an eerie gut feeling about the car behind them.
The car that was going way too fast.
Houston checked the speedometer and saw he was pushing seventy. The other car was going faster than that, because it was quickly eating up the distance between them.
In a straight-line race, the Porsche wouldn’t have any
trouble outrunning the other car, but there was nothing straight about this road. In addition to the curves and three different creeks, there were deep ditches, slick clay banks and massive trees that grew just a few feet from the asphalt surface. Under ideal situations, it was like driving an obstacle course.
This wasn’t an ideal situation.
His heart was pounding, his mind racing. And the only thing he wanted to do was hurry back to the ranch and make sure Lucas was safe.
He had to slow down to take one of the curves, but Houston was still going so fast that the tires squealed. The Porsche fishtailed coming out of the turn, but he straightened it out and jammed the accelerator again.
The white car did the same.
“Should I call someone?” Gabrielle asked.
Houston considered it, but he was literally halfway between town and the ranch. Another fifteen minutes tops, and he would reach his property. After that, he could make sure Gabrielle was safe so he could confront whoever the hell was in that car.
“Don’t call anyone just yet. It could be teenagers out for a joy ride,” he reminded Gabrielle and himself.
He had to slow down to take another curve. This one came out at the second of three bridges they would have to cross. Houston made it through those obstacles and onto a mile stretch of straight road. Here’s where he could make up some time and get farther ahead of the car behind them.
Or so he thought.
Houston glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the
hand snake out from the driver’s side window. But it wasn’t just a hand.
The hand held a gun.
“Get down!” Houston shouted to Gabrielle.
She looked behind them, no doubt to see why he’d shouted that warning, but Houston didn’t want her to waste a second responding. He caught on to her shoulder and shoved her deeper into the seat.
He heard the blast.
Even though his windows were up and the Porsche engine was humming, he had no trouble hearing the shot that the SOB had fired at them.
It must have missed, because the glass didn’t break, and there was no sound to indicate the bullet had torn through the car.
But the guy fired again. And again.
The third shot went through the Porsche’s back windshield and shattered the safety glass. Worse, the web of cracked glass made it impossible for Houston to see through the rearview mirror. He checked the one on the side.
Just as another shot slammed into his car.
“Get the gun from the glove compartment,” he told Gabrielle. Not that he could return fire. And he sure didn’t want her trying to do that, either. But he wanted the gun ready just in case. “And go ahead and call nine one one so we can get the sheriff out here.”
Houston kept his attention nailed to the road ahead, while Gabrielle made the call and then fished through the glove compartment to come up with his Smith and Wesson.
“Hold on to it,” he said, hoping like hell that they wouldn’t need it.
He continued to speed ahead.
And the bullets continued to come at them. Being on the straight stretch of the road suddenly didn’t have as many advantages at it had before. The Porsche was in the direct line of fire.
“Who’s doing this?” she asked, trying to look into the side mirror.
Houston shoved her right back down. “I don’t know.” Maybe it was someone working for Cordell. After all, there’d been two men in the black car that had tried to run Gabrielle and him off the road. Of course, it could be someone else.
He pushed any theories aside. He didn’t have time to speculate now. Later though, he would get answers.
Houston felt the steering wheel jerk to the right. Not a gentle tug, either. It suddenly seemed locked in place, and he knew why.
The gunman had managed to shoot out the tire.
Hell.
He began to pump the brakes, but he no longer had control of the car.
“Hold on,” Houston warned Gabrielle.
He couldn’t keep them on the road. The Porsche was headed straight for the water-filled ditch that dropped down at least four feet from the surface of the road.
From the corner of his eye, he made sure Gabrielle was wearing her seat belt. She was. But he knew that wouldn’t necessarily be enough protection when they crashed. And there was no
if
in this equation. They
would
crash.
Houston only hoped he could minimize the impact so that Gabrielle wouldn’t be hurt. He thought of Lucas, of how important it was for Gabrielle and him to get out of this situation, but there were no guarantees that would happen.
“Don’t drop the gun,” he told her. Because he was dead certain he would need it to protect Gabrielle. That gunman would come after them once the Porsche had been stopped.
Houston grappled with the steering wheel, though his efforts were useless. The Porsche’s front tires left the asphalt, plowing them through the soft ground. The car did a nosedive right into the ditch.
The airbags instantly deployed and slammed against Gabrielle and him. Houston didn’t take the time to figure out if he was injured or not. He batted aside their airbags and grabbed the gun from her.
“Stay down,” he warned her, and Houston reached to open his door. But it was jammed.
Cursing, he rammed his shoulder against it and tried to use what was left of his side mirror to get a visual on the white car. He couldn’t see it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. The gunman had succeeded in getting them to crash, and now he was probably coming in for the kill.
“The car’s filling up with water,” Gabrielle let him know.
Yes. He could feel it swirling around his feet, but hopefully the ditch wasn’t deep enough for the water to be as much of a threat as the guy who’d put a bullet in his tire. He needed for Gabrielle to be able to stay in the Porsche and use it for cover.
Houston gave the door another shove, and this time it gave way. He practically spilled out into the ditch, but he kept his gun raised so it wouldn’t get wet, and so he’d be ready to return fire.
He glanced around, but he soon had a clear idea of where the gunman was—when the man fired another shot.
The bullet went through the door, only inches from where Houston was crouched. The guy was already too close, and the sheriff probably wouldn’t arrive for another ten minutes or more. Gabrielle could be dead by then.
But Houston didn’t intend to let that happen.
He used the Porsche for cover and looked over the top until he spotted the white car. It was there, stopped on the road, and from what he could tell, the driver was still inside, with only his hand sticking out from the window.
Houston took aim at the front windshield and fired.
The shot burst through the glass. But he didn’t stop there. He fired again. And again.
The driver jerked back his hand, and Houston heard him throw the car into gear. For one horrifying moment, Houston thought the guy might try to ram into them, and if so, Gabrielle would be a sitting duck.
Houston started to yell for her to get out, even though it was a huge risk. She could be shot before she managed to get behind one of the trees. The closest one at this point was still a good fifteen feet away.
But the driver didn’t come after them.
He gunned the engine.
He was getting away.
That couldn’t happen. Gabrielle and he couldn’t continue to go through these attacks, because next time they might not be so lucky.
Houston pivoted, the cold mud and water sloshing over his legs, and he took aim at the car. He fired. He didn’t hit the tire, but the bullet slammed into the back bumper.
Cursing, Houston barreled out of the ditch and climbed out of the sharp incline so he could get back onto the road. He took aim again and fired into the white car.
The driver didn’t stop.
Neither did Houston. With his gun still ready and aimed, he went running after the SOB who’d just tried to kill them.