to be a renegade, or maybe it was the adrenaline that came of a birth father who would not acknowledge Keegan or the affair he’d had with Keegan’s mother. Or perhaps it was the constant reminders from his half brother, John Larraby, Gold Bar’s police chief. Keegan’s gut twitched at the thought.
One time late in high school, John had let loose a sucker punch at Keegan’s brother Jack and taken him down. Keegan didn’t remember the moments that followed, but when his head cleared, he was in the principal’s office, nose bleeding, being suspended for roughing up John along with most of the offensive line. No one laid a finger on Jack ever again and that was all that mattered. John hadn’t forgotten the drubbing and neither had Keegan.
Tracy’s hair gleamed in the dim light, shoved behind her ears and glimmering with highlights that indicated she was a blonde. He liked blondes, but moreover, he liked women who stood right up to him and displayed a strong independent streak. Tracy had already proved herself to be that kind of woman, as she’d hurried to the Jeep and checked the pistol in her pocket.
“Where’d you get the gun?”
“It was my father’s. He was...he was teaching me to shoot.”
“You didn’t finish the lessons?”
“No.” He caught the sheen of tears in her eyes, but she swallowed and blinked hard, not about to give him access to her pain. Strong woman, but not strong enough to keep the anguish from peeping through when she’d mentioned her father.
He finished the tire and went to his bike.
“What are you doing?” Tracy called. “Get in. We have to go.”
“Gotta get the ribbon,” he said as he pulled the package from his saddlebags. “For the pomanders.”
She watched him, openmouthed, as he strolled back, package tucked under one arm.
“Pomanders?” she said. “What’s that?”
“I have no idea,” he said, smiling. “But two of my brothers are getting married at Christmas and Mama says this ribbon stuff is required, so I’m carrying out my duties.” He opened the door and tossed the package into her Jeep.
The quirk of a smile twisted her mouth. It was the first time he’d seen her relax even the tiniest amount, and he was happy about it. Anything to keep her mind off whatever nightmare she’d witnessed.
He held out a hand. “How about I drive?”
“Why? You think you’re a better driver than me?”
“Undoubtedly, if you drive as well as you shoot.”
Another whisper of a smile and maybe the hint of a giggle. Score another one for Keegan Thorn.
“I—” she said just as a rifle blast ripped the air.
Keegan had a split second to grab her wrist and pull her down before more bullets exploded through the night.
Tracy hardly recognized her own scream. The next shot shattered her rear window.
“Shooter’s up behind the water tower,” Keegan said. “We’ve got to—”
He didn’t get to finish before the third shot ricocheted off the side mirror and struck Keegan in the shoulder. He cried out, falling facedown onto the wet ground, writhing in pain.
She grabbed his belt and pulled him closer to the shelter of the Jeep. Frantic, she yanked open the passenger door and backed into the seat, hauling with all her strength to pull Keegan in behind her. Somehow he managed to help until they were both sprawled inside. Reaching over him, she slammed the door.
“I guess I’m driving after all,” she quipped, earning another groan from Keegan.
“Don’t gloat,” he said, and she was beyond relieved at his sassy reply.
Slamming the Jeep into Drive, she floored the gas and gunned it up the parking area away from the train station and onto the main road. It would take the killer a few minutes to make it back to his vehicle, and she intended to take full advantage of that time.
She risked a look at Keegan. He was upright, teeth gritted, eyes open, one hand clutching the door handle. “How bad is your wound?”
“No worse than the average gunshot.”
She reached for an extra jacket she kept in the car. “Press this to your shoulder.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
Her pursuer had made it to the road. He was now approaching at a good clip, closing the gap between the two vehicles.
“Keegan?”
“Yeah?”
“Got your seat belt on?”
“Uh-uh. Why?”
“Don’t talk. Just strap yourself in.”
His eyes found the rearview. “Your killer?”
“Has to be, unless there’s an accomplice.”
“Name?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know the killer’s name?”
“I’ve never been to this area before,” she snapped. “The room was dark and whoever it was didn’t exactly make an introduction.”
Keegan managed to fasten his seat belt. “The victim?”
“A woman. I couldn’t see her face well, either.”
She caught his surprise as she pushed the gas pedal hard. The approaching car kept pace.
Tracy’s body was tight with fear, foot rammed onto the gas pedal as the Jeep topped seventy miles an hour. Her fear ramped up along with their speed.
She shot a look at Keegan, who was dialing on his cell phone, but she was too focused on driving to pay much attention to the conversation. After a few minutes he disconnected. “Cops are dispatching someone, but I wouldn’t hold my breath that they’re going to make it a huge priority.”
“Why not?”
“First, I’m not sure they believed me, and second, I’m not the chief’s favorite guy.”
“Why not?”
“He’s my half brother, John Larraby. Long story. John’s not worth the time it would take to tell you about it.”
“Larraby? Is he related to Bryce Larraby?”
“Yeah. Bryce is...” Keegan huffed out a breath. “He’s the guy who fathered me, I guess you could say.”
