Cowboy Delirium. Joanna Wayne
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“Hands over your head or I’ll shoot,” she ordered as she broke the kiss.
Curses fired from Luke’s mouth, but he raised his hands above his head. She took a deep breath, working to get her wits about her. Then with one quick move, Luke battered his head into her chest. She fell backward, but didn’t let go of the gun.
Her finger circled the trigger, but before she could pull it, Luke kicked the pistol from her hands. She fell on top of it, but he yanked her back up by her hair. The pain was so intense, she felt as if she were being scalped. She kept fighting for the gun, but Luke was too strong for her. The weapon slipped from her grasp.
She tried to break away and run. Her foot slipped.
Gunfire exploded in her brain and blood splattered over her like crimson rain.
Chapter Five
“Lawmen are reporting lots of new faces in Texas border towns.”
“Assassins?”
“It’s possible, but not definite. No one has come up with details, but the consensus is that Detonation Day is imminent. We may have a matter of days to stop it. Perhaps less.”
And Rio was stuck out here in this miserable cabin guarding some woman the drug lords had decided was worth kidnapping. “I’ve let everybody down,” he said into his miniature cell phone.
“If you go strictly by results, we all have. As long as you’re in the middle of the kidnapping, you may still be valuable. And if not, you’re in a position to save at least one—”
A thunderous clap of gunfire drowned out the rest of the sentence. Rio took off running without bothering to explain. He covered the few yards to the cabin in seconds, horror building at what he might find.
The blood was the first image that registered when he opened the door. It dripped from Jaime’s face and puddled in the folds of her dress. She’d fallen back against the cushions of the sofa. Her eyes were glazed with dread—or pain.
He plunged back into the past and into a memory so vivid that sharp pains needled his heart. He had trouble breathing. His feet refused to move.
A split second later, adrenaline coursed through his veins again, and he crossed the space that separated him from Jaime. It was then that he spotted Luke, draped over the far side of the sofa, still clutching the pistol though his left leg was soaked in blood. The leg of his jeans was torn from the bullet and Luke was using his left hand to apply pressure to the gaping wound.
“The bitch shot me.”
It was Luke who’d been shot, not Jaime. The blood was Luke’s. Rio had little success wrapping his mind around how that had happened but it was enough for now that she was okay.
Luke raised the pistol and pointed it at Jaime. “No woman shoots me and gets away with it.”
Rio extended his open hand. “Give me the gun, Luke.”
“Get the hell out of my way or I swear I’ll kill you, too.”
“You kill Jaime, and Poncho will see that you never see another sunrise. Is a death sentence what you want, Luke? If not, hand me the damn pistol.”
Luke muttered under his breath, a few curses that even Rio hadn’t heard before, but he had to know Rio had spoken the truth.
“Just hand me the gun so I can treat the wound.”
Luke grimaced and fell back to the couch, finally dropping the gun to the floor.
Rio kicked it to the other side of the room and turned to Jaime. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I didn’t shoot him. I took the gun from him but he wrestled it away from me. He was holding it when it went off.”
“We’ll sort it out later.”
“That’s how it happened.”
“I believe you.”
Not that the details mattered. For Rio, knowing she was okay stilled the panic that had nearly torn him apart when he’d first heard the gunshot and again when he’d seen the blood.
He took her hand and squeezed it. The touch vibrated through him and he dropped her hand too quickly, backing away from her and turning toward Luke before he had time to think about why she affected him the way she did.
He put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I should take a look at that wound.”
“If you can drag yourself away from the bitch that long.”
Jaime stood a bit shakily. “I’ll wash up in case you need help with Luke.”
Luke glared at her. “You lay a hand on me, and I’ll break it off.”
“Go back to the bedroom,” Rio said, trying to calm the wounded man and make this easier on Jaime. “If I need you, I’ll call for you.”
She nodded and walked away, shoulders squared, head high in spite of what she’d been through. Jaime was all woman, but she had a fighting spirit about her that would have fit in well with his team of frogmen.
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