dabbed at it. “Got it.”
“Oh, yuck. That’s a really bad boo-boo.”
“Not so bad, sugar. Maybe you’ll be a doctor when you grow up so you can fix people.”
Molly’s smile brightened. “I want to fix people.” She hugged her lion tight.
“Laurel, clean the wound with the Betadine. Put some antibiotic ointment on it and use the butterfly strips to close it,” he ordered.
Molly insisted on adding several of her own bandages. When they’d finished, Garrett turned to Laurel. His face had gone pale.
“There’s a clinic in Trouble,” she repeated.
“We can’t go back there. Where is the chip?”
She picked up the small device with the forceps. He took it from her and turned it over in his hand. His jawline throbbed. “Damn him.”
“Who?”
He lifted his gaze and met hers.
“Your father requested these chips. As far as I knew, they were never used, but he had one put into me. He would have been the only one to know the frequency.”
* * *
MIKE STRICKLAND GROANED and pressed his hand to his head. It came away bloody and sticky. He rolled over. His entire body hurt. He tested each limb. Nothing broken, though his head might explode at any moment. Slowly he sat up.
Krauss lay next to him, his neck obviously broken.
He’d been the weak link anyway. A lot like Derek Bradley. The guy was a fool. If it had been him, he’d have put a bullet in both men’s brains...just to be sure.
Strickland struggled to his feet and glared up the steep incline. “I gotta find that guy.”
He searched around. No tracking device. “Damn.” He hoped Bradley didn’t have it.
A phone sounded a few feet from Strickland. His head pounding as if he had an ice pick stabbed in his ear, he followed the sound and bent down, nearly crying out in pain.
The name on the screen caused his stomach to roil. He vomited all over the ground. He should ignore it.
The ringing stopped, then started again.
“Strickland.”
“Don’t ignore me again, Strickland.”
He wiped his mouth.
“Bradley was moving toward Trouble, Texas, and now his signal has vanished. You failed. Again.”
“We have a plan,” Strickland lied.
“Oh, really? Now that we can no longer track Derek Bradley, he’s an even greater threat. Neutralize him.”
“I understand.”
“Do you, Strickland? Do you really? Because this is your second mistake in as many days. That’s one more than anyone else under my command has made—and still lived.”
The phone call ended.
He needed a plan. First to get back to his SUV, and then to find Bradley.
Strickland sank to his knees and emptied the rest of the contents of his stomach next to Krauss’s body.
He’d never find Bradley this way.
If he couldn’t chase after Bradley, he’d just have to find bait that would attract him.
Trouble, Texas, was the way to do it.
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