Raw Talent. Debra Webb
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The truck abruptly swerved and slid to a halt.
Gabrielle swore, adjusted her aim. Dammit, the truck was stopped with the passenger side facing in her direction. She could make out one of the kids….
The shooter registered in the corner of her eye a split second before she dove for the ground.
A series of explosions rent the air. Bullets plowed into the sand a few inches from her head.
She rolled. Took aim again.
A smile curled the corners of her mouth.
“Gotcha.” She fired.
The man screamed and scrambled out of sight behind the vehicle.
“Dumb bastard.”
A spray of bullets pelted the sand around her. She lunged for the cover of her Jeep. She’d been able to see some part of one leg beneath the truck. She’d hit him. Probably hurt like hell, but he wasn’t dead by a long shot.
She studied the truck, except she couldn’t see anything now. No movement whatsoever. “Damn.” He had her at a distinct disadvantage. She couldn’t shoot anywhere near the cab for fear of hitting one of the kids.
Where the hell was he?
He was still behind the truck…evidently using the tires for additional cover since she couldn’t see any part of his lower anatomy beneath the vehicle chassis.
Gabrielle scanned the darkening landscape beyond the truck. Help didn’t appear to be coming. Worse, the dying woman had said others would come. Friends of the jerk currently exchanging lead with her.
She couldn’t just lay here and wait to see what happened. She had to make a move.
Screaming from inside the truck cab abruptly snagged her attention. What now?
She heard the shooter yell at the kids to shut up. Gabrielle’s nerves jangled. If he started shooting at those kids…surely he wouldn’t do that. He’d obviously had some reason for wanting to kidnap them, would likely need them alive for that purpose.
Gabrielle took a moment to find calm. Staying alive required slowing the blood roaring through her ears. It meant being aware of the other guy at all times and not letting her emotions take control.
The sound of wailing jerked her into forward motion. More arguing between the man and one of the boys. She had to try to reach the rear end of the truck while he was distracted.
Too late.
She didn’t have to see the bullets pelting the sand, the echoing sound of the weapon firing was enough. He was laying down ground fire in an attempt to hit her or to force her away from her destination. She dove for the ground.
The truck horn blared to life. The gunshots stopped. Screaming and cursing followed.
Gabrielle scrambled to her feet and reached the side of the truck, hunkered by the tire to listen. The man still ranted at the older boy. Gabrielle decided the boy had laid down on the horn to distract the bastard or to annoy him. Either way, she’d have to thank him later.
Abrupt silence warned her that her enemy had figured out her latest move.
She held her breath. Listened…leaned down to see if there was any sign of his feet and legs.
Nothing.
He had to be crouched on the other side of the rear driver’s side tire. Less than a dozen feet away.
The proverbial Mexican standoff. How ironic.
A thud had her fingers tightening on her weapon.
She listened intently.
Nothing.
She couldn’t just continue to crouch here until he came around the end of the truck after her. But then he could be waiting for her to make exactly that kind of move. Evidently was.
Still no sound. No movement.
Damn. What the hell did she do now? Her mini weapons training course hadn’t included anything like this.
She looked under the truck again. Couldn’t see a damned thing.
Hovering here and waiting for him to come after her was driving her nuts. She had to move.
She eased quietly toward the end of the truck. Stalled there to listen.
Not a sound.
She peeked beneath the truck, but couldn’t see a thing in the deepening gloom. Hell, he could be waiting for dark. The sun had already dropped behind the mountains, leaving only a faint glow reaching across the desert.
That thought propelled her into action. She moved around the end of the truck, to the far side of the tailgate. Steeled herself. Then risked a look beyond the corner…
The shooter was on the ground. Not moving.
Gabrielle frowned. She definitely hadn’t gotten in a lethal hit.
His weapon was still in his hand, but he made no move to aim it toward her. Then she saw the reason for his motionlessness. Blood. Or what was likely blood. The sand around his lower body was dark with it.
Considering his eyes were still open and he hadn’t blinked, she figured he was dead or damned close.
She darted to his position and kicked his gun away from his hand. He didn’t move.
He’d been crouched near the tire as she had suspected. Looked as if he’d simply fallen over. Why had he bled so profusely?
She looked for the entry wound where she’d hit him, but it was difficult to see in the near darkness. Instead she looked for where the blood appeared to start on his clothing. Left thigh area.
Then she knew. There was an artery in that general area. She couldn’t remember what it was called or exactly where it was, but apparently she’d hit it.
And he’d bled to death before he’d realized how badly he was wounded.
Damned lucky for her.
“Get us out of here!”
Her gaze swung to the truck and the older boy’s face. He peered out the rear window now.
The two must have hunkered in the floor after the horn-blowing incident. Otherwise they could have seen the man lying on his side in the sand.
Gabrielle hurried to the driver’s side door and wrenched it open.
“Hurry, lady!” the older boy demanded. “He was meeting his friends. They’ll know something has gone wrong and head this way soon!”
“Give me a minute,” Gabrielle snapped. Ungrateful kid. Didn’t he realize she’d just saved his butt?
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