Slow Dancing With a Texan. Linda Conrad
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on the marble floor…and there was blood. Lots of blood.
Within two seconds he’d determined that both women were still alive and that Lainie hadn’t lost consciousness. She didn’t fight him, as he pulled her up and quickly decided to remove her from the line of fire. If she was hurt badly, he’d find out soon enough. But for now, he wasn’t taking any chances on her being shot again while he stopped to check her wounds.
Another sudden hail of bullets had bystanders dodging out of the way to the sidewalk. “Call 9-1-1!” he shouted to anyone within earshot.
But Sloan was sure that, when he got Lainie out of sight, the shooting would stop. She had to be the target.
It was a danged good thing he’d checked this building out earlier. Sloan dashed into an alcove and found the side exit to an employee parking lot.
He stopped at the door and gently lowered her to the floor. Kneeling beside her, he checked her pulse and looked for any obvious or bleeding wounds. Her eyes fluttered open and he saw the shock in her eyes, but he didn’t see pain.
Relieved, Sloan carefully opened the heavy metal door and scrutinized the lot. It seemed quiet enough, but he knew that in the brilliant sunlight of the late afternoon their chances of making it to his pickup without being seen were pretty slim. He lifted her again and laid her across his shoulder in preparation to make a run for it.
She moaned and squirmed. “My…my sister. Please help her.”
“Stay still! Don’t move,” he ground out in a whisper. “Someone will be coming to help the others. You’re still in danger.”
A second later he slid them both past the protection of the door and dashed toward the alley where he’d parked. He managed to make it across the asphalt lot without incident by darting between the parked cars.
“Wait a minute!” she yelled as she grabbed the back of his shirt with both hands. “Stop. I can’t…”
He ignored her words because he didn’t want to waste his running breath, but he was grateful that her voice sounded so strong. Maybe she hadn’t been hit at all. He needed a peaceful moment to stop and really check her over.
Until then he had mere seconds to decide whether stealth or speed was their best chance at survival. Quickly making the decision to get the hell out of Dodge as fast as possible, Sloan punched the button on his keyless entry remote and heard the familiar but noisy beeps coming from his pickup in the alleyway twenty feet beyond.
He’d never before realized how loud and echoing the sound of the alarm-disengage truly was. Too late now.
Sloan all but threw her into the front seat and slammed the door. He made it clear around to the driver’s side and had the key in the ignition before hearing the ping of bullets as they hit the asphalt behind them.
“Stay down,” he snapped at her.
“I have to go back.” She popped her head up as he gunned the engine. “My sister…all the others…they need help. I have to help them.”
“The police will take care of it. But you’ve got to keep low.” He pushed at her shoulder while the truck screamed out of the alley.
Lainie banged her head on the glove box as she slid off the seat like a rag doll and landed on the dirty floor mat below. She let loose a string of very unladylike remarks and struggled to hang on.
The engine revved and the tires squealed as the truck jerked madly around a corner. What in heaven’s name was happening to her?
Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and chanced a glimpse at the crazy cowpoke who’d manhandled her into this predicament. At once Lainie took in the shiny, leather cowboy boots and the spotless white Western hat.
Almost chalking him up to being an out-of-control urban cowboy, she briefly wondered if this was a kidnapping. Before that thought registered, he dragged at the wheel and sent the pickup truck into a spin.
It couldn’t have been more than two seconds later when he grimaced and righted the wheel again. But in that instant, she’d managed a glimpse under his denim jacket of a freshly starched white Western-cut shirt, a dark blue tie and the silver badge pinned neatly over his breast pocket.
Just then she remembered. Her mother had said to expect Captain Chet Johnson’s handpicked man this afternoon. What was the man’s name? Oh, yes. Sergeant Sloan Abbott of the Texas Rangers.
“We’ve got a black van on our tail.” His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.
“Someone is following us?” she rasped. “But why?”
He shot her a quick, dark look that could’ve easily pinned her to the dashboard. “If it’s somehow managed to escape your notice, people have been shooting at you for the last ten minutes.”
Lainie thought about the cracking sound she’d heard when the whole world exploded around her. She’d been standing in the lobby, chuckling over some joke her sister had told when they’d heard the noise. Both she and Suzy had hit the floor in the same instant. So it must’ve been gunfire that broke the glass window next to them.
Suzy. My goodness, what had happened to her?
“Please,” she yelled over the roar of the engine and the screech of tires. “The others…we have to make sure they’re okay. Turn around.”
“The HPD are there by now,” he muttered without looking in her direction. “And probably the paramedics. I heard the sirens. They can handle them a lot better than we can.” He dragged at the wheel again and the truck slid around a corner.
Whoa! Her questions would have to wait, as the ride got rougher and she had to fight to maintain her balance. Lainie moved her arm to get a better hold on the seat as the truck rocketed into a left turn. She gasped when she caught a glimpse of her own bloodstained sleeve.
The lawman’s head jerked around at the sound. “Where are you injured?” He’d obviously spotted the blood, too.
“I…I don’t know. I…don’t think I am.” She wasn’t sure. Trying to concentrate on both her body and her balance, she’d discovered that her arms and legs were definitely cramped by being shoved under the dashboard. But the rest of her mostly just felt numb.
“The van’s side windows are blacked out but I think I can see at least three of them through the front,” he yelled, not waiting for the rest of her answer. “I’m going to lose them. Another block and we’ll hit the freeway on-ramp. Can you stay put until then, Lainie?”
She didn’t think she had much choice, so she nodded her head. He’d called her Lainie. It gave her a solid, calming feeling to hear him say her name. She realized that anyone might know who she was from reading her daily column. But still, this man’s very presence said he was a lawman—her very own Texas Ranger bodyguard.
“You’re Sloan Abbott, aren’t you?”
He nodded his answer but didn’t take the time to speak. The truck tires squealed in protest as he made one more fast right turn. She was sincerely relieved she hadn’t been able to see that maneuver.
The truck accelerated as she felt it travel up a hill. They’d apparently hit a freeway on-ramp, but she couldn’t be sure which one. The newspaper’s office was located within a few minutes of a half-dozen different interstates near downtown Houston. But since she couldn’t see out the windows, she had no idea of where they were.
Sloan suddenly reached his long arm over and grabbed her by the front of her sweater, pulling her up and onto the seat. “Buckle up, Ms. Gardner.”
Lainie yelped in protest at being so roughly buffeted, but she turned around and did exactly what she’d been told. After buckling her seat belt, she hung on to the door handle with one hand while bracing herself against the seat with the other. The scenery whizzed by in a blur.
She wasn’t sure she could catch her breath, and silently begged him to stop this madness