Cowboy In The Crossfire. Robin Perini
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she hadn’t heard them. Blake had.
Slowly, she walked back to her bedroom to dress. God, how had this happened? All she’d wanted for Ethan was a good life, for him to feel safe and protected.
She wished she could ask Blake for help. Her heart had gone pitter-patter the few times he’d smiled. When he’d held her in his arms last night, he’d made her feel small, but not vulnerable. Only protected. For a second, she’d wanted to lean her head against him and forget the danger. But she had no choice. She had to hide the car she’d stolen and vanish under the radar. She couldn’t ask a sheriff to break the law for her. Especially one who had been through what Blake had.
Amanda left the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen. Keeping as quiet as possible, she opened the door and stepped onto the porch. The sun’s brightness made the ice sparkle like glistening diamonds. The place looked like a winter wonderland. One thing about West Texas, if you wanted the weather to change, all you had to do was wait a minute.
The ditch to her right wasn’t deep, but last night it might just as well have been the Grand Canyon. She shivered. She could have easily frozen to death.
She followed the line of the driveway as it curved in front of the small barn. Where had the car landed? She remembered hitting the brakes and skidding. Then little else. Shoving her hands into her pockets, Amanda crossed the yard and stared in disbelief at the scars marring the ice-covered snow on the road.
The car was gone.
She whirled around and ran into a wall of muscle.
Blake clasped her shoulders to steady her. “In a hurry?”
“Where’s the car?” Oh, God. That beat-up station wagon was the only way out of town and into oblivion. Her hands trembled. Her money. The gun. Gone.
“Amanda.” Blake shook her gently. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Where. Is. The. Car?” She tried to keep the panic out of her voice, but she couldn’t stop it from quivering.
“Scooter towed it to his garage. It’s probably totaled.”
“This can’t be happening.” Amanda’s legs wobbled beneath her. What was she going to do? “Please tell me it’s drivable.”
“Your suspension is damaged. The tire was practically bent underneath.”
“How much to fix it?”
“At least a thousand. Maybe more.”
Amanda swayed. She could have crumpled into a heap on the snow and cried. She needed that car. But she had only a couple hundred in her purse.
Her purse. Her ID. Panic vibrated through her body. She had a vague memory of grabbing the bag as she stumbled out of the car, but had she? If the Austin cops found the car… “I’ve got to get Ethan. We have to go.”
She started to run to the house, but her feet slipped on the ice, and she landed hard on her backside. The fall jarred her ribs. Fire seared through her. She doubled over and clutched at the wound, rocking to and fro. She couldn’t stop the moans.
How could she protect her son like this?
Blake knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. “Whoa, there. Take it easy. You’re trying to foul up my bandage again.”
She shoved herself to her feet, barely able to stand the burning at her side. She teetered, fighting against the spots dancing in front of her eyes. She couldn’t pass out. “We have to disappear. He’ll find us.”
“Who’s looking for you, Amanda?” He clasped her arms and spun her around to face him, his Stetson not shielding the intensity of his gaze.
“I don’t know. And that’s no lie. Some guy outside Vince’s house shot me. He came after us. He won’t stop. I know it. I have to get us out of here.”
“I did a little research. There’s no news of Vince being killed. Anywhere.”
Amanda dug her fingers into Blake’s arm. “Please tell me you didn’t call Austin.”
Before he could answer, she wrenched away, struggled up the front steps and stumbled through the door. Blake followed, hovering beside her like an overprotective guardian. She knew he wouldn’t give up, but he’d have to. She’d beg, borrow or steal some money. Pay him back later. Somehow. Ethan’s room drew her gaze. The door stood open.
Her son hadn’t made a move without her since Vince’s death. What if the killer had found them? What if he’d taken her son?
She ran across the hardwood floor and rushed into the bedroom. Empty. “Ethan!”
Fear laced her voice. She whirled around, shoved open the closet.
No Ethan. “Where is he?” She searched the bathroom. Behind the shower curtain. Nothing.
“Oh, God, Blake. Where’s Ethan?”
Blake didn’t respond. She looked over her shoulder. He stood frozen, staring at a cracked-open entrance to a room down the hall. His face turned white. “No.”
Blake burst into a run and slammed open the oak door against the wall. Amanda ran into his back.
“What are you doing?” Blake’s voice boomed. “No one goes in here.”
Ethan froze, the bright yellow dump truck in his hand rolling to a stop. Amanda placed herself between Ethan and a livid Blake. She’d never seen him like this.
“You…you can’t play with that.” Agony carved into each line of his face, he sidestepped Amanda and took the truck from Ethan.
Terror painted her son’s expression. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He ran to Amanda and threw himself against her.
She winced as he hit her side, but banished the waves of pain, focused solely on Ethan. “Shh, honey. Mommy’s here.” Worry vanished. She glared at Blake. “What are you trying to do? Scare him to death?”
Blake’s wild-eyed gaze darted around the room before slowly clearing. He stared at the dog, who cowered in the corner, at Amanda holding her son. His throat spasmed. He thrust a shaking hand through his hair. “Oh, my God. I—”
The torment on Blake’s face shattered her.
He stared down at the floor behind her. She followed his gaze. A cardboard box in the middle of the floor. The name Joey in large bold letters on its side. And she understood. His son’s toys. And from the look of dust covering the furniture, the door hadn’t been opened since Blake had moved here.
A twin bed with a football bedspread lay untouched, waiting for someone.
The room was a shrine.
“Blake—”
His distraught stare met hers. “I’m…sorry. I haven’t been in here since—” His voice trailed off. He turned and slowly walked out. His shoulders slumped, as if his soul had broken in two.
She stared after him. Her heart shattered at the devastation and loss on his face. Her eyes stung at the defeated picture of his leaving the room.
She rubbed her face. What had she done? Ethan was close to Joey’s age when he’d been killed. She hadn’t considered how hard this would be for Blake. The painful memories Ethan would trigger. She’d never wanted to hurt Blake. She’d never knowingly have done that.
Blake’s steps faded, and Amanda knelt down on the floor, needing to touch Ethan, to remind herself he was alive and here. She pulled him into her lap and cupped his face. She pushed back the hair falling on his forehead. What if she’d lost her son as Blake had lost his? Would she survive?
Ethan’s face scrunched up. “I didn’t mean to do anything bad.”
“I know, honey, I know. What made you come in here?”
“Just looking.