Page 30 of Lone Star Country Protector
Until they had answers, she was right to be cautious. Even then, he wanted her to be cautious.
“I’ll be careful,” he promised before feathering a kiss on her forehead. Suddenly, he realized they were in public, and this wouldn’t look professional for either one of them. He cleared his throat and dropped his arm from around her shoulder. “Go inside and wait by the ER doors. Stand behind a big planter. Okay?”
She nodded before turning and heading inside. For a second, he thought she might argue. The woman had an independent streak a mile long. It was one of many traits that made her sexy as all get out to his thinking. Strong women were sexy. Opinionated women were sexy. Intelligent women were sexy.
Blakely had it all.
Dalton stepped into what he guessed would be the line of fire as she doubled back to the hospital. Once she was in a secure location, he dodged in between vehicles on his way to his truck. Made it safely there.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, he saw a glint of metal in the direction he’d gotten the heebie-jeebies from a fewminutes ago. Keeping a low profile, he hunched down in the seat and then started the engine. Pulling out of the parking space, he half expected bullets to fly. Found himself tensing up in preparation for one of those bullets to break his passenger window and lodge itself into his flesh.
Thankfully, none of that happened as he made his way toward the ER bay and then positioned the truck in front of the glass doors, which opened with a swish. Ducking low, Blakely rushed out without a backward glance.
Again, no bullets flew. He’d take that as a win.
“I’m making a call to the nurse’s station to let them know there could be someone out in the parking lot,” she said as she lowered the seat until she was flat on her back.
“Good idea,” he agreed as he mashed the gas pedal before someone came out and yelled at them for being in the ambulance bay. He didn’t mind getting into trouble. Hell, he’d been in trouble most of his childhood. What bothered him was the fact someone could get caught in the crosshairs should this bastard decide to fire.
Shoving those thoughts aside, he navigated out of the parking lot as he double-checked his mirrors to make certain no one followed. Once clear of the hospital, he said, “It’s safe to sit up now if you want.”
She finished the call and then brought her seat back up. “I feel much better now that the nurses are aware.”
“It might have been nothing, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” he agreed.
“I hate that I dragged you into this mess,” Blakely stated.
“Just doing my job,” he said as he pulled up to a red light. Glancing over at Blakely, he added, “And it’s a job I happen to love and am damn good at.”
The corners of her lips tightened in a frown.
“That, you are,” she responded, turning her face away to stare out the passenger-side window. She glanced at the side mirror too. “You’ve kept me alive so far.”
“We make a good team,” he said, not loving the fact he’d been the one to make her frown. Something told him that she didn’t smile nearly enough.
The rest of the ride to the courthouse was spent in silence. The face of this courthouse wasn’t much to look at. It was mostly brick and mortar. Inside, by contrast, it was grander. The courtrooms themselves were smaller than he’d expected on his first visit, but he was used to them now. He’d been inside judges’ chambers several times throughout his career, each with the same large mahogany desks. The Texas and American flags flanked leather executive chairs. Every judge had the same green law-library desk lamp. Did it remind them of their college days? When the law was an ideal instead of the reality they carried out every day? A time when most of the people they encountered were still good, instead of the horrors they came across in the courtroom in a defendant’s chair?
Blakely’s chambers had a wall of books on one side along with a pair of leather chairs that looked comfortable to sit in.
“I hope you understand that I can’t let you sit next to me while I scan files for names,” she said.
“Right,” he said. “Of course. Do you want to talk through the kind of person you might be looking for?”
“I have a few cases in mind where I’ve forgotten details and names, but faces stick out,” she said. “Figured I’d start there and with the ones who sneered at me while I handed down their sentences.”
“Seems like a good place to begin,” he concurred, taking one of the leather chairs that turned out to be as comfortableas it had looked. His cell buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out and then held it up. “I’ll take this while you search.”
Blakely’s full attention was already on the screen that had come to life, casting a glow on her face in the otherwise dim room. She studied the screen, and he was almost certain she hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
His first instinct was the call coming in must be an update about his grandparents. But, no, he didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Marshal Remington,” the familiar voice said. He’d spoken to the investigator at the scene this morning. “Detective Harvey here.”
“Right,” Dalton said. Now he had a name to a voice. “How can I help you, Detective?”
“Got a call from Johnny Spear’s parole officer a few minutes ago,” Harvey said.
