Page 32 of Lone Star Wanted
Cassidy peeked up over the dash once more, eyes locked on the distant screen and the dense trees behind it. She still couldn’t see their attacker, but she was pretty sure the shots were coming from the edge of the screen. Maybe the shooter was standing on support boards.
“Jericho says there’s a ranch about fifty feet behind the trees and the screen,” Kincade relayed to her. “He says be careful about returning fire. We’re not alone out here.”
Cassidy cursed under her breath. That changed things. They couldn’t just unload blindly toward the tree line. One wrong shot could hit a civilian. Or worse.
Another bullet slammed into the front bumper, the sharp crack making her flinch.
“Options,” she muttered. “We need at least one now that doesn’t involve us sitting here while being peppered with bullets.”
Kincade kept his head low, eyes still peering out through the shattered windshield. “Give Jericho a few more minutes to get closer. Once he’s in position, I’ll get out. Draw the fire. Whoever’s out there seems fixated on the truck. I can drop into the ditch and use it for cover.”
Cassidy turned toward him sharply. “That’s your plan? Walk into the open and hope you don’t get shot?”
His eyes met hers, calm and steady. “They can shoot through the truck, too. You saw it. The engine’s toast, the metal’s shredding. We sit here much longer, one of us is getting hit.”
She knew he was right, but the idea of him out there, exposed and alone, made her stomach twist. Every worst-case scenario flashed through her head—too fast, too vivid.
Before she could say anything more, a voice rang out across the lot. “I’m County Sheriff Becker. Drop your weapons and show yourselves.”
Cassidy froze, her heart jumping. Kincade’s head tilted slightly, listening. Becker? She frowned and exchanged a glance with Kincade.
“What the hell is he doing here?” she whispered.
Kincade didn’t answer. He was already turning toward the broken windshield, trying to pinpoint the direction the voice had come from.
Cassidy’s pulse kicked harder. The voice had echoed from behind the screen, the same general direction the shots had come from.
Something about that didn’t sit right. At all.
She stayed low and didn’t respond. Neither did Kincade.
Another shout came seconds later, more forceful this time. “Come out with your hands where I can see them.”
Cassidy shook her head, her grip tightening on her weapon. “Not happening,” she muttered. “Not until we know who the hell we’re dealing with.”
Kincade’s jaw was tight, his attention fixed on the tree line. He wasn’t moving either.
Because Becker might be here to help.
Or he might have been the one behind the trigger.
Kincade’s phone buzzed again. “It’s Jericho,” he said. “He has eyes on Becker. Not sure if he’s the shooter or not. Drone’s not picking up anyone else, but there are too many trees. Too much cover.”
Cassidy’s pulse pounded in her ears. “So we still don’t know if Becker’s the one firing at us.”
Kincade didn’t reply. She just stared through the shattered windshield, thinking. Too bad she couldn’t come up with a wayout of this that didn’t involve them being in even more danger than they already were.
Her phone stayed silent. No follow-up from Travis. No confirmation that he was okay.
Another buzz came through from Kincade’s phone. “Becker just dropped out of sight,” he let her know. “Jericho’s going after him.”
Cassidy’s breath caught at the thought of Jericho having a shootout with the county sheriff. “So what now?”
“I’m backing Jericho up,” Kincade said, already checking the magazine in his weapon.
Cassidy grabbed his arm. “You think it’s a trap.”
“I think it could be a hundred things. But I’m not letting Jericho go in alone.”
