Desperado Lawman Page 6

  Joey was fast asleep in the back seat. Beside her Connor stirred restlessly, and she darted a worried glance at him.

  When his increasingly erratic steering had nearly landed them in an irrigation ditch near Socorro he’d wordlessly pulled over. She’d seen the physical effort it had cost him just to walk around to the passenger side of the car, and she’d considered discarding the plan he’d earlier outlined and driving him straight to the nearest hospital.

  Even as the thought had gone through her mind his hand had clamped around her wrist with surprising strength.

  “Promise me you’ll get us to the Double B,” he’d said hoarsely. “Hawkins’ll know what to do for me, and Joey and you’ll be safe there. By now Jansen will have every hospital emergency room in the state under surveillance.”

  She’d tried one last time to dissuade him. “But a ranch, Connor? That’s what the Double B is, and your Del Hawkins is just a rancher. How can you be so sure we’ll be safe there?”

  “Because the Double B’s where you go when you’ve come to the end of the line, honey.” His tone had been so slurred she’d known he wasn’t aware he’d used an endearment. “And Del’s not just a rancher, he’s a lifesaver. He saved mine once, a long time ago. Promise me you’ll get us there.”

  “All right, I promise. But after what I explained to you about chindis at the motel, I hope you realize that if you look like you’re about to draw your last breath, I’m leaving you by the roadside, Agent Connor,” she’d replied, hoping her tartness masked her worry over his condition. “If you’re so determined to get to the Double B, then don’t you dare die on me.”

  She hadn’t been sure he was still tracking well enough to respond, but incredibly, as he released her wrist he gave her a faint grin. “I never did ask you,” he’d murmured, his lashes drifting down to his cheekbones. “How did you convince Joey it was okay to get into the car?”

  “I switched Malden’s shoes,” she’d replied briefly. “I put his left shoe on his right foot, and the right on his left. That’s supposed to confuse ghosts when they try to follow you. It was enough to reassure Joey, anyway.”

  Instead of the laughter she’d half expected, Connor had remained silent for a moment. When she’d glanced at him she’d seen his eyes were open again.

  “That took guts, lady,” he’d said softly. “You told me you weren’t brought up in the Way, but it still went against everything you believed in to touch a dead body, didn’t it?”

  “I’m not the first Dineh to have to get over it. I’ve heard many Navajo medical students dread their first anatomy class, knowing they’ll have to work on a cadaver, but they grit their teeth and do it.” She’d frowned. “But no, it wasn’t pleasant. And I noticed something odd.”

  “The bastard was dressed like the complete FBI agent, except he was wearing running shoes?” Connor’s tone had hardened. “His carelessness probably saved our lives. I knew something wasn’t right even as I opened the door to them, and later I realized I must have picked up on the squeak of runners, instead of the sound of a regulation sole. If I hadn’t, I’ll bet his buddy Petrie would have taken me out while Malden was handing over his phony photo and badge.”

  The slur had been back in his speech, and minutes later Tess had realized he’d either fallen asleep or had lapsed into unconsciousness. The former, she hoped, risking another desperate glance at him before switching her attention back to the deserted road in front of her. Because if it was the latter, she wasn’t sure she was going to get Virgil Connor to the Double B Ranch in time.

  The Double B’s where you go when you’ve come to the end of the line… She had no idea what he’d meant by that. But if Del Hawkins was the lifesaver Connor seemed to think he was and if the Double B really was as much of a last-resort refuge as he’d said, she was willing to give it a shot.

  “Because we really are at the end of the line,” she muttered to herself. “Connor said it himself—except for Paula, he can’t trust anyone in the Agency at this point. Until he figures out what Jansen’s game is, everyone’s suspect.”

  And there was another reason why Connor couldn’t simply walk into the nearest police station to present his side of the story. That reason had been what had prompted Paula’s urgent call to the partner she trusted so implicitly.

  “An emergency alert went out sometime tonight to every operative involved in the search for Joey,” Connor had said in an undertone as they’d sped away from the motel. “When Paula overheard some agents who’d stopped to see her at the hospital, she checked herself out against her doctor’s protests and phoned me right away.” He’d flicked a glance at Tess. “We’ve been partners since I was transferred to New Mexico a year and a half ago, and we’ve been in some pretty tight situations together. She said even if the head of the Bureau himself told her I’d turned traitor, she wouldn’t believe it.”

  “Traitor?” Tess’s voice had risen in shock, and hastily she’d lowered it, not wanting Joey to hear. “Like Rick Leroy?”

  He’d nodded tightly. “Jansen’s saying he has reason to suspect I was involved with Leroy in what happened at the safe house. I’m to be considered armed and dangerous, and to be taken out by any means possible.”

  As he likely would have been if his call to Jansen from the motel hadn’t prompted the area director to send a couple of outside killers to eliminate him, rather than take the chance that a pair of legitimate agents would attempt to bring Connor in without bloodshed, Tess thought now, slowing as her headlights illuminated a particularly rough stretch of road ahead. But why had Connor suddenly become a liability to his director—such a liability that the man had as much as put out a shoot-on-sight order on him, and had bolstered that action by contacting Petrie and Malden?

  The alert had been issued hours before Connor had contacted Arne Jansen with the news that he’d found Joey, so the fact that the Agency’s young witness was being brought in couldn’t have been what had panicked the man. Or could it?

  “It’s the only explanation,” she muttered, her pulse quickening. “Jansen knew Connor had Joey before Connor phoned him. He knew because the busboy must have reported seeing a woman forcing a federal agent into a car at gunpoint.”

  And when Jansen had learned the Agency’s missing witness was in Connor’s custody, he hadn’t seen that as good news.

  “He must be afraid Joey’s memory’s come back. From the start that’s what this was all about. As far as Jansen’s concerned, Joey’s a ticking time bomb that could explode at any minute.”

  Tess switched on the dashboard maplight and glanced at the scrap of paper on which Connor had written the directions to the Double B. The turnoff to the ranch would be coming up soon, she saw. She switched off the map light, but not before her apprehensive gaze had taken in the sheen of sweat on Connor’s brow and the blotchy pallor under his tan.

  A ball of ice settled itself in the pit of her stomach. He was dying, she thought with numb certainty. It was no longer a matter of whether she could get him to his destination, because even if she did, this time the Double B and Del Hawkins wouldn’t be able to save his life. He’d lost so much blood that one side of his suit jacket was a dark red black. He needed to be on a gurney being raced at top speed into an operating room right now.

  Pain lanced through her, so sharply that it seemed a blade had flashed through the darkness and unerringly found her soul.

  He was going to die, and he’d never lived—or if he had, it had been so long ago that he probably couldn’t remember what it felt like. She’d known just by looking at him that he kept a box around himself and his emotions, and that somewhere inside that box was the real Virgil Connor. She’d known because she’d caught a glimpse of the real man when he’d kissed—

  A massive gray form suddenly loomed up out of the darkness into the headlights. Even as she slammed her foot down as hard as she could on the brake, Tess heard the left rear tire blow.

  The back end of the car slewed violently to the right, as i
f a gigantic grappling hook had suddenly yanked it sideways. Through the windshield the headlights cut a swath of illumination that swung dizzily to the left, and for a moment she saw the baked earth of the downward-sloping embankment that paralleled the road thrown into brilliant relief. The left front tire began to slip on the gravelled edge of the small drop.

  Frantically Tess turned the steering wheel to the right in a desperate attempt to pull the car out of its counter-clockwise spin. She felt the three remaining tires slip, felt them grab, and then the nightmarish view in front of the windshield began swinging the other way.

  Before the second spin jolted the wheel from her hands, she realized she’d overcorrected. The world became a swift blur.

  “Tess!”

  “Hold on, Joey! We’re going to—”

  Halfway through its circular spinout and while the car was actually traveling backward, its ruined tire slipped over the edge of the roadway. Tipped backward in her seat, Tess saw the beams of the headlights shoot crazily up into the night sky and felt a slamming jolt against her hips as the sedan, its engine stalling out, came to an abrupt halt in the shallow drop.

  For a second she couldn’t move. Through the partially open driver’s side window she heard one last spill of dirt rattle against the side of the car and then everything was silent.

  “Holy cow, what happened?”

  Joey’s question broke through her temporary paralysis and she twisted around in her seat, ignoring the hot pain that shot through the back of her thigh. He looked none the worse for wear, his expression more startled than fearful. Fierce thankfulness rushed through her.

  “We had an accident, Joey. One of the tires blew and I couldn’t keep the car on the road.” Her gaze swept over his seat-belted figure. “Did you hit your head or anything?”

  “Nah.” He swiped the ever-present strand of black hair out of his eyes. “I was asleep and the next thing I knew we were going in a circle. How come the air bags didn’t go off?”

  “Because they’re made to deploy in a frontal collision, not when you slide butt-end off the road,” she said distractedly. “Joey, flick on the dome light. I…I need to check on Connor.”

  He did as she asked. Unlatching her own seat belt, Tess bent over the unmoving man strapped into the passenger seat.

  He was dead. His face was the color of wax, and the lips that earlier this evening had been so hot and urgent on hers were slightly parted. No breath came from between them.

  She’d only known Virgil Connor for the space of a few hours, and for most of that time they’d been on opposite sides of an unscalably high fence. Even when they’d kissed there had been an electric antagonism between them. But for a while they’d been fighting on the same side.

  She would remember two things about him. One would be his stubborn sense of duty. The other would be those beautiful, crystal-gray eyes that had looked on her with anger, with exasperation and, for one brief moment, with raw desire.

  When the pain slammed into her it seemed to catch her just under her heart, with such unexpectedness that it drove a choking gasp from her. Connor’s left hand was hanging down by the side of his seat, and for no sane reason at all Tess grasped it between her two palms, bringing it to her cheek.

  “Is Connor dead?”

  There was none of the fear in Joey’s voice that he’d displayed back at the motel, but only a wrenching sadness that seemed far too adult an emotion for his nine years. Still pressing Connor’s hand to her cheek, Tess gave a single nod.

  “He…he lost a lot of blood, Joey,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out. “I should have gotten him to a hospital instead of—”

  Beneath her fingertips she felt something. She froze, the rest of her answer dying in her throat.

  She felt it again—the barest flicker of a lethargic pulse in the broad-boned wrist she was holding. Wild hope flared in her and almost immediately was quenched.

  They were in the middle of nowhere, in a smashed-up car. And although Connor was still miraculously alive, unless another miracle came along right this very instant, his death had merely been delayed.

  “Back the truck up, Del, and give me some light here! I think there’s someone in this car!”

  The shouted request came from the road. Jerking her head up, Tess saw the powerful beams of a set of headlights turning her way. Instinctively she threw her arm up to shield her eyes from the dazzling glare.

  The next moment she was fumbling at the door. “Joey, stay here,” she babbled. “I don’t want you trying to get out of this car until we see how stable it is. I’ll be right back.”

  The door opened halfway and jammed on an outcrop of rock, but halfway was enough. Tess started to scramble up the bank, fell to her knees and pushed herself upright again just as a strong hand wrapped itself around her arm to steady her.

  “Del?” she gasped. She clutched at the man, taking in the streaks of silver in the dark hair, the weatherbeaten tan of his face. “Are you Del Hawkins?”

  “No, ma’am, my name’s Dan’l Bird.” There was a soft drawl, more southern than western, to his speech, but his gaze was sharp. “Looks as if you had yourself a little accident, ma’am. Anyone else in the car?”

  “What’s going on, Daniel? Anybody hurt?”

  A second man, portlier and shorter than the first, trotted toward them from the direction of the heavy-duty pickup idling at the other side of the road. Even as Tess gazed wildly at the vehicle, she saw a third figure alight stiffly from the cab on the driver’s side. As he started across the road she saw the interlocked B letters on the truck door.

  “This lady’s shooken up pretty bad, Doc,” Bird said in his soft voice. “How be you wait here with her and I’ll take a look-see in case there’s someone in there I can help?”

  “There’s a child in the back seat.” Tess tried to control the unsteadiness in her tone. “He wasn’t injured. But the man who was with me in the front is badly wounded.”

  She saw the quick frown that appeared on the face of the portly man at her choice of words. She went on, her voice a rasp. “Not when the car went off the road. He’s been shot. I…I think he’s dying.”

  Bird was already making his way down the embankment to the sedan. His friend sucked in a breath, and brows that held a touch of what must once have been fiery red drew together.

  “Where was he hit? Is the bullet still in him?”

  Like Bird, he was wearing jeans and a denim shirt, but on him they didn’t look as if they were his normal attire. Coupled with his brisk reaction and the questions he was firing at her, Tess belatedly remembered how Bird had addressed him.

  “You’re a doctor?”

  “Surgeon. Or I was,” he corrected himself. “Retired now. Don’t worry, we’ll get your friend to a hospital in time. I’ll ride beside him in the truck and monitor—”

  “He’s not going to make it,” she broke in. “Don’t you understand? He’s at the end of the line. That’s why he wouldn’t let me take him to a hospital in the first place—because he needed to get to the Double B and Del Hawkins.”

  Fresh hopelessness overwhelmed her. The man in front of her meant well, she told herself. This situation wasn’t his fault; it was hers. She never should have kept her word to Connor, never should have delayed getting him proper medical help, no matter what the possible consequences.

  A rancher and a ranch. Connor had seen them as a refuge and a lifesaver. Judging from the sign on the truck, they were on or close to Double B land, and through a process of elimination the lean man with the oddly stiff gait who’d just joined them had to be Hawkins, since she’d heard Bird call out Del’s name.

  According to what Connor had believed, now was when everything would start going right, Tess thought in bitter self-recrimination.

  “Fella with a gunshot wound in that car, Del,” the doctor said tersely. “The lady says he’s in critical condition, won’t make it to a hospital in time, but we’re going to have to try. I’ll lend Daniel a
hand in getting him into the truck.”

  “We need something we can use as a stretcher. There you go, son.” Bird hoisted Joey over the lip of the embankment. As he set the boy on his feet, the face he turned to his two companions was somber. “You’re the sawbones, Scotty, but I’d say the lady’s right. I don’t rightly see her man’s got much of a chance—not less’n he gets topped up with a few pints of blood within the next half hour.”

  “First things first.” Hawkins’s tone was no sharper than Bird’s had been, but as soon as he spoke it was indefinably obvious that he had taken command. He went on. “Daniel, there’s a tarp in the bed of the truck. We’ll rig a field stretcher out of it. Van, see if you can do something to stabilize your patient for the journey.”

  He met the doctor’s swiftly dubious glance. A corner of his mouth lifted briefly. “I know the legendary Dr. Van Zane has spent the past thirty years waltzing into operating theaters, performing his miracles, and walzing out again while teams of doctors and nurses and assistants took care of the tedious details. But hell, Van, I seem to recall a redheaded medic in ’Nam who could tie a tourniquet with his teeth, cut through a man’s blood-filled boot, and prepare an injection all while humming a Jimmi Hendrix tune under his breath.”

  Van Zane held his gaze. “I still like Hendrix. The music was the only thing I cared to remember about those days…the music and the friends I made, which is why one of the first things on my post-retirement list of things to do was to make this trip out west and catch up with a couple of old buddies. I’ll do my best, Del.”

  With less grace and more effort than Daniel Bird had displayed, he made his way down the bank to the sedan. In a moment Bird, a tarpaulin bundled under one arm, joined him.