Wyoming Mountain Escape by Laura Scott (types of ebook readers .TXT) 📗

moving around, the walls are pretty thin.”

She nodded and tugged on the edge of the vest to shift it into a more comfortable position. “What’s the plan? What time are we heading to the airport?”

“Slade wants you to get there early, but it won’t take long. They’re hoping to leave here about seven thirty.” Duncan finished securing the vest and stepped back, tucking his hands into his front pockets. “They want me to take the first flight back to Milwaukee.”

“You should,” she agreed. “Nothing more you can do here.”

He scowled. “Other than help bring Anthony Nettles to justice for murdering an undercover cop and figure out what role Wesley Strand and Travis Wolfe play in all of this, if any.”

“Surprised you haven’t become a detective for the MPD,” she said keeping her tone light and teasing.

“I’m scheduled to take the detective exam next month,” he admitted. “But I’d give that up if it meant I could stay here to bring these guys to justice.”

She wondered if he really understood how he’d be forced into giving up his career if she’d accepted his offer to come with her. Another reason for her to remain strong. “Well, you’ll bring other bad guys to justice in Milwaukee, which will be good, too.”

He glanced away. “Please come eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

“Is there coffee?” She moved past him to pick up the bag of food.

“I’ll make some.” Duncan busied himself with the small coffee maker available in their rooms.

She sensed he was upset with her but didn’t want to rehash the subject of his coming with her all over again. They had just over an hour together, and for the first time, she wasn’t sure what to say.

Some things were better left unsaid.

“Were you serious about getting some of my personal items at the hotel?” she asked.

He brought over a cup of coffee, doctored with cream and sugar the way she liked it. “Yes. Tell me what you’d like me to have and I’ll find a way.”

“Not now, though, right? I mean, it’s not safe to go back there yet.”

He shrugged. “You’re the one in danger, Chelsey, not me.”

She took a bite of her breakfast sandwich, thinking back to the wedding. “Are you sure? I mean, it wouldn’t be difficult for anyone to figure out you were the one helping me.”

“So far the attempts have been specifically targeted at you,” he pointed out. “And they can’t kill all of us.”

“Why not? From what I can tell, they haven’t balked at killing anyone, not even an undercover cop.”

He seemed to consider her point. “You may be right, and if that is the case, maybe I should be relocated with you.”

She wanted very badly to agree, but forced herself to look him directly in the eye. “Is that what Slade and Colt say?”

“Not yet, but it may be the right thing to do, regardless.”

There was no good response to that, so she remained silent. Slade poked his head into the room. “Chelsey? We’d like to be ready to go by seven thirty.”

“I know. I’ll be ready.” She finished her breakfast and coffee, then stood. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be set.”

Duncan nodded. She took her time washing her face and brushing her teeth. She tucked two bobby pins in place to keep her hair out of her eyes. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she found herself wondering what name she’d be given. Did she have a choice about that or had Slade already created new identification documents for her?

Did it really matter? Chelsey Robards would cease to exist and some new woman would be born in her place.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she heard voices from next door. Crossing over to the adjoining room, she could tell Duncan was pressing his case to be relocated with her.

They stopped arguing when she came in. “Ready to go?” Slade asked.

“Yes.” She glanced around. “Where’s Colt?”

“He left a while ago to retrieve the SUV.” Slade pulled out his phone. “He’ll text when he’s here.”

As if on cue the phone in Slade’s hand chirped.

“Sounds like our ride is here,” Duncan said. “Let’s go.”

They left the motel room, once again Duncan leading the way, Slade walking behind her. The SUV was parked a couple of spots down from where their rooms were located. As they approached the vehicle, they heard a high-pitched scream.

“What in the world?” Duncan spun toward the sound. Chelsey stopped in her tracks, trying to understand what was happening.

Then something hit her square in the chest, with enough force to send her reeling backward. She hit the ground, pain reverberating across her chest and along the back of her head.

She didn’t move, couldn’t breathe. For an instant she wondered if she was dead, but the overwhelming pain seemed to indicate she was alive.

“She’s hit! She’s hit!” The panic in Duncan’s voice was the last thing she remembered before darkness claimed her.

FIFTEEN

Duncan fell to his knees, throwing himself over Chelsey to protect her from the shooter even though he wasn’t sure where the guy was hiding. He tensed, bracing for a second shot, even as he called, “Help me, she’s been hit!”

Colt ran over from the SUV. “Check her pulse. Is she still with us?”

Duncan felt for a pulse, but his own heart was hammering so hard he couldn’t be sure. “I don’t know,” he whispered hoarsely. “She’s not moving.”

“We need to get her back inside,” Slade said in a low, urgent tone. “Colt, call an ambulance and then see if you can find the shooter.”

Duncan barely heard what they were saying, his gaze focused on Chelsey. He was afraid to move her, but more terrified not to. He gathered her limp body into his arms, and rose to his feet, mentally kicking himself for falling for the oldest trick in the book.

The scream had been a diversion intended to separate him from Chelsey. And it had worked.

He set her down on the bed, gently placing a pillow beneath her head.