Shirlee McCoy - Lone Defender

That was a lifetime ago, before his loss and his regrets.

He hadn’t been to a target range in four years, hadn’t fired a gun in just a little less than that.

Yet he was standing in the desert, holding his pistol as if he could still do what he’d done during his years as a border patrol agent.

Stop thinking about it, and do something.

Now!

He aimed, fired to the left of the struggling pair, the shot reverberating through the desert. One momentary explosion of sound, one small flash of light and then silence, the two heaving figures frozen in place. Skylar to the right. Her assailant to the left. An easy shot this time.

“Don’t move, buddy. If you do, I guarantee it will be the last move you ever make. Where’s his gun, Grady?”

“He dropped it while we were fighting.” She panted, crawling through spiky desert foliage, coming up with the gun in her hand. “Got it.”

“Good. Come over here. Let’s give our friend a little space.”

“I’d rather give him something else,” she muttered, but she did as Jonas asked.

Surprising.

According to Kane, Skylar often fought for the sake of fighting. Tough and strong is how he’d described her. Jonas had still doubted that he’d find her alive. He had, and there was no going back and saying no as he had a hundred times since his wife and son were murdered.

No. I won’t be coming back to work.

No. I won’t help find the missing hiker, biker, photographer.

No, no, no.

This time he’d said yes. He’d committed to finding Skylar, and now he had to get her out of the desert alive.

“You got here just in time. That guy’s pretty strong,” she huffed, and he frowned.

“And you’re pretty weak. I thought you were going to stay where I left you.”

“I’m not the kind of gal who waits around for the cavalry to arrive. I’m surprised Kane didn’t mention that while he was filling you in on my stubborn determination and charming nature.” She started toward the perp, and Jonas tugged her back.

“He did. This time, though, the cavalry is here, and you are going to wait. I’ll handle our perp.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue, just approached the gunman the way he’d done countless others, adrenaline pumping, gun drawn, all his focus on the potential threat.

“Face down. Keep your hands where I can see them.” He issued the order, and then patted the prone man, found no other weapons. “He’s clean.”

“Let me go. You got no cause to do this to me.”

“No cause? You tried to kill me.” Skylar moved closer, crouched down beside the man, pressed the gun to his temple. “How about you tell me why?”

“There’s nothing to tell. If I’d tried to kill you, you’d be dead.” The man spat, his face pressed to the ground, his body still.

Jonas moved in, yanked him up by the arm as much to get him away from Skylar’s gun as anything else. “How many people are with you?”

“Who said there’s anyone with me?” His voice had a raspy smoker’s edge, his braided hair falling over narrow shoulders. Old. Frailer than Jonas expected.

“How about we don’t play games, old man? I saw your fire last night and the night before. You’ve been following me for a couple of days, and you’re not alone. I want to know who is with you, and I want to know why you’re after Skylar.”

“I’m not after anyone. I’m out mindin’ my own business, enjoyin’ the desert. Nothin’ wrong with that, is there?” He shifted, the subtle movement putting Jonas on edge. The desert had gone silent, the stillness more telling than any words the perp could have spoken.

“I think we’d better get out of here.” He grabbed Skylar’s hand, pulled her away from the old man.

“We can’t just let him go. He tried to kill me.” She pulled back, but he didn’t release his hold.

“I want to survive the night. I want you to survive. If that means he escapes, so be it.”

“But—”

“He’s not alone, Grady. His friends could be anywhere, and I’m not willing to wait around for them to show up.” Not only did he not want to wait around for them to show up, but he wanted to put as much distance between them and the perp as he could as quickly as he could.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure how fast Skylar could move, how long she could keep going.

“I still think we should take him with us. I want answers. He’s the only way to get them.”

“Getting them won’t do you any good if you’re dead.”

“I’m not planning on dying anytime soon.”

“Most people aren’t.”

Gabriella hadn’t been.

And Jonas hadn’t been planning to lose her.

He shoved the thought aside, shoved aside the grief that went with it. He needed to focus on the moment, on the danger that followed them, on doing what he’d told Kane he would.

Find Skylar.

Get her back to civilization.

That was the mission. He’d fulfill it, then he’d go back to the life he’d built for himself. His woodworking shop, his job, the routine he’d forged in the months following Gabriella’s death.

Nearly four years of routine.

It hadn’t brought him peace, but it had brought him safety. No more heartache. No more sorrow. Nothing but restoring what had been left to decay. Old houses were easier to deal with than people.

Easier.

Safer.

Emptier.

“Do you think he’s following us?” Skylar panted, pulling him back to the moment, the mission.

“He doesn’t have a gun. We have two. I think he’ll hang back and wait for his buddies to join him.”

“I hope you’re right, because I’m telling my legs to move, but they don’t seem to be listening.”

“You’re doing fine.” But he was nearly dragging her along, her stumbling steps keeping him from moving as fast as he would have liked. As fast as they needed to.

Somewhere in the distance a bird called, the sound crawling up his spine, urging him to hurry. Another call answered the first, and he tensed. He knew the desert and her creatures, and he knew the sound of a posse moving in, a net tightening. Knew it … felt it. If they didn’t move fast, they’d be trapped, boxed in by the men who were hunting them.

“Kane said you’re a marathon runner. Think you can turn on a little speed?”

“I—?” Skylar began, but he pulled her into a dead run, not giving her time to think, to doubt her ability. She had to know. Had to sense what he did. Danger breathing down their necks, nipping at their heels. Whatever she’d gotten involved in, it wasn’t pretty, and if they weren’t careful, it would take them both down.

“How much time do you think we have before they find us?” Skylar panted. A runner for sure, but a runner at the end of her reserves. How much farther could she go? How much more energy did she have to expend?

“Not enough,” he answered her question and his own.

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” She coughed on the last word, the sound tight and hot. Her hand was hot, too, heat coming off her body in waves. He could feel it through his sleeve.

The mesa was just ahead. A mile or less, but Skylar’s pace was slowing, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps.

“We need to keep going, Grady. Another few minutes. You can give me that, right?” He tightened his grip on her hand, and she squeezed back, not bothering to waste breath responding.

Lightning flashed to the north, the low rumble of thunder reminding Jonas of another night, another woman. Pouring rain. Lightning. The sound of a gunshot. Gabriella falling, blood pouring from her chest. His frantic, futile attempts to staunch the flow as the storm raged around him.