Cowboy Christmas Rescue by Beth Cornelison & Colleen Thompson

Author:Beth Cornelison & Colleen Thompson [Cornelison, Beth & Thompson, Colleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780373279425
Google: HeSGrgEACAAJ
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 25494271
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2015-11-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 2

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” Nate said, taking some comfort in the fact the rain had dwindled to a drizzle. But icy crystals had formed in it, and according to the dashboard gauge, the temperature had dropped below freezing—a forty-degree plunge in less than three hours with the front.

If April heard him, she gave no sign as she darted nervous glances at the road behind them. “Sitting ducks,” she murmured. “We’re sitting ducks here.”

He shot her a glance. What the hell? “What is it?”

She unlatched the seat belt and reached back to where the luggage had been stashed in preparation for the short honeymoon he’d planned. Coming up with the big leather tote she used as a handbag, she started digging through it. “We have to call Brady. Tell him that we’re stuck out here, so he can send help.”

One of his groomsmen and a friend for years, Brady McCall had recently been named Trencher County’s new interim sheriff. But they’d left him back in Rusted Spur on the shooter’s trail. “You’re not making any sense. You want to call the sheriff of a county more than a hundred miles behind us to deal with a flat tire?”

She dumped the tote’s contents in her bloodstained lap, her frantic movements setting off alarm bells in his head. In all the years he’d known her, he’d never seen her like this. Even after today’s shooting, she’d been quick, decisive, keeping her head while others shrieked or sobbed or stampeded to safety.

“Calm down and talk to me a minute,” he said, worried that this might be some form of delayed shock.

“My phone’s not in here.” Her voice shook. “I must have left it at your parents’. Or maybe he took it out, so we couldn’t call for help.”

He grasped her arm until she looked at him, her eyes wide. “Or maybe who took it?” he demanded. “You mean the shooter, April?”

At her nod, he pulled his smartphone from the inner pocket of the black jacket he was wearing. “I’ve got mine right here. Brady’s in my contacts. See?”

She jabbed a finger at an icon showing zero bars. “There’s no signal. What if—what if this was all planned?”

Nate cursed himself for taking them through an area so remote, cell towers were a rarity. His gut clenched as it hit him that his father could be dead already. Or his mother, who’d been so hysterical she’d had to be sedated, might have gotten worse, and he would never know it. And from the look of April’s pale face, there was more bad news to come.

“What’s this really all about?” he asked, all too conscious of the blood soaked into her dress. There was so damned much of it. But he saw something else in her lap, too, that alarmed even more. “Wait a minute—is that a can of Mace? Why would you have that?” As far off the beaten path as Rusted Spur was, it struck him as odd that she would feel a need for personal protection.

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