Cowboy's Texas Rescue by Beth Cornelison - Black Ops Rescues 03 - Cowboy's Texas Rescue

Author:Beth Cornelison - Black Ops Rescues 03 - Cowboy's Texas Rescue [Cornelison, Beth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9780263238129
Google: TMzjZIhcvk0C
Goodreads: 16001016
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Jake crept through the mudroom and peered carefully around the corner into the kitchen. Clear. Sidling along the inside wall, he made his way, one silent step at a time, toward the next room. He was almost to the kitchen door when a gunshot blasted through the house, followed by raucous laughter.

“Bull’s-eye!” a male voice chortled.

Jake heard the familiar click of a magazine being ejected and reinserted into a pistol. Probably his pistol, he thought, grinding his back teeth in fury. He inched farther forward and carefully peeked into the living room. Brady had his back to Jake, his attention fixed on the bookshelf across the room, the pistol aimed.

Jake scowled as Brady fired another shot, shattering a vase perched on one of the shelves. Brady’s callous disregard and wanton destruction of Chelsea’s family’s property gnawed his gut. Easing back a step into the kitchen, Jake fashioned the cord from the clothesline into a lasso and gave it a test twirl. Just like roping calves with Dad for branding.

He moved back to the living room doorway and peered into the next room. Brady had his head bent forward and his gaze down as he messed with the gun again. Jake didn’t like the idea of engaging Brady while the convict had the pistol in his hand, but he didn’t want to waste any time and risk Brady spotting him before he made his move. He surveyed his surroundings, quickly gauging his obstacles, potential weapons, and locating a sturdy place to secure Brady once he’d incapacitated him. His estimations made, Jake tightened his grip on the lasso and prepared to teach Brady a new appreciation for the term clotheslined.

Finished fiddling with the gun, Brady set the weapon on the coffee table in front of the sofa and shoved awkwardly to his feet with a grunt.

Time was up. Jake gave the lasso a preparatory spin, then whipped it toward Brady. The cord flew over Brady’s head and settled on his shoulders. The convict barely had time to tense in surprise before Jake jerked back on the rope, tightening the noose around Brady’s throat and yanking him backward off his feet.

Brady landed on the couch with an oof and growled, “What the h—”

The rest of his curse was choked off, as Jake pulled hard again, cinching the clothesline tighter until it strangled his prey.

Brady clawed at the rope, gasping for air.

Jake quickly lashed the cord to a spindle in the half wall between the living room and foyer, keeping Brady from reaching the gun on the coffee table.

When Brady twisted around and met Jake’s hard glare, Jake read recognition in his opponent’s eyes. “How did you...get out?” Brady rasped.

Jake pulled Darynda’s gun from under his coat and aimed it at the escaped con. “A little ingenuity, some luck and a whole lot of determination to see your ass fry for killing two cops and an innocent old man.” He motioned to the floor with the gun. “Now get on the floor with your hands and feet spread.

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