“She’ll be alright.” Bas turned in his seat to look at Gage. “She’s strong. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. Whatever Blackthorn throws at her, she’ll fight him, because you belong together.”
“That obvious, huh?”
Bas chuckled. “I’ve seen that same look on all of my brothers, my sister, even my dad when he met Miss Willie. We don’t go looking for love, but somehow it finds us. Most of the time it’s when we least expect it, can’t afford for it to bonk us over the head with attraction, but in the end there’s no denying or running away from it. They say love conquers all. Well, sometimes it has to run an obstacle course before it can win the race.”
“I definitely wasn’t expecting to fall in love when my buddy asked me to help out his cousin. I thought I’d look into her statement, find out she really did it, and I’d be back home in less than twenty-four hours, forty-eight tops. Instead, I took one look into those beautiful brown eyes, heard her talk about her husband—herhusbandfor cripes sake—and I knew I was in trouble.”
“Sounds like me and my Lexie. She’s definitely caused more trouble than a fire ant hill doused in gasoline, but every minute we’ve been together makes all the bad stuff worth it. I wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t off investigating a story. I tend to stick close to home when she’s there, because otherwise she gets into way too much trouble. But that’s one of the many things I love about her.”
Finally seeing the Dallas city limits sign gave Gage a sliver of hope. She had to be okay. Taking care of Blackthorn took a backseat to getting to Suzanna, making sure that she wasn’t hurt. He refused to think about the silent ‘or worse’ that popped into his head. Nope, there was no or worse part of this equation. She’d gone to lunch. Maybe Blackthorn didn’t know, hadn’t been there. After all, Elizabeth Blackthorn had wanted to talk to Suzanna about her husband cheating. She wouldn’t want him anywhere around when that conversation took place, right?
He jumped when his cellphone rang. “Newsome.”
“It’s Jansen. I’ve got a half a dozen voicemails from you. What’s up?”
“I’ve got your proof. Suzanna Dawkins did not kill her husband. Donald Blackthorn did.”
“What? How? Blackthorn has an alibi.”
“His wife, right? I guarantee that alibi is bogus. Blackthorn hired somebody to kill Steven Dawkins. Suzanna and Steven Dawkins were both given heavy sedatives, which is why Suzanna didn’t wake up when her husband was attacked. It’s why Steven didn’t wake up either. I’ve got all the information you need, but we don’t have time for that now. Blackthorn is planning to kill Suzanna. We think he’s got her now. We’re on our way to Dallas, just hit the city limits, so we’re still twenty minutes or so away. You need to head to Blackthorn’s place in Highland Park. If Blackthorn is there, arrest him for Dawkins murder.”
“I can’t arrest him just on your say so, Newsome. There’s nothing that points directly to Blackthorn. You say you’ve got evidence, and I’m supposed to just believe you? I checked with a buddy. You’re not really a fed.”
“Hold it together, man,” he heard Bas whisper next to him.
“That’s right, I don’t officially work for the FBI, though I have worked with them in the past. Jansen, I work for the Central Intelligence Agency, deep undercover, and have for years. You won’t find records of me anywhere, even if you called them. I’d give you my boss’ name and direct number, but we don’t have time for this. If you don’t get to Blackthorn’s now, Suzanna Dawkins and Ranger Boudreau are as good as dead.”
Jansen blew out a deep sigh. “I need my head examined. Fine, I’m on my way over there. If you’re sending me on a wild goose chase, Newsome, I swear you’ll regret it.”
“I’ll let you slap the cuffs on me without a fight. Just get there.”
Gage disconnected the call, his hand shaking. With any luck, Jansen would get there in time. Easing his car into the far right lane, he merged with the traffic exiting the interstate and headed toward Highland Park, praying that they’d be in time to save the woman he loved.
“Hey, buddy, youalright?”
Ranger felt hands patting over his chest before reaching down and digging through his pockets. All he could do was roll over to the side and heave up his guts, until he felt like he didn’t have anything on the inside anymore, it was all spilled across the dirty ground where he lay sprawled. An overwhelming stench coated the air, burning his nostrils, yet he couldn’t seem to open his eyes.
Something wasn’t right. The last thing he remembered was standing in the Blackthorn parlor, drinking ice tea.
The tea.It must have been drugged. Rolling to his side, he dry heaved again, and somehow ended up lying on his stomach. He didn’t have the strength to roll back over, so he simply lay there, wondering if he could crawl toward the light.
“Man, he’s in bad shape. Think he’s gonna die?”
A second voice joined the first. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Wallet’s got a couple hundred bucks and some credit cards.”
“Eh, don’t take the cards, too much trouble. Any ID?”
“Lemme see. There’s a driver’s license. Says he’s Gaston Boudreau. Lives in New Orleans. Ha! Welcome to Dallas, buddy.”
“Help me,” was all Ranger managed to utter, the world fading into blackness once again.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but the next time he opened his eyes bright overhead lights and white sterile walls greeted his sight. Squinting against the brightness, he shifted, realizing he lay in a bed, covered with a white sheet. The sterile scent of disinfectant cleaner burned his nostrils, yet it was a welcome stench, because it meant he was still alive.
“Welcome back, Mr. Boudreau. I’m Doctor Kirk. Can you tell me what happened to you?”
“Drugged.”
“Yeah, we figured you’d overdosed. Honestly, you’re lucky to be alive. Somebody called nine one one and gave a location for you, otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Hate to think you might have died in that alley.”
