Page 65 of One Wrong Move
Two more shots fired.
She splashed into the free-flowing creek, having to slow enough to balance on slippery rocks.Come on. Come on. How many rocks did this creek bed have?
Finally, on the other side of the creek, she started up the ridge. Halfway up, two more shots fired. She slipped, sliding partway back down the ridge.
She scrambled her way up, finally reaching the top. She spotted Christian walking back toward her.
Her shoulders drooped. “He got away?”
Christian nodded. “He made it to the road and drove off in the white SUV that’s been dogging us.”
THIRTY-TWO
SWEATY AND GRIMYfrom the chase, Christian padded back across the stone patio with Andi at his side. He’d come ontheirproperty, to his family’s homes. Knowing Deckard and the fighting Irish in him, he wouldn’t sit around and wait. He’d go on the offensive. And the cowboy in him would protect his ranch with his life. Just as Christian would do. He refused to sit around waiting for someone to strike again. They’d not only work the investigation; it was time to go on the hunt. No doubt it was the same man who ran them off the road in the white SUV he’d just exited in.
“I’ll call Joel. Let him know what happened. He’ll want to know,” Christian said.
Andi nodded. “Good idea.”
About two minutes later, he ended the call. “Joel’s on his way over. Wants to check things out and take an official police report.”
“That makes sense.”
“He’s also bringing the gala footage and that of the heist. He’s cleared it for us to watch.”
“That’s great.”
He looked over with a smile to catch her gingerly rolling her shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Took a tumble ... or two,” she said with an embarrassed smile.
“But you nailed him.”
“Yeah.” Her smile widened.
“Which means he’s going to need medical attention or supplies, at the very least.” They were luckytheydidn’t need serious medical attention. The guy was a good shot. He’d very narrowly missed Christian, and Christian had the flesh wound to show it. But they were safe now, at least for the moment, he hoped. Adrenaline still seared his limbs, his fight mechanism still at full throttle.
“How’d you know he was here?” she asked as they reached the living room sliding door.
“I was standing here and saw light reflecting off his ... binoculars, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah. I saw the flash too.” She looked up at him. “I’m sorry about the punch.”
He rubbed his jaw, knowing there was red on his face. “I’m impressed,” he said with a crooked smile. “It was a good one.”
“There was this bully in fifth grade, and my older brother taught me how to fight.” She smiled.
Her face lit up so cute. “What?”
“He always told me, if it looked like a fight was coming, go in swinging. Pop the guy before he could even swing.”
“Good advice.” He chuckled. “And did you?”
“Yep. That guy never bullied me again.”
“You punched a guy in school?”
“Yep. On the playground at recess. I got sent to the principal’s office, but he never bothered me again.”
