Texas Hold 'Em by Kay David Read Free Book Online Page B

shooter’s.
    Another shot flew past her right ear, its hot breath coming closer than the time before. She dropped her face into the ground and tasted dirt. She’d been ambushed twice in a little more than twenty-four hours. What in the hell was going on in Rio County?

Chapter Four
    A cascade of hot water streamed over his head as Santos braced his hands against the molded plastic shower wall. He wished he could wash away thoughts of Rose as easily as he could the bar’s smoky fumes.
    The simple touch they’d shared in her kitchen had inflamed every nerve ending in his body. He’d wanted to draw her closer and do so much more than circle her wrist with his fingers. He’d wanted to push her hair aside and drop kisses up and down her neck. He’d wanted to touch all the secret places that he knew excited her. He’d wanted to make love to her then wake up in bed beside her and start all over again.
    He couldn’t help but wonder if Rose ever thought about their lovemaking as he did. They’d had the kind of sex life all the guys he knew talked about but didn’t really experience. But their true relationship had gone far beyond the bedroom. She’d been the better half of him, and he hadn’t even realized that until they’d split up. He wasn’t sure what pained him more—the memories of their breakup or seeing her now and knowing he couldn’t have her.
    The scanner on his bedside table squawked to life, and he twisted off the shower faucet.
    “Officer needs assistance. Crown Circle and County Road 24. Repeat. Officer needs assistance—”
    This didn’t sound good.
    “Shots fired,” the radio reported. “Repeat, shots fired. Unit One. Unit One.”
    Rose only had two deputies. She was Unit One.
    He jumped out of the shower, his shoulder bouncing off the mildewed tile, his heart in his throat. Barreling into the bedroom, he raced to the scanner and rotated the volume with soapy fingers, grabbing his clothes with the other hand. The rest of the broadcast became a jumble of information, an address repeated, a cross street mentioned.
    Dripping wet, he threw on his jeans, grabbed a shirt, and strapped on his gun, running for the front door. The second he stepped outside and his feet hit the porch, he realized he didn’t have on his boots. He turned and snagged them from their spot just inside the door before sprinting for his cycle.
    He had the Harley rolling while he was still pulling on one boot.
    But he had to slam on the brakes just as he reached the entrance to the highway.
    A black dualie swooped by, racing down the interstate in front of Santos as if the devil himself was driving. He caught the blurred face of King Landry through the windshield of the F450. The taillights of the huge truck quickly turned into pinpricks then disappeared into the darkness.
    The Harley screamed as he pushed the engine for all it was worth. He caught up with the truck a minute later.
    …
    She couldn’t just wait there and get herself shot.
    Rose gripped her pistol tighter and burrowed deeper in the ditch. When she felt she could look and still keep her head, she squirmed sideways and stared into the direction from where the last shot had been fired. Nothing happened. But she couldn’t see anything, either. Maybe the shooter couldn’t see her.
    Unless he had night vision. Or was crouched on one of the roofs. Or was using a sniper rifle from one of the rocky ledges jutting out behind the rise.
    Besides being on the track team, she had been a member of the rifle squad in high school. She didn’t have the range she needed with the peashooter in her hand, but if she found a good spot that didn’t put anyone in danger, she was willing to give it a try. She glanced once more at the water tank behind her. This time she saw the ladder she’d missed before. The tank couldn’t have been more than fifteen feet tall, twenty at the most. Distract him enough and draw his fire in a different direction, and she could double back and climb