Page 237 of Ride a Cowboy

Rodney placed a friendly hand on her cheek. “You are one of the bravest women I’ve ever met. You’re going to be the greatest reporter New York City has ever seen. I know that in my soul. I’m proud to know you.”

She smiled, bending forward to kiss Rodney on the cheek. “And you’re my hero. Thank you for everything.”

Bridget tucked Lyle’s letter into her pocket, while Rodney put the flash drive in his. They walked toward the entrance of the bank together. Bridget felt a strange unease when she spotted Matt and Mark’s backs through the window. A wave of panic, a premonition of danger tweaked at the edge of her consciousness.

Rodney turned to her. “Stay here for a minute. Let me go first to make sure everything’s clear.”

“Rodney. Wait.”

He winked. “No time. Don’t worry, kitten. It’s a piece of cake from here on out.”

Her heart raced with fear as he walked out of the bank, then she took a deep breath and moved. She was about to open the door to follow when shots rang out in the street. She reacted without thought, running outside in time to see Rodney fall. She started to run for him, but she was tackled from behind. Refusing to stop, she clawed herself closer to Rodney.

“Goddammit, Bridget. No.” Mark’s voice sounded loud in her ear as he covered her. More shots sounded and she felt something like gravel pelt her face.

“Get her to the fucking car!” Rodney yelled, his voice laced with pain. “Bridget, take this. Get to New York.” He pressed the flash drive into her hand.

She grasped his fingers. “I’m not leaving you.”

An engine roared to life and a truck jumped the curb, screeching to a halt next to where she and Mark lay on the sidewalk. It provided cover from the unseen gunman. Matt flung the door open. “Jump in!”

Mark rose quickly, lifting her with him and tossing her into the cab of the truck. Matt moved over to the passenger side, his hand pressed against the back of her skull. She pulled off the stupid wig and tossed it to the floor.

“Keep your head down,” Matt commanded.

More bullets hit the truck, one of them smashing the back window.

Bridget screamed. Mark climbed into the truck and floored it, spinning tires in his haste to escape.

“Rodney!” she yelled, determined they go back for him.

“Jake has him,” Mark said, not hitting the brakes. “He and the security guard dragged him into the bank while we put you in the truck. They’ve got him inside. He’s going to be fine.”

Sirens sounded in the distance. The police had been alerted and God, please let there be an ambulance for Rodney.

There’d been blood. So much blood. Lyle’s lifeless face formed behind her eyelids, only it wasn’t Lyle anymore. It was Rodney. She choked on a sob. “He was shot. We have to go back.” She tried to sit up as Mark drove past the city limits at an ungodly speed.

She’d barely lifted her head when more shots rang out, one of them striking the back of the truck.

“Fuck!” Mark looked in the rearview mirror. “The bastard is chasing us.”

Matt, keeping low, peered over the seat, looking back. “Black Mercedes, tinted windows. Can’t see the driver. Shit, get down! He’s firing again.”

Matt ducked down, covering Bridget as Mark swerved the vehicle across both lanes, trying to dodge the bullets.

Mark took a sharp turn off the main road, not bothering to brake. For a second, Bridget would have sworn they were on two wheels.

Mark slapped the steering wheel. “Mother fucker. He’s still back there.”

They swerved sharply again and Bridget slid into Matt’s lap. Matt kept her head pressed down. She felt dizzy and sick to her stomach as the car made another hard turn, this time to the left.

Matt glanced back. “Good call taking Old Mill Road.”

Mark nodded. “Figure he’ll have a hard time driving. Might keep him from shooting at our asses.”

They took two more turns at high speed. Bridget feared there was no way they could continue at this pace without crashing.

“Hairpin’s coming up,” Matt warned.

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