Page 15 of Not This Soon

“He won’t get far,” she muttered more to herself than Ethan.

A gust of hot desert wind blew sand into Rachel's eyes as she surveyed the deserted dunes around her. Glancing back toward the direction they had come from, Rachel spotted cops in full sprint.

"Should've waited for backup," Ethan muttered, sending a concerned glance towards Rachel's bloodied arm.

“I winged him,” she said.

“He winged you.”

“I repaid the favor.”

Ethan stared after the dust trail in the desert. “You sure you hit him?”

She nodded once. “Positive. I hit him.”

“Just the one?”

“Only spotted one.”

“Looked like a cartel guy?”

“Couldn’t tell from this distance.”

Ethan sighed, waving over one of the medics.

"Are you okay?" a young officer called as he approached them, worry etched on his face.

She managed to muster up a small smile for him. "Just a scratch, rookie."

Ethan rolled his eyes but didn't comment, clearly allowing Rachel her tough act despite the rising concern in his own eyes.

As the medics started to rush over, Rachel's gaze moved back onto the empty expanse of desert. She could feel her blood pumping through her veins, an odd mix of frustration and determination fueling her. Their perp was gone, but they had left tracks. And she intended to follow them.

"Just hang tight," Ethan murmured, helping her sit down on the sand dune as the medical team finally reached them.

The medic, a stocky man with graying hair, hurried over to them, his eyes immediately drawn to the blood staining Rachel's shirt. His brows furrowed in a grimace as he began to examine her, applying gentle pressure around her injury.

Rachel winced but refused to show any further signs of discomfort as she held Ethan's gaze.

Ethan gave a curt nod as he stepped aside to let the medic do his work. His gaze drifted off to the west, towards the trail of dust hanging heavy in the Texas heat.

The medic worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning Rachel's wound and wrapping it in thick bandages. He advised her not to move it much and promised that an ambulance was on its way. Rachel thanked him but dismissed him quickly, turning back to look out at the desert.

There wasn’t a chance in hell she would get into an ambulance.

“He’s wounded,” she said. “He’ll need help soon.”

He frowned. “You think he has contacts nearby?”

She shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Her shoulder throbbed, but she paid it no mind

. The heat was unrelenting, pouring over them like hot oil. She looked back at Ethan, who was now walking through the crime scene with the officers, picking up spent shells and bagging them. Steely resolve settled in her gut. Whoever this sniper was, they weren’t going to get away. Not on her watch.

She brought up her binoculars and scanned the horizon once more for any sign of movement. Nothing but swirling sand and the shimmering heat of the desert.

"Rachel," Ethan called out as he walked over, an evidence bag in hand, "You need to let the medics take you in."

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