Page 24 of Bridles and Bribery

He stomped to the doorway of the plane and found himself facing the pilot, who was holding yet another gun.

Can’t catch a break tonight.Even so, Dave almost felt sorry for the guy. He was shivering uncontrollably in the icy rain. There was no way he could shoot straight while shaking that badly. However, now wasn’t the time to test out that theory. Better to play it safe and stay on the offense.

Dave leaped over the stair railing, using his suitcase as a shield, while slinging it forward with all of his might. The pilot’s gun went off while the suitcase was sailing in his direction. The suitcase caught him in the chest as Dave’s feet hit the ground, knocking the pilot backward. He remained where he fell, writhing and panting.

Dave didn’t hang around to assess the situation. He took off running in a zigzag motion to make himself a hard target. The tarmac was slick with freezing rain, making him slip a few times, but he righted himself and kept running. As he put distance between him and the idling turboprop plane, he heard the crack of gunfire. Once. Twice. Three times. He had no way of knowing if one or all three of the goons behind him were shooting at him.

From the dim glow of the moon, he determined he was running on a single-lane airstrip. It appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. Trees lined both sides of it. Out of the sheer will to survive, he veered off into the trees to his right.

He was immediately plunged into darkness, forcing himto slow his pace. Men’s voices shouted in the distance, but they didn’t sound like they were getting any closer. Regardless, Dave wasn’t taking any chances. He trudged deeper into the forest. As he plodded one foot in front of the other, his right shoulder started stinging. The pain swiftly grew more intense.

The next time he passed through a shaft of moonlight, he gave his aching shoulder a cursory glance. A dark trail of blood ran down the white fabric of his dress shirt.Bummer.He hadn’t realized he’d been shot. He was going to have to stop and take a look at it soon.

He also needed to find shelter. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the icy rain had just about soaked him to the skin. Since there were no buildings in sight, he had no choice but to keep moving. He wouldn’t last long in these temperatures if he stopped. The cold wetness felt like it was trying to sink through his bones. Numbness crept up his arms and legs. He fought it by increasing his pace. If he lost consciousness, it was over.

The trees grew abruptly thinner. Hoping he was getting closer to civilization, he forced himself to increase his pace again. A few minutes later, he caught sight of a glow in the distance. The glow became brighter as he drew closer to it.

He stumbled out of the tree line and found himself facing a truck stop and service station. Neon signs advertised that it housed a trio of fast-food restaurants.

Feeling a burst of renewed energy, he broke into a jog and was soon pushing his way through the double glass entrance doors. The sudden blast of fluorescent lighting made him wince.

A lone clerk glanced over the counter at him and grimaced at his appearance. “There’s no wait for the showers, sir. It’ll cost…”

Dave silenced him by digging in his pocket and producing a few soaked dollar bills. “Sorry about the mess,” he muttered. “Got stranded in the rainstorm.”

“It’s just water. It’ll clean up.” The clerk was an elderly gentleman with a scruffy white beard that reminded Dave of a scraggly Santa. After ringing up his purchase, the man slid the receipt across the counter to him. “Stall number one is all yours, sir.”

“Thanks.” Dave picked up the receipt, instantly dampening the end of it with his wet fingers. “Mind if ask exactly where I hiked to?”

The older man chuckled. “You made it to Smiley’s Truck Stop. ‘Bout ten miles down the road from the last service station. Probably felt more like a hundred miles in this weather. I reckon you broke down somewhere in the middle?”

“Good guess.” Dave gave a rusty chuckle, trying to sound nonchalant. “Was worried I might’ve walked all the way to Mexico.”

“Nope. You’re still in Dallas.”

Dallas?So much for the rogue pilot’s claim about rerouting their flight! Dave swung away from the counter in disgust.

The clerk’s kindhearted gaze landed on his injured arm as he lurched in the direction of the shower stalls. “You’re hurt!” He reached for the store phone. “I’d be glad to call an ambulance for you.”

“Nah, it’s just a scratch, but thanks.” Dave hobbled down the aisle between rows of candy and other junk food, still unable to open his eyes all the way beneath the blast of lights. Reaching the shower in stall one, he shut himself inside and locked the door.

Someone had just tried to shoot him, well…three someones, and he had no idea if and when they might return to finish the job. He gritted his teeth against the pain as he unbuttoned his sodden dress shirt and peeled it off. His movements caused a fresh trickle of blood to run down his biceps. On the upside, he couldn’t locate a bullet hole. He’d been grazed. Nothing more.

His shoulders slumped in relief. He was fortunate. Very fortunate. Before he spiraled into hypothermia, he tugged off the rest of his soggy clothing and turned on the shower. He stepped beneath the warm spray, grateful to be thawing out again.

Afterward, he kept the water on to keep the room warm while he dialed the one man in the world he’d always been able to trust. As a precaution, he dialed his work number instead of his personal cell phone.

Gil picked up in the middle of the first ring. “Dave?” His voice grated hoarsely across the line.

“It’s me, man.” Dave slicked a hand over his wet head.

“Where are you?” his best friend demanded.

“Dallas, despite an interesting detour.” The most harrowing detour of his life.

“Glad to hear it!” Gil sounded close to weeping from relief. “Your flight status has been listed as rerouted for hours. Naturally, Jillian has been frantic. Have you called her yet?”

“Afraid I’m gonna need you to do that for me.” Dave had no way of knowing if anyone was currently tracking his calls or movements, and the last thing he wanted to do was lead his enemies back to his wife. “So, uh…about that detour. It was an ambush.” He quickly described the weather leading up to the hasty landing of his charter flight, and the ensuing holdup at gunpoint that he’d miraculously escaped from. “I’m starting to get the impression that someone doesn’t want me taking that case here in Dallas.”

---