Page 88 of Lone Star

He twisted to glance back over his shoulder. Then glanced back, expression thunderous – but determined. “We’ll head for the hospital. They won’t push it now that we’re here.”

A shootout in a warehouse was one thing, but one on a main thoroughfare was another.

“Chelle, call ahead and tell them we’re coming,” he continued.

“Already on it.”

“Do you know which way to go?” he asked Axelle, in a completely different voice.

It stunned her a moment, the softness of it. The worry. It warmed her, too.

She swallowed. “No.”

He offered a quick, tight smile. “Just follow me.”

And so she did.

Thirty

When Fox arrived at the scene of the crash, he couldn’t help but let out a low whistle. “Bit dramatic, boys, don’t you think?”

Neither of them answered right away. They stood facing him, flat-footed, stiff, but with their shoulders dropped in that way he knew meant they could spin into action in a blink. A dozen or so paces separated them, so they framed a view of the back of an open, upside down van where three crumpled bodies lay like strewn flower petals. One was dead, the back of his head blown out. One was a bleeding, cowering man. The last an unconscious woman, her blond hair lying puddled beside her head on the dirt.

He smirked to himself. Of course they weren’t cradling her and tending to her wounds. That would have been too human of them.

“We apprehended the van,” Reese said.

“Iapprehended it,” Tenny corrected, mouth flattening, almost angry.

The two very pointedly didn’t look at each other.

“I can see that,” Fox said, walking the last bit of distance toward them. “How many dead bodies we got?”

“The driver and two others,” Ten answered.

“We kept one alive for questioning,” Reese said.

“And the woman,” Ten said, glancing down, toeing at the ends of her hair like she was a dead snake he’d found on the side of the road.

“Is she alive?” Fox asked, crouching to check.

“Yes,” they both said, just as he verified. She was breathing, and regularly, but unconscious. A small cut at her hairline had bled down her face, but he didn’t see anything major. She could have broken bones or internal damage, though.

“Right, well, van’s on the way.” He stood, and glanced toward the cowering man. “What’s his story?”

“Las Chupacabras cartel,” Tenny said. “Or so he says.”

Fox walked over to him, and the man shrank in on himself beneath Fox’s shadow. If he was honest with himself – and he usually was – he always enjoyed getting that reaction.

“What’s your name?” he asked, nudging the man’s boot with his own.

He was met by a pained, panicked stare; the guy breathed in quick little huffs.

“We’ve got you, man. You might as well tell me.”

The man swallowed and said nothing.

“Alright. Any chance you want to tell me what you guys were up to?”

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