Page 65 of Wyoming Bodyguard
Reid groaned and pressed the palm of his hand to the side of his head. “I’m not shot, you idiot. The glass from the windshield got me. I’ll get it checked later. We need to go after that asshole.”
Before Madden could argue, Reid threw open the driver’s-side door then hunched onto the passenger seat.
Gritting his teeth, Madden jumped into the truck and slammed the door shut. Reid was a grown-ass man who knew his own limits. If he said he was good enough to wait for medical attention, he trusted Reid’s instincts.
The black truck raced out of the parking lot and turned toward town.
Madden slammed on the gas and the vehicle lurched forward. The shooter had a good lead, but a meadow that stretched alongside the straight, two-laned road allowed a perfect view of the truck as it sped forward.
Reid hung his head in his hand. He sat straight, gaze fixed on the distant taillights. A sheen of sweat coated his pale face.
Madden cast him a quick glance. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Reid snapped. “Keep your focus on the truck. I’ll call the sheriff’s department.”
Madden didn’t respond, but his partner’s surly response had him doubting his decision to pursue the shooter instead of insisting Reid get medical attention right away. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and urged the truck faster, pushing the pedal to the floor.
The sound of Reid’s voice as he spoke on his phone filled the space, but Madden focused on the chase. He couldn’t let this guy slip through his fingers again.
“Sheriff’s department is aware of the situation,” Reid said. “They’re sending deputies to cut him off from the opposite direction. There aren’t any other roads for this jackass to turn off before he hits town. As long as we keep on his tail until they get into place, he won’t get away.”
Madden chanced another look at his best friend. He swallowed his fear then zeroed in on the truck. He crept closer. Each inch he traveled stretched on like miles. Cool air poured from the vents, but it did nothing to beat back the heat consuming him from the inside out.
Blue and red lights flashed ahead, and the distinct call of a siren loosened the tension bunched at the back of Madden’s neck. They had this bastard right where they wanted him.
The black truck stopped in the middle of the road.
“What the hell is he doing?” Madden asked.
“Looks like he’s turning around.”
He closed in on the vehicle, but the driver made a three-point turn and sped toward them.
“Shit,” Madden muttered.
The truck ate up the center of the country road. The space between the two vehicles diminished by the second.
“No matter what, don’t let him get past you.” Reid’s command came out on a choked whisper.
Images of Lily’s crumpled body after she’d fallen from her horse and the pain displayed on her beautiful face time and time again flashed in his mind. She’d been hurt too many times, her life turned upside down and inside out. He had to put a stop to it any way he could.
“Hold on, man,” he yelled. As the truck closed the final yards, Madden cranked the wheel to fishtail the back end of the truck toward the center lane.
Metal crashed against metal, shoving Reid’s vehicle off the road. The back end spun toward the gravel shoulder. Madden braced himself. The force of the collision whipped him forward. His ribs slammed against the steering wheel and his forehead bounced against something hard. He squeezed his eyes shut as his head wobbled with every motion. The sound of shattering glass rang in his ears. The tires lifted on one side, balancing the truck in the air until gravity pulled it back down again.
The vehicle landed with a bone-crushing thud. Madden opened his eyes. “Reid. You all right?” he asked as he unhooked his seat belt and searched out the back window for the shooter.
The black truck rolled into a ditch on the other side of the road.
“Damn, dude. A little heads-up would have been nice.” Reid groaned and leaned back against the seat. He lifted a shaking hand and gingerly rested his fingertips on the bloody gash on his cheek then rummaged in the glove box for his Glock. “What are you waiting for? Go get the bastard.”
Madden grabbed the gun and jumped out of the vehicle. Sirens grew louder, but he couldn’t wait for the deputies to get here before apprehending the driver. He trained the gun in front of him with his finger on the trigger.
The black truck lay on its side on the opposite side of the road, the driver’s window pointed toward the sky. Smoke rose from the hood.
Moving slowly, he approached the vehicle. Gravel and broken glass crunched under his boots. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he yelled. “I’ve got a gun aimed your way, and sheriff’s deputies will be here any second. There’s no way out.”
No sound came from the truck, no movement.
