Page 119 of Winter Vows

Paul’s restraints were downright pitiful. All it took was a couple of quick, sharp tugs for Dylan to bring the shower rod crashing down. He slid belt and tie over the end and off. That loosened them enough for him to work his hands completely free. He was already racing from the room as he slipped the second tie over his head and jerked the waddedup handkerchief from his mouth.

The sound of the gunshot and the shower rod crashing had stirred enough of the other guests to bring a small crowd into the parking lot.

“Which way did they go?” Dylan shouted. “The man and the little boy? Which way did they turn?”

The proprietor ignored him and rushed toward the room. He gasped when he spotted the bullet hole. “Somebody’s going to have to pay for the damage.”

“Take it out of the fifty I already gave you,” Dylan snapped. He turned to one of the guests who looked wide-awake, but not especially terrified. “Did you see which way they turned?”

“West,” the man said. “Should we call the police?”

“I’ll do it,” Dylan said. Of course, it wouldn’t be the local police he’d be calling, but Justin. He punched in the number of his cell phone as he turned onto the highway.

“Sheriff’s Department,” Becky responded. “Becky, it’s Dylan. Can you get Justin for me?”

“He’s on the road. I can’t patch you through, but I can get him on the radio and relay messages,” she said.

Dylan was impressed with the fact that she wasted no time. Clearly she grasped that Dylan wasn’t calling just to chat. When she added, “I heard you were shot,” he understood why.

“Not me,” he corrected, “but the ceiling took a hit.”

“Bad aim?”

“Nope, deliberate torture for Kelsey.”

“What a creep!” she murmured, then said, “Okay, Dylan, I’ve got Justin. What do you want me to tell him?”

Dylan described his location and the car Paul was driving. “He’s headed west toward the meeting place. He has Bobby and he has a gun. I’m maybe ten minutes behind him. Depending on how fast he’s driving, I may catch up.”

“Ten-four,” Becky said briskly, then repeated the information to Justin. “Dylan, he wants you to stay clear. He has plenty of men to handle it. They’re already in place. Back off. Do you read me?”

Dylan read her loud and clear, but he created the sound of static on the line, then deliberately hung up. There was no way in hell he was staying out of this now. It had gotten personal back there in that motel room.

Besides, he’d promised Kelsey that he would deliver Bobby safe and sound and he intended to do just that. This maverick streak of his had kept him from becoming a cop. But he also had sense enough to know what he could handle and what he couldn’t. He could handle Paul James, especially now that he’d learned the hard way not turn his back on him. He accelerated and kept his gaze fixed intently on the highway ahead of him.

There was a turnoff about eight miles ahead that would head toward Los Pinõs. He guessed from Kelsey’s earlier remark that the meeting point was about five miles beyond the turn. That gave him thirteen miles—or about ten minutes at seventy miles an hour—to catch Paul. After that, Kelsey was going to have to face her ex-husband. Dylan wanted to prevent that from happening if he possibly could.

He kept hearing her scream when she’d thought Paul had shot him. She had sounded genuinely anguished. That meant she’d be going into the meeting terrified or angry or both, when what was needed was a clear, cool head.

He pushed the car’s speed up to eighty. Not ten seconds later he spotted the taillights of the flashy green car up ahead. At the same time, he saw a sheriff’s car slide onto the highway from its hiding place behind a stand of trees. The cop didn’t use lights or his siren, but there was no mistaking his intention to get Dylan off the road.

If Paul spotted that police car in his rearview mirror, there was no telling what he would do. It wouldn’t matter that the deputy was after Dylan, not him. He could panic just the same, and that would increase the danger to Bobby and Kelsey.

Dylan knew he had no choice. Slamming his palm against the steering wheel in frustration, he muttered a curse and pulled to the side of the road. The deputy coasted to the shoulder right behind him, then exited his car slowly and strolled up to Dylan.

“You’re in a mighty big hurry for this early in the morning,” he noted.

Dylan flipped open his investigator’s license. “I was tailing a suspect. Thanks to you, he’s getting away.”

The deputy didn’t seem particularly distressed by the predicament he’d caused. “Is that so?” He studied Dylan intently. “That wouldn’t be the same suspect that half the cops in West Texas are waiting for just up the road, now would it?”

Dylan grimaced. This little speed trap had been Justin’s doing. He could feel it. The man was sneakier than Dylan had imagined. “It would indeed,” he conceded.

The man nodded, then handed him back his wallet. “It’s damned frustrating sitting around and letting somebody else take down the bad guys, isn’t it?” he asked sympathetically.

“If you understand that, why’d you stop me?”

“Becauseyouwere the bad guy I was assigned to take down,” the deputy said. “Want some coffee?”

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