One Night Standoff - By Delores Fossen Page 0,15

Instead he kept running, kept pushing Lenora until he could shove her behind one of the trees. It wasn’t a second too soon, because another shot came their way.

He reminded her to stay low again, but he didn’t stop except for just a brief moment. Too risky, even though the running could be a risk to the baby. They ran deeper into the clusters of trees, trying to put as much distance as possible between the men and them.

The next bullet tore through his shirtsleeve, grazing his arm. The knife-slice of pain was instant, but it didn’t cause him to slow down. That’s because the bullet had come way too close to Lenora.

He pushed her to the side, behind one of the larger trees, turned and saw the two men already in the cemetery. They were coming straight for Lenora and him.

Clayton took aim.

And fired.

The shot smacked into the taller man’s shoulder, and even though Clayton was sure it wasn’t a fatal strike, the man dropped to the ground.

Another shot sounded—a loud, thick blast. Not fired by one of the men, but rather by Lenora. From the corner of his eye, Clayton saw that she was leaning out from the opposite side the tree, and she still had her gun aimed.

The second man fell to the ground, too, but Clayton didn’t think Lenora’s bullet had actually hit him. The gunman just seemed to be getting out of the way. Maybe neither of the men had thought that Lenora would actually return fire. Clayton had thought that, too, because he’d made it pretty clear he didn’t want her to take any unnecessary chances.

He didn’t waste time warning her to stay down and quit taking chances, because they only had a few seconds before those men got back on their feet. Clayton took hold of her wrist and got her moving toward his truck.

It wasn’t long before he heard a welcome sound. Sirens. A much faster response than Clayton had estimated, and maybe it would send the men running back to their SUV. He wanted to arrest them. Question them, too. But maybe the locals would do that while he got Lenora out of there.

“They’re not following us,” Lenora said, looking over her shoulder.

Good. Just a few more yards and they’d be one step closer to safety.

Clayton shoved aside a low-hanging tree branch and they threaded their way through some underbrush to the trail. The truck was still there, thank God, and he threw open the door and practically pushed Lenora into the passenger’s seat. He crawled around her so he could start the engine and he slammed on the accelerator.

“Put on your seat belt,” he told her, doing the same while trying to keep watch all around them.

The trail was just that—a trail—filled with bumps and holes. That made for a bumpy ride, but it wasn’t their discomfort that concerned him most. There were plenty of trees between the cemetery and the trail, and if the gunmen decided to outrun the law, they could come through those trees and start shooting.

Clayton wanted to figure out what they were after. And why.

There she is.

That was what the man had shouted when he’d spotted them in the cemetery.

She.

Did that mean they were looking only for Lenora and not him? It was something he needed to consider. Especially after everything Lenora had told him about her life as a criminal informant.

That was the last thing he’d expected from her.

Here he’d had her in his protective custody, and it’d all been a ruse for a deep-cover operation. Once he got Lenora to safety, he was going to make some calls to let his own boss and Lenora’s task-force leader know that he wasn’t happy about playing the dupe, since his life had been on the line, too.

He hated lies.

They were something his worthless father, Melvin Larson, had manipulated him with countless times. But Clayton pushed that old wound aside and kept maneuvering the truck through the trail.

The trees were so close in spots that the branches scraped against the sides of his truck and the rocks battered against the undercarriage. The sound was practically deafening, but Clayton tried to pick through it so he could figure out what was going on.

He could still make out the sirens. That was good. And he figured they were headed for the church. However, he wasn’t sure from which direction the locals would arrive. It was possible he would pass them when he made it to the road.

“I need