Texas Forever (The Tylers of Texas 6)

“Sounds good.” He released her with a grin. “I’d better get back to work. The boss lady doesn’t take kindly to slackers.”

“Go then.” She gave his rump a playful slap. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Erin walked back to the house with a spring in her step. Luke had a way of lifting her spirits and making her feel strong and capable. She still had a load of worry on her shoulders, but for tonight, at least, she would put it aside and enjoy her time with the man she loved.

* * *

Deep in the escarpment, the dry night wind moaned through the canyons like a living thing. The crescent moon gleamed like the blade of a silver scimitar against the black night sky. Coyote calls echoed across the foothills.

In the sheltered hollow beneath a ledge, Marie lit a cigarette, leaned back against a boulder, and watched the smoke rise into the darkness.

Three days ago, she’d returned to her vantage point above the Rimrock Ranch. This time she had a faster bike and a gun—both stolen. And this time she was determined to finish what she’d started.

She’d been too cautious in the past. Her resolve to make Erin Tyler’s death look like an accident had cost her precious time. And time was running out. She needed to make the hit, collect Stella’s stashed drugs, and get out of the country. Faking the murder to look accidental didn’t matter now. If the law caught up with her, she’d go down for killing a cop.

The plan she’d come up with was relatively simple but would take split-second timing. For the past two mornings, she’d watched Erin Tyler walk out to her old brown station wagon, dressed for the city and carrying a briefcase. Wherever she was going, probably Lubbock, she would most likely be taking the freeway.

The best version of Marie’s plan depended on the little Tyler bitch making the drive again, hopefully tomorrow. If it didn’t happen, she could carry out her attack on a different road. But the freeway would make for an easier approach and a faster getaway.

Closing her eyes, Marie rehearsed the plan in her head. The lumbering wagon wouldn’t have much speed. It would probably be in the right-hand lane. On her old but sweet Harley-Davidson Dyna Low Rider, which she’d stolen when the owner left his keys on the bar to use the restroom, she’d have no trouble catching up to the wagon and speeding away after the shots were fired—at least two rounds, she calculated. Three, just to be safe. Her helmet, worn with the visor down, would hide her face and hair. By the time the out-of-control car rolled off the freeway or crashed into oncoming traffic, she’d be long gone.

The pistol, a .357 Magnum she’d lifted from the front seat of a parked car, was a cold weight in the shoulder holster she wore under her leather jacket. Marie touched it, as if to reassure herself that it was there, loaded and ready. Just do it, she told herself. Get it over with, get the drugs, and you’ll be free.

* * *

Luke had finished morning chores and was washing his hands at the outside tap when he saw Erin come out of the house. She headed for her station wagon, then turned and saw him. As she crossed the yard, he stepped into the barn to give them some privacy.

Balancing her briefcase, she ran to him and flung her arms around his neck. A few hours ago they’d been in his bed together, but she greeted him as if they’d been apart for weeks. He loved that about her—the way she gave herself with total abandon, holding nothing back. As he held her, he imagined waking up to that sweet love every morning, giving her babies, and watching them grow up. Could he be the steady, caring husband she needed by her side? Could he be a good father to their children? Could he love her as freely and trustingly as she loved him?

Sometimes, like now, his feelings for Erin were so intense that they scared him. Could he be the man she needed and deserved? Or would his restless nature cause him to let her down and break her heart?

His arms released her. His eyes looked her up and down. She was wearing new jeans and a denim blazer over a pink silk blouse. Her boots were freshly polished. “You’re a knockout this morning,” he said.”

She laughed. “The look I was aiming for is tough, successful businesswoman. Wish me luck.”

“You’ve got all my wishes. Maybe this will be the day when something good happens.”

“I hope so. Gotta go.” She stretched on tiptoe to brush a kiss over his lips, then turned and strode across the yard toward her car.

Luke watched her walk away, admiring her spunk. He would have given anything if he could take on her burden and make her troubles go away. But there was nothing he could do except be here, and give her refuge when the going got rough.

As she reached the old, brown station wagon and climbed inside, a chill crept over him—a premonition that something wasn’t right. Luke had learned to trust his instincts, but this time there appeared to be no cause for alarm. Will’s killer was behind bars, and there’d been no sign of the mysterious intruder since the shooting at the Blue Coyote. Sky’s cousin had probably left the country.

He could shout at Erin, stop her from leaving, and insist that she stay here. But he knew she wouldn’t listen. She would laugh, call him an old worry wart, and drive away.

All he could do was let her go. But he wouldn’t take an easy breath until she was safely home again.

* * *

Marie cut across the flatlands and along the back roads. At the junction with the highway she idled the bike and waited until the brown station wagon had passed, then followed about two hundred yards behind. Perfect timing, she congratulated herself. Now all she had to do was keep back, out of sight, until the vehicle was on the freeway. At the right spot, she would speed up, come even with the wagon, draw the .375 Magnum, put a couple of shots through the driver’s side window, and lose herself in the morning commuter traffic. Mission accomplished.

The plan sounded almost too easy. But she’d rehearsed it in her mind at least a hundred times. The critical part was holding steady when the time came to draw and fire. Do it right, and Erin Tyler would be dead before she knew what had hit her. Do it wrong . . . but she couldn’t afford to do it wrong. Not this time.

After the first twenty miles or so, the traffic grew heavier as commuters, heading for work in the city, merged onto the freeway. By now the lanes were crowded enough for her bike to blend in, but moving well enough

to allow for speed. Marie could see the station wagon ahead of her, in the right-hand lane, just as she’d expected. The lane next to it was clear. It was now or never.

Adrenaline poured through Marie’s body. Her pulse kicked into high gear as she accelerated—fast enough to come even with the wagon, but not too fast for her to aim and fire. She drew the pistol. Now she could see the driver’s profile through the side window. It was Erin Tyler, all right. And she was looking straight ahead.