Calder Born, Calder Bred (Calder Saga 4)

“Repp, I’m over here.” Her voice was unsteady. “On the other side of the pickup.”

As Repp came around the hood of the truck, Stricklin shifted his hold on her and forced her to step from the shadows. The gun was pointed at her head. Repp stopped dead still.

“The young lovers meet for their last rendezvous,” Stricklin murmured, then motioned Repp to come closer.

“Then it was you Cathleen and I heard in the hangar that night,” Repp accused and slowly walked forward until Strick-lin signaled him to stop.

Cat stared at him in shock. “Repp, you—”

“It’s no use pretending we don’t know,” he interrupted her quickly, then turned to Stricklin. “You did something to that oil line, didn’t you?”

“It was fairly simple.” Stricklin was very matter-of-fact about it. “It’s unfortunate the two of you happened to be there that night.”

“What have you got planned for us?” Repp sounded so calm that Cat wanted to scream.

“It’s going to be a very tragic accident—two young lovers parked in some out-of-the-way place, unfortunately overcome by carbon monoxide. A little battery acid on the exhaust hose and you have a leak that allows the fumes to get into the ventilation system. It will be very painless, really.” He seemed to offer the comment as assurance. “Of course, afterwards I’ll remove the jacks from the front end—I wouldn’t want you to attempt to drive away—and I’ll reattach the door locks.”

“You won’t get away with it,” Repp countered smoothly.

“No one discovered the last accident—except you two.”

“And Dyson—does he know?” It was thrown out as a challenge, faintly contemptuous. “I suppose this was his idea and you just do the dirty work for him.”

“Is that an attempt to create friction between myself and E.J.?” There was amusement in Stricklin’s voice, as much amusement as ever was allowed into his voice. “It won’t work. Dyson has nothing to do with it.” He used the gun to motion Repp toward the truck. “Open the door and get in.”

There was a long hesitation, as though Repp were weighing his chances of rushing the man. Cat strained toward him, hating the way she was both a pawn and a shield to Stricklin.

“I said, open the door,” he repeated the order.

From the shadows of the house, another voice—Ty’s voice—answered him. “He’s not going to do it, Stricklin.”

Stricklin’s head jerk

ed in his direction. In that second of distraction, Repp grabbed Cathleen’s arm and yanked her out of Stricklin’s hold. “Run, Cat! Run!” His hands pushed at her shoulder blades, shoving her into the moonlit darkness as he threw himself at Stricklin.

Cat stumbled the first few steps, trying to get her balance. Her heart was pumping madly, and breath was screaming in her lungs. Something lunged out of the darkness a step behind her, startling a cry from her throat.

Suddenly, all the scuffling noises, the running footsteps, the wild terror pounding in her ears, were shattered by an explosion. Cat spun around. The scene was momentarily freeze-framed. A figure directly in front of her staggered backwards a step. Beyond him, Stricklin stood by the truck, the revolver at the end of his outstretched arm, a trace of white smoke curling from the muzzle.

A second explosion came. It seemed to push Stricklin backwards, a look of shock freezing on his expression as he slid down the side of the truck to the ground. Cat ran forward as the gray-haired man sank onto one knee.

“Uncle Culley.” She fell to her knees beside him, her hands reaching to support his sagging frame. Casting a frantic look over her shoulder, she saw Repp being helped to his feet by two men. She didn’t know where they came from, but he appeared unharmed. When she looked back to her uncle, she noticed a hand was pressed to his chest. Something wet and dark was oozing from between his fingers. “You’ve been shot.”

“I’ll be okay, girl.” He patted her hand, leaving the stain of warm, sticky blood on it.

His weight seemed to grow heavier in her arms. She had to use her whole body to support. Then Ty was beside her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Before she could draw attention to Culley’s chest wound, Ty was unbuttoning the shirt and pressing a folded piece of cloth on the dark purple hole in the flesh.

“There’s an ambulance on the way, Culley,” he said. “I’m sorry. Repp was in the way and we couldn’t get a clear shot at him.”

“I ... I couldn’t let him shoot Cathleen. He would have.” His voice sounded very tired, although he made an attempt to smile at her. Cat realized he had deliberately placed himself between her and Stricklin. “I’ve been watchin’ after her for a long time. I always tried to know where she was and what she was doin’. ’Cept today ... I let her down today.”

“No, you didn’t, Uncle Culley,” she declared tightly. “You came. You brought help. And Ty believed you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes as if to consider that. “A Calder takin’ an O’Rourke’s word.”

“Don’t talk anymore,” Ty advised. “Just stay quiet.”