Texas Forever (The Tylers of Texas 6)
Steering with her left hand and aiming with her right, Marie fired two quick shots. She glimpsed a crimson splatter on the cracked glass, but she couldn’t stick around to check the extent of damage. With a roar, the bike shot ahead, moving forward, then to the left, where it zigzagged into the main stream of automobiles. Minutes later, as the city neared, she slowed, secured the gun in its holster, and let the bike mingle with the heavy morning commuter traffic. From somewhere far behind her, she could hear the wail of sirens.
She had done it. She had killed Erin Tyler and made a clean getaway. Euphoria surged. As it filled her like a drug, she raised the visor on her helmet, flung back her head, and shrilled a Comanche war cry.
* * *
When he saw Carmen rushing out of the house, Luke suspected that something had happened. When she came closer, and he saw her wild-eyed, stricken face, he knew.
With a silent prayer on his lips, he ran to meet her.
“I just saw it on TV,” she gasped, struggling for breath. “They didn’t give a name, but I know it was Erin—”
“What happened?” He clasped her shoulders to steady her.
“A driver, shot on the freeway south of Lubbock—brown Chevy station wagon. It rolled down an embankment and crashed at the bottom. They showed the car. It was Erin’s. I know it was her!”
“What about Erin? Is she alive?” It was all Luke could do to keep from shaking the poor woman.
“They—they said the driver, a woman, had been air-lifted to the hospital in critical condition. That’s all I know. The TV’s on in the house. Maybe we can find out more.”
Luke released her. “I’m going inside to see what I can find out. Call Lauren. Have her get hold of Sky, wherever he is. Tell them that as soon as I find out for sure it’s Erin, I’ll be on my way to the hospital.”
He raced into the house. The big-screen TV was on in the den, but the news had gone to commercial. Desperately he grabbed the remote and flipped to another local channel. There it was, the shot of the car, upside-down at the bottom of a grassy embankment, its top and side smashed in. Luke caught a glimpse of the license plate. It was Erin’s car.
The reporter mentioned the name of the hospital where the driver had been taken. That was all the information Luke needed. Rushing outside again, he said a quick word to Carmen, grabbed his shirt from the fence, shouted to a hand to let the penned horses back into the paddock, and unhitched his truck from the trailer.
Minutes later, he was roaring out of the yard, trailing a cloud of dust down the lane all the way to the main road.
* * *
Marie took her time, leaving the freeway and winding her way through the streets into the barrio, where she felt safe enough to go to a café and have some coffee. She was still keyed up after the successful hit and escape. She needed to unwind before she tried to contact Stella.
News of the shooting was bound to go statewide. Stella had access to TV in prison. With luck, she would see the broadcast and know that Marie would be calling to get the location of the drug stash.
In the restaurant, which she’d scoped out before going in, she chose a booth with a view of the front door and a direct path to the kitchen and the back alley where she’d left her bike. She felt confident that she’d made a clean escape, but one couldn’t be too careful.
The TV, mounted high on the wall behind the counter, was broadcasting a game show in Spanish. When the man brought her coffee, she pointed to the TV and asked, “Inglés?”
He glanced around to make sure no one was watching the game show, then nodded and switched the channel, using the remote in his pocket. A local newscast was just beginning, and there, on the screen, was a live shot of the wrecked brown station wagon.
As Marie watched, the camera zoomed in on the driver’s side window with two bullet holes in the blood-splattered glass. The reporter’s voice droned in the background. “. . . The female driver was air-lifted to University Medical Center in critical condition. . . .”
No! Marie’s coffee slopped over, scalding her fingers. It’s impossible! The little bitch is still alive!
She willed herself to stay calm and finish her coffee. If Erin Tyler didn’t die, Stella would know. And all this planning, all this risk, would have been for nothing.
There was no way around it. Unless she wanted to flee the country with nothing, she would have to finish the job.
* * *
Luke raced into the emergency room and found the main desk. “Erin Tyler,” he told the nurse on duty. “She was shot on the freeway and air-lifted here. What can you tell me?”
“Are you family?” The nurse was maddeningly calm.
“She doesn’t have any family. But if she survives, I’m going to marry her.” As soon as Luke spoke the words he felt their truth. To lose Erin would be to lose the future, their love, their family, all they could give each other.
“Just a minute.” The young nurse turned away to speak to a supervisor, then came back to Luke. “She’s in surgery now. That’s all I can tell you. It may be a while. If you want to wait, give me your name, and I’ll have the doctor come out and talk to you when he’s finished.”
“Thanks.” Luke gave his name and sat down to wait. He’d never been one for churches, but now his lips moved in silent prayer. Please . . . please . . . she’s my love, my life, my everything. . . .