Читать книгу: «Randall On The Run»
“Jess, why are you here?”
She’d come into his room in the middle of the night and he’d grabbed her and pinned her against the wall. He let her go when he realized who it was.
“I came to protect you. You’re still weak. And it’s not safe for you to be alone.” As she spoke, she stepped toward him till she was mere inches away.
“You can’t keep saving me, Jess. And you shouldn’t be so close.”
Dammit, he wasn’t a robot, or a dead man—yet. When a beautiful woman wanted a kiss, he was ready to comply. But somehow not with her.
“Jess, I only have now, this moment. I can’t promise—”
“I didn’t ask for promises, Steve.”
Throwing better judgment to the wind, he bent his head and kissed her.
That was when gunshots tore them apart.
Randall on the Run
Judy Christenberry
MILLS & BOON
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Judy Christenberry has been writing romances for over fifteen years because she loves happy endings as much as her readers do. She’s a bestselling author for Harlequin American Romance, but she has a long love of traditional romances and is delighted to tell a story that brings those elements to the reader. A former high school French teacher, Judy devotes her time to writing. She hopes readers have as much fun reading her stories as she does writing them. She spends her spare time reading, watching her favorite sports teams and keeping track of her two adult daughters.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Jessica Randall—Three years in Hollywood couldn’t rub off the Randall code. Jessica couldn’t pass by a person in need without offering a helping hand—no matter what it cost her.
Stephen Carter—Someone wanted him dead—and had almost done the deed. But just when he thought he was a goner, a Hollywood beauty had come to his rescue.
Mike Davis—He was the sheriff of Rawhide and married to a Randall woman. He was also required by law to report a bullet wound. Could Steve trust this small-town lawman with the truth?
Marcus and Baldwin—They had been Steve’s partners, but now they were out for Steve’s blood.
Miguel Antonio—He was Steve’s boss and the second-in-command at the Drug Enforcement Agency. Before he could make his move, Steve had to decide. Was this D.C. big shot friend or foe?
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Jessica Randall was going home.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she’d finally loaded into her car all her personal items from the furnished apartment where she’d lived for three years.
Three years. She’d been awfully naive when she’d first arrived in Hollywood. Since then, she’d learned a lot about the movie industry—and it wasn’t all good. In fact, the underbelly of Hollywood had soured her on living here. Dreams about home had gotten stronger and stronger until she could no longer relegate them to her subconscious.
It was night, but she figured she could get in at least five hours of driving before she’d have to stop and sleep. After all, in Hollywood, no one went to bed early.
Besides, she didn’t want to stay here one more night.
“Come on, baby,” she called.
There was a loud woof before the arrival of her “baby,” a golden–labrador retriever mix. He’d kept her company so she wouldn’t forget home. Every morning she’d run with Murphy at her side, his tongue hanging out as he raced gleefully along.
With one last look, she locked the back door and reached for the garage door opener just as shots rang out. Jessica swallowed as a shiver raced over her. After all the warnings of her family, she hadn’t had contact with any bad elements in Los Angeles since her arrival. Immoral elements, yes, but no gun-toting bad ones.
On her last night she ran into a gunfight? What were the odds?
She paused, but when she heard nothing else, she joined Murphy in her SUV and locked the doors before she pressed the garage door opener. Then she cautiously backed out. Everything seemed deserted, exactly as it always was.
Good. She just wanted to get away.
Flicking on her high beams, she started down the alley. Then she gasped when her eyes lit on a dark mass on the roadway. It looked like a body! She slammed on the brakes and took a second look.
It was a man. And he wasn’t moving. Was he dead?
As much as her better judgment was telling her to keep driving, to leave Hollywood and all its baggage behind, she knew she couldn’t. She had to stop. Leaving her engine running, she looked carefully around her before she slipped from behind the wheel.
In the bright beam of her headlights, she saw the man was still breathing, but bleeding heavily from his upper right torso. “Hold on, I’ll call for an ambulance,” she told him, though she didn’t really think he heard her.
She turned then, but a strong hand grabbed her arm, holding her in place. A scream died in her throat as she looked down at the injured man.
“No! No ambulance.”
“But you need medical help. I can’t—”
His hand on her arm squeezed harder. “No doctor, either,” he managed to say.
“What do you expect me to do? I can call the police but they’ll—”
“No!”
A suspicious feeling settled around Jessica. The man was seriously injured, but he refused help. Why? Fearing the worst, she began to back away.
“I’m DEA undercover.” Through his pain he managed to get the words out, but she could see the effort was a struggle for him.
“Then why can’t I call the police?” She remained skeptical.
“I—I think my own people shot me. The police will contact them…and I’ll die. I won’t be able to—to defend myself.” The lengthy speech drained him, and he sighed deeply.
Jessica had no way to know whether his story was true or just another of Hollywood’s fictions. But there was something about the man, something she heard in his voice, that made her take a chance. If what he said was true, she had to get out of this dark alleyway, and fast. “Do you want me to take you anywhere? Someplace safe?”
He nodded.
“You’ll have to tell me where to go.”
“Okay,” he muttered, but his eyes slowly closed.
Jessica knew she had to do something about the bleeding, otherwise he wouldn’t make it much longer.
She hurried to the truck and the first-aid kit her father had insisted she bring with her. “You might need it in Los Angeles.” Just thinking about her father and his strength and courage steadied her nerves. She took the box to where the man lay and ripped his shirt open to expose a gunshot wound in his shoulder.
She was surprised to find a manila envelope stuck in the top of his pants.
“What’s this?” she asked, almost to herself.
Again to her surprise, his hand grabbed the envelope, but he didn’t have the strength to pull it from hers. “Evidence. It’s…important.”
“I’ll take care of it. I won’t let anyone see it.” Her voice was urgent. She was afraid whoever shot him would come back to be sure the job was done.
He seemed to accept her assurance as his grasp loosened. She lay the envelope beside her as she began to tend to the gunshot wound, hoping the thick pad she held on the wound would slow the bleeding.
He cursed in a hoarse voice.
But she knew pressure was needed to stop the bleeding. Then she struggled to get him to his feet. When he was finally upright, though draped all over her, she led him to the SUV. He was a big man, and without his help she never could’ve gotten him up.
“Got to hide,” he whispered in her ear.
Again shivers attacked her. She didn’t know if it was from the words or the breath of hot air against her skin. “Okay. But first we have to get you inside. You’re going to have to help me.”
She’d gotten a couple of friends to help her put her mattress in the back of the SUV, with the rear seats folded down. Murphy used it as a comfortable bed.
Shoving back some of the clothes, she wedged the man in behind the front seat and lay his head on a pillow. All in all, she thought he’d be pretty comfortable. To be on the safe side she covered him with some of her clothes, and on his head, pulled down low over his face, she put a cowboy hat that she’d taken with her from Wyoming as a remembrance of home.
Maybe it was a little overdone, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
Remembering her promise to take care of his evidence, she hurried back to the spot and grabbed the manila envelope. She slipped it beneath her seat in the SUV, out of sight.
When she got behind the wheel, she thought she caught some movement in the dark behind her. But when she looked around, she saw nothing; she told herself it was her imagination, and pressed down on the gas.
“Damn!” She’d forgotten to ask her passenger where he wanted to be taken. She leaned over the seat back, but even when she shook his leg under the clothes, he didn’t answer.
So now what was she supposed to do?
She got on a freeway, or a parking lot, as they called them in L.A., headed in the direction she planned on going. At least he was safe in her car. When he woke up, she’d figure out how to get him where he needed to be.
About twenty minutes later, she wasn’t quite as sure about his safety as flashing lights suddenly appeared in her rearview mirror. At the siren she carefully pulled to the side of the road and put on her hazard lights. She certainly hadn’t been speeding. Why was she being pulled over?
After a quick check to be sure her passenger remained hidden, she rolled down her window.
A Los Angeles policeman approached her and she greeted him with her most charming smile. “Good evening, Officer. Was I going too fast? I didn’t think so, but—”
“No, ma’am. But we’ve been looking for a perp in a robbery and the car kind of fit the description of yours.”
For some reason, Murphy growled at the officer. Jessica realized the dog hadn’t made any protest about her injured passenger.
“Well, there’s just me and Murphy,” she said, gesturing to her dog. “Unless the bad guy was a woman with a big dog, I think you’ve got the wrong vehicle.” She noticed his eyes kept focusing on the piles of items in the back.
“You’ve got a lot of things in your vehicle. Big shopping trip?”
“No, not at all. I’m moving.”
“No furniture?”
“No, I was renting a furnished apartment.”
“I see.” He still stood there, searching with his eyes. Finally, he said, “Mind if I search your car?”
She gave him an appalled look. “Yes, I do. It may not look organized to you, but I very carefully loaded my things so that nothing would get broken. I don’t want you stirring things up. Anyway, it’s not as if I could hide a—what did you call him, a perp?—in there.”
“Okay, I guess not. Where are you headed?”
Jessica did some quick thinking. She hadn’t turned off yet to head north, and she didn’t think she wanted this man to know where she was going. “Dallas. I thought the best route would be to hit Highway 10 and go straight across.”
“Yeah, that’d be best.” One more look, then the officer tipped his hat, thanked her for being so patient and strode back to his vehicle.
She closed her eyes for a moment of thanksgiving after he eased his patrol car back onto the freeway.
Could her passenger have been telling the truth? She was beginning to think so. She drove cautiously for several exits, then pulled off to stop at a drive-in grocery. She went inside and bought some bottled water and a couple of snacks, the latter of which she shared with Murphy. Then she returned to the car and found her tool kit, another item her father had insisted on, and something else she’d saved. Her Wyoming license plates.
Quickly, she replaced the California license plates on her vehicle. Her shaking fingers slowed her, but it didn’t take long. Then she got in and drove away from Highway 10. If her passenger had been telling the truth, she might be stopped again if she kept the same plates. Or if she stayed on the highway she’d told the officer she would be on.
Now she was headed for Nevada, Utah and then Wyoming, her home. Whenever the guy woke up and wanted out, she’d set him free. But she was heading home.
The last thing she did before she got back on the road was to give him some aspirin to control the fever she felt sure would follow.
ABOUT 3:00 A.M., Jessica pulled into a rest area, cracked her windows enough to let in air but not enough to let anyone have access to her car while she slept. She reached for another pillow for herself, and gave a blanket to Murphy. After checking on her still-sleeping passenger, she curled up and fell asleep.
When Murphy wanted out the next morning, he woofed gently, and she opened one eye. “Murphy, are you sure? I’d like to sleep longer.”
He woofed again.
“Okay, okay.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Then she remembered her passenger. She scooted over so she could reach his face. He was still asleep, but the fever was raging. She left him alone while she opened her door and got out with Murphy.
After her dog had relieved himself, she brought him back to the vehicle and got out more aspirin and a bottle of water. “Wake up,” she whispered to the man, who didn’t appear interested in waking at all. She finally got him awake enough to take more aspirin and a small sip of water. Then she left him alone again.
“Murphy, I’m going to the restroom. Keep guard of our friend, okay?”
She patted him on the head and slipped out of the vehicle, locking the door behind her.
When she came outside again, she eyed the pay phone. If she was going to call her cousin Caroline, now would be a good time, and no one would pick up her conversation, as they could on a cell phone.
She dialed the number for a collect call. When someone answered, she was afraid they wouldn’t accept the charges, but she used her full name and the Randall part of it did the trick.
“Oh! Oh, yes, just a minute.”
The operator said, “Hello, ma’am, will you accept the charges?”
When there was no answer, the operator said to Jessica, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, they won’t—”
She was interrupted by a voice Jessica recognized. “Hello? Yes, we’ll accept the charges.”
“Go ahead, please,” the operator said and clicked off.
“Caroline?”
“Yes, Jess. Where are you?”
“Some place in Utah.”
“You’re coming home?” Caroline’s voice rose in excitement.
“Yes, but that’s not why I called. Listen, Caroline, I have a—a person who’s been shot.”
“What? Jessica, what are you up to?”
“I’ll explain later. I bound the wound tightly to stop the bleeding, and I’ve given him aspirin. I don’t know if the bullet is out or not. Is there anything else I need to do?”
Since Caroline was one of two practicing doctors in Rawhide, Wyoming, her family’s hometown, she knew Caroline could advise her.
“No, nothing else, except to take him to a doctor.”
“He refuses.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story. And I don’t know how long I’ll have him around. If he comes to, I’ll probably drop him somewhere.”
“This doesn’t sound smart, Jess. He could hurt you.”
“Not as long as he’s passed out. But don’t worry. I’ll be careful. If I have to bring him home, will Mike have to report him being shot?”
“That’s the law,” Caroline said, her voice sounding ominous. “I’m going to call Uncle Brett right now if you don’t explain yourself.”
She immediately begged her cousin not to worry her father, Brett Randall. “I’m being careful, I promise, Caro, but I have to get back on the road and there are reasons I can’t talk about him on the cell phone. Someone might pick up the call.”
“This is sounding worse, Jess, not better!”
“I know, but I promise I’ll explain when I get there. Just trust me for a couple of days.”
“All right, but no longer. And call back.”
“I will. I’m going to call Mom and Dad to let them know I’m coming.” Jessica breathed a sigh after she hung up. She’d been afraid of Caroline’s answer. She knew the man needed a doctor, but she wouldn’t take him to one against his will.
Unless he worsened, of course.
She hurried to her SUV as if her thinking such thoughts would make them come true. She opened the door on Murphy’s side and pushed her dog to the driver’s seat so she could lift the hat and clearly see the man’s face.
He was handsome, in a rough way. He needed a haircut and a shave, but nothing could hide his sculpted features. No wonder he was in Hollywood, home of the beautiful people.
Luckily it appeared the bleeding had stopped. She got out the first-aid kit again. If she rebandaged him, she could use the antibiotic cream, which might stave off an infection.
The ugly sight of his wound reminded Jessica why she hadn’t gone into medicine, like Caroline had. And her checkbook always taunted her for not going into accounting, like her sister, Tori, had.
In fact, in addition to her flair for the dramatic, it was because she had no other skills that she’d turned to acting. But at least she’d proved herself. She’d stayed in Hollywood until she got a role in a major film. That way her family wouldn’t think she was a failure when she came home.
Just as she was finishing binding the wound again, the man moaned.
“It’s all right,” she whispered soothingly. “You’re safe.”
She was sure he heard her because the tension in his body went away. She covered him up to his neck and lay the hat on his stomach so she could reach it quickly if she got pulled over again.
They were only a few miles from Cedar City, Utah, a town in the southern part of the state. When she reached the outskirts, the hat went back over the man’s face so she could pull through a fast-food restaurant drive-through and get breakfast for her and Murphy. She didn’t think her passenger would be up for any food just yet.
Once she’d done that, and Murphy was busy munching his sausage and biscuit, Jessica began talking to her dog, as she always did. He was her best listener.
“You know, Murph, I can’t keep referring to him as ‘the man.’ Maybe we should give him a name. What do you think of Angus? He’s got dark hair. He could be an Angus. Or maybe he’s a cowboy, like the men in my family. Shall we call him Clint, in honor of Clint Eastwood?”
Murphy woofed his disapproval.
Jessica suggested several other names until a deep voice said, “Steve.”
She almost drove off the road as she stared at her dog. Then she realized the sound had come from behind the seat. She did pull to the side of the road then. “You’re awake.”
“Yeah,” he said, just barely above a whisper.
“I should give you some more aspirin. Are you in pain?”
“Yeah.”
Well, he was a big conversationalist, wasn’t he?
She put the aspirins in his mouth and then lifted his head slightly so he could drink the water.
After a long drink, he sank back. “Where are we?”
She was afraid her answer would shock him. “Utah.”
“Why?” he asked, his brow wrinkling.
“I was on my way home. You didn’t tell me where you wanted to go, and I couldn’t just let you lie there and bleed to death, so I brought you along with me.”
“Too dangerous,” he muttered.
“I think we’re safe enough now. Though I did worry when the policeman pulled me over.”
“When?”
“Last night in L.A. on the freeway.”
“Why?”
Another one-word response. “He said my vehicle fit the description of one belonging to a perp who’d robbed a store. He wanted to search my car, but I told him no.”
“How did you know you could refuse? Most people—”
“I asked a policeman who was a consultant on a cop show I did once. He told me.”
“And the officer said okay?”
“Yes. He looked into the back and let me go. Then I gave him a phony destination.”
“Plates. They can track—”
“Doesn’t matter. I changed plates.”
“How?”
“I kept my Wyoming plates for sentimental reasons. So, after he stopped me, I changed back to my Wyoming plates. And they haven’t expired. Then I cut across to the highway that leads to Salt Lake City.”
“You said Wyoming.”
“Yes, that’s where I’m headed. Do you want me to drop you off somewhere?” She was surprised at the reluctance she felt at turning him out on his own. She’d saved his life, after all.
“No, they won’t look for me there.”
“Who, Steve?”
He swallowed hard. “My partners. They shot me… I think my boss is in on it too. That’s why I have to get to Washington.”
“You’re in no shape for that,” Jessica told him. “Right now we’re just trying to get you to a doctor in Wyoming—”
“No doctors!”
“If you’d let me finish, the doctor is my cousin.”
“But they have to report it to—”
“The law, who is her husband. I’ll explain everything, and he’ll do the right thing.” She hoped he didn’t ask what the right thing would be. Mike would try to help, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t report the wound.
“Okay.”
It was as if she could read his mind. She was sure he was thinking he’d have time to get lost again, because it would take his enemies time to get to Wyoming. She didn’t bother arguing with him.
“So, we’ll be on our way, Steve. That is your name, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you hungry? I can stop—”
“No. Just drive.”
So the man had a bit of an attitude. Jessica wanted to remind him that men usually went out of their way for her, not the other way around. Some men even found her attractive. Then she caught herself up. That was a Hollywood thought. She needed to remember how life was in Rawhide. She’d be home soon.
She got behind the wheel, gave Murphy a pat and started the engine, automatically locking the doors. Then she eased back onto a highway that didn’t have a lot of traffic. It was a relief after Los Angeles.
They picked up traffic again as they got close to Salt Lake City. Steve had gone back to sleep, so she had no conversation to relieve the boredom of the drive, but she felt a growing excitement about going home.
For lunch she chose a restaurant this time, rather than fast food, because she thought she should get something for Steve. She locked him and Murphy in the car and went inside. After she placed an order to go, she went to the ladies’ room. Then she returned to wait for their food.
It only took fifteen minutes, but she was impatient. Finally, she carried a big sack of food out to her SUV and put it behind her seat.
When she got in, she stopped Murphy from pawing through the sack. “No, Murphy, you have to wait. When we get to a park, I’ll let you get out and eat your dinner.”
On the other side of the city, she found a park that didn’t have many people out in the middle of the day. She took out Murphy’s steak and put it on the grass and led him to it. He began chowing down at once.
Jessica returned to the SUV so she could feed Steve the beef broth she’d bought for him. “Steve, can I prop you up so you can eat some lunch?”
“Yeah,” he whispered, though she wasn’t sure he was really awake yet.
She took the second pillow and got it behind him, then she opened the container and began feeding him the soup.
He kept sniffing, reminding her of Murphy.
“Why do you keep sniffing?”
“Because I can smell steak. I want to know how much of this slop I have to eat to get to the good stuff.”
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