Spy in the Saddle

“No time.” He turned the key in the ignition.

“I’m not a sheriff. I can’t deputize people,” she said through her teeth as he gunned the engine. “You just left a crime scene to a civilian. Is this the kind of Wild West law enforcement your team is running here?”

“It’s called doing what it takes.” He stepped even harder on the gas pedal and shot down the lane at twice the speed she would have recommended, people scampering out of his way.

A grim, focused expression sat on his face, his weapon ready on his lap, rules and regulations the farthest thing from his mind, obviously.

He was a different man from what she remembered. He belonged on the battlefield, not among civilians. She pushed the thought back. She’d barely been here; the determination was too early to make. She’d give him a fair shake. He deserved that much from her.

But she would have to make that determination at some point. Her mission here had an extra component his team wasn’t aware of. She was to make recommendations whether to keep the SDDU’s Texas headquarters in operation or have one of the domestic agencies take over their duties.

The law forbade U.S. military from being deployed inside the borders of the United States. The Special Designation Defense Unit didn’t technically belong to the military—their top secret team reported straight to the Secretary of Homeland Defense—but they were a commando team, no matter how they sliced and diced it.

The few FBI and CIA bigwigs who did have knowledge of the SDDU were more than uncomfortable with them being here. And then there was, of course, the rivalry. The very existence of the SDDU seemed to imply that the bureau and the agency weren’t enough to handle the job.

She was supposed to write up an evaluation and recommendation based on her experience here. But her judgment of the small Texas headquarters would have implications for the entire SDDU team. There was some pressure on her to come up with recommendations that would restrict their operations to outside the borders, like the military.

Pressure or not, however, she was determined to keep an open mind. Even if Shep wasn’t making that easy for her.

He drove like a maniac. The Mustang was nowhere to be seen. It’d gotten too much of an advantage. Not knowing where it was headed, they would have little chance of catching up.

She cleared her throat. “We would have been better off staying and searching the trailer, I think.”

Instead of responding, Shep made a hard left without hesitation when they hit the county road, and without yielding to oncoming traffic.

“How do you know they went this way?” she asked over the blaring horns and squealing tires, her right hand braced on the dashboard, her blood pressure inching up.

“Burned rubber on the road. Wasn’t there when we came. They didn’t slow to take the turn.”

She glanced back but, of course, they’d long passed the spot. Burned rubber... She should have picked up on that. Would have, normally. She needed to snap to instead of allowing him to distract her.

He overtook a large semitrailer and nearly ran a car off the road in the process.

She had to brace herself again. “You can kill someone like this.” She might have raised her voice a little. “What happened to waiting for backup? Also known as standard procedure.”

Back in the day, he’d been a lot more balanced—the sane voice of authority and all that. Rules used to mean a lot to him. He’d had a ton of them. But not anymore, it seemed.

Which he further proved by saying, “We don’t run things by the company manual here.”

“No kidding.”

God help her if the other five were like him. She pushed that depressing possibility aside and put on her business face. The bureau had sent her here to keep this wild-card team in line, and she was the woman to do it.

Shep might have been her parole officer at one point. She might have had a crush on him so bad she hadn’t been able to see straight, but a lot of things had changed since then. She was here to do a job.

She opened her mouth to tell him that, but he pointed straight ahead, cutting her off. “There.”

The red Mustang was a speck in the distance ahead of them.

He floored the gas and did his best to catch up, scaring innocent motorists half to death in the process as he whipped around them like a race-car driver.

But when he finally reached the red Mustang, it picked up speed. So did he. Was he insane? Nobody could fully control a car at speeds like this.

She meant to read him the riot act, but he cut her off, once again, before she could have gotten the first word out.

“Take over the wheel.”

“What? No—” But she had to grab the damn thing when he let go without even looking at her.

Then he took the safety off his gun, rolled down his window, pulled the upper half of his body outside and started shooting at the men in the car in front of them.

Of course, they shot back.

* * *

SHEP TRIED TO HIT the back tire, but the Mustang sat low to the ground and he was high up in the SUV, nearly sitting in the window, so the angle wasn’t much to work with. He couldn’t shoot at the two idiots inside the car, which would have been easier. They needed them alive for interrogation.

“Coming in.” He popped back onto his seat and grabbed the wheel from Lilly, who slid back into her own seat to make room for him, shooting him a murderous look, her full lips pressed into a severe line.

He floored the gas and rammed the car in front of them.

The Mustang nearly swerved into oncoming traffic.

Lilly braced herself on the dashboard. “Slow down! You’re endangering civilians on the road. Shep!”

“Take over the shooting. It’s easier for you to use your right hand.” He needed both hands for the ramming.

“This isn’t how it’s done. Public safety always comes first.”

When the hell did she turn all prim and proper? “The public is safe. Unless you’re a bad shot.”

She said something under her breath he didn’t catch.

“Listen—” He rammed the Mustang again. “I don’t know how you do things at the FBI, but this is not white-glove law enforcement. You’re in the combat-boot section now. If you want to stay here, you’re going to have to step up to the plate.”

She unsnapped her seat belt, muttering something under her breath, then rolled her window down and leaned out.

He did his best to keep the car steady for her.

She shot at the tire, didn’t have any more luck than he’d had, with the Mustang swerving. She leaned out a little farther.

The man in the passenger seat shot back at her.

She didn’t even flinch.

Shep could see from the corner of his eye as she lifted her aim. And shot the bastard straight through the wrist.

“Good shot.” He flashed her a grin as she pulled back into the cab. But then the smile froze on his face.