Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Caleb hit the ground and didn’t stop. He crawled, elbows to the gravel, not thinking about anything but survival.
The gunshot blasted over his head.
Thank You. It didn’t hit him. His chest, where he’d been shot in his vest the other day, and the healing burns on his arm hurt more than he wanted to admit even to himself.
The gunman, whoever had stolen the package off his passenger seat, would be coming around.
Caleb had to get to his gun in the duffel on his backseat, since he’d never make it to the one in the glove box.
The idea had been to not have a gun on his person if he came across law enforcement.
Problem was that left him vulnerable now.
And it might actually get him killed.
He jumped up to a crouch and got the back door open, but the man rounded the back of the vehicle. Caleb didn’t have any recourse other than to act as fast as he could, certain he was about to get shot.
Before he could even think about whether this was a good idea or not, he launched up and slammed into the man’s torso. The gun went off behind him. Hopefully pointed nowhere near him.
Sounded like it pinged off the side of Pops’ truck, but it was hard to tell.
Caleb shoved the man back. The gun clattered to the ground. They didn’t go down. The guy pushed back, planting his rear foot and countering Caleb’s tackle.
That told Caleb what he needed to know about this man’s strength. And the force behind his punch.
Caleb flinched and his head jerked back with a punch he hadn’t seen coming. He balled his fist and hit the guy at the bottom of his ribcage, right in the diaphragm. The guy nearly doubled over, and Caleb heard an audible, “Oof.”
He backed up a step, rallying for the next attack. The guy looked up at him.
Bruce Edwards.
He was the FBI agent Tessa had met at the hospital.
Caleb knew that, because he’d met this agent before.
They weren’t friends and never would be.
First time Caleb worked with him on a joint taskforce he’d known the guy was dirty and vowed never to get in a situation where he needed to trust the guy ever again.
Trusting this man would get a person stabbed in the back.
“Edwards.”
A car drove past them going eighty, ruffling Caleb’s hair across his face. In the split second his view was obscured Bruce had a knife out.
Caleb flicked both sleeves down over his fists and raised his arms. He needed a way to defend himself against a wicked blade, and there weren’t many.
Bruce swung at him. Caleb swiped his arm across, pushing the knife hand out with a smack of forearm against forearm.
He kicked Bruce in the knee and knew that wasn’t what the guy expected him to do.
Badge on his belt, like he was the honorable one in this situation.
Suit and tie, like he’d never been to the north this time of year and had no idea how to dress for the weather.
Caleb grabbed his wrist with every ounce of strength his grip had. He brought up his knee and slammed it into Bruce’s stomach twice.
Someone sped past them, honking their horn.
Bruce sneered at him with teeth gritted. He swung with his free arm and clapped Caleb over his right ear, the concussive force making his head swim.
Caleb kneed him again, but Bruce backed up out of reach. The move pulled Caleb off balance, and he stumbled forward. Slammed into Bruce. Felt the knife hand moving toward his back, his strength unable to continually force it away from him.
Caleb pulled his head back and slammed it into Bruce’s forehead. Sure, he saw stars and nearly went down. But so would Bruce.
He shoved at the dirty FBI agent, pushing him away.
Spun around and looked for Bruce’s gun on the ground, but his momentum took him too far and he slammed his shoulder into the side of the car.
“You did me a favor burning that cabin.” Bruce sounded like he was laughing. “Kessler said destroy the evidence. That just leaves you.”
As long as he was the only target. “He can’t run forever, always covering up his tracks. Sooner or later someone will catch up.” He glanced over at Bruce and knew this man’s intention here was to kill him. “You won’t get away with it.”
“You’re the one who should listen to that.” Bruce rolled his shoulders.
Caleb spotted the knife on the ground between them.
“Accept what’s going to happen.”
“Destroying my career? Bet it chaps his hide I got away in Guatemala. Too bad, so sad. Harder to kill me than that.” Caleb just needed a moment, then he’d be able to start up the fight again. “Kessler isn’t going to get away with this.”
“Cause you have someone feeding you information? Unlikely that’s going to help, considering I’ve got it now.”
The package. Did he think that was the contents of the envelope?
Caleb nodded, as if what Bruce just said was correct. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to give up. I’m all the evidence I need.”
“No one will ever believe anything you say. Once Kessler is done destroying your career you’ll have even less credibility than you have now.” Bruce shifted and pulled a gun from the back of his belt. Another weapon?
Caleb really needed to start carrying three…no four, on his person.
Bruce pointed the gun at him.
Caleb lifted his hands, seconds from death. The writing on the wall was clear.
Lord have mercy. There was so much he still wanted to do in his life. Marry. Have children. Spend years loving a wife and the kids they made, feeling how sweet life could be when things were good. Facing the hard stuff together, learning that it didn’t change God’s love for him.
If Bruce pulled that trigger, Caleb would never have any of those things.
A police siren cut through the air, followed by flashing blue and red lights. The white SUV the sheriff drove pulled over on the road behind Bruce. The FBI agent didn’t take his aim off Caleb, and Caleb didn’t lower his hands.
Sheriff Cartwright got out of his truck. “Special Agent Edwards! Looks like you found him.” The sheriff wandered over, one hand on the butt of his gun. “Caleb. How are you?”
Caleb stared at him, not sure what to make of the sheriff’s attempt at diffusing whatever tension there seemed to be between him and Bruce.
The fact he wasn’t treating Caleb as the threat—at the expense of anything else—made him wonder what had been called in that drew him here responding to the civilian report.
“How about you stand down, Edwards. I’m sure we can resolve this situation peacefully. The Rourkes are reasonable people.” Sheriff Cartwright strode toward Bruce.
Caleb spotted the intention Bruce probably didn’t realize he telegraphed in his movements. The slight shift in his shoulders before he turned his upper body first, the rest of him following. How he brought the gun up.
“Don’t do it, Bruce.” Caleb started to move toward the sheriff, forcing Bruce to confront what he was about to do.
“It’s just collateral damage.” He brought the gun up and pointed it at Sheriff Cartwright.
The old law man was pretty quick on the draw, but not quick enough. The bullet from Bruce’s gun hit him high in the shoulder.
Sheriff Cartwright fired back, missing Bruce as he stumbled and his behind hit the asphalt in a heap. He cried out, blood on his shoulder.
Caleb spotted the knife, discarded on the ground where it had fallen.
Caleb swiped it up and flung it at Bruce, not really aiming for much other than center mass in a general sense. It embedded itself in his thigh.
Bruce cried out, stumbling back. He collapsed against Pops’ truck where it had stopped down the embankment.
Caleb ran to the sheriff, grabbed his gun and pointed it at Bruce. But it was too late. The driver’s door shut and he hit the gas, backing it out of the dip. Spraying mud and gravel before he sped off down the highway.
Caleb raced after Pops’ truck for a few feet, until Sheriff Cartwright called out to him.
He turned back, planted his hands on his knees and took a few deep breaths.
“Let him go. There will be plenty of time to catch up with him later.” The sheriff cried out, but grabbed his radio from his belt and said, “This is Sheriff Cartwright. I need an ambulance at my location.” He paused, then Caleb heard him say. “Because I’ve been shot, Mary. That’s why.”
Caleb didn’t want to hear that they’d catch up with Bruce later. He should’ve tried to kill the guy when he had the chance. Without mercy, the way Nathan Kessler would have.
But how was he any different from the bad guys if he acted exactly as they did?
He straightened, turning around so he could take a minute and figure out what to do. The package, the thing Bruce had come here for, lay on the ground where he’d dropped it.
That would need retrieving. But first he headed for the sheriff. “First Aid kit?”
“Behind the driver’s seat.”
Caleb grabbed the little tackle box of supplies and crouched by Sheriff Cartwright, tearing away his shirt to reveal the bullet wound. No exit on the back of his shoulder. “It’s still in there.”
“No kidding.”
Caleb figured the bravado was going to be short lived when his brain caught up with how much pain he was in, and shock took over. He tore open a package and held the bandage against the wound, putting pressure on. “You with me?”
“He is an FBI agent. I verified it.”
“You’re right,” Caleb said. “He also works for the guy I was investigating. My whole team was compromised, and they tried to kill me.”
“No kidding.” Sheriff Cartwright’s brows rose. “Probably why there’s a warrant out for your arrest.”
“So they can bury the truth and pin it all on me like I’m the traitor.”
“I still have to do my job.”
Caleb shook his head. “Even knowing you’ll send an innocent man to prison, or worse—they’ll take me out before I get that far?
Then I can’t tell anyone what I know, and they get to keep destroying people’s lives for profit.
There’s a Virginia senator connected to this, and his brother’s company is part of Kessler’s network.
That evidence is what everyone is after. ”
“Does Ian have GPS on his truck?”
“It’s too old.”
Sheriff Cartwright pressed his lips together, his face pale. “Looks like you need to figure out a way to prove you’re right and they’re wrong.”
Sirens in the distance let him know the cavalry was arriving. “Sounds like you might actually believe me.”
“Doesn’t matter if I believe you or not. The war you’ve got to fight is a whole lot bigger than one small town sheriff.”
And it was high time Caleb went on the offensive.