In The Arms Of The Law

Jutting her chin, she faced the windshield. “You rub me the wrong way.”

He put the truck in gear. “That’s odd. I don’t recall laying a hand on you.”

Before she could think of a smart comeback, he stomped the accelerator and the truck shot forward, thrusting Andi back against the seat. She wanted to demand that he slow down, but remembered the last time that she’d commented on his driving he’d considered it a dare, and decided not to push her luck.

“What’s the situation at Pete’s Place?” she asked, hoping if she distracted him, he’d slow down on his own.

“Stabbing. Jarrod, the new rookie, responded to the call.”

“Something’s always happening at Pete’s Place. Ten to one it’s over a woman.”

“As much as I’d like to accept your bet, it would be like taking candy from a baby.”

She gave him a droll look. “I take it you don’t think it started over a woman.”

He took a turn on two wheels, then shook his head. “No. Fights over women usually take place nearer to closing time, when folks start to pair off.”

She lifted a brow. “Is that the voice of experience speaking?”

“No. Common sense.”

“Okay, if not a woman, then what do you think started it?”

He made a sharp turn into the parking lot of Pete’s and braked to a rock-spitting stop behind the patrol car already at the scene. “Most of the men who hang out at Pete’s are construction workers. My guess is that it’s a disagreement they brought with them from the job.”

She reached for the door handle. “Well, let’s see which one of us is right.”

It appeared that the entire bar had emptied into the parking lot to watch the fight. Customers and employees alike formed a human wall that Gabe and Andi had to shoulder their way through before finding their victim. He sat on the ground beside a truck, his back propped against its rear tire, holding a blood-soaked cloth against his left arm. More blood was spattered on his shirt and jeans. Jarrod, the rookie cop, was standing off to the side, shooting the breeze with the ambulance driver.

Setting her jaw, Andi stalked toward him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The rookie jerked to attention. “Nothing, sir—I—I mean, ma’am.”

“Well, that’s obvious,” she snapped, then pointed a stiff finger at the victim. “Do you realize that man might very well be bleeding to death while you’re over here flapping your jaws?”

“Uh, yes, ma’am. I tried to get him to let the paramedics load him up in the ambulance, but he won’t let anybody near him.”

Making a mental note to discuss later with the rookie his inability to control a scene, she turned for the victim, but found Gabe had beat her there. Judging by the conversation between the two, it appeared they knew each other.

“Hey, Dal,” she heard Gabe say. “How bad is it, buddy?”

“Pretty bad,” Dal said, then gulped and began to unwind the crude bandage he held on his arm. “He cut me deep.”

Andi winced as Dal exposed the gaping wound.

“It’s deep all right,” Gabe confirmed. “Looks like he sliced you clear to the bone. We need to get you to a hospital.”

Dal drew back against the tire and shook his head. “No. Ain’t got the money to ride in no ambulance. My brother Bill’ll be gettin’ off work soon. He’ll take me.”

“What time does Bill get off?”

“Works the four-to-eleven shift over at a convenience store in San Antonio.”

His expression grim, Gabe pushed his hands against his thighs. “I can’t let you sit here and bleed to death, while you wait on your brother.”

Dal kept his eyes fixed on Gabe, as Gabe stood. “I ain’t goin’ in no ambulance. I told you, I ain’t got the money to pay.”

“You’re not going in the ambulance,” Gabe informed him. “You’re going with me.”

Shocked, Andi watched as Gabe helped Dal to his feet. When he began guiding the man to his truck, she quickly fell in behind them.

“Who did this to you?” she heard Gabe asked Dal.

“Whitey. A guy on my crew. Had to fire him today. Can’t have a man on the payroll who thinks he can come and go whenever he pleases.”

Andi stifled a groan. Gabe didn’t so much as glance her way, but she heard his “I told you so” as clearly as if he’d shouted it at the top of his lungs.

Three

Andi didn’t question Gabe’s decision to personally escort Dal to the hospital. And she didn’t question him when he gave his own mailing address to the nurse on duty and told her to send him Dal’s bill. But by the time they were back in his truck and headed for her house, the questions were burning holes in her tongue.

“Taking a victim to the hospital isn’t part of the job,” she said, seeking a noncombative opening.

“I know.”

“So why did you do it?”

He stopped at a stop sign, waited for a car to cross the intersection, then drove on. “You heard him. He couldn’t afford an ambulance ride.”

“That’s not your fault, nor your responsibility.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I wasn’t about to let him sit there and bleed to death while he waited for his brother. I doubt you would’ve, either.”

“No,” she agreed, “but I sure as heck wouldn’t have offered to pay for his medical care.”

“He’ll make good the debt.”

She gave him a doubtful look. “Come on, Gabe. If he couldn’t afford to ride in an ambulance, do you really think he can come up with the money to pay a hospital bill?”

“Dal might not have the cash on hand, but he’s an honest man and a damn good framer. I’ve been wanting to build a storage shed behind the cabin.” He lifted a shoulder. “He can work off the loan.”

She stared, unable to associate this kind gesture with the Gabe Thunderhawk she knew. Or, rather, the Gabe Thunderhawk she thought she knew. His rep around the station was that of a tough cop, one who didn’t have to ask a perp twice for his cooperation. Most of them took one look at him and fell to the pavement, offering their wrists for the cuffs.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

She blinked, startled by the unexpected question, then frowned. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. Why?”

He glanced at the rearview mirror. “Someone’s following us. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t your boyfriend, before I tried to lose him.”