Chosen Prey by Cheyenne McCray Page A

the cavalry had arrived.
    But as he looked down at his partner, the hole in Franklin's head and the man's blank stare told Dare it was too late.
    Dare opened his eyes to find his body covered in sweat. He brought his right hand up to rub his left shoulder. The pain radiating through his old wound made it feel as if it had happened yesterday rather than seven years ago. His disorientation cleared almost immediately, but the recurring nightmare lingered on.
    He'd slept on the floor by the bathroom in the bungalow he shared with Lyra. A cramp spasmed in his lower back and his head felt like it was going to split. Lyra had given him the bedspread and three of the four pillows, and he'd found another blanket in the closet.
    That had done nothing to make the floor in the least bit comfortable. Not that he'd expected them to.
    Still in his jeans, he rose. He tilted his head from side to side and the bones made a light popping sound as the movement relieved the crick in his neck. He ran his palm over his stubbled jaw. He felt like hell.
    Dare turned to look at the empty bed. All that was on it was a couple of twenty-dollar bills.
    I pay my way , echoed in his head.

    Lyra wasn't anywhere in the small room.
    Her backpack was gone.
    "Fuck!" He nearly slammed his fist against the wall, just bringing his knuckles short of the painted bricks.
    Instead, he strode across the room and jerked open the casita door. She hadn't quite closed it—probably to keep him from hearing her leave.
    Of course she wasn't outside. Not where he could see her, anyway.
    That Goddamn nightmare. It had been so intense he hadn't heard the slightest sound she'd made, which wasn't like him.
    In moments he'd pulled on a T-shirt, slipped his belt through the loops, yanked on his boots, slid his Glock into the back of his waistband, and shoved his Stetson on his head.
    He ignored the cash and stuffed everything else into his duffle, grabbed his SUV keys along with the room key, and stormed out of the room.
    Goddamnit. He had promised himself he would protect her. Not let anything happen to her. She was going to get herself killed like Franklin. And Dare couldn't stop it.
    Something settled hard and deep in the pit of his gut. He'd failed again.
    But he wasn't giving up until he knew for sure he couldn't find her.
    After tossing the morning clerk the room key, Dare unlocked his vehicle and climbed in.
    He fired it up, backed out of the parking lot, put it in first, and stopped at the entrance.
    Lyra would probably be hitching a ride to Tucson, so he'd start out heading that way. If she wasn't on the road, still trying to hitchhike, he'd never find her.
    Just before pulling out of the parking lot, he glanced at the convenience store catty-corner from the motel.
    Lyra was climbing into the passenger seat of a beat-up blue compact car. Relief combined with frustration made his head ache even more. He had the brief inclination to charge across the street and block the car's exit, but he didn't know what Lyra's reaction would be, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to call the cops.
    Dare narrowed his eyes as he waited for the car to slip into the nonexistent traffic.
    Instead of taking a right and going toward St. David and Benson, which would lead her toward Tucson, the vehicle made a left, heading in the direction they had come from last night.
    Dare clenched the steering wheel.
    Was Lyra going back to Bisbee?
    He scowled before the thought occurred to him that Lyra might be going to Sierra Vista, backtracking a little before heading to the largest town in the county. She just might have taken the first available ride and was counting on catching a bus or hitchhiking from S.V. to Tucson. No two ways about it, she had to find a ride, maybe even to El Paso or Phoenix.
    Dare guided his SUV onto the small highway meandering through Tombstone, keeping back far enough that he hoped he wouldn't be noticed but could still keep the car in sight.
    He had already memorized