Protecting Their Child (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

“Sharon?” a deep male voice shouted and he pounded on the door. “Sharon, are you in there? Open up.”

“Kate,” Sharon whispered, gently touching Kate’s arm. “That’s Logan. It’s okay. He works here. I’m fine.” She said the last words a bit louder so he could hear.

“Thank God. You wouldn’t believe what we’ve been hearing over the scanner. Open up.”

“You can put the rifle down, Kate,” she said softly.

The young woman’s hands covered Kate’s grip, steadying the rifle that she’d pulled to her shoulder. They couldn’t be sure who was out there. Someone might be forcing him. She understood that Sharon wanted her to set the rifle aside, but she couldn’t. Not yet.

A louder banging on the door caused Kate to jump. “Tell him to go away. If he’s really alone, he can go away.”

Sharon ran to the window. “He’s alone. It’s okay.”

“You don’t know these men. They’ll do anything. They could be holding someone else hostage.”

“Sharon! Answer me or open this door.”

The observatory employee nodded her head. “Logan, you need to drive out of sight. I’ll call you when it’s okay to come back. Don’t ask why, just do it. I really am safe. I’ll explain later.”

Kate held firm. “No one but the sheriff is getting in that door.”

“I understand. We’ll wait together.” She returned to her place behind Kate.

Kate tucked the fright in Sharon’s voice away but she didn’t care. Logan must have heard it, too. His car pulled away without another word. Right now, the rifle was staying in her hand and would stay pointed at the door until she knew it was safe. That was just the way it was. Period.

When the sheriff showed up a few minutes later, Kate finally slid the safety on but still held the rifle across her lap. Her elbow knocked the sandwich to the floor and Kate got on her knees to pick up the mess. That’s where Sheriff Barber found her, crying.

She couldn’t stop and knew the hiccups were going to take over soon. She’d make a fool of herself, sounding ridiculous, sobbing because a simple turkey sandwich covered the floor. She didn’t care. She needed to cry. And cry. And then cry some more.

* * *

K
ATE
WAS
RIGHT
back where she’d started two days ago. Wait. What day was it? She was wrong, it had just been the night before that she’d left with Cord. How could she have added an entire day? She really was tired.

Mrs. Burke opened the door, pulling her crocheted shawl around her shoulders for a little protection from the snow.

“I didn’t know where else to take her, Juliet. She obviously needs rest and protection, but refused to stay at the observatory. Or go into protective custody. Said she wouldn’t leave Valentine until we found McCrea. Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”

Sheriff Barber was too young to have authority. She’d experienced so much more than this thirty-year-old Dallas ex-cop.

“I’m right here, Mike. Please stop talking like I’m not. And the last time I looked, I was a legal adult and didn’t need anyone’s permission to go anywhere. Nick,” Kate said, looking at her friend and then his mother. “Juliet, I know this is a lot to ask. I understand it’s dangerous to have me here. You can say no and I’ll go to my ranch.”

She spoke to Mrs. Burke, but Nick stood not two feet away. Arms crossed. Angry with each movement. Not saying a word. Typical man.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Juliet wrapped her arm around Kate’s shoulders and ushered her to the door. “You’ll stay here until your father arrives.”

The sheriff stepped across the porch toward Nick, securing his hat back on his head to protect it from the freezing air. Kate stayed in the doorway, listening, wanting to learn anything the authorities had refused to share with her, longing to fall asleep in Cord’s arms and feel safe again.

“What are the chances he’s still alive?” Nick asked.

“Slim,” the sheriff whispered, and shook his head, his chin nearly dragging in defeat across his jacket. “I wish I could leave a deputy here, but we’re all out searching. McCrea’s one of our own. We won’t stop looking.”

“He’s alive, you know,” Kate said from behind the screen, feeling the cold air rush into the warmth of the living room, but she couldn’t close the door until they believed her.

Nick shifted from one leg to another. Nervous? Uneasy at her being at the house or overhearing? Or just uncomfortable at the thought she was holding on to a fantasy?

“Think about it,” she explained. “Serna’s had more than one opportunity to kill both Cord and me. But he didn’t. Not in the years he was in prison and not by any of the men he’s sent after us. This is a vendetta for him and he’s vowed to make Cord suffer. There’s no way he’s killed him without getting to me.” Her voice choked on the words and she pushed them out. “He’ll make Cord watch.”

“So you’re agreeing that as long as you’re alive, Cord’s alive?” Nick asked, pulling the screen open to face her.

“I think so.”

“Then get into protective custody. I can’t protect you here, as much as I want to think I can.” Nick pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “We don’t have enough hands or guns to hold off the men Serna might have.”

“He’s right, dear.” Juliet placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

The sheriff stepped back onto the porch and held his hat in his hand, hypnotically smoothing the rim, turning the department-issued hat in a circle, over and over and over.

“Kate, Maddox is sending someone to pick you up. They aren’t taking no for an answer and may very well force you into custody.”

“Fine. I’ll go. Can I at least have a bath and some of those fantastic eggs of yours, Juliet?” She couldn’t argue with her only hope—if she was alive, so was Cord. So she needed to disappear. No local protective custody. Wherever she went she was putting someone in danger. So disappearing was the only option.

“Nick, help Kate to the guest room while I whip up some biscuits. Mike, you’re staying until Kate’s ride gets here, of course.”

“If biscuits are involved, yes, ma’am.” The sheriff nodded. “I’ll keep an eye open. Holler when it’s ready.”

Kate turned to Nick. “I know where the guest room is. Go do whatever you’re itching to do.”

He ignored her suggestion and escorted her down the hall, following her inside the room so she couldn’t close the door. “Are you really okay?”

“Yes.”

“Mike said you were hysterical when he found you. That you wouldn’t let go of the rifle.”

“For a minute, but I’m fine. It’s nothing that a couple of your mom’s biscuits and a good, long sleep won’t take care of.” She hoped. Her hand rubbed her tummy. She could only pray nothing happened as a result of the past three days. “Really, Nick. I’m just very, very tired and I’m going to force myself to take a bath before I fall asleep standing here talking to you.”

She forced herself to smile, attempting to reassure him that she believed what she was saying. It was half-true. Physically, she was just tired and needed food. Mentally though, well, worrying about Cord had never been this rough. It had been a “what if” game before. This was much too real and would follow them the rest of their lives—apart or together.

“I’m here if you need me. I always have been.”

“I know and thanks.”

“But?” he said with a twinge of disgust.

Definite attitude that she was too tired to deal with. “Look, we’ve been friends since elementary school. It’s never been anything other than that, so what’s the deal? I’m just too exhausted to tippy-toe around your ego.”

He immediately backed out of the room with a hands-off gesture. “Got it. You’re still in love with McCrea.”

“So what if I am? He’s my husband.”

“
Ex
-husband.”

She slammed the door in his face.

No matter what their marital status, Cord might very well be dead. Her child might grow up without her father. That scenario was completely unacceptable and there was nothing she could do about it.

Nothing except run away and hide. And that’s exactly what Cord would want her to do. Stay alive. Protect their child.

* * *

“Y
OU
ARE
ONE
lucky son of a bitch.” He spoke low into the burner cell as soon as he could get out of earshot of all the people swarming the ranch. “She came back here to wait until they found McCrea.”

“Bring her to me.”

“It would be better if you ambushed their car when—”

“We’re out of time. The buyers are impatient and we’re ready to move.”

“That’s stupid. Three counties are covered with feds and state authorities trying to find you. They have special units covering the mountains. The state’s bringing in more choppers.”

“And they won’t be looking for us to move the guns into Mexico. The diversion is necessary to make it across the border,” Serna said, unusually calm. “We both know they’re wasting their time in the mountains. We’ve moved to Danver’s place just like we planned.”

The level tone and pleasure exuding from the drug runner’s voice gave him the creeps.

“You really are crazy. What if she’d gone home instead of here?”

“You agreed she’d never do that. If it had happened, you wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty.”

“Was this your plan all along?” He wondered if he was dealing with a madman or a cold, calculating, brilliant mind.

“You are too curious about details,
friend
. You might want to think hard on extending our partnership before we talk some more.”

“I told you I’m out. That’s always been the deal. The fire’s a bit too close to home and the pan’s getting awfully hot around here.”

“You and your sayings. You have always amused me.” Serna laughed. “I like having you around.”

Those words were calculated. Innocent but a threat nonetheless.

For the first time since he’d begun dealing with these bastards, a chill ran down his spine. He shook it off. Showing fear wasn’t the way to gain respect. And clearly telling them he wanted out was a death sentence. No matter what the understanding had been before, now wasn’t the time to remind him. It was as plain as day he wouldn’t be leaving alive if he took Kate Danver McCrea there.

“You know, Serna, I’ve only wanted one thing and you’re about to take care of that. I’ll have her at your
camp
soon and I’ll think hard on reconsidering. Your operation is too smooth to just walk away. When I get there, we can decide the right amount of enticement to continue our arrangement.”

Like hell he would. He was dropping her close to the gate and getting out of Dodge.

It was still his plan to become a witness for the government if he was caught. He had all the evidence safely tucked in a safe-deposit box. And if he wasn’t caught...that island retirement looked better and better.

He laughed out loud. He just couldn’t help it. Years of planning were finally paying off. Finally.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The smells were comforting, familiar. Cord knew them and relaxed. Couldn’t place them for a couple of minutes until he took a deep breath—hay, manure, animals, leather. Barn. He drifted and woke with a start when a muscle in his shoulder cramped. Blasted shoulder. He must have slept wrong. He couldn’t bring his hand around to work the muscle. Man, he was tired, and opening his eyes was difficult. Then he realized he was blindfolded, hands bound behind his back, face in the bottom of a stall.

No clue how long he’d been unconscious. He couldn’t tell much of anything while he was blind as a bat.

This sealed it. Serna was working with a local rancher. Burke had been his first choice. But Cord wasn’t gagged. Seemed to be out in plain sight, from the feel of the draft blowing across him. Serna’s men wouldn’t risk alerting Mrs. Burke and the hands. And every sense in him had to be totally skewed if Juliet Burke was a drug runner. No way. Where the hell was he?

His ribs were sore like he’d been kicked hard enough to bruise them. He licked his parched lips and could taste dried blood. He hadn’t doubted Serna would kill him given the chance. Truth be told, when he’d let himself be taken by Serna’s men he hadn’t really thought further than keeping Kate and the baby safe.

Trying to get out of this mess alone wouldn’t be easy, but he wasn’t just giving up. He nudged his head against the ground. Slowly and painfully he inched the blindfold up so he could see and even blink. Still dark outside—at least that’s what he could estimate from the nonexistent light. A dampness clung in the air from the snow outside and his muscles were stiff from the cold.

“Oh, man.” His hoarse voice expressed his astonishment at recognizing the initials in the wood post of the stall. This was the Danver ranch. On their birthdays, David had notched both kids’ heights into the first post, right-hand side, west door. He’d mucked this stall many times on his day off.

Serna had moved his operation here? How could the bold SOB know that no one was watching the place? It must have been Juan after all, but something more than the stall floor didn’t smell right.

The door swung open, snow swirling inside along with a pair of fancy boots. No one working a ranch would wear slick dancing boots in this weather. Easy deduction that it was one of Serna’s hirelings. He closed his eyes and nudged the bandanna mostly back into place. Better to play dead. Honestly, he could barely see straight, couldn’t fill his lungs and had a stomach growling like a grizzly.

He could see enough to know the boots were next to him and he was about to be kicked to see if he was conscious. He prepared for the pain and would keep his body as silent as possible without tensing. Dear Lord, the pointed toe landed in his side in exactly in the same spot, with a force that might have just cracked the rib this time around.

He almost didn’t breathe. In fact, he could easily have thrown up from the pain.
Think about Kate. That’ll get you through it. Thinking about her got you through all the hard stuff last time.

Kate was safe. She had to be. They wouldn’t leave him lying in a stall if they’d caught her. They’d be—
God, don’t go there. You control the pain. The pain can’t control you.

He remained motionless several seconds after he heard the boots shuffle out and the bounce of the wooden latch fall into place. The desire to curl into a ball might have prevailed if his hands had been at his stomach. He couldn’t take another of those kicks. Boots-man might just puncture a lung next time. Then where would he be?

Zip-tie handcuffs.

Knife. He hadn’t searched to see if his knife was still in the lining of his jacket.

The secured circles of hard plastic bit into his skin and made it harder to bend his hands to search the bottom of his jacket. The pocketknife had moved around the lining but it was workable. Getting it open wasn’t as difficult as fighting the burns the plastic biting his wrists caused.

Slow. Steady. He worked the blade open, cut easily enough through his coat—okay, David’s coat—and got the blade into his hand. Cord was determined to saw the cuffs in half and free himself. He knew all about determination. His stubbornness kept his legs moving as he learned to walk and then run again. He had controlled the pain for two years of intense therapy. He’d control the pain now.

And when he found Boots-man, he’d make sure there was some kicking involved and not to his ribs. He manipulated the blade using his watchband for a little leverage and protection. Lying on his side, his arms just wouldn’t move back and forth enough to break through the stinking plastic.

He had to risk sitting and was fortunate they hadn’t taken the time to secure his feet. With his head swimming, he pushed himself up and rested against the slats separating the stalls. At least he wasn’t as cold anymore. He positioned the knife again and began the tedious back and forth sawing motion necessary to escape.

* * *

A
LIGHT
KNOCK
on the door woke her. Just flipping the afghan off made her body scream to stay put and not move for a week. She rubbed her eyes, looking for the alarm clock across the room. Midnight and still snowing.

“Yes?”

“May I come in?”

“Sure, Nick.”

He brought her a second tray with a teapot, biscuits and honey. The one before her nap had been a little bit of heaven. Then an image of Cord filled her mind. Shot, bleeding, unable to walk and passing out as she screamed at him. She covered her eyes, trying to focus on anything at all, only to see it even more clearly.

If he can survive that, he can do this. He will survive. He has to survive. Her hands dropped protectively over their baby.

“Hope you don’t mind the interruption. Mom thought it important to get some more food and tea down you.” He set the bed tray across her legs and crossed to the window.

“Thanks.” She could tell he wanted to say something to her. It was just like the time he asked her to the homecoming dance even when he wanted to go deer hunting. Some habits never changed. “How does the weather look and what’s the latest estimate on my ride out of here?”

“Not good and getting worse on the snow. They’re predicting three or four inches by morning. Choppers are grounded.” He stuck his hands deep into his jeans pockets. “Mike left a couple of hours ago, before we knew there may be a problem with help coming in from Pecos.”

“You’re worried. I’m sorry. Your mom and dad are here and I’m putting them in danger. I should have thought things through.”

“We’re family. You should come to us. I just don’t know how effective I’ll be with the few rounds I have left. I’m assuming Cord’s the one who took my ammo.”

“So he wiped you out?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Glad I thought to check when the sheriff left.”

“So you’ll drive me into Marfa or Fort Davis?” Why wouldn’t he look at her? Had they heard something else? If they had, he would have told her first thing. No, this was to do with Nick himself.

“I feel like I’m letting you down.”

That was the crux. “It’s my fault, Nick. I should have thought about this before I demanded the sheriff bring me here. You’re the one who convinced me to reconsider. You haven’t let me down and I’m sorry I slammed the door in your face earlier.” She hugged him and received one back. “I’ll have my shoes on and be out the door in ten minutes.”

“I’ll warm up the car.”

It was nice knowing she wouldn’t have to worry about mending fences in this weather. But she’d miss her friends. The relief only lasted until she opened the door. The wind and swirling snow hit her square in the face and a chill spread through her body. Where was Cord? Was he out of the snow and north wind? Was he even alive?

Kate ran down the path to the waiting car. She hoped the car warmed up fast. Its exhaust formed a white cloud from the tailpipe, but the windows were still frosted. Odd. Why hadn’t Nick scrapped the windows clean? The little instinct that raised the hairs on the back of her neck kicked into high gear. Her steps slowed and she stopped altogether when the driver’s door opened on the far side of the car.

“Oh, Mac. You sort of scared me. I was expecting Nick to drive me.” She pulled the handle to open the door.

“There’s a problem with a mare he’s been keeping an eye on and he asked me to drive you. Do you feel safe enough with an old man?”

She pulled the door open and immediately saw the blood spatter. She pivoted to run, but the click of a gun readying to fire stopped her in her tracks.

“I should have said, you shouldn’t feel safe with this old man. Get in.”

“Is he dead?”

“Nick?” He put the car in gear and bounced them down the road. “Frankly, I didn’t check and don’t care.”

The duffel from the lodge was in the backseat floorboard. So the drugs were Mac’s and he’d been hiding them. Mac Cauldwell was a family friend. Someone she’d trusted. And he was the “ranch owner” Cord was certain existed.

“How much is Serna paying you?”

“A lot.” He turned the corner a bit fast and the back of the car fishtailed. He laughed widely. “It’s enough to finally get out of this desert and retire in comfort.”

The wild-eyed look in Mac’s eyes scared her into silence. Three years ago, he’d known she and Cord would be at the ranch for dinner. “Why are you working with these horrible monsters? What did we ever do to you?”

“It’s all the more fun because you think there has to be a reason.” His laughter grew; he was almost tearing up he was hee-hawing so much.

“You’re laughing at causing my family so much pain? You’re responsible for everything. You knew we’d be at Dad’s that night. You killed my baby girl.”

“Naw. All I did was tell Serna where’d you be.”

“If you hadn’t given the drug cartel access and details to our land, none of this would have happened.”

It was tempting to reach out and grab the wheel, send them careening into the barbed-wire fence. Or to reach for the gun he casually held in his hand now. Mac might refer to himself as old, but he was still a sinewy cowboy. She’d seen him wrestle a cow to the ground last summer and win the senior division with the best time. Because of the baby, she couldn’t risk a car wreck or gunshot wound. All she could do was hope for a last-minute miracle.

“Nothing would have happened? I wouldn’t be too sure of that, missy. If it hadn’t been me, Serna would have found someone else. There are plenty of people on his payroll. Just ’cause I’m helping this time around doesn’t mean anything will be different when I leave. Just that someone else will be helping.” He turned onto the drive to her house.

“What are we doing here?”

“The final joke’s on you.” He threw back his head laughing, hitting the window with the gun. “While everyone’s searching for Serna and that precious Ranger of yours in the mountains, he’s been running up the heating bill in your house. Probably sleeping in your bed. But you won’t have to worry about that for long. Take off your shoes.”

“But it’s snowing.”

“Yeah, I got that. Now take ’em off.” The laughter disappeared from his craggy, thin face. “I’m not sticking around to let Serna get the best of me. I’m out of here.”

She bent her knee and frantically unlaced her boot, hoping he wouldn’t see the string she wadded up within her fist. She got both laces down the back of her jeans before he got to the last cattle guard.

They stopped. “Get out.”

“Are you going to shoot me? I thought Serna wanted to do that.”

“I don’t know what he’ll do and I don’t care. But whatever happens, I’ll be long gone or making a deal for witness protection. As long as I get my cut, I’m good. Now get out.”

She scooped up her shoes and pushed open the door. He reached across and knocked the shoes into the floorboard.

“Nope. These stay. Nowhere to run this time, missy. You’re pregnant and barefoot and Serna will be here any minute. Hasta la vista.” He shoved her out of the Jeep.

She landed hands, knees and freezing toes in six inches of snow. He gunned the engine and she crawled out of the way just before he turned and headed back the way they’d come. The icy wetness seeped through her cloth gloves and pants. She didn’t want to stand, but did. The snow was cold and didn’t take long to start stinging her feet.

“Now what do I do?”

She saw the familiar sight of her home about a mile away. There was nothing else around and her feet quickly screamed the only available option.

Walk home. Straight into the grasp of the devil.