Texas Takedown (12 page)

Chapter Eleven

Dylan stretched his sore legs to work out a cramp. He'd learned to slip through worse terrain unnoticed during his tour, and the few scrapes he'd collected on his arms weren't anything more than a small nuisance. Nothing a little antibiotic ointment couldn't fix.

The shed where Rebecca had been taken when she'd been kidnapped had long since been destroyed. Dylan stood on the same ground now. A cold chill tickled his spine.

Even in summer there were dead leaves scattered on the ground.

These activities being tied to a corporation gave him the impression this might be one helluva sophisticated child-selling operation. That was the only thing that made sense. Had more kids been taken in other counties across Texas? Across the country?

A dummy corporation with lots of money was in the game. People hid behind overseas accounts because they were committing crimes. Child slavery. Sex trade. Those were two realistic options. Shane was older. He hadn't been sold or hurt. Kramer had raised him as his own son. After he left for the military, Kramer had taken another boy, Jason, who'd been returned to his family after a year.

There was clearly a bigger story. Otherwise, everything would've died with Kramer in the car crash that had taken his life.

Mr. Turner was the only one who knew what that story was, and quite possibly the only one who could prove Charles Alcorn was involved.

There was nothing at the site, no clues.

A thought hit him. Those jerks patrolling the area might know something. And Dylan had ways of making people talk.

He retraced his steps, moving stealthily through the trees.

One of the guys was leaning against the tailgate of the pickup. Another was talking—he was nearby, but Dylan couldn't get a visual from his vantage point to the left of the Ford. He'd need to get closer.

There were three men—he already knew that—and Dylan could be certain he knew the location of two.

He had two choices. He could attack and then force one of them to talk. Three against one wasn't bad odds against civilians. He'd sized them up earlier. Two were a little smaller than him. One was similar in size. That guy might present a problem. All three together, considering each one carried a weapon, might be difficult to take down. If he could isolate them, he'd have a better chance at walking out of this alive and, better yet, with the information he was looking for.

His other choice?

He could wait it out until they left. Make himself a passenger in the bed of the truck and let them lead him to whoever was behind this. What if they made contact only via the phone?

Dylan couldn't be certain they would go to the person in charge. In fact, that would be a stupid move, when he really thought about it. The most likely scenario was that they were low in the pecking order. They wouldn't have direct contact with the boss.

Recognition dawned. These were the same guys from the pics on Mr. Turner's phone.

The third guy, the big bearded one, came into view. Unfortunately, he stepped out from behind a tree five feet away from Dylan, and the guy's eyes were locked onto his target—Dylan.

Fighting had just made top priority.

Dylan rolled back onto his shoulders and then popped to his feet. Using momentum, he brought his elbow down on Bearded's face. The crack was so loud it echoed. Bearded, blood shooting out of his nose, already had Dylan in a bear hug.

There'd be no wiggling out of the guy's viselike grip.

“Hey, guys. We have company,” Bearded yelled toward the truck.

Dylan couldn't reach the gun tucked into his waistband, either. Well, hell's bells, this wasn't how he'd planned for this little exchange to go. He needed to even the score.

He reared back and then head-butted Bearded.

More blood splattered on his T-shirt. Wouldn't be salvageable once this was over. No amount of bleach could get it out.

At least his maneuver loosened Bearded's grip enough for Dylan to drop down and roll away. He came up with his Glock pointed at Bearded.

The other two jerks were already rushing over.

“Stop or I'll shoot your friend here,” Dylan said.

“Hold on there, country boy. We didn't ask for trouble,” one of the guys said, hands up in surrender.

“Then, you won't mind if I leave.” Dylan took a step back. If he could gain a few steps of advantage, he had no doubt he could outrun these guys. Once safely in the trees, it'd be hard for them to get a clean shot. He could get away and get back to Samantha.

He took another step backward as he evaluated his options. At this distance, he could spin and dart through the trees with certainty the men wouldn't be able to catch him.

Or there was another idea worth considering...

“I'm going to put my hands up and step toward you guys,” Dylan said as he did what he said—took a step toward the men.

Bearded's slack-jawed expression outlined his shock. He was right, though. No one in his right mind would give up when he had the advantage.

Dylan placed his gun on the ground, kicked it away from him and then rose to an athletic stance, feet wide with arms crossed. “So, fellas, where are we headed next?”

* * *

“I'
M
 
JUST
 
GLAD
 
you're all right,” Rebecca said as she thrust the Tupperware toward Samantha.

Even though whatever it was smelled amazing, she didn't think she could take a bite until Dylan came back.

“Thank you for helping us.” Samantha opened the container and found chicken and mushroom risotto. She grabbed the fork.

“He's pretty special. Dylan. And his daughter is the most adorable thing I've ever seen,” Rebecca said, sitting next to Samantha on the couch.

She moved a piece of chicken around in her bowl.

“You can eat that later if you want. It won't hurt my feelings,” Rebecca said, smiling. “There's a small fridge behind the desk. I totally understand if you want to wait for Dylan.”

“It looks amazing. I don't know what's wrong with me,” Samantha said.

“You're worried. Like I said, Dylan is a remarkable person.” Rebecca smiled and something lit up behind her eyes.

Samantha chose to ignore the comment. Her friend was absolutely right. But Dylan had no intention of allowing anyone else into his life, and she understood that on some level. Her father had closed up to relationships after her mother had died. Once he'd sobered up, he'd thrown all his energy into being a good dad. If he couldn't be at one of her volleyball games, he'd made sure one of her brothers could. He'd never raised his voice or given her pointers while he was watching from the stands. All he'd ever given was a few words of encouragement, lots of smiles and support.

Had he done all that because of a guilty conscience? Tried to make up for his greatest sin by being the perfect father to her? If so, that would make him almost as bad as the criminals who'd committed the crime all those years ago.

No. He's a good man.

There had to have been extenuating circumstances for him to hide the truth about what happened that night. He was a father and knew what it was like to lose someone, and he wouldn't want to put another family through the sorrow his family had endured in losing Samantha's mother.

She wanted her father home more than anything. And not just to figure out what the heck was going on, although she wanted to know that, too. He was getting older, and he'd seemed frail to her lately. She feared his heart wouldn't be able to take whatever these guys did to him.

Maybe his memories haunted him? And that was why he wanted to come clean now?

“How is Shane?” Samantha asked.

“Good. He's overseas, so we haven't had a chance to speak to him that much. He's so grown now.” Rebecca had a wistful look in her eyes.

“Do you talk about what happened?”

“Not really. His calls are limited while he's deployed. We're just happy to know he's healthy. We've promised to catch up when he has a little time to spend with us.”

“And your mom? How's she doing?”

“Better, actually. She finally agreed to take the medicine the doctor's been trying to get her to take for months and it seems to be helping. She's still weak but improving. I know she won't be around forever, but it feels good to be able to give her son back to her before she...” Rebecca focused her gaze on her shoelaces and twisted her hands.

“I'm so grateful that everything worked out.” Samantha hated lying to her friend, especially since Rebecca had been through so much already. And to think her dad had been somehow involved...

“We've spent so much time in the past.” Rebecca stretched her legs out in front of her. “Time to switch gears, you know? Besides, what can be gained by going back now? We have the rest of our lives to get reacquainted and it feels good to have my family back. Brody and I are starting to plan the wedding, and you have to be there.”

“I can't wait.” Samantha managed a smile. It faded almost immediately. “Dylan should have returned already. I have a bad feeling about this.”

Rebecca put her arm around Samantha's shoulder, careful not to touch the gauze. “He's strong and he knows what's at stake. He'll walk through that door any minute.”

“I hope you're right.” She closed the Tupperware lid.

“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but are you okay?” Rebecca asked.

How did Samantha answer that truthfully?

“When this ordeal is over, I will be.” She didn't add
if I'm still alive
. Then there was her father to think about...

Or the fact that she'd never be able to forgive herself if anything happened to Maribel or Dylan.

“Can I ask a question?” Samantha needed to know more about Dylan.

“Anything.”

“How did Maribel's mother fit into the picture?”

“She kept her pregnancy a secret, which tells me she didn't really know Dylan very well.”

“For as much as he used to talk about never having kids, he would never walk away from his child,” Samantha agreed. “How did he find out about her sickness?”

“Dylan hasn't said much to me. I don't think he talks about it to anyone, not even Brody, and you know how close the guys are.”

Samantha nodded.

“Brody and Dylan lost touch during Dylan's tour. One day, Brody gets this call out of the blue asking him to come to New Mexico. He took off that day not knowing what he was going to find, only that it wasn't good based on the sound of Dylan's voice.

“Dylan was holed up in a motel room, a mess. Brody asked what was wrong but Dylan was too inside himself to speak. He just held up a bottle of tequila, so Brody took it and drank with him. The next morning, Dylan was up by dawn. Brody was hungover and fuzzy but he hopped out of bed, showered. Next thing he knew, he dressed, followed Dylan to the car and then the two of them rode in silence to a funeral.”

It wasn't the same thing, but she remembered the silent car ride to her own mother's funeral. Everyone had been too overwrought with emotion, too spent, to speak. Samantha hurt from the inside out for Dylan.

“When my mother passed away, it was tough. I can't imagine losing a spouse.”

“If anything happened to Brody, I'd be lost,” Rebecca said wistfully. “We could never be sure if Dylan and Lyndsey were married. In fact, I don't think they were. He never talks about it, though.”

“Brody never mentioned anything about going to a wedding?” Samantha asked.

“No. You know Dylan, though. He's always been private. He doesn't let anyone in.”

“True.” Samantha could attest to that. She'd been close a few times, but each time it was as if a door had been slammed in her face. When she really thought about it, he'd always been like that. He was the first person to jump in if a friend was in need but she couldn't remember a time when he'd asked for help. And he could be trusted with secrets. “Remember that time when we all decided it would be a good idea to go swimming in the lake after school?”

“What was that? Fifth grade?” Rebecca asked thoughtfully.

“Yeah, it was. I'd just moved here and someone, I can't even remember who now, thought it would be a good idea to welcome me by taking me to the lake.”

“Which was strictly forbidden without an adult present, but what did we know?”

“We came running back, laughing, soaking wet, the whole lot of us, and Ryan's dad stopped us in the street.”

“He had such a bad home life. We knew it wasn't good to see his father.” Rebecca's eyes grew wide as if they were reliving the episode.

“His dad was so angry we all froze. Not Dylan. He stepped up and said we were walking home cutting across the McGills' yard when the sprinklers came on.”

“I do remember that. We all smelled like lake water, so Dylan stayed in between Ryan and his father.” Rebecca smiled. “He most likely saved Ryan from another beating.”

“Then he hosed us all down to get the lake-water smell out of our clothes. He thought of just about everything.” She didn't say why he'd learned to be so diligent. His grandmother had been kind enough to take him in, but she had been a spare-the-rod-spoil-the-child type. And that was probably half the reason her daughter, Dylan's mother, had taken off and not returned. Growing up in a house with an iron fist tended to create rebellion.

“This group has been through a lot together,” Rebecca said. “You guys were a lifesaver for me, which is why I'd like to be there for you. Are you sure you don't want to talk about whatever's going on? I know you, and there's something you're not telling me. There's nothing you could've done that can't be fixed.”

Didn't that make shards of guilt pelt Samantha's skin like a needle shower? What if her father could've saved Rebecca all that heartache but didn't? Everything inside Samantha wanted to come clean with her friend and tell her everything. The right words didn't come, so she said, “No one's perfect, including me, but I didn't do anything illegal. My situation is...complicated. It involves more than me and I hope you can understand that I need to protect the other person right now even if that means keeping secrets from my friends.”