Texas Takedown (14 page)

His shoulder hurt from being bounced around. It battled with his head for the body-part-in-the-most-pain award.

The gate opened and he was suddenly being dragged out by his ankles.
Damn.

A set of hands gripped his body, pulling him by his shirt, but he bounced on the hard dirt anyway.

Someone stepped over him.

“Boss says you have twenty-four hours to find and bring the lady to the drop spot and then he'll give your daughter back. Time's ticking.”

“He hurts my child and it'll be the last thing he does,” Dylan ground out.

“There are other ways to take care of your daughter without putting a hand on her.”

The noose loosened around Dylan's neck and the canvas bag was jerked off. Dylan blinked, trying to gain his bearings as he lay on his side in the dirt. Not exactly the best vantage point. The pickup truck was behind him. It'd be all too easy for one of the guys to put the gearshift in Reverse and back right over him.

A cell phone was shoved in his face.

There was a picture of Maribel standing in the corner, arms folded, with a copy of the day's newspaper. Her stubborn streak could get her in trouble with these bastards. Rage boiled through Dylan. He reminded himself to stay calm. She was healthy, alive and it didn't look as if anyone had laid a hand on her. As long as they kept it that way, they were cool. None of those men wanted to see the hell Dylan would bring forth if anything happened to Maribel.

“You want her back in one piece. Do as the boss says,” Bearded said.

Dylan surveyed the guys. Two were to his right. Bearded was to the left. He was the only one looking away. The big man didn't seem to like the idea of a little girl getting hurt. Did he have kids of his own?

“Let me tell you something and, please, do me a favor and take this back to whoever's in charge. If anything happens to my daughter, if she so much as snags a fingernail while in your boss's care, then every last one of you had better sleep with your eyes open for the rest of your lives, because there is no length to which I will not go to personally destroy you and everything you love. And if anything happens to me, I have half a dozen friends who will see the job through on my behalf. That you can count on,” Dylan ground out.

Something flashed behind Bearded's eyes. Since it didn't faze him to beat the heck out of Dylan, the man had to have a family.

The other two didn't flinch.

“Forgive me if I'm not scared,” one said, making his body tremble in order to mock Dylan. “You're not exactly in a position to dish out threats.”

“My name is Dylan Jacobs. Remember it. Because if this goes down wrong, I'm the man who will put you in your grave.”

One of the men reared his foot, ready to kick, but Bearded stepped in between the guy and Dylan, putting his hand against the guy's chest. “Let's go. Like you said before, this dude is all talk. He's not worth it. We did what we were supposed to. Now let's grab some food.”

“Whatever.” The guy blew out a sharp breath, turned and moved to the passenger side of the truck. The other one took the driver's side.

“Where are you keeping the old man?” Dylan shouted toward them. He couldn't go back without news about Samantha's father.

Bearded turned his back to Dylan and started toward the truck. The big guy paused, and then a small shiny metal object landed near Dylan's head.

Out of the side of his mouth, Bearded said, “The old guy is with your daughter.”

Dylan was already scooting toward the ditch. He managed to palm the object as he rolled out of the way. Giving those guys an easy target wasn't in the plan today. Besides, the driver would've been all too happy to put some tire treads on Dylan's chest.

Feeling the oblong object with grooves down the side, Dylan realized he'd been given a pocketknife.

He had no idea why Bearded was being so generous. The other two seemed intent on making things as difficult as possible. As it was, Dylan was stranded on the side of the road with no idea where he was or how to get back to Samantha. He had no phone and no way to get word to Samantha that he was safe. She had to be worried sick by now, and his biggest fear was that she'd go out looking for him. Based on the position of the moon and the time of the year, he figured it was before midnight. He opened the knife and cut his hands free. Then he sat up, rubbing his sore wrists to get the blood going again.

If it was close to midnight, he'd been knocked out in that warehouse for a couple of hours.

There were two things saving his sanity right now. Maribel's picture, for one. She might not be happy, but she was fine. They seemed to be taking good care of her.
They'd better be.

And he knew Samantha was safe as long as she stayed put. They still wanted her and they were willing to do pretty much anything to get her, including set him free.

Dylan hoped like the dickens that she'd stayed inside the barn, where she was safe. It would be just like Samantha to take off looking for him, and he'd been gone too long already.

* * *

S
AMANTHA
 
WOKE
 
TO
 
the sound of the door opening. She bolted upright. “Dylan?”

It was late and she'd almost gone looking for him. A foreboding feeling had returned her to the office. No way did she want to jeopardize the innocent lives tangled in this web.

“I'm here.” His voice was gruff.

All she could see was his silhouette with the light streaming in from behind him. He was limping.

She pushed off the sofa and was at his side in a second. “You're hurt. What happened to you?”

“Get me to the couch.” He put a little of his weight on her for the rest of the walk. There was so much blood on his shirt.

In the soft light, she could see bruises on his face. There was a cut over his right eye.

“What did they do to you?” She pushed back the tears threatening, grabbed the first-aid kit and bent down in front of him. She immediately went to work on his injuries.

First she cleaned the cut with fresh water and a wipe. He flinched at her touch.

“I ran into a few of his guys.” He sat with his elbows on his knees, looking down.

“What did they put you through?” She blotted antibiotic ointment on the cut, fighting the panic that he was truly hurt.

He pulled back and caught her wrist in his hand. It was then that she saw how red his were.

“I let them take me, thinking I'd end up wherever Maribel was.” He loosened his grip on her wrist and pulled it to his lips, placing a kiss on the soft skin. “Sorry. Keep going.”

Then he released her hand altogether.

She ignored the sensations pinging through her body and instead focused on the degree of his injuries. He was back, safe. She could only imagine what had happened to him.

“Does this hurt?” She gently blotted his cut again.

He sucked in a burst of air but shook his head.

“You're a terrible liar,” she said, placing gauze over the wound, then taping it to hold it in place. She wiped his face with a clean cloth, being extracareful on the spots where bruises were beginning to form.

His hands closed on the sides of her waist, and he bent forward until his head rested on her stomach.

“They're going to hurt her if I don't figure out a way to find them in the next twenty-four hours.”

“What did they say, exactly?” She ran her hands through his dark hair.

He lifted his gaze to hers. “First of all, she's with your dad.”

Relief washed through her. “They're both safe?”

“As far as I know.” He caught her eye and she knew he was being completely honest. Besides, it wasn't like Dylan to sugarcoat things. She could trust what he said. “They want a trade.”

“That could work. Same meet-up location?”

“No way. I'm not having it. They kill you and she's dead. So is your father.”

“And what will they do if I don't show?”

“You don't come and they'll kill one of them, or both, which might just be a threat. We can't be sure they'll follow through.”

“You really want to take that chance?”

“No. Of course not. But we're not exactly dealing in ideal circumstances right now.” He bowed his head for a second. “The other choice is that we get evidence against Charles Alcorn and force his hand. We have to bring the fight to his doorstep.”

“It sounds too risky. What if it's not Alcorn? Then we have nothing.”

He slanted a look at her.

“Did they give you any way to contact them?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Would you tell me if they had?” she asked, guessing she already knew the answer to that question.

He just stared at her, didn't speak, didn't make a move to speak.

“I thought as much.”

“They didn't, though. I'm being honest about that, which reminds me—I have to call Jorge.”

She watched as Dylan moved to the desk and called his friend, explaining that they'd gotten his cell phone and he'd had to pick up a pay-as-you-go phone from the convenience store. She couldn't hear what was being said on the other end of the line, but Dylan nodded his head and thanked his contact before returning to his spot on the couch.

“Dylan, listen to me. I would do anything to get your little girl back. If they want me, let them take me. I'll go alone. I'll tell them that I told you everything and that you're going to the police if I don't walk out of there with your daughter.”

He didn't immediately respond. Instead, he seemed to carefully consider it. “No.”

“Not so fast. This could work.”

“I won't trade one life for another.” There was so much torment in his gaze that it momentarily robbed her breath. “Besides, we don't know if it will work. I've thought through every scenario, and every single one carries too much risk. I won't allow anything to happen to you.”

He might not be able to choose between her and his daughter, but she certainly could. Nothing was worth that little girl's life. Samantha would figure out a way to make the trade on her own if she had to.

“I know where they'll be in twenty-four hours. That's more than we've managed to figure out so far.”

“How do you know Maribel is okay?” She didn't want to ask but she had to be sure.

“They gave proof of life.”

When she responded by lifting her eyebrow, he added, “Her picture with today's paper.”

“Why would someone know to do that?”

“This isn't their first rodeo. They also had access to an out-of-town warehouse and I'm guessing they move ‘product' through there.” The way he emphasized the word made her think he couldn't say what they really moved—children.

More children.

“Did they say anything about my father's health?”

“No.”

“What about a picture of him?”

Dylan took in a sharp breath. “We're going to get them both home safely. We'll figure this out. You have my word.”

She wanted more from him than that and he seemed to sense it. He pulled her closer until her body was pressed against his and she could feel warmth radiating from him. She leaned into it, into him, and let him guide her mouth to his.

There were about a thousand reasons why she shouldn't allow this to happen, not the least of which was that her feelings seemed to run deeper than his. It had been all too easy for him to push her away every time they got close. Even though logic said the pull between them was strong enough for him to keep coming back, it also said that past behavior was the best predictor of the future. Or, as she liked to think of it, when someone showed her who they truly were underneath it all, she believed them.

Was there a strong attraction between her and Dylan? Sure. They both had to feel that same electric jolt every time they were near each other or their skin touched. Did she want him to kiss her? Yes.

She parted her lips to give him better access, because all she wanted in this moment was to feel the comfort of his arms around her, as they were, and the safety she felt with him this close. No one had ever had her back like Dylan. It was a feeling she could get used to,
wanted
to learn to depend on.

And even though everything inside her said he wanted more than friendship, she'd be stupid to let this attraction get out of hand. Precisely what was happening.

She pulled back and then stood.

“I think we should figure out our next move.”

“Right.” A hurt look crossed his intense green eyes, and she couldn't say that she blamed him for feeling that way.

But she'd already touched that stove how many times? And it was always the same result. They got close and he pulled back. At least Dylan was more honest than Jude from college. He'd betrayed her in the worst way, taking what he wanted from her and then making sure he was getting it everywhere else he wanted, too. All the while, she'd happily played into his sob story about how hard it was to be a student and a single father.

Dylan never complained about parenthood, or anything else, for that matter, but that still didn't change the fact that he would never seriously entertain his feelings for her. He was one of the good guys—she knew that.

And that would make walking away from him hurt like hell.

Chapter Thirteen

“Rebecca brought food earlier,” Samantha said as she sauntered across the room toward the minifridge. Nervous energy had her needing to move around.

Dylan sat there for a long moment, thinking about what had just happened. The pull he felt toward Samantha was incredibly strong. He chalked it up to their history, their friendship and the craziness going on around them that only the two of them could understand. But was it something else? Something deeper than circumstances?

And maybe a better question was...could it be more?

Another time, another place, and they might have had a shot. His existence was a wonderful chaos by the name of Maribel. With that little girl in his life, he didn't have time for anyone else. Period.

As long as he was playing “what if”—
if
the circumstances had been different, then Samantha would be exactly the kind of woman he'd be interested in pursuing a relationship with.

This back-and-forth without going anywhere needed to go, and she was clearly just as tired of it. Good thing one of them had the presence of mind to keep them honest.

Samantha stood in front of him not two feet away, staring with a bowl in her hand. “Hungry?”

“Nah. I'll grab a power bar. You go ahead and eat.”

“What were you thinking about just now?” She eased onto the couch next to him.

“How crazy life can be.”

“One minute you think you know where you're going, what you're doing, and then wham! A curveball,” she agreed. She took a bite and chewed.

“I'm proud of you, Samantha. You've been through hell and back but you're still standing. That takes guts,” he said. “No matter what happens, I hope you know you can always count me as a friend.”

“And what about you? It couldn't have been easy to wake up a father one day. I've seen you with your daughter. You're a great dad.”

“Thank you,” he said and meant it. “I had no idea that parenting was mostly about second-guessing yourself all the time.”

“I can only imagine,” she said. “Think about all the stuff we used to do to our parents and your grandmother when we were kids.”

“Yeah, she might've been too strict, and that presented a whole different set of problems, but I'm pretty much thinking she was a saint for taking me in when she did. She was still working her way toward retirement when I showed up. I'm sure she hadn't planned on that financially.” Had the strain been too much for her? Was that why she'd pulled back on the leash harder? The two of them had clashed like soap and vinegar.

“I had four fathers after my mother died.”

“Must not have been easy being the baby.”

“You remember that I had to sneak out to do anything. I was way too overprotected, and that wasn't good, either. I didn't get a chance to make my own mistakes, because there was always somebody there to guide me in a different direction before things went haywire.” She paused. “Either extreme isn't good for a kid.”

“I try to walk the middle ground with Maribel.”

She shot him a look.

“What?”

“I've seen you. You're not middle ground, Dylan.”

“Okay, fine. You got me there.” He held up his hands in surrender. “More than anything, I just want her to know how much I love her and want her. Everything else seems so much less important.” Dylan paused, his emotions getting the best of him. Truth be known, all he really wanted was her to be there with him.

“We're going to get her back. They won't hurt her as long as I'm out here, just like you said. I won't let them get to me.” She leaned into him, shoulder to shoulder, and those thousand little fires lit inside him again.

“That's why I've been thinking we have to find them first.”

“Okay, what do we have to go on? Anything that we haven't already thought of?” She set the bowl on the side table next to her.

“I've been racking my brain. All I keep thinking about is Maribel's face in that picture. She looked confused but brave. I can't let her sleep another night away from home, Samantha.”

“What else was there in the background? Where was it taken?”

“Good questions. She was standing in the corner of a room. I have no idea where but it didn't look like a house. It wasn't a warehouse, either. The lights were bright and there was a wooden rocking horse to her left.”

Samantha's jaw went slack. “What did the horse look like?”

“It was black with white spots and a white saddle. Looked as though they'd pushed it over toward her to get her to—”

“Hold on a second. That's my horse. We have to go to the store.”

Dylan was already on his feet. “Maybe I should go alone.”

“Not a chance. You need me with you, and I have a key. Just get me to my dad's house so I can get it.”

“I doubt this is a trap. However, we need to be careful.” Taking Samantha anywhere out in the open was a huge risk. All anyone needed was a clear shot and it would be over. They already had two of the three puzzle pieces in check. They didn't see Dylan as a threat, which was why they'd let him go. Then again, they didn't know him.

Dylan called Brody to get permission to borrow his truck.

“Brody said there's an extra set of keys in the top desk drawer,” Dylan said to Samantha.

She retrieved them and followed Dylan to the door.

They listened as they leaned against the door, quietly, so that the only sound that could be heard was their breathing and the occasional neigh, snort or whinny of a horse or shuffle of hooves.

After turning off the tiny light in the office, Dylan took Samantha's hand and led her outside. Keeping their backs against the barn, they moved in perfect unison to the truck.

Once they got on the road, with any luck, people would confuse them for Brody and Rebecca.

Dylan moved into the driver's seat, put the key in the ignition and started the truck. A few minutes later, they were on the road headed toward town.

The Turner house was a few blocks from the hardware store. Dylan had never been inside Samantha's childhood home. Her brothers never would have allowed it.

“What was it like growing up with all those men in your life?”

“I couldn't get away with much.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” Sounded pretty darn good to him about now.

“Both. I rebelled from being smothered, so you don't want to go that route. That's why I sneaked out, and looking back, I realize that was such a stupid thing for any of us to do.”

“Getting out, being with you guys, kept me sane. Or at least somewhat,” Dylan said, half smiling.

“Don't get me wrong—I loved it. Spending time with you guys made me happier than I'd ever been. If everything hadn't backfired, it would've been a great thing. But we left ourselves vulnerable because no one knew what we were doing.”

“Except people playing the game,” he said.

“Why does everything have to circle back to that horrible summer?” she asked, her tone heavy.

“I wish it didn't.”

She just sat there and stared out the window for a long time. “To answer your question, I think you're a terrific dad. You don't have to worry. Maribel will be loved, and that's the best you can really do for a kid.”

“I failed her mother and I'm scared I'll do the same with her.”

* * *

“Y
OU
 
BELIEVE
 
THAT
, don't you?” Samantha looked at Dylan, at the anguish on his features, and her heart did a free fall. From what she'd been told, none of this had been his fault. Did he always carry the weight of the world on his shoulders? Was that why he'd been so tough all those years ago? He'd had to be? She'd been the complete opposite. Everything had been done for her, handled for her. Trevor had walked her to school and Brent had picked her up.

Looking at Dylan now, she could see how absolutely alone he must feel in bringing up his daughter by himself.

“I should've known that Lyndsey needed me. I was a selfish bastard. All I could think about was how great it was to see her when I was on leave. I had no idea what she was going through on the inside. She must've felt rejected and abandoned by me to do what she did. Then to suffer her sickness alone with a toddler...” His voice trailed off. “The news about her leaving town was like lightning striking on a clear blue day. I had no warning, and it feels as though if we were really that close, shouldn't I have realized something was up?”

“No one can know how someone else is feeling unless that person is willing to share. You're not a mind reader, Dylan.” A little piece of her heart opened up at the thought that he was confiding in her. Dylan didn't talk to anyone about what he was feeling.

“You're mad at me. I keep frustrating you. I know that because I can read you, Samantha. With her, I had nothing to work with.”

“We've known each other forever, Dylan. I'm not someone you met six months ago. We have a long history together. But let me ask you this. How did you really know I was angry?”

“Your lips thin just a little when you're mad. Not much. And you frown when no one's talking. You get quiet and go inside your head. You're a thinker and you've always been that way,” he said.

Samantha wasn't sure if she liked how well he seemed able to read her.

“Okay. My turn. You're confused. You have feelings for me but you'd never let them surface. You put everything else above those feelings because they scare the hell out of you.”

Dylan grunted. “I don't do afraid.”

“If that's true, then you're just a jerk, and I know better than that.”

He sat silent for what felt like an eternity as they slipped into town, heading toward Main Street.

“You asked about my nickname before. I'm not proud of it. That's why I didn't want to tell you.”

“Aren't nicknames supposed to be embarrassing?”

“Yeah, well, this one has to do with some of the more immature activities we participated in while on leave.”

“And?”

“Mine has to do with how fast a woman's bra tended to unsnap when she was alone with me.”

“Oh.” Snap-trap. It made sense now.

He seemed to be waiting for more of a response from her but it took her a minute to process. He added, “I was young and stupid.”

“And good-looking,” she said. It was no surprise women would throw themselves at Dylan. He was the very definition of
strong,
hot male
. Although she didn't like hearing how many— Jealousy coursed through her. But he was opening up a little more to her. He was trusting her with information that obviously embarrassed him. She couldn't fault him too much for his past mistakes.

Maybe that explained why he was so cautious with her now.

“Your dad's place is a few blocks away. To be safe, I'll park behind the restaurant. We can walk from there. Take alleys.”

“It'll be better to take Oak instead of Maple. No dogs,” she said.

They got out and he fell in step beside her.

At the end of Oak, he stopped. “I just want you to know that I heard what you said in the truck and I apologize. I have some serious thinking to do.”

With that, he urged her to keep moving.

What was she supposed to do with that information?