The Cattleman (11 page)

“What gave you the impression I was not already?”

Her punishment had been watching them slowly drown Nick. Would they kill him now that she’d admitted her status? Then what? After they had the information they wanted, would she be killed, too?

“You can do whatever you want to the both of us. It still won’t change the fact that we have no information on anyone referenced as Rook. That wasn’t my objective. Finding scum like you was,” she answered without sharing her exact mission.

She watched the surprise flash into his cold eyes. He stifled it quickly.

“Take them back to the holding cell.” He looked toward the French doors where a woman’s silhouette appeared. “I need to consult about this decision.”

While Bishop motioned for the guards to move forward, Nick pressed something sharp into her hand and she slid it into her coat pocket. A blade. Nick had fought with the guard under water to get his knife.

He’d just stolen their ticket home.

Chapter Thirteen

The pain in his lungs was excruciating, but Nick had kept it together on the return walk to the front of the house. The men at his sides had kept a death grip on his biceps. Now they talked around him, admiring the fight, complaining about another night in the cold tent, wanting to finish their job and be reassigned somewhere there were women.

Beth caught his eye, raised her eyebrows and tapped her pocket where the knife was hidden. He shook his head, crossing his fingers that she’d wait until they were back at the gully. When she stretched her neck just like she always did before firing her weapon, every muscle in his body tensed, ready. But she continued walking between her escorts.

They were separated into the two Jeeps they’d arrived in. Waiting to attack was better. They’d be that much closer to the border when they escaped. That much closer to finding help. He watched her get into the backseat without a word or glance in his direction.

Beth would know they should make their move before they were back in their cage. But did she have it inside her to use the knife and not second-guess herself?

His hands were secured in front of him with a thin nylon rope that cut into his flesh. He understood most of the conversation spoken in Spanish. While the two guards talked, he painfully pulled and stretched the nylon cord to a workable length.

Fortunately, the two men he’d sent for a swim had stayed behind. The guys were betting on who would win in a no-rules fight—Nick or the overgrown wrestler he’d taken to the bottom of the pool.

The wrestler, named Ricky, would win according to the driver because he’d kill Nick the next time he saw him. The other guard agreed, because Nick had let both of the men live earlier.

Yeah, the nice guy in him had come out in spite of his anger over nearly being killed or about confronting the man who wanted him dead. He’d thought about it for a split second, but hadn’t been able to leave the guard to drown. The next time he wouldn’t think twice. He’d think about being shot at the corral and slowly bleeding out, his thoughts and vision fading to nothing. He’d remember how they would kill Beth if they didn’t get out of this mess.

The jerks in the front thought it would be fun to ride with the windows down to freeze his wet body. He took deep lungsful of air, coughing up water in the process. He shook himself, getting the blood circulating throughout his body—especially his hands—and becoming more alert.

As they bounced over the rutted tracks that led back to their camp, he tugged off each boot and dumped the water that had pooled inside. He’d be able to run now, instead of slosh his way to freedom.

Completely cognizant of his whereabouts during this trip, he confirmed where they were on the map in his head. On foot from the camp and in the dark, it would take him about three hours to make it back to the US to find help. Then again, he wasn’t alone, it
was
dark and he was injured. Without a compass in this cloud cover, it would be harder to travel off the hiking trails. Finding help would be more difficult since it wasn’t exactly the most popular season for camping.

One thing at a time.

“Hey,” he called. Then in the most broken Spanish he could manage, because he didn’t want them to know he was nearly fluent,
“Habla. Usted. Inglés?”

Escape first. Then solve each problem.

“Sure, man. We’re from Port Aransas,” the driver said, receiving a punch in the arm from his passenger. “What? He can’t tell anyone if he’s dead tomorrow.”

“Well, before you kill me I need to take a leak.”

“It’s your turn to take him. I’m going to grab a smoke when we get back. It don’t make sense that Bishop don’t allow smoking,” the driver complained to his partner.

“Whatever, man. I need a smoke, too.”

The camp was within sight. The four guards with them had been the most complacent of the group. Nick was betting they wouldn’t be expecting an attack. Or at least he hoped they wouldn’t. His two guards might have laughed when the water from his boots had hit the floorboard or when he’d allowed the other guards to live. They wouldn’t be snickering when he used his tied wrists as a weapon.

Short breaths got his blood pumping even more. He focused his mind on a picture of Beth... Blood spreading across her beautiful chest.
Focus
. He had to do this. They’d already admitted that he and Beth would be dead tomorrow.

The Jeep stopped. The passenger guard jumped out, gun still at the back waist of his pants. He lit his cigarette as he went.

Now!
He had to make his move now.

He soared forward, arms high. The rope cut across the windpipe of the driver before the man knew what had hit him. Nick watched the guard’s eyes in the mirror, felt the man’s fingernails digging into his flesh as he tried to pull Nick’s hands away. The driver lost consciousness before the second guard realized they weren’t getting out.

Beth’s Jeep parked behind theirs. The lights cut off just as his backseat door flew open. “Come on. Do you need to take a leak or what?”

Cigarette smoke wafted into the vehicle. Nick waited for him to lean through the door, rolling as close to the backseat as he could get. The guard held his gun with his right hand and reached inside with his left. Nick kicked the free arm up and back into the roof. He heard the bone snap and the man screamed in pain. There were shots—both from his gun and from behind him.

He focused on the image of Beth hurt and bleeding. The conjured picture was all he allowed himself to see. They had to escape before his imagination became her reality. Kicking out again, he connected with the man’s chest, knocking him backward.

Nick ignored the man’s painful cries. He ignored his own cracked ribs as he slid across the seat and stepped onto the guards back, keeping his face in the dirt. The guard continued to scream and fire his weapon, but he was unable to twist his arm toward his attacker.

Soon the gun was empty and Nick heard dry clicks. Before he could kick the man unconscious, he smelled gas.

Where was the cigarette?

The same instant, the leaking fuel ignited and Nick could only run. He searched the darkness for Beth. The fire was soon bright enough to see her long hair blowing in the wind on the far side of the second vehicle.

More screams drew his attention behind him. The guard he’d had in the dirt was running toward the camp. Beth’s driver slumped toward his window, unmoving. “Beth!” She was struggling with her second guard outside her Jeep.

As Nick drew closer he saw the knife in Beth’s hand. The man was holding it away from slicing his body. And she was holding his gun away from pointing at her. Nick used one of the moves she’d taught him and put pressure on the guard’s hand to drop the gun.

It fell to the ground with a whelp of agony as the guard’s arm bent backward, giving Beth the advantage she needed. With her free hand she turned the knife. The man lunged and then stopped just as quickly. He fell to the ground, eyes wide in death, the knife stuck in his chest.

“Are you all right, Nick?” Beth asked, out of breath as she knelt and wiped the blade clean on the guard’s jacket.

“Yeah. What about my driver?”

The flames and smoke were curling in through the window. The driver hadn’t moved since he’d choked him.

“He’s not dead?” She took a step around him, ready to rescue their enemy.

“It’s okay.” They locked eyes. He didn’t know what he felt. Remorse. Guilt. Relief maybe. A man was dead by his hands, and he mainly felt confused.

“We need to get out of here before that fire hits the gas tank. Get in... I’ll drive.” She ran to the other side of the old Jeep, stopping at the back wheel. “How far can we get on a flat tire? Can we change it?”

“I don’t think we have time. One of my guys got away.” He picked up the pistol and pulled the light windbreaker from the dead man. He held onto his ribs as they both ran away from the camp. “We need to keep quiet, run hard and get as far away as possible.”

“Trade you.” She held out the knife to him as they slowed to climb from the gully. “I’m better with a gun.”

“You looked pretty damned good with that knife, too.” He gave her the gun. She released the magazine to reveal two bullets. “I’m not exactly wearing anything to carry weapons. Why don’t you keep it in your coat pocket?”

“Okay.”

The explosion rocked them as they reached the top of the ridge. It lit up the surrounding sky.

“If the guard who escaped hasn’t contacted anyone yet, Bishop is sure to know something’s up now. He’ll be sending people here on the double to check out that explosion.”

“Then we better pick up our pace if we want to stay ahead of them to the border,” she said as he boosted her up a steep incline.

He hid the wince, letting her go in front of him a minute so he could get control of the hitch in his side. He’d have to bury the pain, push through it, and not care that the evidence on his chest reminded him he’d lost this battle before.

No, this time he had Beth to worry about. Passing out wasn’t an option. If he did, she’d never make it out of the desert alive.

Chapter Fourteen

Bishop should have ordered their deaths. Of course he could at any time. One call and it would be done. He’d never know how or where the bodies would reside for eternity. Nick Burke and Beth Conrad wouldn’t be a problem any longer.

But he couldn’t do that.

They were a problem.

His partners wanted answers. All he’d achieved this evening was raising more questions. He sat at the hot tub’s edge, warming his feet occasionally, but it was time to go inside.

“You’re still up?” He wrapped his arms around the slim waist of Patrice Orlando. “You should have joined me outside.”

“You looked deep in thought. Did you get the answers you needed?” She picked up the toppled king from a chessboard. “I’ve never understood the fascination you men have with this game.”

Bishop lifted the long blond hair off her neck, letting the straight locks flow over his fingers. “Sex with you is always a pleasure. A welcome interruption to the isolation of this horror factory where I currently reside. I enjoy our time together. Don’t you?”

“I’m here for your pleasure. You know that. You also should remember that this
horror factory
as you call it is much better than the slum where you grew up.”

He kissed her sweet-scented neck, wanting to forget the poverty-stricken image. He never forgot. It was one of the reasons he continued to stay isolated, without any real connections.

“I use that memory to my advantage every day, Patrice. I surround myself with men who have families in the same circumstances from which I came. I know what they are willing to do for their families. They are loyal to me. Perhaps that is something
you
should remember.”

He took the black king from her hand and replaced it on the onyx board. He kept their bodies close as he rearranged the pieces, segregating the red from black. Once done, he spanned Patrice’s slim hips and flat stomach. She was a superb work of physical art. Very deserving of the time he’d take exciting every inch of her.

“I think you treat your men like the pawns on this silly chess board. You expect their loyalty. They guard the king, the rook and the bishop like they’re loyal subjects.” She took a pawn and rolled it between her palms. “All the while, you forget that if moved as far as they can go, they exchange themselves for the most powerful piece on the sidelines. That’s rarely a rook or bishop, right?”

There was something unpleasant about the way she said his name as if he was any other playing piece. “I thought you didn’t play chess.”

“Oh, no. I said I have never understood the fascination with the game that some people have.” She took a step to his second board where he awaited his opponent’s next move. “Have you considered sacrificing your queen here?”

It would be a bold move. He rapidly scanned the pieces, mentally mapping the moves and countermoves. He could possibly achieve check in four moves. There was much more to Patrice Orlando than a good sex partner.

“Enough small talk.” He spun her around and latched his lips on hers, rocking his hardness into her. Ready to take advantage of all the time she’d remain there before returning to his partners in Texas.

The pawn she’d been holding dropped and rolled across the floor.

She kissed him solidly, forcibly, confidently. Her long nails left their sting on his chest while tugging open his robe. He yanked up her skirt, ready to throw her over the edge of the couch and take her.

An explosion split the isolated silence of his world.

“What was that?” Patrice asked.

“It is the DEA agent and her cattleman.” He lashed the robe’s belt into place, yelling for the men stationed outside the French doors. Somehow the couple had escaped. He wasn’t lucky enough to believe they had been killed, ending the debate of his partners.

“What are we going to do? You know his land is essential for next week’s shipping endeavors.” She straightened her skirt, not at all disconcerted that three gawking men intently watched her actions.

“They should have allowed me to kill them both when they were here. Now we waste valuable time hunting them down again. Ridiculous,” he scoffed.

“But it’s what our associates wanted. We must discover if the Rook has betrayed us.”

“Who is the best tracker we have?” he asked the two men who had been bested by Burke earlier. Both should have been punished for letting the weaker man take them by surprise. He had not thought what would be best. A horseback ride in the dark would be sufficient for now.

“I’m not certain, Mr. Bishop. We don’t do a lot of chasing around here,” one of the guards replied.

Bishop crossed the room and backhanded the man. “I did not ask what we don’t do. You’ve had it too easy. I’ll make certain your family knows how lax you have been. Is that what you want from me?”

“No, sir, Mr. Bishop. I’ll find someone for you.”

“You mean for you.” He pointed at the man and the one who stood beside him. “You’re both going with him. Now get out.”

The two men Burke had fought with left the room, leaving his best man shaking his head in the corner.

“Do you disagree, Michael?”

“No. But before you ask me to kill those two,
senor
, all the men have grown soft. It’s been a while since they’ve had to work for something. This will be good for them, I think.”

“It’s bothersome. You’ll have to pursue on horseback. Transport them to the holding camp and clean up the mess that is there. I’m certain it is a big mess after that explosion. Stay in touch via the satellite phones. Bring me back the
Americanos
. Alive or dead.” He shrugged. “But dead is preferable.”

Michael left to set things in motion. Patrice had fetched the runaway pawn and replaced it. She tapped her nail against her cheek, seemingly deep in thought.

“Let’s head to bed, Patrice. They won’t find them in the dark unless my incompetent men managed to shoot them at the camp.”

Patrice circled the room, turning the locks on the doors as she passed. “I can’t stay much longer now, hon. This change of events needs to be reported as soon as I can drive back. But it is the middle of the night.”

She unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Afterward she lifted one high heel out of the soft pile and then the other. She tugged the small, stretchy shirt over her head. Her long blonde hair fell down her back as she dropped the material on the carpet. She pulled the curtains on the doors, but not before showing off her perfect store-bought boobs to the passing guard.

“They’ll be impatient for the results of your search, so it might be better to delay delivering the message.”

Then she was his for the night. He unbelted his robe, slipped from his swim trunks and knew it would be a sleepless yet exciting night.