The Littlest Cowboy (26 page)

I
t was the longest night of Chelsea’s life. She spent it in a locked room with no windows and nothing on the walls but brownish-yellow paint. The only piece of furniture was a small, twin-size bed with a bare, striped mattress and no pillows or blankets. An ugly room, out of place in an opulent mansion. She guessed de Lorean used the room especially for guests like her. Prisoners. She knew instinctively she wasn’t the first to be held here. She cringed at the thought that Michele might have spent endless hours in this cell-like room.

She’d heard other voices shortly after de Lorean had dumped her here, so she knew he had brought in reinforcements. She’d been present when he’d placed his threatening phone call and realized that Garrett now knew what a fool she’d been. He knew–and he would try to rescue her. He would never turn Ethan over; Garrett loved that child as if he was his own. But, God, he wouldn’t stand by and let de Lorean murder her, either. Maybe he’d call the police. Maybe they’d bring in a SWAT team or something and storm this place. Maybe….

Chelsea closed her eyes and sank onto the bed. She couldn’t just sit there. She had to do something. She had put Garrett right in the middle of this, when all she’d wanted to do was protect him. She couldn’t just wait around for him to get himself killed trying to save her.

She couldn’t live through that again.

Because she loved him.

A
t dawn, as planned, Marisella’s battered old pickup truck pulled in close to the front porch. Garrett paced nervously, hoping this damned plan of Lash’s wouldn’t backfire. Still, he couldn’t have come up with a better one. Lash figured de Lorean probably had some men watching the place. They’d have to be doing so from a distance or they’d be obvious. So in order to send Jessi, Elliot and little Ethan to safety, they’d have to be sneaky about it. If de Lorean knew they’d moved the baby, he’d also know they were up to something. And that would put Chelsea in even greater danger.

Blue whined at the door but stayed put at Garrett’s sharp command. Wes led two horses up just behind the pickup and made a big show of rubbing them down. Their true purpose was to block anyone’s view. Elliot carried two suitcases and slung them into the back of the pickup before climbing in himself. He was none too happy about his forced vacation and he let Garrett know it every time he glanced his way. Jessi came out next, carrying the baby. She handed Ethan over to Elliot, then climbed in herself. They lay down in the pickup bed. Garrett spread the tarp over them. Then, as planned, Wes led the horses back, to the corral and turned them loose. Garrett stood on the porch, talking to Marisella as if he’d been right there all along, doing just that. In a few minutes, Marisella climbed back into her truck and left. She would drive carefully home, pull the truck into her garage, close the door and get the kids out. They’d wait an hour, then drive to the airport and take a flight to New York. It was all arranged.

As the pickup rolled out of sight, Garrett breathed a sigh of relief. At least three of his charges were safe. Thank God. Now all he had to do was come up with a way he could confront Vincent de Lorean and a horde of his thugs and still manage to get Chelsea out alive.

He shook his head at the enormity of the task.

G
arrett had never been so torn in his life. He’d always been the responsible one. The one who looked out for his family. He’d always made sure they were all right. To let Wes come along when he pitted himself against Vincent de Lorean was going against everything he’d been practicing his whole life. To drag a stranger like Lash in on it and maybe risk his life, as well, was not something he would have considered.

But Chelsea was at risk. Dammit, if he took them along, he risked their lives, and if he didn’t…if he didn’t, he might just be risking Chelsea’s.

The choice had been taken firmly from his hands when Wes and Lash had steadfastly insisted they were coming with him, no matter what he said or did. But he still worried.

And then, unexpectedly, the choice was dropped right back into his lap again. Wes and Lash had gone into Quinn–Wes to call Adam in New York just to be sure the kids arrived there safely. They didn’t dare use the phone at the ranch because Lash had suggested it might be tapped. Lash wanted to pick up a few things from his place. Weapons, Garrett figured. Most men were more comfortable using their own guns when push came to shove. Lash was probably no different.

So Garrett was left alone in the house. He had the niggling suspicion it was fate that had arranged things this way. Garrett never had been one to argue with fate.

He sat in the rocker in the living room, holding his big denim shirt. It was the one he’d used to cover Chelsea’s body with last night when they’d fallen asleep under the stars. Her scent remained on the shirt, its very softness making him think of her. He sat there, running it through his hands, pressing it to his face to inhale her fragrance.

Chelsea. She’d been hurt and he’d made a vow to himself that he’d never let that woman be hurt again. But maybe she was being hurt right now. Maybe de Lo-rean….

He’d kill the bastard.

Images of her frightened eyes haunted Garrett. He hoped to God this episode didn’t scar her injured heart still further. Damn, it wasn’t fair for one woman to have to go through so much! The crap she’d been fed all her life had left her incapable of trusting him, of loving him. Men like her father and de Lorean had robbed her, and in doing so, they’d robbed Garrett, as well. He’d been denied something more precious than life–Chelsea Brennan’s heart. Garrett realized then that it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t feel anything for him. It was selfish of him to get so angry over it.

Didn’t matter that she was incapable of loving him. Didn’t matter at all. All that mattered was getting her out of this mess alive and unharmed. If de Lorean hurt her, he’d–

The telephone snapped Garrett out of the chair like a shot. He snatched up the receiver before it even finished ringing.

“Garrett Brand?”

“De Lorean,” Garrett growled. “Where is Chelsea? I want to speak to her.”

“Do you have my son?” de Lorean asked, that calm, smooth voice flowing through the phone lines like honey. “Are you ready to return him to me?”

“Whatever it takes.” A bald-faced lie, yes. Garrett had no compunction about lying to a killer.

“Good. Now, I want you to meet me–”

“No way, de Lorean. Not until I talk to her.”

There was a long pause. A ripple in the bastard’s unshakable calm? “All right.”

Another pause, this one brief. “Garrett?”

Every cell in his body came to life at the sound of her voice. “Chelsea, are you all right? Has he–”

“I’m sorry, Garrett. This is all my fault. I was so–”

“It’s not your fault,” he told her quickly. “I’m coming for you, Chelsea. It’s gonna be all right.”

“No! Don’t do this, Garrett. Don’t risk your life for me. I’m not worth–”

Her words were suddenly cut off. De Lorean’s voice came back on the line. “I wouldn’t advise you to take the lady’s advice, Brand. It could prove very unhealthy for her.”

“If you hurt her, de Lorean, I swear to God–”

“You’ll come alone,” the man continued as if Garrett hadn’t spoken. “If I get even an inkling you haven’t followed my instructions to the letter, I’ll put a bullet in Miss

Brennan’s pretty face. The only person with you will be my son. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good. You’ll meet me in one hour at Thompson Gorge. Alone. When I have my son in my arms, I’ll release Miss Brennan. Then we can all go our separate ways. Agreed?”

The creep was lying through his teeth. There was no way in hell he intended to let Garrett leave Thompson Gorge alive. The very fact he’d chosen a box canyon with only one way in and out, a place only accessible on horseback, was proof enough of that. Garrett swallowed his rage. “Agreed.”

There was a click, and then the silence of a dead phone line. Garrett held the receiver in his hand for a long time. He had one chance, and one chance only. He had to get there first, find himself some cover and hope to God he could get Chelsea behind a rock before the shooting started. And he was going in alone. Leaving before Wes and Lash returned. They’d have no way of knowing where he’d headed. By the time they figured out where, he’d gone, if they ever did, it would all be over.

Garrett put the phone down and crossed the room to unlock the gun cabinet.

L
ash knew something was up the second he and Wes walked into the empty house. Garrett had refused to leave the house with them in case Chelsea or de Lorean called. He wouldn’t have left now. Not unless….

Wes cussed, and Lash turned to see his black eyes narrow as he scanned the gun cabinet in the corner.

“What is it?”

Wes took off his Stetson and slammed it onto the back of the couch. “Some of the guns are missing. Two forty-fives and the Winchester. Dammit, de Lorean must have called early.”

“But Garrett’s pickup is still out front.” Lash parted the curtains to look again, just to verify he’d seen the big truck the first time.

“Come on.” Wes snatched his hat and strode out of the room. Lash followed. He had an inkling, but it was confirmed when Wes stomped out the door, crossed the front lawn and stopped at the corral where the horses grazed. The scowl on Wes’s face was all the confirmation Lash needed. “Garrett’s horse and saddle are gone. Damn him, he’s taken off on his own. I should have known better than to leave him for a second. The oversize, overprotective, damned–”

“Who the hell…?” Lash interrupted Wes’s tirade when he saw the old pickup bounding into the driveway, passengers in both the front and back.

Wes followed Lash’s gaze and started swearing all over again as the pickup came to a halt and people started piling out. Two men Lash didn’t recognize–one so big and blond that Lash thought he must be some out-of-time Viking, and the other smaller, but powerfully built and dark like Garrett. Then came Elliot. And Jessi.

Pretty, stubborn, long-legged Jessi, with her jaw set and her chin up high. Looked like she was ready for a fight and more than willing.

Wes continued swearing, but shut up when the two men approached, grim-faced.

Jessi made a beeline for Lash. Her hand closed on his forearm, and she stood too damned close for comfort. The last thing he needed was hot-tempered Wes thinking Lash had eyes for his little sister.

“Lash, these are my brothers, Adam and Ben,” Jessi said. “Guys, this is Lash. The one I told you about.”

Oh, great, Lash thought. More Brand brothers. Just what he needed.

“Where’s Garrett?” She turned her big brown eyes on Lash, and he thought he’d rather take on all her brothers than tell her.

“Took off on his own,” Wes said, not too tactfully elbowing his way between them and taking Jessi’s arm. “I’m afraid he’s gone to meet de Lorean.”

Her eyes widened, and the others muttered.

“He’ll get himself killed, Wes. Why did you let him–”

“I didn’t let him, Jessi. He gave us the slip the second we turned our backs. You know how he is.”

“What the hell are we gonna do?”

“Watch your mouth, Jessi,” the Viking told her. Ben, Lash reminded himself.

“Look, we only know he didn’t go too far away. He took Duke,” Wes explained.

“Duke can cover a lot of ground.” Jessi gnawed her lower lip…her very full and rather sensual-looking lower lip, Lash noticed, then kicked himself for noticing. She nodded twice, firmly. “Okay, we’ll have to track him. Wes, you and Ben go on inside and grab some weapons. Adam and Elliot, saddle up six horses. Lash and I will take a look and see if we can spot Duke’s tracks.”

Adam and Ben exchanged surprised glances, maybe because of their baby sister’s take-charge attitude and no-nonsense tone.

“Five horses,” Wes said, not moving a muscle. “Jessi, you’re staying here.”

“The hell I am.”

“The hell you aren’t.”

The two faced each other, almost nose-to-nose. “Dammit, Wes, there’s not one of you who’s a better shot than I am and you all know it. Not to mention that I’m the best tracker. You gonna risk Garrett’s life just so you can keep your image of your innocent, helpless baby sister intact?”