“You do that. And keep me posted.”
The younger man nodded. Dennis Lee motioned him out the door. Dennis Lee never turned his back to anyone. He wasn’t a fool.
Despite what he’d done for Collin through the years—paying his tuition to college, recommendation letters to the TSP academy, paying his tuition to Finley Creek Preparatory even though a kid from South Boethe Street had no business there—the boy would stab him in the back if it furthered Collin’s plans.
His ambition was one of the things that had always intrigued Dennis Lee about him. And how useful it made him. Hell, Dennis Lee had practically cultivated that trait in the boy.
Dennis Lee didn’t fully trust anyone, especially someone who would shoot a colleague on another man’s orders. Or do half the things Dennis Lee had already asked of him.
Cold. Calculating.
A ruthless killer in TSP green. As his eyes met the boy’s, the emptiness there chilled him.
Collin Eugent was a monster. And Dennis Lee had created him. Maybe that was what he deserved, for all the hell he’d caused in his lifetime? Maybe that was why Jenny had betrayed him as she had.
Dennis Lee didn’t know any more.
For some reason, Jenny had been the one domino that he couldn’t bear to topple and now…now she had the power to send everything crashing down.
Dennis Lee didn’t know what to do now.
Housekeeping.
He’d start with housekeeping. The mayor. The mayor was the easiest domino now.
106
The last three days had been wonderful. Turner watched the woman next to him on the couch in the private family wing of the Barratt Ranch and knew that this was exactly what he wanted forever.
It made it damned hard to focus on what Elliot was saying through his cell.
The three days since the adoption had been filled with him and her and the boys. Together. Building something he couldn’t quite define but knew was absolutely right.
But tonight…tonight was the first time since the night before the adoption that he had the woman he wanted alone.
He’d wasted no time getting her naked after Caine and Nikkie Jean had arrived to collect the boys an hour ago.
Elliot continued to drone on in his ear. Turner answered when appropriate, but what he wanted to do was shout to the police chief to go find his own beautiful woman—Turner had plans for tonight.
Too bad Turner was a mature adult who had to put responsibility ahead of desire.
Turner ended the call and turned toward Annie. “I got to go. Something’s come up.”
“I see.” She was wearing only his T-shirt. He liked that look on her. If he had his way, she’d sleep in one of his T-shirts for the rest of his life. And he’d get to enjoy taking it off her every chance he could.” I should be back in an hour or so. I need to meet with Carl and Elliot.”
“I’ll be here when you get back.”
Her, here, alone. Without him. No. Turner was a goner; he knew that. He wanted his woman with him. As much as humanly possible.
“Or you could put on some jeans and come with me. We’ll swing by Mamaw’s Place and grab some burgers after I finish at city hall. Unless you’re embarrassed to be seen with a man like me? I know I have warts, and my eyebrow could use a serious trimming…”
“Hardly.” She smiled that perfect Annie smile that had his insides twisting. “I’d like that.”
“Good. Give me a kiss.” He opened his arms, and she walked right into them. No hesitation. Yep. He wanted this every day of his life. Now he understood why Houghton was such a dork over Mel. It all made perfect sense.
“I’m glad I have you, Annie-Belle Gaines. Don’t you ever go anywhere.”
Light blue eyes looked up into his. “I am not going anywhere.”
“Good.”
The rain was soft on the roof of Turner’s Lincoln as he drove toward the little laundromat that had replaced city hall. Annie didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to say anything. Just being with him was enough—she had never been this at ease with a man in her life.
That had just grown since the moment he’d driven her and her boys to the Barratt Ranch after they’d left the Barratt-Finley Creek.
Turner had just been there with her and the boys, celebrating the family she had gained. They’d spent three days just playing with the boys and being with each other.
A vacation from life, for certain.
She’d even taken a vacation day yesterday to prolong that time.
She watched him as he drove. His hands were strong, steady on the wheel. That described Turner to a T. Strong, steady. Dependable.
He’d be there whenever she, or the boys, needed him. Maybe it was love, like Nikkie Jean had said. “So what are we doing tonight?”
“I need to meet with Elliot in my office. Carl has been looking into Dennis Lee Arnold for me. He thinks he’s found something.”
“The councilman who’s always on the news?” She remembered him. He was so blond that he was almost bleached out. His eyes were a weird green color that had always struck her as empty. She’d spoken with him before—he was known to go door-to-door in her neighborhood from time to time. Usually when he wanted people to vote for him.
Her mother had always liked him. “He’s the one?”
She could barely fathom it, but seeing him shot right before her eyes that night was something she would never forget.
“I think so.” He shot her a rueful look. “At first, I thought it was Carl.”
“Ouch.” That would hurt him. He spoke about Carl Buchanan just as much as he spoke about his parents. The man was Turner’s hero—him and Houghton, anyway. “I’m glad it isn’t Carl, Turner.”
“Me, too. He…you know when you have that one person who makes a difference in your life because they want to—not because they have to? That is Carl for me.”
“Like a second father.”
“Yes.”
“I had Jake. He was only twenty-six or -seven when Izzie went to live with him. But he was fierce over her. Me, too. Anything I needed, Jake was there. It took some getting used to. We didn’t really like him that much at first. We were rather used to doing whatever we wanted, when we wanted.”
“I’m glad you had him. Although, he’s pretty intense. I can see where that would be tough for two teenagers to deal with.” She could just see his face in the light from the car pulling up behind them.
“He can be. He’s always been that way. It used to drive Izzie nuts. Especially about her asthma—”
Something slammed into the rear of Turner’s Lincoln, sending them careening off the road and into the darkness.
Annie screamed.
The airbag deployed just as her head slammed off the passenger door.
Everything went black.
107
Turner heard the Lincoln’s post-crash alert system blaring the horn. It was enough to pull him back to consciousness. Turner tried to turn his head toward Annie.
She wasn’t moving. She was slumped against the passenger door, the hood of her thin hoodie covering her face.
“Annie! Honey, talk to me. Honey, Annie…”
Turner’s door was jerked open.
Help had arrived.
He turned toward the sudden explosion of light, from the second car’s headlights.
“Not a word,” a voice said from next to his window.
The gun was right next to his face. Turner lifted his hands from the wheel and shifted his body—blocking Annie as best as he could. She wasn’t moving. He bit back the panic. She couldn’t run, couldn’t escape.
And the man had the gun pointed right into the interior of the Lincoln.
“Out of the car, Barratt,” the gruff voice ordered. “Now.”
“What’s this about?”
“Paying debts. Once I’m finished with you, I’m gone. Now I’m not saying it again. Out of the damned car.”
Annie was wearing dark clothing. She…the attacker might not have seen An
nie. Might not have realized she was even there.
It wasn’t the most populated highway into the city, but someone should be coming by soon. Annie would get help. Someone would find her, would call in the wreck.
Someone would help Annie.
But he had to get this bastard far away from her first.
It was all the hope Turner had.
108
Annie opened her eyes and saw nothing but headlights reflecting off the rain. Theirs, and from the car that had struck them. Her head hurt, making it difficult to keep her eyes open. And her forehead burned. Stung, like she’d scraped it against something.
“Turner?” She turned her head. Turner should be nearby.
He wasn’t there.
“Turner?” When he didn’t answer, she called it a little louder. Still, nothing.
They were still at least a mile from town. In the dark.
In the storm.
Annie shoved the door open, ignoring the pain in her head. “Turner?”
He wouldn’t have left her. Not Turner. She didn’t think they’d hit hard enough for him to have been thrown from the car. And he’d had his seatbelt on. She was sure of it.
Every motor vehicle accident patient she’d ever seen flashed through her head.
She wobbled, taking quick stock of her own injuries. Probably a concussion. But it was a mild one. Her wrist was already swelling. There was blood at her temple, mingling with the rain.
The worst was the concussion. She was injured, but she’d live.
“Turner?” she yelled as loudly as she could. Nothing.
He was gone.
And she was still south of town on a side road that people didn’t always travel when it rained. She fought the panic. “Turner!”
Annie hurried back to his Lincoln. The onboard safety system was still blaring. She didn’t know if his car had that feature where it would automatically alert the police in the case of an accident, but she couldn’t count on it.
She had to call Elliot. He was waiting. She had to get to him. Annie found her phone under the front seat and grabbed it quickly.
She didn’t bother with 911. Not with Elliot waiting for them.
She dialed as quickly as she could, so grateful she’d had his number in her phone before. He answered on the second ring.
“He’s gone, Elliot! Someone ran us off the road, and I can’t find Turner!”
“We’ll be right there.”
109
Dennis Lee didn’t regret sending Collin after the mayor tonight. The man had to die. It was a simple matter. They all had to die. It was fitting that the man credited with saving the city from the storm died during another.
Carl Buchanan was next.
Carl was his. A thrill of anticipation went through him as he imagined what would happen.
He’d fantasized about killing Carl off and on since they were young boys.
He should have killed him when they’d been children. Sharing a small bedroom in his damned alcoholic father’s bungalow, terrified the man would come in and strike more blows. For the smallest of offenses. Nothing he or Carl did was ever good enough.
Carl sure had tried.
Dennis Lee hadn’t bothered.
Dennis Lee’s daddy sure had liked to use his fists on his son and stepson. Nothing Dennis Lee or Carl had done could make it stop. Until Carl’s momma had that baby, and they’d wanted the room the boys shared for her.
Thirteen and fourteen were old enough to make their own ways in the world, they’d both been told. They’d given them twenty dollars each and showed them the door.
Family sentimentality had been all that had kept him from targeting Carl before now. But fuck that. Carl wasn’t his family. Family didn’t screw each other like this.
Jenny, his Jenny, had had no business climbing into Carl’s bed like that. Carl had to have convinced her, had to have tricked her. Just to take her from Dennis Lee.
Why else would Jenny have chosen Carl?
Dennis Lee should have been enough for her.
No, he was going to do some housekeeping tonight. He wanted the mayor gone. Just to get things finished in that regard. The city had lost a mayor before; they’d survive losing Barratt.
Dennis Lee might just step into the roll himself.
Punish Jenny by taking that position from her.
He knew how badly she wanted to be the mayor someday.
Dennis Lee wanted Carl to suffer. First, he’d tell Carl himself exactly what had happened to the man Carl had always considered like his son. He’d take Barratt away from him, just as Carl had taken Jenny.
Then he’d shoot Carl, fill that damned dried-up old body with as many bullets as he could.
He just wanted to make Carl suffer for taking his Jenny.
Dennis Lee really loved that woman.
Just how much was finally becoming clear. It was time to make Carl pay for everything he’d ever done to Dennis Lee.
Dennis Lee stood, then tucked his .38 into his pocket. It had never failed him before. It wouldn’t fail him tonight.
It had been the only thing of his father’s he’d ever had.
Fitting that he used it tonight.
110
Turner couldn’t see a damned thing as the guy forced him at gunpoint over the small hill in the opposite direction of the town. He kept his hand where the man could see them. There would be a time to act, and Turner was going to take it.
They kept walking, putting at least one hundred meters from the Lincoln.
He heard Annie yell his name, and the man jerked around. The guy cursed and almost turned around to go back. He raised the gun in his hand.
Toward Annie.
Turner dove at the man, hitting him around the waist.
He slammed into the man, sending him reeling. Both went down in the mud and gravel alongside the road. Turner jammed his fist into the man’s face.
The gunman’s fist bounced off Turner’s face. Turner pulled free.
He slammed the man’s head against the ground.
It stunned his attacker. Just enough for Turner to get the upper hand.
He yanked the man up and slammed him down to the dirt again.
He was bigger, madder, and had a whole lot more to fight for in that woman just over the hill. Turner wasn’t about to let the man ever get near Annie again.
One more time, fighting against the man’s grasping hands. Turner slammed him down again.
He got lucky.
The guy went limp. Turner searched for the man’s gun but couldn’t find it in the dark.
But one thing was crystal clear.
He had to get Annie out of there. Fast.
He could just see her in the distance, visible only when the lightning would flash. “Annie!”
She turned and then she was stumbling right toward him.
He ran.
111
Turner scooped her close. Lightning flashed overhead, revealing a dark stain at her temple. “Just how badly are you hurt?”
Sirens sounded in the distance, competing with the approaching thunder.
“I—where were you? I called Elliot. He’s on his way. I couldn’t find you.” She was reaching for him, her hands tight on his shoulders. Turner wrapped both arms around his woman and just held her. “Who hit us?”
“He had a gun. It was an ambush. Come on.” Turner wasn’t taking any chances. There were corrupt cops in the TSP now. He wasn’t going to risk her. “I want you to get behind the car until we see who is behind those sirens. Then we’re going to get you to the hospital and get you checked out.”
She’d been out when he’d come to. That didn’t just happen by chance. He wanted her checked out by her friends, preferably Allen or little Nikkie Jean, before he took her home to his family ranch, where there were armed staff to keep her safe.
Then he and Elliot were going to go hunting.
Someone had set them up tonight, pulling him out from the ranch. That bastard had been
waiting for him. Turner had no doubt about that.
Just so he could be a target.
Now they’d just pissed him off—Annie was never going to be a target again.
He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his Lincoln. He made quick work of wrapping it around her, keeping his eyes trained in the direction of his attacker. The guy could come back over that hill at any moment.
And Turner hadn’t been able to find that gun.
“Stay here, honey. I’m going to go check on that guy. Make sure he’s not creeping up on us.” The missing gun didn’t sit well with him. Not at all. “Get behind the Lincoln and stay down.”
“No. Stay here. Let Elliot’s men do that.” Her fingers wrapped around his arm again. “Please. Just don’t go back over there.”
Before he could say anything, two squad cars and two unmarkeds pulled to a stop in front of them.
Elliot Marshall was outlined in the flashing lights within seconds. Some of Turner’s tension lessened. “Elliot! Over here!”
The chief jogged toward them. “Turner, Annie, are either of you hurt?”
“I’m ok, but she was unconscious for a few minutes. There’s a man down just over that small hill there. He ran us off the road. Then when Annie was unconscious, he forced me from the vehicle at gunpoint. We…fought. He hit his head, and I made it back to Annie.”
It was almost simplistic in his explanation. Turner didn’t need that pointed out to him. Hell, if there were more details than that, he’d have given them. “There’s not a lot more I can say about it. I didn’t even get a good enough look at his face to identify him.”
Elliot turned toward the plainclothes detectives who had come up behind him. “Callum, Evers, check it out.”
The two detectives did as instructed, disappearing over the hill quickly.
Turner just held Annie in his arms and looked at the chief. “She was unconscious, El. I want to get her to the ER.”
“Paramedics are on their way,” Elliot said. He stepped closer and used a small flashlight to study Annie’s face. “How badly are the two of you hurt?”
Walk Through the Fire (Finley Creek Book 10) Page 29
