Ansel. Cold determination smothered the roaring fear. She had to save the baby.
Branches scraped and squealed along the sides of the car as the tiny dirt road narrowed. She stared out at the snow, thinking she could have walked faster than the car was moving. “Can I ask how you found me? I mean, how you found me in Yosemite?”
“Traced you to Demakis Security. Staked out the building. I followed you.” He glanced at her. “Parnell broke into your duplex before he drove here.”
So they’d been watching Simon’s building when she picked up Rona and Dixon. And she’d been oblivious. Now Becca and Ansel would pay for her mistake. Despair clogged her throat, weighted her chest. God, I’m so sorry. “My friends will be looking for you. They’ll find you.”
“Doubt it. By the time they notice you’re missing, they’ll figure you decided to go into town. That’s why we took your car and left my junker rental.” He showed badly rotting teeth as he grinned. “And nobody knows nothing about you—doubt you told your boyfriend you’re wanted for murder.”
Zander did know. And so all the men would start looking for her right away. They’d look for Parnell too. I have to hold on. Stall.
In the swirling snow, the dark outline of a small cabin suddenly materialized. The man parked behind the low wooden rail, which blocked the way to the house.
Without waiting for her to get her footing, he dragged her across the uneven ground and shoved her through the front door so hard she fell to her knees.
Pulling in a deliberate breath, she shook her hair from her face and looked around. The one-room cabin had a woodstove in the far corner, bunk beds on the right. In the middle, Becca sat in a wooden chair, ankles secured to the legs. Her wrists were bound, forcing her to hold Ansel awkwardly in the circle of her arms. Her red-gold hair hung in tangles down her green sweater. Bruising showed on her white, strained face. Tears filled her eyes when she recognized Lindsey.
“Good job, Morales.” The voice was familiar.
Lindsey turned her head. At a battered kitchen table, a man the size of a bear rose to his feet, and her hopes dropped like a rock breaking through ice. She’d known Parnell was here but had hoped Ricks wasn’t. Stan had been right about Parnell and Ricks not trusting each other.
Ricks looked down at her. Although his eyes were shadowed by dark brows, the lust in them showed too clearly. “Guess I’m going to get some playtime.”
Lindsey forced herself not to look away. You tangle with me, I’ll have your hide, John Wayne would have said. If only she could.
“Playtime? Maybe.” Police Chief Parnell sat at the other end of the table. Victor’s brother had brown hair shaved to military shortness, a medium height, lean body, and deep-set eyes holding cold rage. A knife was sheathed at his hip, a pistol on the other. “Nice of you to join us, dear sister-in-law.”
The way he looked at her chilled her to the bone. She’d shot his brother. He’d killed Craig without a second thought—what would he do to her?
Parnell set his coffee down, picked up his chair, and carried it the few feet across the room to place it beside Becca.
Becca’s gaze met Lindsey’s, desperation in their depths. A mother whose child was at risk.
My fault. God, I’m sorry, Becca.
“Question-and-answer time.” Ricks yanked Lindsey to her feet and burrowed his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder.
Gritting her teeth, she struggled, tried to elbow him. He wrapped a thick arm around her waist and groped her breasts.
“Ricks, give it a rest. Put her in the chair,” Parnell snapped and turned to Morales. “Go make sure no one followed you in.”
“Got it.” As Morales left, Parnell grabbed the front of Lindsey’s flannel shirt, wrenched her away from Ricks, and shoved her into the chair beside Becca. His mouth twisted with impatience. “Where’d you put the memory drives?”
“Well…” She’d known this was what they’d ask, and unhappily hadn’t come up with a response. If she said Stan now had the drives, they’d cut their losses and kill her, Becca, and Ansel. Even if she bargained the location in exchange for the other two’s freedom, Parnell wouldn’t honor his word. Becca could identify them; they wouldn’t leave her alive.
Did they think Lindsey was stupid?
The only hope was an escape or rescue, no matter how unlikely. Stall. “I hid the stuff really well. You’ll never find a thing.” She gave Parnell a slight smirk.
He backhanded her so hard the chair rocked. Pain blasted into her cheek, tears springing to her eyes.
Becca made a sound, a low whining, “Nooo.”
Blinking, Lindsey shook her head to clear her vision, to hide her tears. I can’t do this.
“Don’t give me shit,” Parnell said.
Her voice came out shaky. “The flash drives are hidden.”
“Stupid bitch.” Ricks stepped outside. “Morales, did you find anything when you searched her cabin?”
“What the fuck you think?”
Ricks slammed the door. “Asshole.”
The chief snorted. “He’s reliable enough. I don’t care if he lacks manners.” From his pocket, he drew out long plastic zip ties and anchored Lindsey’s left ankle to the chair leg, wrapping it over her boot below her jeans hem. He did the same on the right.
“Why bother?” Ricks moved closer. “She gave herself up.”
“When I interrogate someone, I don’t want them moving. Especially this cunt who killed my brother.” His attention turned back to Lindsey. “Tell me the hiding place.”
“Fuck, I figure the struggle is the best part.” From behind her chair, Ricks reached around to grab her breasts painfully. She tried to jerk away as he squeezed and pinched. “Fight me, bitch. I don’t mind.”
“I do mind.” With his open hand, Parnell slapped her, knocking her head back. “Where?”
The entire world pulsed with red-edged pain. A sob twisted in her chest. Her whole face felt scalded. As she sucked air in small pants, the sweat stench from Ricks roiled her stomach.
Startled by the shout, Ansel had woken and was crying. His little hands waved helplessly. Tears rolled down Becca’s cheeks. With her son in her lap, she could do nothing to help.
Ansel needs me. Think. Please, think. Lindsey swallowed down sickness and forced herself to look at Parnell. “If you let Becca and the baby go, I’ll take you to the memory drives.”
If only one man took Becca from the cabin, Becca would do her best to escape him.
“Tell me now, or I’ll slit Mama’s throat.” Parnell’s thin lips tipped up. “This close, her blood will spray all over you before she dies.”
Ice formed splinters in her heart, hurting and tearing. Chilling her. “I don’t—”have the drives. No, he mustn’t find out she’d given them to Stan.
Ricks squeezed her breasts, making her grunt with the pain. Nauseating her. She let the retching sound escape. “Please, I’m gonna—” She gagged, started to heave.
Both men stepped back.
“S-sorry.” Pretending she was trying to regain control, she looked around. Parnell’s pistol was strapped down. Ricks wasn’t wearing one. Couldn’t make a grab and succeed.
Beside the woodstove was the bathroom. The open door let her see a book-size window. Too small. No back door. In the yard, she’d seen the two front windows had bars on the outside. No easy escape.
“Can we just…just make a deal?” she asked.
Parnell unsheathed his knife. “No deals. Talk fast.” Setting the blade under Becca’s chin, he pricked her skin. A drop of blood appeared.
Becca closed her eyes, holding her son so, so carefully. Ansel stared up at Parnell, blue eyes full of tears, little chest hitching with his crying.
Despair welled up in Lindsey. There was no way out. Lie. If it didn’t get her killed immediately, it might buy some time. “The jump drives are at the lodge, but—”
With a rattle, the door opened, and Morales stuck his head in. “Hey, snow’s getting deep.
We’re going to need chains on the tires to get out of here. If we want to leave in a hurry, should put them on now.”
“Well, do it,” Parnell snapped.
“Don’t know how.”
Parnell stared at the guy. “Fuck.”
Off to one side, Ricks shook his head. “I don’t know either.”
With a scowl of disbelief, Parnell said, “Leave the bitches alone. You’ll get your chance later.” He grabbed his jacket and stepped outside.
Only one person remained inside. Hope rose within Lindsey.
“Fucking dick,” Ricks muttered. Crouching down, he ripped open her shirt. His face flushed. “When Parnell’s done, I get you.”
Her chest tightened. The thought of him touching her, inside her… Let me go, please. Oh please. She kept her gaze on him and clenched her teeth to keep the words from escaping.
His color darkened, and he squeezed her cheek roughly enough to bring tears to her eyes. “I’ll fuck your mouth, fuck your ass. Finish off with my knife in your cunt. Bet you don’t stare at me then, bitch.” He shoved her face to the side and rose.
She blinked rapidly, choking on the sobs in her chest.
He took a can of beer from the fridge. Other cans scattered the counter. How much had they been drinking? Would it matter?
Over the howling of the wind, she heard Parnell yell at Morales, “Lay the chain out like this.”
Finishing off the can, Ricks walked into the bathroom. The door closed.
Now now now! Despite her lashed-together wrists, she managed to tug her pants leg up above the top of her boot. With numb fingers, she dragged Zander’s knife from the sheath.
A sharp gasp came from Becca.
Twisting in her chair, Lindsey extended the knife toward Becca, blade up, and mouthed, Hurry.
Becca moved her arms from around Ansel and offered her wrists.
With a hard tug, the sharp blade severed the plastic zip tie. I love you, Zander. Taking the knife, Becca cut Lindsey’s ropes and handed the blade back.
Lindsey sawed through the zip ties around her ankles and stood—for a second. Her knees buckled, and she hit the wood floor with a painful thud. Don’t have heard me, please. Heart thundering in her chest, she slid closer to Becca. Ansel was kicking and squirming.
If she could get Becca freed and—
The toilet flushed.
Shit, shit, shit. Her hammering heart was shutting off her breathing. Couldn’t run with Becca still tied to a chair. Couldn’t fight the huge border patrol agent. Not with such a small blade. Need…something.
After dropping the knife beside Becca, Lindsey lunged for the woodstove to snatch up a heavy chunk of firewood.
Working on cutting her leg ties, Becca was watching. After giving Lindsey a sharp nod, she burst into pseudo-sobbing and pleading. “You have to tell them. Please. They’ll kill my baby. Please, Lindsey.” Ansel started wailing again.
Lindsey couldn’t hear her footsteps as she crossed to the bathroom. Raising the log over her head, she flattened herself against the wall.
The door opened inward. Ricks’s boot appeared. Stopped. “What the—”
He wasn’t far enough out. Frantically, Lindsey swung in a sideways curve around the door frame, aiming blindly. The log hit his forehead with a horrible noise like thumping a watermelon.
Boneless, he fell backward, and the back of his skull struck the small toilet. Blood ran from his forehead in rivers of red.
Roaring sounded in Lindsey’s head, getting louder and louder. She saw Victor’s body, his chest covered in red. Eyes open. Not moving.
Black danced at the edges of her field of vision.
“No fainting, girlfriend.” A hand grasped her shoulder and dragged her from the bathroom door. “Got to move,” Becca whispered.
A shudder shook Lindsey, and she swallowed convulsively. “Okay. Okay.”
Outside the cabin, Parnell was shouting to Morales, “Back up a few more inches.” They weren’t done. Yet.
She looked at Becca. Ansel had quieted, happy to be carried again. He had a lock of Becca’s hair in his little hand.
No matter what happened, Ansel must live. Becca too. Their escape first. “Listen, Becca. You’re going to sneak out the door. Stay by the wall, go around the side. The car is a ways out; they won’t see you.” I hope, I hope.
“They’ll find us. Track us,” Becca protested. Nonetheless she handed Lindsey the baby and donned her coat.
“They’re gonna be chasing me. Your job is to keep Ansel safe.” She put the squirming baby into Becca’s arms. “He’s what matters.”
“I can’t let you—”
“You must.” Zander hadn’t wanted Lindsey to be bait. To be used. And here she was, using herself as bait now—and it was okay. This was right. “No time to argue.”
Conflict warred in Becca’s face until Lindsey touched Ansel’s soft, pink cheek and whispered, “You have to, Becca.”
“Okay,” Becca whispered back. “Good luck.”
“And to you.” Lindsey opened the door a crack, hoping the light didn’t show through the snowfall. She heard the men’s voices but saw only snow. “Go.”
Becca slipped out and disappeared around the side of the cabin.
Give her a minute to get away. Lindsey yanked on Ricks’s giant parka and snatched her knife off the floor. Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t swallow. She could sneak out like Becca. Not be seen.
Except…Becca’s tracks were obvious in the fresh snow. Parnell would catch her and Ansel within minutes.
I don’t want to die.
Her daddy whispered in his pretend John Wayne voice, All battles are fought by scared men who’d rather be someplace else.
He’d expect her to do what was right; she wouldn’t let him down. This was her battle. Pulling in a breath, she shoved the door wide open. It hit the back wall loudly.
“Shit, she’s loose!”
Grateful the two men were blocked by the car, she dashed straight down the road. Please God, let help be coming.
“Goddamn cunt.”
“Puta.”
Two voices cursing. Her plan had worked—both men were after her. Run, Becca. Get away.
The powdery snow was almost silent under her feet as she tore down the barely visible road, trying to stay in the half-filled tire tracks. She slipped and staggered back into a run.
When she went around a curve, she dared a glance over her shoulder. Nothing but falling snow.
Now. She jumped sideways onto a downed tree trunk and launched herself into the forest. She landed hard and rolled behind a tree. Why the heck couldn’t there be more underbrush? Who ever heard of a neat and tidy woods, all tree trunks and snow?
Harsh breathing. Low cursing. She heard them despite the muffling effect of the falling snow.
As she held her breath, they ran past on the road. They hadn’t seen where she’d jumped from the tire tracks to the tree trunk.
She lay for a moment, gasping in the thin mountain air. It was a reprieve—a short one. When they didn’t overtake her in the next few minutes, they’d retrace their steps, watching for where she left the road.
Her tracks would be there, easy to spot once they’d slowed down.
Still—they were focused on her. Please, God, let Becca and the baby get to safety.
Chapter Twenty
Peering through the windshield into white and more white, deVries cursed the snow.
Hands on the steering wheel, Stanfeld gave a grunt of agreement. “Good thing my sedan’s got all-wheel drive or we’d be really screwed.”
No, they’d be in a fucking ditch, deVries thought.
A Jeep approached from ahead, flashed its lights, and stopped. Logan stepped out.
Even before Stanfeld had finished braking, deVries was opening his door.
“No news. Got a missing renter—his car’s still there. He isn’t,” Logan said, his voice tight and controlled. “DeVries, drive the Jeep. I’ll spot for Stanfeld, and we’ll chec
k the east side roads.”
His face was strained with worry. Soon after they’d started the search for Lindsey, Logan had called, asking if anyone had seen Becca and Ansel.
An officer had found Becca’s car abandoned in town. Children building a snowman had noticed an unfamiliar car on the road toward the lodge. Becca had been crying and in the backseat next to a strange man.
Masterson said there were hunting cabins scattered all over and had stayed in town to question the rental management firms about recent activity.
DeVries and Stanfeld had hoped to locate any recently used dirt drives. It sucked that they could barely spot any roads through the thickly falling snow.
“I need someone to watch for me,” deVries protested as he slid into the Jeep.
“That’s my job,” Dixon said from the backseat.
“And mine,” Kallie said from the passenger side.
DeVries stared at Kallie. Bundled in a thick parka, she looked like a child, dammit. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I know where the cabins are and the roads and what fresh tracks look like even when they’re half-covered with snow.” She gave him a scowl. “Now drive. Slow.”
He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and put the car into gear. Wasn’t she supposed to be at the Masterson’s place with her husband? “How’d you get here?”
She rolled down the glass and hung out the window like a dog. Her answer came back to him distorted by the snow. “Rona and I took Jake up to the lodge so Logan could search. But my Jeep’s better on icy surfaces than Logan’s truck, and I figured I’d better help.”
“Jake okay with this?”
“Hell, no. He cursed up a blue streak. He doesn’t want me here and thought he should come himself.”
DeVries heard her snort and had a moment’s sympathy for her husband.
In the sedan, Logan had taken the backseat behind Stanfeld.
“He wants you to make a U-turn and go in front. They’ll bring up the rear,” Kallie said.
“Got it.” DeVries turned the Jeep around and took the lead. He understood the arrangement when the sedan followed on the wrong side of the road, giving Logan a closer look at the left bank.
Edge of the Enforcer Page 28
