by B. J Daniels
Gabby couldn’t think of what to say to that. She had access to a lot of things, but she couldn’t and didn’t trust Alyssa with the information, and she wasn’t sure she could trust Jasmine or Tabitha, either. All it would take was one woman to slip up or break and Jaime could end up dead.
It wasn’t safe to let them into this, and it wasn’t fair to refuse these women some hope, some power.
Leave it to Alyssa to make an already complicated, somewhat dangerous, situation even more twisted.
Gabby took a deep breath and tried to smile in some appropriate way. Scheming or interested or whatever, not irritated and nervous. Not...guilty. “I’ll see what I can do, okay?”
“Don’t put yourself in harm’s way, Gabby,” Jasmine said softly. “What would we do without you?”
Alyssa snorted derisively, but Gabby pretended she didn’t notice and smiled reassuringly at Jasmine. “I’ll be careful,” she promised.
A whole lot of careful.
* * *
Jaime stood in the corner of The Stallion’s well-lit shed while the man paced and raged at the news Wallace had just delivered.
“How did they get away? How did my men get arrested? I demand answers.” He pounded on his desk, the dolls shaking perilously, like little train wrecks Jaime couldn’t stop staring at.
“I don’t know,” Wallace said, shrinking back. “I guess the Ranger tangled ’em up with the local cops.”
The Stallion whirled on Wallace. “Who is this Ranger?”
“Er, his name’s V-Vaughn Cooper. With the unsolved c-crimes unit. Uh—”
Jaime lost track of whatever The Stallion’s sharp demand was at the name. Vaughn Cooper. He knew Vaughn Cooper. Ranger Cooper had taught a class Jaime had taken in the police academy.
Christ.
“Rodriguez.” It took Jaime a few full seconds to engage, to remember who and where he was. Not a kid in the police academy. Not an FBI agent. Rodriguez.
“¿Senor?” he offered, damning himself for his voice coming out rusty.
“No. Not you. Not yet.” The Stallion muttered, wild eyes bouncing from Jaime to the other men. “Wallace. Layne. You find them. You track them down. The girl, you bring to me. The Ranger, I don’t give a damn about. Do what you will.”
Layne grinned a little maniacally at that and Jaime knew he had to do something. He couldn’t let Cooper get caught in some sort of ambush. He couldn’t let a man who’d reminded them all to, above all else, maintain their humanity, get killed. Especially with Gabby’s sister.
“Senor, perhaps you could allow me to take care of this problem.” He smiled blandly at Layne. “I might be better suited to such a task.”
The Stallion gave him a considering once-over. “Perhaps.” He paced, looking up at his collection of dolls then running a long finger down the line of one’s foot.
Jaime barely fought the grimace.
“No, I want you here, Rodriguez. We have things to discuss.”
That wasn’t exactly a comfort, though he did remind himself that as long as he was here, Gabby was safe. He wasn’t so sure Layne would leave her be if Jaime wasn’t around, even with The Stallion’s distaste over hurting women.
Jaime assured himself Ranger Cooper knew what he was doing, prayed he knew what he was up against. If the man had outwitted the first two of The Stallion’s men, surely he could outwit Wallace and Layne.
“You have three days to bring her to me. The consequences if you fail will be dire. I would get started immediately.”
The other two men rushed to do their boss’s bidding, hurrying out of the shed, heads bent together as they strategized.
Jaime remained still, trying to hide any nerves, any concern, with cool disinterest.
The Stallion turned to him, studying him in the eerie silence for far too long.
“I hope you’re being careful with our Gabriella,” The Stallion said at last.
“Careful?” Jaime forced himself to smile slyly. He spread his arms wide, palms up to the ceiling. “Care was not part of our bargain, senor.”
The Stallion waved that away. “No, I’m not talking about being gentle. I’m talking about being careful. Condoms and whatnot.”
Jaime stared blankly at the man. Was he...giving him sort of a sex-ed talk?
“Women carry diseases, you know.” The Stallion continued as though this was a normal topic of conversation. “And she’s not a virgin, according to her.”
“I...” Jaime couldn’t get the rest of the words out of his strangled throat. The “according to her” should be some kind of comfort, but why had the man been quizzing her on the state of her virginity? Why did he think Jaime—er, Rodriguez, would care?
“Perfect in every way, save for that,” The Stallion said, shaking his head sadly. “Oh, well, then there were her toes.”
“Her...toes?”
“The middle one is longer than the big toe. Unnatural.” The Stallion shuddered before running his fingers over his dolls’ feet again.
Jaime knew he didn’t hide his bewilderment very well, but it was nearly impossible to school away. What on earth went through this man’s head? He ran corporations. Jaime doubted very much anyone in Austin knew Victor Callihan was really a madman. Perhaps eccentric, somewhat scarce when it came to social situations, but he was still known. Somehow he could hide all this...whatever it was, warped in his head.
“Regardless, if you are to be my right-hand man, and insist upon indulging in these baser instincts inferior men have, I expect you to keep yourself clean.”
“I... Sí.” What the hell else was there to say?
“Good. Now, I held you back because I have some concerns I didn’t want to broach in front of Layne and Wallace. I think we’ve been infiltrated.”
There was a cold burst of fear deep within Jaime’s gut, but on the outside he merely lifted an eyebrow. “Where?”
“Here,” The Stallion said grimly, tapping his desk. “I don’t believe that Ranger was smart enough to outwit my men unless he was tipped off. This is why I sent Layne and kept you with me.”
“I do not follow.”
The Stallion sighed exhaustedly. “You’re lucky you’re such a good shot, but I suppose I wouldn’t want anyone too smart under me. How could I trust them to follow my lead?” He shook his head. “Anyway, if Layne and Wallace fail, I will be assured it’s one of them, and they’ll be taken care of. If they succeed, then I know my suspicions are wrong and we can carry on.”
Jaime inclined his head and breathed a very quiet sigh of relief.
“If they fail, you will be in charge of punishing them suitably.” The Stallion frowned down at his desk. “I don’t like to alter my schedule...”
“If there’s somewhere you need to be, I can be in charge here. I can mete out whatever punishments necessary, gladly.”
The Stallion made a noise in the back of his throat. “This situation is priority number one. I need to do some investigating into this Ranger, and I want to be here for the arrival of Gabriella’s sister to do my initial testing. For now, you’re free to fill your time with our Gabriella. Get it out of your system before her sister gets here, if you would, please.”
Jaime bowed faintly as if in agreement.
“You did give her my message, didn’t you?” The Stallion asked, his gaze sharp and assessing.
“Sí.”
“And how did she react? Were there tears?”
The Stallion sounded downright ecstatic, so Jaime lied. “Sí.”
He sighed happily. “I should have done it myself, though I do like you telling her and then doing whatever it is you must do with her. Yes, that’s a nice punishment for the little slut.”
Jaime bit down on his tongue, hard, a sharp reminder that defending anyone wasn’t necessary, no matter how much it felt it was.
“May I g
o, senor?” he asked through clenched teeth.
The Stallion inclined his head. “Do what you can to make her cry again. Yes, I like the idea of proud Gabriella crying every night. And when her sister comes...well, I’ll bear witness to that.”
All Jaime could think as he left the shed was like hell he would.
Chapter 9
Gabby didn’t see Jaime all day. She’d expected him—to pop into her room, to come into the kitchen at dinner, something. But she’d eaten with the girls nearly an hour ago and she’d been in her room ever since...waiting.
She shouldn’t be edgy, yet she couldn’t help herself. The more time she had alone—or worse, with the other girls—the more her mind turned over the possibility of actually killing a man.
Actually escaping.
But she had Jaime for that, didn’t she? Alyssa’s cold certainty haunted Gabby, though. Should she have thought of this before? Not just as angry outbursts, but as a true, honest-to-God possibility?
Of course, this was the first time in eight years Gabby’d had access to anything that might act as a viable weapon. If she could count Jaime and his guns as accessible.
Where was he? And what was he doing? Had The Stallion sent him on some errand? Was he gone for good?
Her heart stuttered at that thought. Somehow it had never occurred to her that something might happen to him or that he might get sent elsewhere, but Layne and Wallace, and the other three men who sometimes guarded them were forever leaving for intervals of time. Some never to return.
Oh, God, what if he never came back and she’d missed all her chances? What if she was stuck here forever? What if all that hope had been a worthless waste of—
Her door inched open and Jaime stepped inside, sunglasses covering his eyes, weapons strapped to his chest. Strong and capable and there.
She very nearly ran to him, to touch him and assure herself he was real and not a figment of her imagination.
The only thing that stopped her was the fact that in three short days she’d come to rely on this man, expect this man, and in just a few minutes she’d reminded herself why she couldn’t let that happen.
He could be shipped out. He could be executed. Anything—anything could happen to him and if she didn’t make a move to protect herself and Jasmine, Alyssa and Tabitha...they’d all be out in the cold.
She tamped down the fear that made her nauseous. Jaime seemed to remind her of the best and worst things. Hope. Freedom. An end to this hell. Then how it could all be taken away.
“I have a bit of good news for you,” he said, slipping his glasses off and into his pocket.
Some of the fear coiled inside her released of its own accord. It was so hard to fear when she could see his dark brown eyes search her face as if she held some answer for him. Some comfort.
“Okay,” she said carefully, because she wasn’t sure she had any for him.
“Your sister and the Texas Ranger she’s with escaped The Stallion’s first round of men.”
“First...round.”
“And I know the Texas Ranger she’s with. He’s a good man. A good police officer.”
“But he’s sending another round of men,” Gabby said dully, because though she’d not spent a lot of time with The Stallion, she knew his habits. She knew what he did and what he saw. When he saw a challenge, he didn’t back down.
“Layne and Wallace,” Jaime confirmed, crossing to where she sat on her bed. He crouched in front of her and, after a moment, took her hands in his. “I tried to get him to send me, but he thinks Layne is leaking things to the cops.”
Gabby jerked her gaze up from where it had been on their joined hands. “He thinks there’s a leak,” she gasped. That meant Jaime was in danger. That meant once The Stallion figured out it wasn’t Layne, he’d figure out it was Jaime and then—
Jaime squeezed her hands. “I don’t actually think he thinks that because of anything I’ve done. He thinks it too convenient that Ranger Cooper and your sister outwitted those men, but he’s underestimating the Ranger.”
“Maybe he’s underestimating my sister.”
Jaime smiled, and not even one of those comforting ones. No, this seemed closer to genuine. A real feeling, not one born of this place. It smoothed through her like a warm drink on a cold day, which she barely remembered as a thing, but his smile made her remember.
“Maybe that is it. He certainly underestimates you.”
“But you don’t.” She touched his cheek, brushed her fingertips across his bristled jaw. Five seconds in his company and she’d forgotten all the admonitions she’d just made to herself. But in his presence—calm and strong and comforting—she forgot everything.
Her gaze dropped to the weapons strapped to his chest and she sighed. Well, not everything. Alyssa’s words were still there, scrambling around in her brain.
She dropped her fingers from his face to his holster of weapons. She traced her hand over a gun. She didn’t know anything about guns. He’d have to somehow teach her to fire one, and it wasn’t as if she’d be able to practice anywhere.
But maybe one of the other girls knew how to shoot. If she got one to them...?
She sighed, overwhelmed. This was why she’d given up making a plan. Too many variables. She could analyze a problem, remember a million facts and figures, puzzle together disparate pieces, but when it came to all the unknown fallout of her possible actions...
It made her want to curl up in her bed and cry.
“What’s wrong?”
She had to put it all away. Emotion had never gotten her anything in this place. Unless it was anger. Unless it was fight.
“Would they notice?” she forced herself to say strongly and evenly. “If you gave one of these to me, would anyone notice it missing?”
His expression changed into something she didn’t recognize. Into something almost like suspicion. “You want one of my guns?” he asked, moving out of his crouch and into a standing position. He folded his arms across his chest and looked down at her, and it was a wonder anyone who really paid attention didn’t see the way his demeanor screamed law enforcement.
“What do you want to do with it?” he asked carefully, the same way she thought he might interrogate a criminal.
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but she didn’t like that. Trust was a two-way street, wasn’t it? Didn’t he have to trust her for her to trust him?
“What’s going on, Gabby?”
She looked away from his dark brown gaze, from the arms-crossed, FBI-agent posture. She looked away from the man she didn’t know. Hard and very nearly uncompromising.
She shouldn’t tell him about the girls’ plan. It felt like a violation of privacy, and yet, if she kept it from him he could just as easily be hurt, or accidentally hurt one of the girls.
It was a no-win situation, which should feel familiar. She’d been living “no win” for eight years.
Then his finger traced her cheek, so feather-light, before he paused under her chin, tilting her head up so she would look at him.
She was tired of hard things and no-win situations and this. But Jaime... It was as though he looked at her as neither just another kidnapping victim nor as the strong leader, not as anything but herself.
“What do you know about me, Jaime?” she asked, not even sure where the question came from but knowing she needed an answer. She needed something.
He cocked his head, but he didn’t ask her to explain herself. Instead he pulled her up into a standing position, gripping her shoulders and staring down into her eyes. Everything about him intense and strong and just...him.
“I know you’re brilliant. That you’re beyond strong. I know you love your family, and it eats at you that you can’t protect Natalie from this. I know you’ve been hurt, and you’re tired. But I also know you’ll endure, because there is something inside of y
ou that cannot be killed. No matter what that man does. You’re a fighter.”
It was a torrent of words. Positive attributes she’d thought about herself, questioned about herself. All said in that brook-no-argument, no-nonsense tone, his gaze never leaving hers. She knew he had to be a good liar to have survived undercover for two years, and yet she couldn’t believe this was anything but the truth.
Jaime saw who she was—not what she’d done or how long she’d been here. He saw her. In all the different ways she was.
“The girls want to—” Gabby swallowed. She had to trust him. She did, because he was her only hope, and because he saw her like no one else had in eight years. “They want me to try to get a gun from you, and then go after The Stallion.”
Jaime’s forehead scrunched. “They can’t do that.”
“Why not?” she demanded, something like panic pumping through her. She wanted to be out of there. She wanted a life. Even if it wasn’t her old life, she wanted...
Him. She wanted him in the real world, and she wanted her.
“I’m here to take him down, Gabby. I’m here to make sure he goes to jail, not just for justice, but so we can put an end to all the evil this man is doing. We can’t shoot him in a blaze of glory. That just leaves a power vacuum someone else can take.”
“I don’t care,” she whispered, feeling too close to tears for even her own comfort. But she didn’t care in the least. The Stallion was going after her sister and she just wanted him dead.
“I understand that. I do. But—”
“My freedom isn’t your fight.” She sat back down on the bed, slipping through his strong grasp. He could see her. Maybe he even felt some of the things she felt, but her fight was not his fight.
He crouched again, not letting her pull into herself. He took her hands and he waited, silent and patient, until she raised her wary gaze to his.
“It’s part of my fight,” he said, not just earnestly but vehemently, fervently. “It’s a part I don’t intend to fail on. I will get you out of here. I will. But I need to do my job, too. It is why I’m here.”
